a few moments for him to adjust.

"I'm ready now," he eventually responds, minding that he's up-front again, but aware that it is an effective strategy. "Let's make sure we find a safe place to rest."

He begins his way down the broke steps, nearly slipping on occasion with the jagged and broke stone scattered about, until his feet and ankles reach into the water. Nothing to do now but to move forward...

The party steps into the cave, the light of Tristian's symbol slowly illuminating stone and wood. While the light cannot reach all edges of the room, it is clear what the cave is: a temple.

Wooden pews line each side of an aisle. Rather than being built, it looks as if they were grown from the stone below. The aisle leads to an altar with runic carvings. Behind the altar is a podium with the symbol of a bow pointed downward, an arrow nocked and ready to fire. On either side of the podium is a pillar with a stag carved out of it.

Tristian gasps and smiles, "There is no need to worry. This is a temple to Erastil."

Malkala blinks, "Erastil? The Stag Father, god of the Hunt?"

"Correct." He responds, placing a hand on one of the pews, "But it looks abandoned. I don't feel his presence."

"Maybe the beast had something to do with it." Octavia says, stepping into the sphere of light, "I am not versed in religion, but that was no natural bear. Maybe this place was cursed?"

With a skittering curiosity, Zrak walks up and looks around the pillar, observing its structure and design. He reaches for one of the stag horns, attempting to feel its material and wear. "'fraid I don't know a thing about gods either," he comments, "but it should've been abandoned for awhile if it turned out like this."

The ratfolk continues to look at the altar, more particularly interested in the architecture and design rather than the religious aspects. "This must've been here awhile. I bet this place might've been quite the settlement before it got abandoned." A thought crosses his mind, "Hey, what's Erastil like, anyway?"

"He is one of the oldest gods, prayed to for successful harvests and hunts." Tristian answered, stepping up to the podium with an air of reverence, "He believes that groups work best with strong leadership with that being one of his best virtues."

Malkala nods, "These worshippers could have just abandoned the group. Or at least their leader. It is hard to tell for certain."

"Hopefully he does not mind us staying here for the night." Tristian kneels in front of Erastil's symbol and says, "I would like to try to restore this place to a resemblance of its former glory. Or at least pay reverence to it. Unless you wish to join me, please leave me to it."

Malkala sighs, "Fair enough. The rest of us will take turns on watch."

Zrak remains looking over the altar, still skeptical of its presence and wondering what good it'd serve now. Maybe Tristan had a point? Repairing such a shrine seemed like such a waste of valuable time and resources. And yet, they didn't have the time to look for a better place to stay. Here was better than any and repairing the shrine wasn't even a bother from a much-needed rest.

"Better leave me out of this," Zrak idly responds, noting his lack of religious knowledge. "Do what you need to do with this shrine. I can keep watch with the others. Just try not to be loud."

The ratfolk took the quiet moment to look over his supplies, then speak to Malkala in a quiet part of the room. "Sure is quite the crew we got." His ratty eyes scour around, looking at the other three that joined over the trip. "How well do you trust 'em?"

Malkala takes a look around herself. Tristan is now kneeling before the podium, hands on his holy symbol, head bowed in obvious prayer. Octavia and Regongar have taken a spot on the pews, having a quiet conversation that cannot be heard despite the silence of the temple.

"I'm not sure yet." She answers, "I'd like to just say 'completely,' but we have already had to deal with assassins at the manor. Not only that, but we are in the land of bandits right now. Most don't deal with trickery and deception, but that makes those who do all the more dangerous."

She looks back to Tristan, who is easy to see with his holy symbol glowing even brighter, "I can almost say for certain that Tristan is good. It is very hard to mimic divine magic without being a man or woman of the faith. While I am less sure of Octavia and Regongar, there is the fact that they could have done something already if they wanted. And I believe in their fear when they ran into us."

Her eyes lock onto Zrak's, "And you? I assume you're asking the question because you are in the same boat as me."

Her question releases a concerned frown from Zrak, teeth lightly chattering as if revealing bottled anxiety. "I don't trust the couple," he warns, referring to Octavia and Regongar. "They've stuck with us for now, but their priorities seem only for themselves." He briefly eyes the two talking in the distance before he looks back at Malkala. "Don't expect them to stick their neck out for us if things go to shit."

He pauses, looking back at the altar, then continues. "And that Tristan guy's nuts. I dunno how he even got all out here on his own." The doubt was ironic, for Zrak traveled awhile on his own. But out in bandit territory, any sort of priest or priest-like person would have to be beyond careful.

"I doubt he'll just run off when we need him most, but I worry he'll rush in and do something at the expense of his own life. We ought to just keep an eye on him as we travel."

That about covered Zrak's concerns, as he let out a sigh and rested on the stone ground. "Now only if this damn place didn't feel so dreary..."

Malkala smiles as she nods, "If their story of being slaves is true, I can see why. And a pious man does not always mean an intelligent one." She shakes her head, "And while I am optimistic, I would not presume they are companions yet. Trust but verify, right?"

Her body shivers slightly at the idea of a dreary temple, "I know what you mean. Hopefully Tristian can bring some warmth." Her teeth show, "Hey, once we rule, maybe we can come back to restore this place. As we explore, we can seek opportunities like this."

Zrak doesn't share the same optimism, frowning as he looks back once more at the altar. "You say that like there's opportunity here. You think this'll serve people if we do repair it?" He shakes his head at the sight. "If we got time, maybe I'll consider it. But that's a damn long ways away."

He takes one more look at the other adventurers, then stretches his arms and legs. "But enough yammering from me. I'm ready to get some rest. You first shift, me second, like always?"

