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[Weirdsound]

Bethany looks the Ranger in the eyes, considering briefly. "Why don't you head to shore and poke around to see if you can pick it up? If you get lucky and find evidence of a trail without wandering too far out of sight or keeping us too long, we might as well follow it."

A sly smile worms its way across the Paladin's face as an idea forms in her head. "You might also try retracing the steps of the whole troope of the anklebiters. They had to have come from somewhere, and a group of them might be easier to follow than a single beast."

[Dwarmin]

"It's much harder to pick up a cold trail from a direction you don't know...but, that is a good idea." He smiled beside himself.

Then he went to work. While he didn't hold out much hope, it was worth his best try. Maybe he could impress the lady some.

Action: After the other action, Eli tries to pick up a monkeys backtrail as bade!

[lawastooshort]

Steffan pulled Eli aside before he made after where he guessed the trail to be: he'd seen that smile before; mostly it led the right way, but once or twice it had led them both astray, and Eli himself probably more times before they'd met. That is to say, Steffan justified the unfair thought to himself, that it was probably an entirely innocent smile.

"Don't do anything silly, right, brother?"

Nothing he wouldn't do if it wasn't just the two of them, he meant, and he mostly figured Eli would guess that, and he felt stupid for saying it, guessing it might just spur him on. He walked back to the paladin.

"You spoke to the man about the lost expedition, right? Any idea of how many we're looking for? Or, you know... how many might have got killed, if that's how this turned out..."

[Dwarmin]

"You know me, I'm all business." He said with a slightly reduced grin, kneeling down to inspect a bent branch. Was it a clue? That looked like a tuft of fur...

Steffan was right though. He had to concentrate...find the trail. No one could see it like he did.

[lawastooshort]

As an aside to Eli, Steffan wanted to mention something that suddenly came to mind.

"You know, Eli, I heard there's certain... chants, poems - hells, even proverbs and puns - that those skilled with the word can say, or recite, to improve one's concentration, one's skill - to inspire competence, even... You know, for those difficult tasks, the near-impossible."

Steffan looked up, gazing into the mess of green leaves, indecipherable to him.

"I don't know any, though. Shame, really."

[Dwarmin]

"A little trail language, sure-most people in the wilds know a few tricks, chants for luck. It takes a certain soul to perform it properly, however, that's how it was told to me. " He said, checking the dirt for what was perhaps a tiny footprint. Or not.

"I know if you're trying to set flint to steel for a campfire, it's supposed to go...'Spark the dark, where's my lady? Will she lay me? Will she stay me? Let her bless my camp with fire'...though that ones a bit rough for company travel..."

Eli looks around, hoping no else heard.

There's one for trail finding, but it's a bit archaic. Alot of these are near extinct in our homelands, but at least they rhyme."

He clears his throat. A bit embarrassed, really, to be saying it out loud.


 'I spy a track, a feather, a hair, so show me the way back to your lair...be you tiny sparrow, vicious hound, cube of jelly, shambling mound-dire tiger, owlbear, hungry harpy, rushing hare. No matter what your kin or kind, now your trail is mine to find."

[lawastooshort]

Hearing the old rhymes spoken aloud lit something up in Steffan's eyes. Eli might seem embarrassed by them - like an older child caught singing a nursery rhyme, perhaps - but it felt to Steffan like a connection to an older world: the same way that the knowledge the younger and more practical man used to survive the wilds was also a connection, to an older world and to people who'd come before.

Every people had their truths, Steffan reasoned, and it made sense that it was these truths that survived, got passed on, got remembered and turned into a primitive art to aid the remembering, the passing. That's what had fascinated him, that idea, that there was a truth, or even just - or even better - an explanation, that the modern world had left behind, or lost in the maelstrom of endless wars, religion, trade. He was still, really, a scientist - he preferred the term 'natural philosopher' - just as he'd been taught, but although he was still driven to find some kind of order in this modern way, he felt more strongly that there was an order already existing, already described, already lost and waiting to be found again. An order remembered in rhyme, in story and, yes, occasionally in what was now dismissed as nonsense, fit only for kids and savages, although he wasn't always terribly sure about this last point.

As Eli looked about for a trail, Steffan slipped out his notebook while he thought no one was paying much mind, and scribbled down the two rhymes in his own semi-illegible short-hand. He practiced saying them to himself, to see if he felt any discernible power through them.

He wasn't sure.

