Homecoming Part 4

 The silver needle, when inserted into Kwam-Rak carpet, slipped out of Ginjo's and, seemingly with a mind of its own, began to embroider the carpet with a golden thread.  The thread grew as the needle worked, passing over every square inch of the carpet to add line, shading, definition, even the illusion of flowing water and fluttering leaves.  The abstract shapes became a map and a beautiful landscape on which well-known landmarks were clearly visible including Lake Pasar, the Cave of Discord and hundreds of villages including the Kwam-Rak compound.  Pasar itself was only a small village and the map did not show the empires to the west or their roads.  The needle finished its work in the jungle near Lake Pasar, seemingly at the exact point where Ginjo now stood in the Monastery of the Two-Fold Path.  Ginjo and Sukh agreed that they must show the carpet-map to their bakemono friends.

By the time they reached the bakemonos' lair in the forest, the needle had moved. It had embroidered a pathway, using tiny letters in a script form of bakemono: "Now is the time for the dear ones to reconcile and return home."

Sukh and Ginjo discussed the matter with their bakemono friends and decided that they would use the carpet to find their way to the bakemono homeland together.  Sheng and Shek, plus Irak and a few other sohei would join them.

Relying on the carpet as a guide, the travelers returned to the Caves of Discord and the Shrine of the death cult, where they found a blocked tunnel.  Working diligently, they moved enough boulders and rubble to reveal a passage deep under ground.  After provisioning themselves with torches from the stores of the death cult, they ventured into the hidden underground highway.  They followed its course for many miles, soon realizing that they must conserve their torches by allowing the bakemono to lead the way while the darkness-blind humans made do with the light of glowing embers.

They spent two nights in the tunnel, crossed an underground river and found themselves in a maze of smaller tunnels.  As with the expansion of Pasar into a large town and the blockage in the shrine of the death cult, the carpet-map did not show this presumably more recent construction.  The maze seemed to be part of an abandoned mine.  The party lit additional torches to find their way and fought off attacks from an enormous, half-invisible spider.  They found their way at last by following a draft of pure air.  They came upon a wide tunnel slanted upward at a steep enough angle that a trickle of water ran steadily down it.  Following that tunnel they emerged on a blustery cliffside in the middle of the night.  After spending the night inside the tunnel, and waiting for the dawn, they ventured outside once more.  According to the carpet-map they were still on the right way, and would follow a path on the side of a cliff for several more days.  

At the end of those days, the travelers were confronted with another disconnect between the map and current reality.  The beautiful stone bridge that arched over the chasm to a pair of enormous iron doors had collapsed.  The party camped, rested, and discussed what to do.  Sukh had recovered a few magic potions from the lair of the bull monster.  According to wise woman he'd consulted in Pasar two of the potions had properties that might assist them in crossing the ravine.  

The party had enough rope that they climb down the wall of the ravine without expending any of their magical resources.  Despite a couple close calls, everyone reached the bottom safely.  They drank deeply from the river and rested on the soft grass.  Then they prepared to climb the other side.

Ginjo drank a long draught of dank, frothy liquid and within a minute, grew to five or six times his normal size.  His clothing and possessions-- including the rope-- also grew in size.  Climbing up the the other side of the ravine was a strenuous challenge, especially with Irak holding onto him.  But he was large enough and strong enough to use the ledges and outcropping like the steps on a ladder.  When he reached a large enough ledge half way up, Irak let the rope down and helped the others climb up it.  Then Ginjo and Irak repeated the maneuver to reach another ledge near the top.  The ledge at the very top was the too narrow and unstable to support the enlarged Ginjo.  He gave Irak a push and helped ther others climb up to the to ledge.  Then when the potion wore off and he returned to his normal size, Ginjo joined them by way of the rope.  

Now it was Sukh's turn to make use of a magic potion. He unstoppered a small glass vial and tossed back a dull blue liquid that turned to mist as it poured into his mouth.  As Sukh inhaled the thick mist, he too turned into mist and, in the form of a dull blue cloud, rose up and over the pair of tall iron doors.  For a moment, he took on the sight of the bakemono homeland.  His vision was blurred, but he could make out a verdant valley that matched the carpet-map, with towns and roads and other small structures dotted throughout.  He was not able to see any movement or detect signs of life.  Not knowing ow long the potion's effect would last, he descended to the ground on the other side of the doors.

