The night was cool, the stars twinkling overhead. The village of Ebonheim was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of conversation drifting from house to house. Bjorn sat on the porch outside of Th'maine's cottage, a tankard of ale in his hand. He gazed up at the stars, his mind racing with thoughts of the impending conflict with the Kungwan. The smell of woodsmoke filled the air, and he could hear the crackle of fire from Th'maine's hearth. He let out a sigh and took a long swig from his cup, the warmth of the liquor spreading through him.

"You seem troubled, Bjorn," Th'maine said as he stepped onto the porch. He settled on a stool across from Bjorn, a tankard of his own in his hand.

"Aye, I am," Bjorn admitted, his gaze fixed on the stars overhead. "I can't shake the feeling that there's more going on here than we realize."

"You speak of the situation with the Kungwan?" Th'maine asked, his tone curious.

"Aye," Bjorn confirmed, taking a sip of his drink. "Something about it doesn't add up. Their numbers could be greater than what we've anticipated. That's the most likely conclusion given the evidence so far."

Th'maine frowned, his expression contemplative. "Indeed. The question, then, is where are they acquiring the hosts for their brood? We have yet to identify any settlements beyond Ebonheim and the Seraphidae territory. To grow their numbers to such a degree...perhaps there are—or there were other settlements in the valley that we weren't aware of? After all, it's only been five years since we've settled here. Much remains unknown to us."

"That's a possibility," Bjorn agreed. He let out a sigh, the weight of the situation resting heavily upon his shoulders. "I don't like it. I don't like not knowing. Not knowing means not being able to plan adequately. Not knowing means danger for all of us."

Th'maine nodded, his face solemn. "Yes, you speak true." He sipped his drink, the sound of his breathing mingling with the crackle of the flames.

The silence stretched between them, both men lost in their thoughts. Finally, Th'maine spoke. "Perhaps it would be wise to venture out into the Kungwan-held lands and scout for clues—to find where the Kungwan might have been coming from, where they may have been getting their hosts."

Bjorn furrowed his brow in contemplation, the idea appealing to him. "Perhaps. That would be a valuable endeavor indeed, to be sure. But," he continued, "it would be dangerous, especially without Ebonheim's presence."

Th'maine stroked his beard, his fingers moving absentmindedly through the coarse hair. "True, but we have a few individuals capable of handling such an undertaking."

Bjorn considered the proposition. Th'maine's words rang true. This valley was still relatively uncharted, and the information they had so far was scarce and incomplete. They needed more information to have a better understanding of what they faced. Perhaps this expedition was exactly what they needed. As far as the individuals Th'maine had in mind...he had a good idea of who he referred to.

"I have a few ideas," he said, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

Th'maine gave a knowing chuckle. "I figured you would." He stood, stretching his back before moving to the door. "Well, I shall retire for the night. Let me know when we're ready to depart. Most likely it'll be sometime tomorrow or the next day, aye?"

Bjorn nodded. "Aye. I'll let you know when we're ready."

Th'maine entered the cottage, the door clicking shut behind him. Bjorn remained on the porch, his gaze fixed on the stars above. There was much to prepare, and many plans to finalize. But at least he had a course of action. That was a start.

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Bjorn, Th'maine, Serrandyl, and Lira crept through the forest, their footsteps soft and silent on the damp earth. The air was thick with the scent of moss and pine, the shadows long and dark beneath the canopy of trees. They had left the village of Ebonheim the previous afternoon, and had traveled south, toward the Kungwan territory. They had yet to encounter any resistance, but they remained cautious, keeping an eye out for any sign of movement.

As the group walked, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot was occasionally interrupted by the distant growl of a creature or the babbling of hidden brooks. Every so often, Bjorn would glance upwards, catching glimpses of iridescent birds flitting from tree to tree.

Serrandyl walked at the head of the group, her ruby-colored eyes alert and her ears pricked. Her pace was brisk, her long legs carrying her over the terrain with ease. Her posture was relaxed, yet her movements were fluid and graceful, like a predator on the hunt.

Lira walked behind Serrandyl, her staff in hand. She cast her gaze to the woods, her eyes glowing with a green hue, a sign of her use of druidic magic to sense hidden enemies. Her expression was calm and composed, her lips set in a thin line.

Th'maine and Bjorn brought up the rear, their eyes and ears attentive to the slightest change in the environment around them. Th'maine wore a long coat over his robe, its voluminous folds concealing the spellbook strapped to his waist. A stout wooden staff was gripped firmly in his right hand, the metal tip scraping across the ground as he walked.

As the group approached a break in the trees, the faint sound of rushing water drifted to their ears. Serrandyl motioned for the group to halt, her ears twitching. She crouched low and crept to the edge of the trees, her body blending with the shadows.

