Cabin

SPACE The group makes its way up the stairs to the edge of the jungle.
SPACE Grant, hand axes at the ready, follows behind Meggana's lead. The elven lady knows exactly what direction she's going, as she has passed by the old man's place several times before.
SPACE Alliandra and Alasdair walk side-by-side up toward the quickly darkening forest of vine and moss. The jungle is slightly intimidating by day, but, as night approaches, its eerie aura increases to awesome and limitless power.
SPACE Conner and Tharg follow along, pulling their crude raft. Alasdair looks at Tharg and Conner and shakes his head. "Are you fellows going to pull that thing all the way to the old man's place? There are more trees around, you know. We can always chop some down to make another raft."
SPACE Stopping, the barbarians look at the beach and then the direction they are heading. With a confused look, Conner drops the wooden vehicle. Looking to Tharg, he shrugs his shoulders and waves for his brethren to do the same.

SPACE "Hold on a just a moment," Cyrdan calls from behind as the group begins leaving the beachy area. Everyone stops and turns about to look in his direction. He explains, "We can't leave these bodies and this grisly scene like it is."
SPACE "To hell with 'em," Grant answers. "They're only pirates."
SPACE "Yes," Cyrdan agrees, "but if we leave them here, we might as well post a sign saying 'Vigilantes This Way.'"
SPACE Realization sets into the group. Apparently, they hadn't thought of it quite that way.
SPACE "Someone give me a hand stashing their bodies somewhere," Cyrdan goes on. "And one of you kick over all that bloody sand."

SPACE After covering their tracks and hiding the bodies a ways into the jungle's depths, the party makes their way up the trail and to the west toward the old man's dwelling. Grant and Meggana again take up the lead with Tharg and Conner not too far behind. Alliandra and Alasdair follow behind them, and Cyrdan brings up the rear with taut bow.

SPACE The trail winds back and forth through the dark jungle terrain. The tropical forest seems to creep in closer, smothering the trailway, as the group cautiously progresses through its interior. The friendly and familiar day noises of birds and far off simians is replaced by the high-pitched creeks of jungle-sized crickets and the throaty belchings of fat amphibians that own the night. The shrill shriek of the obri' noa, a small night owl, makes pulses skip a beat at random intervals of the group's journey.

SPACE Tharg, whistling to himself, seems completely content in the wild. And why shouldn't he? The smile on his face speaks volumes of his total happiness. He begins to imitate some of the wild calls, even making a few attempts at the scream of the obri' noa. A few of the birdcalls are dead on, though he has much work to do on his ape-like hooting and hollering. The obri' noa call falls short as well.

SPACE The trail shrinks from a well traveled path to a deer-run of no more than eight inches across. It begins to steepen upward slowly.
SPACE Choosing her footing carefully, Meggana shares that many of these smaller trails get washed away after bad rains. "There's no telling when the trail will just fall out from underneath you," she finishes.

SPACE At one point, Meggana stops and motions for the rest of the group to stay silent. She and Grant whisper something to one another, but they do not move. The only sound is the tightening of knuckles around the pommels of each person's weapon.
SPACE No one moves for what seems like hours, though only moments have elapsed.
SPACE Finally, the air comes back to life with crickets and frogs. Signaling that the way is safe to continue, Meggana presses forward.

SPACE At several places, the lady elf swings her sword through thick vegetation hanging in the trail. She moves her weapon in clear, concise movements. She is obviously familiar with jungle travel and fills her role as guide beautifully.

SPACE A sound, resounding from very close, makes the group freeze. The all too familiar chittering, reminiscent of the cavern dwelling fyrquai, sends fear and adrenaline pumping through tensed veins.
SPACE Spinning about to meet the foe, the group looks at Tharg. He straightens, and stops making the chittering imitation of the giant spiders. He looks back at the wide-eyed stares and answers the expressions with, "Huh?"
SPACE Cyrdan shakes his head to complement the muttering curses of the rest of the group. Tharg remains quiet, but moves to stand beside Alasdair.

SPACE The group exits the trail at a large clearing. On the west side of the large open space is a seaside cliff. Under the light of a not quite full moon, a rocky path meanders its way down to a small beach area below. The sound of the waves rolling softly to the sand reaches the group's position high above the surf.
SPACE It is now too dark to continue without light sources, and Meggana sparks a torch from her pack without being prompted. The hum of the jungle silences at the flash, only to begin again after a short time.
SPACE Now under torchlight, the party can see the clearing's floor is speckled with colorful flowers, most of which are larger than a large man's hand. Purples, reds, and deep blues litter the ground in floral beauty. There are two trails leading away from the lightly flowered clearing. One trail is directly opposite from the path the group followed in. It disappears into the blackness of the jungle. The other is directly opposite from the cliff, headed east. A wooden sign stands guard before the eastern path's entrance.
SPACE As the group stands admiring the sight, a rather large, and rather brave, obri' noa swoops over their heads and emits its nighttime screeching. The sound prompts silence from the surrounding jungle. Again, the crickets restart their symphony after only a short period of ensuring danger has passed.
SPACE Approaching the sign, Meggana tries to read its scrawlings. "I can't make out the top portion, though it kind of looks like an elven dialect."
SPACE "It is," Cyrdan interjects. "It's a local dialect. Not sure what tribe, but I recognize a few symbols."
SPACE The lower portion of the sign is etched in common.

SPACE "This is definitely the way," Meggana says.
SPACE A few yards beyond the first sign is another scribed entirely in common: "I MEAN IT!"
SPACE Making haste down the trail, the group encounters several more signs protruding from the jungle. Most read things like "KEEP OUT" or "NO SOLICITORS", but some are more creative, like "TRESPASSERS WILL BE EATEN" and "PLAGUE INFESTATION". (The latter having a large skull and crossbones insignia below the etched words.) Meggana assures the group that these are only warning signs and she says none of the claims are actually true.

SPACE After several more signs, the group reaches another clearing. This one is smaller than the first. At its center lies a small, decrepit looking cabin made of logs and mud. A soft greenish-amber light illuminates the interior. Several barrels sit on the front porch beside a crude rocking chair. There is a roughstone well off to the left and another trail exits the clearing to the right. A pile of large stones rests near what appears to be the front ends of seacrafts sticking out from behind the corner of the log structure.
SPACE A large hound sounds your arrival with a wagging tail and a baying howl.
SPACE There is movement inside the cabin.