On the inside, the doors were flanked by a pair of eight-foot jade statues-- humanoids with the head's of foxes or jackals.  These figures looked like what Sukh would call bakemono but their flowing robes, haughtily serene demeanors, and especially the artistry of the statues themselves were suggestive of something very different from anything Sukh had encountered in the Caves of Discord or his kind-hearted but simple friends.  Sukh was distracted from his musings by a chortle of laughter from Dew Blossom and Gentle Foot on the other side of the doors, still held shut by an iron bar.  With a shout, he heaved the bar off its brackets and called to his companions.  They pushed their way inside as the jade statues came to life.  

Relying on battle-tested tactics, Sukh and Ginjo each attacked one of the statues directly with a flurry of aggressive slashes while their companions made coordinated flanking attacks.  The jade statues were terrifying opponents, the faces set in fearless disdain but they fell to ruin under the rain of blows. They had reached the lost valley of the bakemono.

Immediately before them was a collection of stone buildings, the beauty of their proportion and precise construction still evident in their ruined state.  For they were ruined.  Roofs were missing, walls had collapsed, moss grew thickly, and, as they wandered into the town, they found the streets strewn with rubble, a tree growing from a dry fountain.  Looking closer, it seemed the destruction was deliberate.  Carvings and frescoes were deliberately defaced and marked by graffiti, in a style reminiscent, in form, style, and substance, of the Caves of Discord.

Welcome home?

Homecoming Part 3

 Ginjo and Sukh decided they would look for the needle in the Caves of Discord.  Based on their experiences with the bakemono, they reasoned that it would most likely be found with the strongest bakemono, the bear-like "kidnapper gang" that had captured Shek.  In their investigation, they learned that this group had only become bolder after the destruction of the Death Cult and the dispersion of the other bakemono groups.  They were regularly attacking human villages to obtain captives.  At least one village was offering a bounty.  Ginjo and Sukh decided that they would leave this problem to other adventurers and maintained a focus on finding the magic needle, which the inscription on the carpet  described as being made of silver.

They visited the "kidnapper" of "bear" bakemono and were welcomed gratefully.  The kidnappers proclaimed that they had several humans to sell. And their price had only increased slightly since the last time.  When Ginjo let it be known that they were more interested in a magic needle and that they had the carpet, the bear bakemono became talking over each other, some of them clamoring to see the carpet, with others shouting out prices to sell the needle, and one still threatening to sell the humans to another buyer who wanted to eat them. Sukh led the negotiation for the captives while Ginjo hinted that the magic needle looked like any other old needle.  Together they came up with an offer for the humans and agreed that they would come back soon to buy the needle.

The captives were a man and wife who lived on the other side of Pasar.  They required frequent rests and made repeated requests for "better food."  As they reached their home village, they chided the party for ransoming them.  "You know it only encourages them to raid us because they know they can get money.  What you should do is go and kill them all."

Sukh and Ginjo decide to leave this ambiguous and returned to the bear bakemono cave.  The needle presented was old and rusty. When Ginjo said he was looking for a silver needle, the bakemono tried to tell him it was silver, but needed to be polished.  Sukh and Ginjo debated buying the rusty needle, but decided they could always return and buy it later.  The references to people-eating monster who was also interested in buying captives made them wonder if this monster was the keeper of the needle.    If they killed the monster and didn't find the needle, they would only be in a better position to bargain with the bakemono.

Based on conversations with their bakemono friends, Sukh and Ginjo deduced that the people eater lived in the labyrinth where Liu-Po had been killed by giant beetles.  Ginjo warned that their foe would be a formidable one to live in such a strange place and share it with such  hideous creatures. But Sukh avowed that he would face any dangers with his sword ready.  Perhaps both thought of Gunjar, who had been Ginjo's first companion in exploring the Caves of Discord.  Ginjo missed the holy man, but he appreciated Sukh's wisdom in battle and felt confident knowing that together they were leading a well-disciplined group of warriors.