With a quick affirmative, Malkala sets down some soft material onto one of the pews and sits down, her eyes watching over the whole cave. Octavia and Regongar seem to take her cue and lay down to sleep. Tristian, on the other hand, keeps to his prayers.

When Malkala wakes him up, Zrak sees that the cave has not changed in the slightest, but he feels that something is different. There is a lightness in the air, as if some of his stresses and burdens have disappeared. As he continues his shift, he finds that the source of the sensation is the praying man who has not moved an inch in hours. If it was not for his quiet voice speaking litany, one might have thought he was dead. And Zrak realizes as the light of day starts to poke into the cave entrance, that he never once had the thought to check up on the man, as if something was softly preventing him from interfering in the process. But that goes away as the time comes to wake everyone up.

The unusually comfortable night leaves Zrak yawning and stretching comfortably, as if he got enough sleep for the entire next year, feeling oddly at peace where he hadn't before. Huh, maybe that vagrant actually did something worthwhile with his altar... whatever that was.

The barbaric ratfolk takes a few moments before coming to his feet, checking and confirming everyone's presence before packing his stuff. "Well guess we all needed that rest," he comments, ready to get back out on the trail.

Carefully stepping over the stone steps, Zrak looks up to the exit and makes sure nothing is waiting for them at the end. We've got quite a trek wherever we go," he warns, sniffing the air. "Malkala, gimme your thoughts. We could keep heading east, or try somewhere else, but we didn't exactly," his ratty eyes observe the group, "pack a trip with five people.

Malkala nods as she looks out of the cave as well, "Yeah. We keep picking up stragglers, huh? I say we keep to our plan of returning to Oleg's by a circuitous route. We can go north-east which will get us a few miles away from the forest edge. From there it should be a clear straight path to Oleg's. It'll be rough, but we should be able to hunt for food even in the plains. The main thing will be making sure we are not too conspicuous, otherwise we just make ourselves a target."

She looks back to the others, "Do any of you know what's to the north-east of us?"

When no one speaks up after a few moments, she sighs, "Well, that's helpful."

"We've been flying blind so far," Zrak cynically adds, shrugging his ratty shoulders toward Malkala. "Don't see why we oughta expect anything else."

He takes out the map and analyzes it, referring to the northeast parts of the map where the group will be heading. At least there is a clear destination, and with more allies, it might be a safer trip.

"Let's be careful not to get lost in the plains," he warns, before setting out and expecting the others to follow. The sunlight from above flashes harshly into his eyes like an overwhelming light. The adjustment takes forever to him; his bone-thin feet shakes in agitation as he makes it outside. It takes another moment before he's accomodated to the day. "Alright, I'll take the lead. Let's stay quiet and hope to find some game along the way."

And with that, he was off northeast.

It is not difficult to find food in the forest. While the party is now five strong, no one wears loud rattling armor, so some animals do not even notice the hunter's presence until too late. And with simple paths still smooth from past travel too and from the temple, no one has any issues traversing the mass of trees and brush.

Around two in the afternoon, Zrak and Malkala start seeing nothing but wood in front of them. It looks to them as if a wooden wall suddenly appeared about a mile ahead of them. An hour later, they see the source of it, though it is still just as confusing: a massive ship.

It is at least as tall as a manor and twice as long. At least the hull is. A balloon attached to the hull is the same dimensions, colored a dark blue and constrained by a wooden frame. The figurehead of the hull is elegant but simple with a sharp beak extending diagonally down and what looks like a mast shooting diagonally up. The figurehead of the balloon, however, is a beautiful golden dragon head with silver fins. To either side of the balloon are massive dragon wings folded down. The masts and rear end of the balloon hold what looks like steering wheels with extra long spokes.

While it is intact, it is obvious that it has taken some damage. Not only is there a path of collapsed trees and cratered ground, but the hull has dents and cracks. Despite its damage, though, it stands tall and proud, as if defying the world around it.

Malkala lets out a breath of awe, "Amazing." Her eyes narrow in question, "But what is it doing here? There isn't any bodies of water large enough to need a ship so massive for hundreds of miles."

"Well nothing would've dragged it here," Zrak points out, eyeing the massive ship in fascination but also confusion. There's no way such a ship hailed from anywhere around here. Nor would it have been taken down easily. He keenly eyes the trees and ground that seemed to bow in its presence. "I'd say the ship had a crash landing. And it sure didn't go down easy either. Kinda surprised it looks as good at it does."

His ratty head reeled upward, looking up at the figurehead as if it were a great dragon. The sheer scale was overwhelming, with his heart beating as if the figurehead almost gazed down on him. Who even MADE this thing?

The ship's stillness inquired another loud thought from Zrak. "This ship might've been here awhile. If it ain't talk of the plains now, then it probably was in the past. I doubt there's even much of a crew left."

Cautiously, Zrak walks toward the fallen ship. "There's a good chance there might be supplies left. We could use any for the journey back," he proposes, waiting to see everyone's responses.

Malkala nods and steps toward the ship, "There should be some way to get on deck from here. Or maybe a hole large enough to crawl in."

It does not take long to find a rope ladder with wooden rungs hanging down from the top deck all the way to the ground. Some of the climb is awkward as a few of the rungs are broken, but everyone is eventually on the ship's deck. The feeling of being on top of the world is easy to feel once on deck. Zrak's head now barely crests the tops of the surrounding trees. Not enough to be able to survey the area, but there is no way anything could surprise the group from so high up.

The deck itself is simple, devoid of boxes or other supplies, there being only extra rope for the rigging and various pully systems. Toward the rear is what looks like the pilot's station. There is a steering wheel, like one would expect on any ship, but surrounding where the pilot would stand is various levers, pullies, buttons, and valves. To either side of the pilot's station are stairs going down to doors. The doors seems to be the only way to venture into the ship. Directly behind the station is a set of stairs