She takes a moment to land and draws a circle arround a rock to cast Voice from Hollow Spaces (HoH:TL 140 / TTA 137). Casting is at +39 in Heartbeast form -3 Aura -5 fatigue, for +31. Level is 25 so the penetration is d10+6+6 and the spell costs no stamina as a formulaic spell. Penetration is 20.
It is a bit cumbersome to draw a circle in heartbeast form. The wings make no mark in the grass, and the beak is busy with the incantation. That leaves the claws, which have to double for walking and drawing.
She finds a rock, not too large, where the ground is soft enough to draw, close to the ghost, but it takes two or three rounds to draw the circle, due to the physical limitations. That requires two Int+Concentration stress rolls of 6+, still with -5 fatigue penalty. If both succeed, the spell is cast as intended and the ghost be trapped.
(long discussion over Discord, we settle on one concentration check and I failed it)
Cath'rinne struggles with what is most likely her first attempt at drawing a circle in heartbeast form, which is not as simple as she anticipated it would be. The vulture adds a few exasperated gawks realizing her magic isn't working, and that she's probably too exhausted to do better.
Cath'rinne manages to close the casting and contain the fluid vis without accident. Dragging a claw to draw a circle with short legs is too slow and too arduous.
The second sighters can see the hovering ghost laugh, and even Cath'rinne can hear the hoarse whisper in her head for an instant
Hah, hah; don't waste your time on me. The riches are in the tower. Go for it! You have earned it.
The second sighters hear the words repeated; Cath'rinne only hears it for an instant as she draws her breath from the exhaustion of spell casting. Others hear and see nothing but the exhausted vulture.
Betula stands up in an annoyed manner, the first time any of you have seen her less than calm and peaceful. "This is not a suitable site to camp and there is no reason for us to stay, I'm sure a more suitable place can be found... down that way," as she waves her arm in the direction she is facing irrespective of the actual terrain there. "I have no interest in looting this covenant if their legacy has destroyed whatever magical aura was here and provided one of a vile nature. The Antagonist and its minions seek strife and can be quite successful in that." As she speaks her voice seems to have les and less of an annoyed edge to it as if she is realizing her state and gaining control over her emotions. "And the ghost should be ignored... it is obviously even less of the person it was before than the ghosts I am familiar with. If you truly must investigate I would recommend doing it in the light of day and months from now after we ourselves are settled. Ruedi, come."
Cath'rinne, obviously still exhausted, answers Betula "That we have not found a magical aura doesn't mean there are none, it merely means we have found none. But yes, there is nothing much to be done here tonight. I can't make this place much safer than it is now, for that I apologize..." she'll agree to move the camp a bit further away, if the grogs and companions have the energy to set it up again.
Turold will help move the camp, once he understands what is happening.
Benedict the bear gets up from where he had started to make himself comfortable for the night, and noses the vulture gently, ducking his head to allow it to crawl onto his back.
Then it looks up at Betula, and with a whuffling sound heads back down the trail it already broke, making it even wider and easier for the tired men and women to follow.
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You make your way back. Crossing from the dead shrub land and back into the grassland is like stepping out of a shadow. It is still dark with no moon, but you are lighter at heart and the mysterious tower is not pressing you with its presence.
The ghost shouts all the way; «don't abandon the tower; it is yours!» Once on the grassland, it shuts up and returns to its rubble. When you to bed, you sleep soundly with nothing but the usual innocent dreams.
In the morning, the tower lies bathed in sunshine, and it looks as innocent and inviting as a tower could be. It is about 300 paces away.
P.S. Apologies for the previous spoiler.
"Thanks, bear friend." She gratefully accepts his help, with a flap of the wings to help her lift onto his back.
It seems a shame to leave so soon, but... maybe she's right.
"I would like to come back to the tower, but... it can wait. We're unlikely to find out the chief quaesitor's fate here. This would make our next stop Castellum Veridian."