The river rushed past, the water clear and sparkling in the sunlight. The banks were lined with reeds and sedges, the tall grass swaying in the breeze.

Serrandyl surveyed the area for a moment, before turning to the group and motioning for them to approach. As they gathered around her, she pointed to a cluster of large rocks near the riverbank. "We can cross there," she said in a low voice. "It's shallow enough to wade across."

Bjorn nodded, his gaze drifting to the surrounding forest. "After you," he said, gesturing for the Aslankoyash woman to take the lead.

Serrandyl slipped into the river, the water reaching up to her waist. She waded across, her steps careful and deliberate, her eyes darting to the surrounding trees.

Lira followed suit, her druidic magic allowing her to move through the water with relative ease. She reached the other side and waited for the others, her staff planted in the ground, her eyes still glowing with a green hue.

Bjorn and Th'maine followed, the water cold as they stepped into the river. Th'maine hissed softly as the water soaked through his robe, the fabric clinging to his skin. He hurried to the other side, his teeth chattering as he clambered onto the bank. Bjorn chuckled at the old mage's discomfort, earning a glare from Th'maine.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," Bjorn said with a wry smile. "Besides, if you're cold, you could always use a spell to warm yourself."

Th'maine shook his head. "Absolutely not. It's a waste of magic, and I need to preserve as much mana as possible. The journey will be long and arduous, and I need to be prepared for anything."

"Suit yourself." Bjorn shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Serrandyl and Lira waited for the two men, their expressions a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Let's keep moving," Serrandyl said, gesturing for the group to follow her. "The longer we linger here, the more likely we'll attract unwanted attention."

Bjorn nodded. "Agreed."

With that, they resumed their trek, the forest around them growing steadily more dense and wild. The trees grew larger and more twisted, the air heavy with the scent of decaying leaves and animal musk. The ground became more uneven, with rocks and roots jutting from the earth. The group picked their way through the tangled undergrowth, their steps careful and cautious.

As the sun began to set, the shadows deepening beneath the trees, they came to a halt. Serrandyl motioned for the group to crouch low, her posture tense. "Stay quiet and out of sight," she whispered, her ruby eyes scanning the forest around them. "I sense a presence nearby."

Lira's eyes flared with green energy, her gaze fixated on the trees ahead. "I sense it as well," she murmured, her voice tinged with unease. "It's getting closer. Fortunately, I don't sense the aura of a Kungwan."

Bjorn peered into the forest, his eyes scanning the trees for any movement. After a moment, he caught sight of a strange creature lumbering through the brush.

The creature was massive, easily twice the size of a grizzly bear, its fur mottled and dappled with patches of orange and brown. Its head was shaped like an owl's, its beak sharp and hooked, its eyes glinting with an intelligence that belied its brutish appearance. Its claws, each the size of a dagger, dug into the ground as it moved with surprising grace and speed.

"An owlbear," Lira whispered, her voice tinged with awe. "I've never seen one in the flesh. Only from what Hilda has told me in stories."

Th'maine nodded, his eyes fixed on the beast. "Aye, I've heard stories about them as well," he said, his voice hushed. "Fierce creatures, they are. I've heard they can be quite hostile, especially if provoked."

"Hush, both of you," Serrandyl hissed, her ears flattening against her skull. "It's heading this way."

Serrandyl gestured for the group to move backwards, and they quietly retreated, keeping their eyes on the creature. As they stepped back, a twig snapped under Bjorn's boot, the sound echoing through the forest.

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The owlbear's head swiveled in their direction, its gaze fixing on the group. It let out a low, guttural growl, its feathers puffing out in warning.

Serrandyl crouched low, her posture tense and ready to spring into action. Lira gripped her staff, her expression stern, her gaze focused on the creature.

Bjorn slowly reached for his sword, his knuckles white as he grasped the haft. Th'maine readied his spellbook, his fingers tracing the runes inscribed within.

The owlbear let out a roar, the sound reverberating through the trees, before charging toward the group. Serrandyl sprang into action, her body coiling like a spring as she lunged forward, her Gauntlet of the Storm Giant crackling with lightning as she struck the creature in the chest. The force of the impact sent the owlbear reeling back, its feathers singed and smoking.

Th'maine's spellbook glowed with a faint azure light as he unleashed a blast of magical energy, the beam of light striking the owlbear in the flank. The beast stumbled to the side, its movements sluggish, a thin tendril of smoke rising from its fur.

Lira raised her staff, the wood gleaming with an emerald glow, and conjured forth a thicket of brambles and thorns to entangle the beast. The owlbear snarled in rage, struggling against the vines and thorns.

Bjorn rushed forward, his sword raised, and plunged the blade into the owlbear's flank. The beast howled in pain, its feathers ruffling in fury.

Serrandyl unleashed another lightning-charged blow, her gauntlet cracking with the force of the strike. The owlbear shuddered, its body twitching from the impact, before collapsing to the ground with a thud.