On an auspicious day, at about mid-morning, they entered the maze of the monster, a creature described as a powerfully-built man with the head of a bull.  Sukh did his best to map the narrow, twisty corridors, but soon found the effort made him dizzy.  They pushed onward by trial-and-error, avoiding the tell-tale red glow of the giant beetles.

After at least an hour of walking in circles, they found themselves in large cavern.  Their flickering torches created strange shadows that danced on the walls beside crude drawing of the foe they were hunting and the many victims he had hunted before them.  A pungent, bestial scent hung in the air, soon broken by the sounds of aggressive snorting and stomping.  Ginjo order the sohei and mercenary to spread out and find places to hide themselves.  He and Sukh stepped boldly into the middle of the cavern and drew their swords.

From out of the darkness, the monster charged, wielding a thick-shafted spear with a blade nearly as long as a sword.  Sukh whirled to miss the point of the spear whereupon the monster lowered its head and gored him with its horns.  Sukh was knocked to the floor and struggled to get up as Ginjo closed, slashing at the monster's back, opening two great wounds.  Bellowing in pain and rage, the monster turned.  Sukh and Ginjo mastered their fear and flanked the monster, taking turns withstanding its powerful blows while the other slashed and stabbed, remaining close enough to prevent it from gathering speed to charge.  Just as the monster was faltering, Ginjo was struck in the face with the butt of the spear and fell on his back.  Sukh, fighting to stay on his own feet was slow to come to his aid, and this was the moment for Phru to shine.  Chanting a prayer from the monastery of the two-fold path, he led the other sohei in a surprise charge against the monster.  Dropping its spear, it thrashed and kick like a pure animal as the sohei's spear found its heart.  The monster was dead.

They rested and explored the monster's lair, at last finding a boulder that concealed a cahce of strange treasures-- foreign coins, weird elixirs, and a small ebony box that held a silver needle with a thread of gold.  Ginjo gratefully granted the monster's spear to Phru.  Together, they collected all the coins they could carry and made their way of the labyrinth and back to Pasar. eager to test the needle.

Homecoming Part 2

 Ginjo spent a few days studying the Kwam-Rak family heirloom that had been entrusted to him, a beautifully-crafted carpet.  He puzzled over the design, seemingly abstract, but seemingly real.  He puzzled over the border, a complicated script that he recognized from the book he'd studied to learn Bakemono.  He recognized the individual words, but had trouble finding a meaning that matched the usually brutish and most often simple perspective of the bakemono he'd encountered in the Caves of Discord.

After consulting with Sukh, he decided to seek out his Bakemono friends, the four disciples of Gunjar who had helped him defeat the Death Cult.  He found them in their new home deep in the forest, in a cramped hollow beneath an enormous and vine-covered fallen tree.  When Ginjo described the carpet, the Bakemono were at-once eager to hear about it and reluctant to share what they knew.  Vanilla Rainbow sneered at the others, "Why waste our time on the old stories when we have a new one to tell?"  This confirmed for Ginjo and Sukh that there was a story and they decided they would bring the carpet to the bakemono.

When this was done, even Vanilla Rainbow could not hide her interest.  Ginjo shared the story that he had heard from Pau-Lung and the bakemono nodded.

Gentle Foot interpreted the border inscription.  The carpet was a map, a map to the bakemono homeland.

"But we need the needle," Vanilla Rainbow interrupted, "and the needle is lost!"

The needle, as Gentle Foot explained, would complete the carpet and show the way to the bakemono homeland.  "When the time is right."

Ginjo and Sukh heard four stories about the fate of the needle.

1. It was still held by the strongest bakemono.  
2. It was given to a powerful monster for safe-keeping.
3. It was hidden in a foul, disgusting place where no non-bakemono would dare to go.
4. It was lost and would never be found.

The Caves of Inharmonious Discord Part 4: Vanishings

Now hardened by battle, the party—nine in number—returned to the clearing near the Caves they had once claimed. It was a good spot: flat, with water, and close enough to strike fast.

But something had changed.

At the center of the camp, they found a statue. Two feet tall. Made of clay and stone, with a long braid of grass for hair. It held the shaft of an arrow like a staff. At its base were offerings: a jar of beer, a stack of coins.

This wasn’t debris. It was a message. Someone had tracked them.

The party packed up and moved on.