[Nerjin]

"Bah, wizardry. Back in my day if we wanted to find something we just looked for it. But nowadays its all about the prismatic sprays and the sleepin' spells and what have you. I swear if it weren't for magic you magey types wouldn't be able to find your boots in the morning. Has anyone tended to the lass? Or your hirelings? What kind of leader doesn't look after his hired men?"

Ignore monkeys, acquire helping the priestess and orc porters if they need help. With words of wisdom if need be.

[Weirdsound]

"You spoke to the man about the lost expedition, right? Any idea of how many we're looking for? Or, you know... how many might have got killed, if that's how this turned out..."

Bethany offers a curt nod. "Yeah. I spoke to the guild leader. Five missing total. Two Gnomes, Two halflings, and an Elf. The group is rather light weight, so pragmatically speaking they should be easy to haul back if we find the disabled... or worse."

The Paladin rows the canoe closer to the shore and grabs the rope for the raft, in case the ranger finds something on land worth pursuing on horseback.

[Grek]

Eli: Collect arrows. Examine monkey weapons. Track Monkeys.

The pouch held by the monkey spellcaster is a strange thing. Inside are a few odds and ends: a rose petal, a minute quartz crystal, a tiny blob of wax and perhaps a gram of powdered silver. Attached to the outside is a branch of yew with a sprig of mistletoe attached to it, akin to the holly used by a druid, yet distinct due to the wood and the presence of a number of strange square symbols engraved into the wood. Ashura is able to identify the spell previously cast as an adept-variant of Burning Hands.

Eli notes the bows and arrows are carved from the same wood as the yew focus used by the spellcaster. Several points stand out:
-The bows and arrows are not carved so much as hewn, as if with a blunt axe or a sharp rock.
-The bows were clearly created for human-sized creatures, not for the monkeys, making it unlikely the primates created the bows themselves.
-The tips of the arrows are flint, with the fletching made from an unusual grey feather which Eli recognizes as belonging to the common cockatrice.

It appears that while the fighting was going on, the orcs and the priestess were both distracted, allowing the raft to run ashore. It takes little effort at all for Holdron to get the Raft unstuck from the river mud, but the orcs seem highly impressed with his expertise none the less. The elven priestess slyly suggests that perhaps the two of you could trade places, with her in the front canoe and Holdron back with the orcs.

In the mean time, Eli has run into a problem with his tracking efforts: While he is easily able to track the monkeys on the ground, attempting to follow their trail through the trees is much more difficult if he is not in the trees himself. Doing so is, of course no issue for a trained ranger such as himself, but would be rather difficult for many of the other members of the party. Without leaving sight of the river to make the pursuit in earnest, the best he can do is determine that the monkeys came from the north and that the survivor retreated in the same direction.

[Nerjin]

Holdron was highly confused by the request. Just what was she getting at? "Er... Alright miss. If it'll help keep ya safe... I could go for a drink... Do ya happen to know what time it is?"

Switch places with the Priestess.

[Harbingerjm]

The pouch held by the monkey spellcaster is a strange thing. Inside are a few odds and ends: a rose petal, a minute quartz crystal, a tiny blob of wax and perhaps a gram of powdered silver. Attached to the outside is a branch of yew with a sprig of mistletoe attached to it, akin to the holly used by a druid, yet distinct due to the wood and the presence of a number of strange square symbols engraved into the wood. Ashura is able to identify the spell previously cast as an adept-variant of Burning Hands.

Vray uses Detect Magic on the pouch and contents, taking the full three rounds, and taking 10 on the spellcraft check if needed/possible.
If it comes up clean, she examines the symbols, considering if they resemble any alphabet she is familiar with, and trying to think if she has seen anything similar before (Bardic Knowledge).
If not, "There is a [strength here] aura of [school here] magic on [item(s) here], I suggest that one who is familiar with magical traps examine this further. Carefully."

[Grek]

Nothing in the pouch is magical in and of itself, merely tools for casting spells.

The symbols are clearly writing, most likely from some subterranean language, but you are unable to determine which. The alphabet is an unrecognizable series of dashes and dots arranged into circles and squares. It certainly isn't undercommon or drow.

[Harbingerjm]

"Can anyone here read Terran? Or... Ah, Dwarfen?"

[lawastooshort]

"I may be able to, yes. Let me take a look."

Bardic knowledge to see if I know what language it is and who speaks it normally then Comprehend Languages on it. Share the results.