The forest fell silent once more, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the wind. Bjorn slowly approached the fallen owlbear, his eyes fixed on its corpse.

"Is it dead?" Lira asked, her voice tentative.

"It's dead." Bjorn sheathed his blade. "Well done, everyone."

Serrandyl's tail lashed in satisfaction as she nudged the corpse with her foot. "Come. We should go," she said, her tone brusque. "We don't want to linger here any longer than we have to."

"Indeed," Th'maine agreed, his gaze fixated on the twilight sky. "The sun is nearly set, and we have yet to make camp."

As the group gathered themselves to resume their trek, Bjorn's attention lingered on the fallen owlbear. Its fur was matted with blood and soot, the stench of death already beginning to permeate the air. His mind raced with the possibilities of what this creature could have been doing in this part of the valley. Was it alone? Or was there more of its kind lurking in the shadows?

"Perhaps this beast was merely an unlucky wanderer, or a scout for a larger pack," Th'maine mused, as if reading Bjorn's thoughts. "There are many possibilities."

"Aye, perhaps you're right," Bjorn said, tearing his gaze away from the corpse. "Either way, we've got a long night ahead of us."

The group resumed their journey into the depths of the Kungwan-held land, their eyes and ears alert for any signs of danger. As the night settled over the forest, the darkness enveloped them, the trees looming like sentinels in the gloom.

Bjorn could only hope that their journey would yield answers, and not more questions.

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The next day, the group continued their trek, the forest becoming thicker and more overgrown as they pressed deeper into Kungwan territory. They were forced to use their blades to hack through the undergrowth, the air humid and heavy with the scent of decay. Th'maine's robes became soaked with sweat, his forehead glistening with perspiration, his staff clattering against the ground as he walked.

"This place is unbearable," Th'maine groaned, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his robe. "How long do we have to endure this?"

Lira glanced at the mage, a sympathetic smile on her lips. "At least you have some protection from the elements. Imagine how we feel, walking around with nothing to shield us from the sun and rain."

Th'maine offered a grumble in response, but otherwise said nothing.

After hours of walking, Bjorn noticed a slight change in the atmosphere around them. The air was still and quiet, as if holding its breath. The scent of pine and moss was replaced by a heavy, cloying odor that lingered on the edge of his senses. Bjorn wrinkled his nose at the scent, a hint of bile rising in his throat.

"What is that smell?" Serrandyl asked, her nostrils flaring in disgust.

"It smells like something died," Lira answered, her expression grim.

"Something did die," Bjorn said, gesturing to the corpse of a large boar, its body bloated and rotting in the heat. "Look."

Serrandyl approached the carcass and crouched, her tail lashing the air. She prodded the boar's body with her finger, her lip curling in disgust. "This boar has been dead for days," she said, her voice thick with disdain. "It's not recent."

"Perhaps a scavenger dropped the carcass here?" Th'maine suggested, his expression doubtful.

"No," Lira said, shaking her head. "Scavengers don't leave behind perfectly good meat. They'd have devoured the whole thing, bones and all."

"Maybe the creature who killed this boar wasn't a scavenger," Th'maine ventured, his voice tinged with unease. "Perhaps it was a predator."

"Predators don't typically leave behind perfectly good meals either," Serrandyl countered. "Whatever killed this boar wasn't interested in the meat. It was after something else."

"Serrandyl is correct," Lira interjected, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the forest around them. "There's no sign of claw marks or tooth indentations, and the bones show no signs of being gnawed on. Whatever did this wasn't trying to feed. It was trying to kill."

Serrandyl rose to her feet and stepped back from the carcass, her posture tense. "Be on your guard. There's something out there."

The group pressed on, their steps more cautious. The air grew more humid and stagnant as they walked, the forest around them becoming thicker and more tangled.

They soon came upon another corpse—that of a stag, its body sprawled across the forest floor, its antlers broken and mangled. Once again, there were no signs of scavengers having eaten the meat, and the only wound visible was a single, deep puncture wound to the stag's neck.

As the band moved deeper into the forest, the bodies became more numerous. The corpses were scattered throughout the forest, many of them in various stages of decomposition. Some had been dead for days, while others were only hours old. There was no rhyme or reason to the killings, and the wounds varied from simple puncture wounds to more brutal injuries.

Serrandyl paused, ears perking up as she raised her hand to signal a stop. "I hear something."

Quick as wraiths, the quartet dispersed, melting into the foliage. Bjorn pressed his back against a gnarled tree, peering through the gaps in the leaves to ascertain the nature of the threat.

What met his eyes was a sight he'd hoped not to witness so soon. A patrol of Kungwan was meandering their way, their slimy mottled skin glinting in the diffused sunlight that managed to pierce the canopy. The grotesque, frog-like creatures meandered in a formation that seemed almost disciplined. Their slimy mottled green and brown skins shimmered wetly in the dappled sunlight, their yellow eyes darting in various directions, always alert.