---

The Drums from the Swamp

They settled again, farther off, in a place that seemed safe. But just after nightfall, drumming began—low and rhythmic, coming from a swampy hollow to the south. It continued for hours.

No attack came. The noise grew monotonous.

They ate rations in silence. Sukh and Ginjo took watch with Sid, Irak, Sheng, and Shek. The foreign priests were left to rest—no one quite trusted them to stand guard. The drumming ebbed but didn’t stop until dawn.

---

Signs of Rot and Silence

At first light, the party moved again—away from the swamp, the caves, the shrine. They found another campsite, better sheltered, and set off for the northern wall of the canyon. Sukh had raided a cave there before.

They passed the familiar skull wall, now dull with weather. Inside: cold ashes in a firepit. Silence.
Then—footsteps.

A bakemono, pig-faced and slack-jawed, stumbled into view. Its nose had been crushed flat. It didn’t react. It didn’t attack.

Pana, the foreign priest, stepped forward. He drew a charm from his robes and spoke words in a foreign tongue. The creature passed them by without a sound.

The cave, they decided, had been abandoned. They returned to their new camp.

---

The Vanishing

That night passed peacefully. Too peacefully.

Sukh and Ginjo slept long and woke late. When they stirred, half the party was gone—Irak, Shek, and the foreign priests. No note. No signs of struggle.

Ginjo found tracks, leading toward the caves.

They followed.

At the bottom of the canyon they found three bodies—one of Pana’s silent acolytes and two dog-lizard bakemono. The trail led to a low cave on the northern wall. Sukh had seen this breed there before.

---

Pit of Vermin

They charged in. Ginjo and Sid triggered a hidden pit and fell. Giant rats swarmed them. From the shadows, bakemono threw javelins.

Sukh and Sheng fought back. One javelin struck Sheng hard. He staggered, nearly dead. Sukh dragged him to safety and hid him among rocks, then returned.

Four bakemono now surrounded the pit, laughing and goading the rats. Sukh raised his bow. Two quick arrows—two dead bakemono. The rest fled.

Down in the pit, Ginjo and Sid fought on. Now, with no new threats from above, they made short work of the rats. Bloodied and gasping, they climbed out on a rope.

---

Loss and Realization

The party regrouped.

There was no sign of Irak or Shek, only the dead and the echo of laughter. Ginjo and Sukh came to a grim conclusion: a stronger force had taken their companions. There was no hope in attac
king blindly.

They returned to Pasar.

There, they found Gwinch—and told him the worst of it: Irak was missing, likely captured, and they were not strong enough to go after her.

The Caves of Inharmonious Discord Part 3: Gunjar's Final Word

After a few days of rest and quiet talk, Ginjo and Gunjar made a decision: they would strike again before returning to Pasar. If they left now, some companions might not return. But there were still at least two bakemono dens they hadn’t touched—and the deeper threat was still out there.

So they set out together—Ginjo, Gunjar, and their surviving allies. Sukh and Sentra came too, but stayed back as rearguard, setting up a watching post inside the canyon to guard the main party’s retreat. Or, if the main party didn’t return, they’d know what to do.

The assault began early, on a cave lay high on the southern cliffs. Inside, they met a strange and fearsome group of bakemono: lean and long-limbed, with faces like mangy cats or clever, hungry dogs. Their weapons were long spears with cruel barbs. Their laughter echoed off the walls—manic and mocking—and they fought as if indifferent as to whether it was them or their enemies who died.

The heroes surprised a group during a meal. Gunjar called down divine silence, and within moments the creatures were overwhelmed, tied up, and disarmed. The party crept past a sleeping chamber—rows of skeletal bakemono sprawled on mats—and burst into their chief’s hall.

The fight was fierce. The chief and his bodyguards fought with wild, high-pitched howls. Ginjo took a wound to the side. One of the monks nearly lost his arm. But when the chief fell, the others surrendered. Again, Gunjar insisted that these monsters should be allowed to surrender; the party bound them and began to regroup.

That’s when they heard the knocking.

From behind a wooden door came the noise—bakemono calling out, knocking, not hostile but persistent in claiming they needed to present an offering to the chief. Gunjar wanted to rest, to heal the injured. But the knocking continued, louder and louder. The party decided to ignore them, wait for silence, then make a break for the exit.

