Chapter 7: Forward Scouting Thread

Swan walks a ways away and looks back. His hands twitch for a pipe or a bottle or one of those back alley drugs that seemed so popular to the ruffians he recalls from his childhood in Rhamia. Anything to take away the ache. What did we just do? The enormity of it cripples him.

He whispers into the idle air: "The shrine is gone, a tree in its place. What else changed? Was it confined to this bubble of time?"

He scratches his head. "Jassin had a destiny. Maybe it was dark. Did he save anyone in the war before he died? What happened to them? What did we just do?"

He pulls his letter out. The last letter from his parents. That wildly improbable, unexpected message. "What else changed?" He doesn't read it.

The tree is obviously healthy. Surprisingly so, even. Even someone who's spent their lives in a city can see that this tree is much older than it would be if it were planted at the time you met Jassin and Alinsa.

At a closer look, the same wooden box that occupied the former shrine is nestled comfortably at the spreading roots of the tree. Opening it, you find what appear to be the very same boots that were in the box before, as well as another folded piece of paper that reads:

Verrian reads the letter aloud to her friends, then turns to look at them all. When she sees that Uelten has moved away from them, she walks toward him.

"Did you hear? It would seem that Jassin and Alinsa ended up all right. They didn't go to Meriava after all. And they left us Jassin's boots." After taking a closer look at him, she lowers her voice and says, "Are you all right?"

"Me? Sure, no problem. This will make a great story, and I'll be famous for telling it." He smiles, showing his small fangs. He groups them back together, with Wil and Zhaar. "How about you three? This sitting well with all of you?"

When the others don't immediately respond to Swan's question, Verrian says, "Uelten, are you having a problem with what we did to save Jassin from serving in the Mage War?"

He tries to shrug that off but just frowns. "This tree is different. We did that. It's our fault. Of course I'm pleased that we saved them, and I wouldn't undo that. But aren't you worried about other things that might have been altered? Consider, did Jassin die immediately in the mage wars, or did he save anyone through his actions first? Actions that will now go undone, at least by him."

He looks at the tree. "I'm just worried that there are people we care about that were fine yesterday and now may not be. The opposite is true, that people we miss may now be alive. It's a lot.

Verrian sighs - a thoughtful, not an impatient, sound. "I did think about that before I decided to suggest it - although there wasn't a lot of time to think it through thoroughly. But what I decided was that there was really no way to know which timeline was better. We don't know what we undid by preventing Jassin from serving, and dying, in the Mage War. But we already didn't know what good or vital things were prevented from happening because he died in that war, either. So with the life of a man hanging in the balance - and that man standing, alive, right in front of me - I did what felt like the right thing, at least at the spur of that particular moment."

Wil pauses for a moment.

Honestly, it never occurred to me. I think I would have done it anyway. That being said...I hope the changes are more positive than negative.


Would we even know if there were changes, or would we think things were always the way they are?

Zhaar blows air out through his nose hnnph

"Well, travelling with you lot is certainly more entertaining than waiting around to die from a rage."

Verrian laughs at this unexpected opinion. "I'm glad to hear it. Well, shall we have a bit of breakfast and saddle back up to continue?"

"Excellent idea. Nothing like a sore stomach to take your mind off things. Oh wait, it's Wil's turn to cook, nevermind." He gives Verrian a big grin and wink then moves to help setup their meal.

Wil laughs and feels the mood lighten.

We still have dangers ahead, but with stout friends at my side we will succeed.

be nice, Verrian has a myriad of other skills.

Helping lay out their rations for the morning, he kneels on the ground. "They left those boots for us, did they? That was something I didn't expect. And this magic tree growing trick? That would be mighty useful if we need to feed a whole bunch of people."

Verrian stops and looks at him. "You're right - I hadn't even thought of that. Maybe our paths will cross and we can ask him for help. I have a feeling that famine will become a real issue soon... if it isn't already."

The morning passes uneventfully. Though the farmstead has been abandoned longer than it was the first time you saw it, the aura of calm and peace hasn't faded. Is that a magical effect, or simply the warmth of knowing -- and participating in -- more of this place's story? A philosophical question for another time, perhaps. Breakfast over and preparations made, the scout party departs once again and follows the road leading to the northwest.

The further the road gets from Hara, the more the landscape becomes forested and hilly. Remembering the unfortunate not-quite-humans with their bottomless hunger from a few weeks ago, there's reason enough to maintain a careful watch on the surroundings. However, for three days, the journey passes without seeing another person, mutated by magic or otherwise. There are the occasional small oddities that suggest even this relatively idyllic area has been touched by echoes of magic: while hunting one day, Zhaar finds a deer with three antlers, one growing out of the top of its head. One tree near the edge of the road is oddly unstable; as you watch it, the trunk slowly slumps as though it has fallen asleep. Just as it's about to fall into a jelly-like mass on the ground, it awakens back into shape.

Thus far, however, these strange sights have been harmless, if a little sad at the changes wrought.

Night is approaching, and you're still far enough from your destination that you deem it better to camp one more night than push on another several hours to reach Viamard.

Verrian happily volunteers to gather firewood, since it seems her culinary skills aren't popular.

"I'm happy to take second watch," she says as she leaves to look for kindling.

"You see how angry her face tattoos were? Whew! Hope it's not me she's infuriated with." Swan unpacks the bedrolls and begins to set up camp spot.

"We should range around further tonight, and keep the fire smaller, agreed? I'd expect to have seen more people this close to town. That bothers me more than I can explain."

Verrian finds a healthy supply of firewood not too far from the chosen campsite, and also notices several snares set up around the area, of a size that suggests they're for snaring wildlife.

They're well made, and appear to be recently laid, at least within the last week. Someone -- maybe from Viamard -- has been out here trapping.

In a short while, Verrian returns to the campsite balancing a load of firewood that is nearly more than she can carry. She sets it down in the place someone has cleared of debris and begins to build the campfire.

To Uelten, she says quietly, "Just for the record, they aren't tattoos. They're markings I was born with, like my pointed ears... which, by the way, work amazingly well."

She winks at the bard, then raises her voice slightly to include the rest of her companions. "You know, I came across a number of snares for wild game while I was scouring the woods. Someone is doing a lot of trapping out here. We should keep an eye out, in case they come by to check their snares."