However, amidst them were two creatures that stood out—a Kungwan with a vivid, toxic green skin, its saliva dripping profusely from its wide mouth, and alongside it, another Kungwan flaunted its fiery red and orange skin tone, with embers seemingly alive beneath its flesh.

Th'maine, recognizing the creatures, whispered urgently, "Blightfroths and Flamecallers." His voice, usually calm and collected, held a note of caution that caused even the stoic Bjorn to stiffen.

"Mind explaining what those mean?" Serrandyl whispered from behind her cover. "If we're going to fight, I'd rather know the enemy."

Th'maine elaborated, "The Blightfroths possess a potent toxin in their saliva. They can spit globules of this venom, which will cause excruciating pain and paralysis. The Flamecallers, rare among the Kungwan, command the essence of fire. Their skin can erupt into flames, making melee combat a dangerous prospect. They can also breath blasts of fire and summon flaming barriers to protect themselves."

"Damn...well, this will be a fun fight," Serrandyl muttered, her tone indicating anything but.

"No," Bjorn grunted. "We're not engaging them. We're not ready to fight them, nor do we have the numbers to handle them. We must be quiet and slip away, unseen. The last thing we need is for them to alert their brethren."

Serrandyl's ruby-red eyes narrowed, but she acquiesced, "Understood."

The group remained still, their breathing slow and measured as the patrol passed by. The Kungwan moved through the forest with a strange grace, their long, powerful limbs propelling them across the terrain with ease. Their large, yellow eyes darted from side to side, and their wide mouths opened and closed, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

"Seven...eight...nine. There are nine of them," Th'maine whispered, counting the number of Kungwan. "The Blightfroth, the Flamecaller, and the other seven appear to be normal Kungwan..."

His words trailed off when one of the Flamecallers suddenly halted, its head snapping in their direction. For a heart-stopping moment, its bright yellow eyes seemed to lock onto them, before looking away.

The creature let out a soft croak, before continuing onward. The patrol disappeared into the forest, their grotesque forms vanishing into the gloom.

Bjorn exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He signaled to the others to stay hidden while he stealthily moved to check if the Kungwan had indeed passed.

When he was sure they had moved on, he beckoned his companions to join him. They emerged from their hiding places and gathered around him.

"That was close," Th'maine remarked, his voice low.

"Too close," Lira agreed. She brushed a strand of auburn hair from her face, her eyes lingering on the path the Kungwan had taken.

"What now?" Serrandyl asked, her tail swishing in agitation.

"We cannot afford to be spotted," Bjorn stated, his eyes fixed on the direction the Kungwan had headed. "We observe, gather intel, and only engage if there's no other option."

The party nodded in agreement and continued onward, their steps more cautious than before. They kept a close eye on their surroundings, wary of any signs of Kungwan presence. They encountered several more patrols, but managed to avoid detection, the Kungwan's eyesight seeming to be somewhat lacking in the gloomy forest.

As night began to fall, the party set up camp in the hollow of a large, gnarled oak. Lira had cast a veil spell to shroud the light of their camp. They huddled together, their bodies providing warmth against the chill of the night air. As they settled in, their thoughts turned to the events of the day.

"Do you think we'll find anything?" Serrandyl asked, her tail wrapping around her leg.

Bjorn stared into the flickering flame of the campfire, his expression thoughtful. "I don't know. I hope so. But if we're lucky, we might at least find clues as to where they came from."

Lira stoked the flames with a stick, her eyes distant. "If they did come from somewhere, I can only hope we'll find the source of their presence and destroy it."

"Aye. That would be preferable," Th'maine agreed.

The group fell into a pensive silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As the moon rose in the sky, the forest around them grew quiet and still, the only sounds the whisper of the wind and the faint chirping of insects.

Bjorn glanced around the campfire, his gaze meeting that of each of his companions. "We should get some rest," he said, his voice low. "We have a long day ahead of us, and we'll need to be at our best if we're going to continue searching for clues."

Serrandyl was already curled up, her back against a tree. Lira settled beside her, her eyes still on the flames.

Th'maine rose to his feet and stretched. "I'll take the first watch. I've been feeling rather restless as of late."

Bjorn nodded, his gaze turning to the dark forest around them. "Aye. Wake me in two hours."

"I shall." Th'maine walked to the edge of the camp, his staff in hand, his eyes scanning the shadows for any signs of danger.

Bjorn laid down, his head resting on a makeshift pillow made of leaves and moss. His eyes drifted shut, the warmth of the fire and the softness of his bedding lulling him to sleep. Before he drifted off, he wondered what tomorrow would bring, and how Ebonheim was faring…