Part 1 - Night of Deadly Stars

Ygne had been moping for the past few hours, and it didn't look like there was much of an end in sight. The young lady had found a fruitful berry bush just off of the road earlier, and despite any insistence that she leave it alone, she had climbed through it to get the ripest handfuls of berries. By the time she realized the bush was covered in burrs it was too late, and Ygne's wolf-fur clothing was covered in prickly seeds. She cursed for a solid half-minute as she tried her best to brush them out. The berries turned out to be sour, anyhow, and they were tossed off the side of the path moments later.

Now she was grumbling, digging burrs out of her hair and flicking them at the marsh-drakes when Hosford wasn't looking. Succeeding at this task was all that seemed to bring her joy on an otherwise unfortunate day for her. It wasn't certain why she would take this job; she appeared entirely uninterested. In her late adolescent years or perhaps her early twenties, Ygne looked entirely out of place for the typical commoner of her age. Instead of gowns or cloth clothes, she wore wolf hide and fur, including the head of the pelt which she used as a hood when the northern breeze rolled in. Her skin was darkened by the sun and riddled with dirt stains and small scars, covered here and there with what seemed like red warpaint. Her hair was matted and tangled, like no attempt has been made to tame it in months. She carried a one-handed half-spear in her right hand and a layer of thick wood banded together was strapped to her back.

It had become obvious very early in the journey that Ygne didn't speak common as well as most, judging by her broken dialect and common misuse of words. "This stinks," she sulked, flicking another burr at a marsh-drake, "When do we get t' Candy Fen an' say g'bye to the wish-be dragons?"

Quietly surveying the land around it, Robon listens casually to the conversation taking place. It's so different above ground, muses forgeborn to itself. Turning it's mechanical head, the forgebren asks Hosford, "What is Candelfen like? I'm not familiar with it, or the surrounding area?"

"Trees, trees, trees. That's all that's in lousy Dragon Wood," Ygne mutters, picking another burr off of her arm. "Candlefan is probably made of trees, too," She continues, dragging her feet noisily over the dirt, "The Wild Wood's got better trees; an' streams n' rocks, too."

She wrinkles her nose, "An' no stinkin' cow-dragons."

Ygne's eyes light up at the mention of bandits, and she gives a quick cursory glance around herself as though they might be listening in. "Not anymore," She whispers, grinning wickedly at Jack while turning her spear about in her hand.

"Coin?" she ponders, glancing around at her feet, treading carefully as though she might harm it if she stepped on it. "No." She answers abruptly.

"But the Wild Wood is the greatest, most wonderful place! Why not sell your stinky lizards there, Mary?" Ygne asks all too loudly, neglecting to consider how it's on the other end of the Dragon Empire.

The Half-Elf, who was buried in his books, loses concentration because of all the chatter around him. "Can we keep it a teensy bit quieter. I am trying to read here."

Milo is keeping the most quiet of the group. He is a white-haired man of average height with a build of lean dense muscle. His face bears a single scar across it, but otherwise he has an approachable, calm look about him. He looks more priest than fighter, hardly an adventurer. He wears white robes with a black accented covering, A red belt, Leather bracers, and thick leather tabi. On his neck is a necklace of large beads the size of apples. His clothes seemed to be very clean for so much travel. Other than his traveling pack, he carries only a staff with a series of rings on the end. They clang as he walks, due to him using the staff as a walking stick.
He had not known these people for long, and was pleased to be doing simple work for a change as he heads towards Candlefen. Compared to the mountains he had been staying and training for the last ten or so years, the wooded roads were very comfortable. Shade protects from the hot sun, but does not cause it to be overly cold. He walks along humming and smiling. He is particularly pleased to be working with a forgeborn. He had never seen one before that was allowed to do as it wished.
He appreciates that Tomlin would like it to be quiet for his reading and thus does not walk near him least the sound of dancing metal on his staff disturb the half-elf. Ygne was one he had been worried about, eating strange berries and the like, but he decided not to interfere with her actions earlier. It was not his place to tell others what they are to do. The only one he had even heard of before this venture was Jack, but he elected not to discuss his doings either.
All in all, Milo was pleased to be moving again, and hoped very much that he will do some good with these people.

Ygne grinned a big, toothy smile when Jack laughed, and she strut about proudly for a few paces at having humored him. She was disturbed from her small victory when Tomlin spoke up, however. She picked another burr out of her hood and flicked it at him. When she spoke, she was none quieter than before; perhaps somewhat louder, "What're ya readin', then?"

"Oh, it's a treatise on the Elven Dwarven relations. The effects of the peace treaty and the initial opposition it faced in both societies.", Tomlin mentions enthusiastically.

Though there was no sign of a struggle at the carriage, the party eventually decided to check around before they moved on. It didn't sit right with everyone to simply pass on. Unfortunately after over two hours of searching, no evidence of the carriage's travelers were found. The group was puzzled by the strange lack of ownership. After some disagreement on what to do with the carriage, Hosford put her foot down and said to move on without disturbing it. She is a superstitious woman and didn't want to "Fall into some ghost's trap". The group moved on, hoping to find the owners along the road.
The fog did not let up, and eventually the group found visibility so low they could lose track of each other if they ventured more than twenty feet from one another. Then the strangest thing happened. The group found themselves at the carriage again, despite certainly moving forward along the road away from it. They, at first, thought it to be a new carriage in a similar circumstance, but the same yellow bird was inside. Perhaps they got turned around? Or perhaps...

There was a good bit of conversation about the carriage at that point, and after Ygne ran a few laps in this cursed loop they'd stumbled upon, it was certain that this was no coincidence. Tomlin elected to read the book stored within, flipping through to the bookmark to find an unsettling passage.

"It is He that wears the color of madness." Their studious companion read aloud. The bird chirped, and Tomlin continued, "It is He. It is He. I've made these steps a thousand times, though I run in place. I look at my companion and my mind burns yellow." As he studied other pages, Hosford frowned and protested nervously. This didn't keep Jack and Robon from searching around the site while Milo pondered the nature of this cursed area. Eventually Robon discovered a small key, half-buried in the soil, perfectly sized to fit into the bird's cage. It chirped, flapping its wings against its confines madly.

So much of that encounter baffled Robon. It knew the dwarven tunnels backwards and forwards, but here, in all this open space, it seemed like a circular path was impossible. How could one get mixed when you could walk in literally any direction? Yet, there they were walking in circles. There was magic there. A trick. We had been toyed with by the owners of the caravan. With no living thing in sight though, there was nothing to focus on except the bird. Maybe the book? Ynge had looked them over and come back with arcane phrases. Clues of some sort? Who knew? The dwares kept records of important things, the forgeborn had thought to itself then. Perhaps there was useful information in the book. Milo and Jack had also spent time searching for clues. Was this a trap? A practical joke? It had been magical in nature, and of course the source was right in front of their faces. The group had fanned out, seeking clues only to come face to face with a small family that had concealed itself in shadows that none of the convoy had taken notice of. Hosford was unsettled and spent time among his cargo trying to keep calm and under control. No one wanted a marsh-drake stampede. Robon picked up the key it had found, unsure of what to do with it. Looking at the previously concealed people it said, Perhaps these people know what is going on here?

Milo bows his head to the people and takes several steps towards them, giving a genuine smile. "Hello. Don't mind him there, we will certainly pay for the apple." He says pointing to Jack.
"Are you lost? We are having a hard time moving along ourselves, and we certainly wouldn't mind helping each other out."

Milo does his best to keep his aura unassuming and friendly, not wanting to scare away people who may need help.