"No, we just want to see the beginning. It would take weeks for us to walk the whole trail, but only a couple days to see the magical place where it all begins. To hear the Obsidimen speak of it, it must be a place of great beauty, and we would be remiss if we didn't take this opportunity to see it. It seems as though Fate herself has conspired to allow us to see it, for even our Captain is staying in port just long enough for us to visit."

Z'phir walks confidently, almost with a spring in his step. Who would have thought that just a couple days previous, he had been marked by horror. That ordeal seems almost a lifetime ago as he heads towards his future, in seeing the pilgrim's past.

Ro' happily joins the others on the trail, walking it backwards seems entirely appropriate to him, after all you are meant to make your own path in life.

Once the group are safely away from the bustle of people he will say "So fellow smirglip, I managed to open the box that Z'phir gave me from the Kaer. It contained a beautiful glass flask of some sort, truly a marvel to behold."

"However my skills like in unlocking containers, not in unlocking the true nature of an item. I have left the flask in the forge, do we know of someone that may be able to identify its true nature?"

"Yes, we do. Grathar has been determining the true nature of many items, including that armor he is wearing. I'm sure he'll figure what the flask can do, if anything, in good time."

You swim against the tide, seeing a succession of t'skrang of various houses travelling the other way, along with a smattering of namegivers of other races, notably another obsidiman, a dwarf travelled scholar, and a trio of elementalists.

Grabthar gives a cheery "Good morning" to those they pass on the trail.

To Ro and the others he says:

"Yes, I'll be happy to take a look at that flask as well as any other items we find. I've had some small success so far, but I can only find out so much. For the rest we'll need to find other sources of information and learn as we go. That's why I'm wearing the armour now, to get the feel of it and see if it'll speak to me in some way, once we've grown accustomed to each other."

"Have you two decided who is going to have the shortsword and boots yet? I brought them along in case you wanted to try them out."

It seems that obsidimen take their time on journeys as it takes you a good deal less than the whole day to reach the Hill that forms the beginning of the trail.

In fact you reach it by early afternoon.

On top of the hill guides make a living telling the tale of the funeral of the Old Man of the Nets, competing to make their the most crowd drawing (and financially rewarding) performance.

Some are extravagent, involving illusions, but a quite moving and thought provoking rendition is done by an old t'skrang using nothing more than a simple puppet stand.

Legend says on certain nights of the year the Old Man will appear, sitting on the hill as if it were a chair, to share an evening meal and dispence wisdom.

The top of the hill is tended by a group of obsidimen, careful to ensure that everything is kept pristine and beautiful. Astral space around the hill reflects this, being clear and bright and feeling like sunlight rippling across a lake.

At the base of the obsidiman liferock is, grown from the rock more than carved, a small shrine to Shivos the Earth Father, Dragon of the Land. At the heart of the shrine is a pit, said to be bottomless, where pilgrims drop offerings and wishes carved or painted onto stones before setting off.

Smooth river stones are available nearby from trader stalls.

Z'phir goes to one of the stands, and he purchases said rock from the stand.

He writes his wish on it, in secret so that the rest of the party cannot see it, and tosses it down the hole.

Atrii passes on the wish hole, but takes an interest in the telling of the story of the Old Man of the Nets. He takes up a position to observe both the modest puppet show and extravagant illusions, hoping to glean some truth in their contrast.

The tales of the Old Man seem to have more value as concepts than as history to Atrii. The idea of the Man having more power than any reality.

While the others are doing their own things, Grabthar walks away to a quiet spot and finds a piece of bare stone, where he kneels down and then bends to place his hands and face to the rock. He speaks softly to the stone:

"Hello Liferock. I am Grabthar, a dwarven smith. You are wise and must have heard many things. I have found a fine suit of armour, with a living storm captured within it. Have you heard of such a suit of armour? Do you know its Name, Liferock?"

He stays there for a while, listening to the stone, hoping for some sort of answer, though not knowing if the Liferock could even hear him. He idly wonders what his friends must be thinking, if they should happen to look over and see him here, with his ear to the ground.