The party returned from the obsidian tunnels lacing the Tyr underground exalted in victory, relieved to see the sky again, and pissed off at Dustin Sunn. Stopped by a confused Templar, they convinced the disheveled mage that they were just caught in the cross fire, but used the opportunity to leak some of the Veil’s secret hide outs. After confronting an elven Veil contact in the Warrens and passing along their warning, the party regrouped at the Erin stead to gather their things and each other.
The night brought it’s own set of hijinx, as it does. The city was thirsty for blood and the sudden end of the birds and eladrin fleeing the city left many with loose swords and something to prove. The Colleseum was packed, the main floor broken into many smaller arenas, and the opportunistic Prell took Malik’s… unresolved… aggression and unleashed it into the arena. She bet most of the Erin family savings on the warrior – who held up his end of the bargain, throwing a sand reaver twice his match twice into the spiked walls and lighting it on fire. The match came to a fast get as the handlers scrambled to save their prize beast from the savage goliath.
Across town the “witches” Ryn and Gyn gathered recourses in their own way, clearing out the east trade gate with deception born of the night’s confusion and their glib tongues. Ryn grabbed some provisions and confiscated magical goods from the holding room on “routine inspection” and bolted with Gyn before the remaining guard could get a word in.
The next fortnight was spent in the dull repetetion of the caravan, moving from Tyr to Raum. Most of the days were spent killing giant scorpions and running down desperate bandits…the usual stuff guards do on a caravan. Until one night, when a thin human man on in years came to the party’s camp, begging for someone to take his aged and dying mekelliot to it’s near by ancestral graveyard to pass from this world. Sympathizing with the man, they took his request and with Dart’s grace left short of high moon to escort the creature.
Poachers met them just before the grave site, a stone henge, and offered them a more practical solution than letting the beast petrify and become useless, slay it and use it’s meat and hide for armor and weapons. They even offered a share of the spoils, but the party decided to honor the giant’s wishes and let it die on it’s own terms. The two factions skirmished, but the beast came to rest where it wished, and reflecting on the battle the group watched it pass and felt inspired by the petrification that came on it nearly instantly. While they didn’t get the poacher leader, they repelled their assault and witnessed a miracle of the primal world.
On returning to the camp, a stride fresh crodlu borrowed from caravan neighbors, they met with a disappointing site. The caravan was in the clutched of giant stone hands…and an elven druid sets in the camp light cross legged, patiently awaiting their return.