Next time, the ghost won't be so lucky...
Betula nods. “Yes, I would like to see if anyone remains…” a sad look in her eyes, “there… Returning here, I am not so sure unless we can confirm the death of whoever’s sanctum that marking is for.” Then she looks expectantly to the Redcap and other magi.
It takes time and care to move West to the Sherwood forest. The sheriff has patrols everywhere, hunting for magic users of any size or description. Scouting ahead in bird form, they are not too hard to avoid, though, and with some hunting and foraging, you can avoid villages and towns.
The road that Betula remembers is found overgrown, and it is not always possible to follow it. However, by combining Turold's and Nauvi's area lore with scouting birdshapes, it is not difficult to locate the ancient site. It is located on the river side, close to a water fall. The approach is along the river from the Southwest.
With the river on your right hand and rough hills and rocks on your left, you finally pass the famous statue of the White Horse, standing tall on a hill to guard the approach. None of you know if it is just a statue and a symbol, or if it has some mystic appearance. Either way, it looks unaffected by recent and less recent events.
You think you can see the manor house 50-60 paces beyond the White Horse. Do you approach?
Thomas says "Let's approach, unless any of you can see some hidden hazard."
Cath'rinne will observe the area arround, but otherwise readily approaches.
Observation, there is not much more to see. Just by the White Horse, the passage between the river and the hills is narrow, maybe four paces, for a stretch of maybe 15 paces. Before the white horse there is an open and level area of grass and buttercups. You can hear the river falling off an edge maybe fifty paces ahead.
"Yes, let us approach. If you see a tree that looks to have been damaged recently we may be able to interrogate it about this battle that supposedly happened in the Spring," Betula says in Latin. Turning to any still in the group who only speak Anglo-Saxon she says, "Keep an eye out for any trees with relatively recent scars, they may know more than the others."
Walking towards the White Horse she slows and stops somewhat reverently and places her hand on the side facing the direction she walked from. Quietly in Anglo-Saxon she says, "Hello old friend, it is good to be home, I have been too long in the dark." Then reverent silence for short time before removing her hand from the statue, nodding to her compatriots and continuing past the horse looking for damaged trees at the edge of the cleared area.
Betula can feel the magic flowing through the White Horse, welcoming her home. It might be enigmatic insight, or it might be imagination.
Behind the White Horse, there are several trees along the narrow approach, and many are broken. A few are also lining the river side. There are enough potential witnesses to interrogate one each.
The person ahead, reaching the end of the narrow passage, can see the manor house. It is smaller than you would expect for a covenant, and it looks brand new, or at least very thoroughly repaired. Betula also remembers it large. It bears no sign of the war whatsover.
The hilly side to the left is full of cliffs and shadows, giving plenty of room to hide, and possible caves too. Towards the waterfall, behind the manor house to the right, there is a small tower-like building, with a ruined roof. Betula remembers that one of the magi had such a dedicated tower for his sanctum.
There is nobody outside and it is very quiet.
Approaching the nearest broken but still living tree tears begin falling down Betula’s face though she makes no sounds of sobbing. She examines the tall pine’s damaged limbs and trunk, steeling herself with the knowledge that she is not about to make its suffering worse, merely give it voice. Taking a deep breath she begins casting.
[Converse with Plant and Tree InHe 25, focus applies, total = 26 with unknown aura, cast without fatigue]
As she finishes her casting the tree appears thinner and paler, somehow more like the birch tree Betula is named for though it is not a birch.
“Brother Pine, how did this painful thing happen to you?”
It takes a while to answer. You can hear the pine draw its breath, though it is probably just the wind in the needles. «It is not so bad,» it says. «Many a Winter storm has been worse.» It pauses a while before it continues, «... but last time, it was no ordinary storm. Strangers came from the far end of the forest, just to eradicate the sage men who used to live here.»
“Do you know if any of the Sage men survived? Have they returned?”