AFTERLIFE: Artifacts

Ch. 4: Journey to the Blood Hills

Day 1: Zero Miles Out

     The next morning, the party stood around the little table in Granik's tent that was littered with measuring tools. The dwarf stuck a little chalk pencil behind his ear. He carefully pulled one map from behind the others with an almost deferential level of care. Granik laid this map on the table. Depicted was a circle with a point in the middle that extended upwards. This was labeled 'the spire'. The point looked like an axel of a wheel or a top with a very long handle. Granik pointed to the disc. It was delaminated with thin lines in concentric circles rippling outwards from the central spire.

     "We are here." He explained, "Not precisely, of course, but we are within this ring." He traced the innermost circle with his finger. "As I already explained to you, magic does not work here. Your powers are nullified. You are as good as mortal here. That puts you... and us, if I'm being frank, in a very precarious position. The longer you stay, the more word will spread of your presence. Our expedition will take us here." He pointed to the outermost circle. "Passed Sylvania in the 9th ring. Each ring has a width of 100 miles. Traversing the inner circles will take us roughly 3 days each, though we can make it to the first ring in two if we walk through the night. I spent last night plotting a course for us." Granik lovingly took the map he was referencing and placed it in an open drawer in a large cabinet made of long thin drawers. He then took the pencil from his ear, disturbing a little bit of dirty blonde hair from beside his temple. He took no notice and went back to the other map on his desk. Granik retraced the already marked route as he spoke. "We will cross this ring as quickly as we can for the benefit of our divine companion. Then head a bit north so as to make use of the magic drain as best we can. From there it's a straight shot on to Sylvania. The hills and forests will cut down our speed, plus adding a few more miles to reach the final dig site which is here, northeast of the gate-town itself. In total, travel should take around 30 days."

     30 days, Andraste thought to herself, should I really be joining and helping them? 30 days of traveling means 30 days I'm not looking for Mirrian or Nemia or... Hafsa stepped into the forefront as Granik reverently rolled up the map. Underneath was yet another paper detailing the gate-town and surrounding areas more closely. She stood at the table, fingers poised in little pyramids, an air of command about her.

     "I'm sure Yama can tell us more about the area as we get closer. As this is our first trib to the area we cannot be sure of what we might find. Little research has been conducted on this area and even mabs of it are often sbarse and usually unreliable. Granik and I have been to the area once, about a year ago, when he drew this mab you see before you. Since this area is so unexblored, there's no telling what artifacts and relics of the bast we might find. Be on the look out for anything metal burried in the dirt, any remnants of the bast battles fought there between the orcs and elves; any remnants from other worlds that may have crossed over. And esbecially, be on the look out for anything that looks like home." Andraste looked at the veiled woman and the dwarf beside her. These two are scholars, explorers; wanderers from other planes. They've lived here for years and have the curiosity to explore the untractible parts. I don't know anything about this plane, much less any of the others. If anyone knows anything they will... or at least they'll know who might know. So 30 days or 300, I'll need their help soon.

***

     Andraste pulled the navy blue cloak in front of her as she exited the tent. Granik and Delle along with the aarakocra child and Nunzio were packing up the stall, folding up the tables and awnings and carting the goods down the road somewhere. The shop was abuzz with action: Delle yelling and barking orders between her father, her friend, and Nunzio; the banging and clanging of tables coming down and mugs clinking against each other as they were put in the wheelbarrow.