They followed this plan—but it soon fell apart.

They silently left the chief’s chamber and then crept through the hallway toward the entrance—and into an ambush. A group of bakemono with bows and crossbows stepped out of hidden alcoves and opened fire. At the same time, a squad of spear-wielders charged from a side room. Ginjo rushed the archers. Gunjar blocked the charge.

Both leaders held the line—but the hallway was narrow and chaotic. A few bakemono slipped past them and reached the center of the party.

Then came salvation.

Sentra and Sukh, sensing the delay, had entered the cave. They found the bakemono bowmen from behind, cut one down, and shouted to draw the rest. It worked. Ginjo seized the moment, rallying the others. “Move!” he shouted. “Get to the exit!”

They ran.

Sid, one of the monks, was caught in the flank and gored by a spear. He went down, bleeding out fast. Gunjar turned back, drove the bakemono off with a furious strike of his staff, and knelt beside his friend. His hands glowed gold. Sid stirred. He lived.

Gunjar pulled Sid to his feet and shoved him toward the exit, and stood before the final wave— three gaunt and slavering bakemono with axes and long spears. They saw Gunjar alone and wounded, and they struck. He stood his ground. He fell under them.

Ginjo led the retreat, fighting through the last bakemono to reach the mouth of the cave and usher the others out, with Sukh bringing up the rear. The canyon air hit them like wind on fire. As soon as they reached the air, the always unpredictable Sentra was gone—vanishing alone into the hills. “Let him go,” Irak, said, “the two-fold path always returns and if we stays on it, that’s where we will meet him.”

They regrouped at the base of the cliffs. Everyone had wounds. Some could barely walk.

Sukh looked around, then said, “Gunjar… I used to think he was just odd. But he never hurt anyone. He always walked toward danger. And now he's gone.”
He sheathed his blades. “Let’s get back to camp.”

---

The Jungle Trial

That was easier said than done. Gunjar had known the trails best. Sukh led them up and over the ridge, but they ended up in a swamp. They turned around, cut their way through a thicket, and found themselves in deep forest as the sun began to set.

They pushed on. Swords and parangs cut through hanging vines. Then Arif, one of the quiet monks, cried out—his sword caught on a strange, glossy vine. He tried to free it. The vine pulled back. Sticky. Elastic. Not a vine.

Spiders, the size of cats, dropped from the branches. One bit Arif on the neck before anyone rea
ched him. His friends cut it down, drove the other off. But Arif was shaking. The poison took him before they could stop it.

They didn’t find their old camp. Instead, they made a new one: a bare clearing beneath the stars. No fires. No tents. Some slept. Some just waited for dawn.

---

Return to Pasar

The next day, they followed the Rowche Valley trail and returned to Pasar.

Howzaa, last of the farmers, spoke first. “I’ll guard my village,” he said. “But I’m done with these caves. You’re welcome in my home, any time. But I won’t go back.”

The monks split.

• Bagus and Cahya were blunt. Ginjo was brave, but reckless. He chased glory, not balance. They were done.
• Sid, the one Gunjar had saved, quietly joined Sukh. “I don’t know why Gunjar fought the bakemono,” he said. “But I trust him. And if you’re going back, I will too.”
• Irak, a soft-spoken but fierce monk, pulled Ginjo aside. “There’s something darker in that canyon,” she said. “The others don’t see it. But I do. I believe in you.”

Sheng and Shek, the mercenaries, were loyal. Ginjo had saved them. And the Silk Guild still paid well. “Better than guarding caravans,” Shek grunted.

Ginjo and Sukh looked at what was left. They could lead this group. But they needed more than fighters.

They needed a mystic.

That’s when they met Pana.

A stranger from the west, he wore rough robes over fine armor. He was from the west, but did not adhere to the One Law, instead claiming to carry secret wisdom. Two silent acolytes followed him. He listened to Ginjo’s tale, nodded once, and smiled.

“I have seen mysteries that you may never see,” Pana said. “But I know evil when I see it. I’ve seen things like your bakemono before. Sometimes killing is the answer.”

And so he joined them.

The Caves of Inharmonious Discord Part 2: Helter-Skelter

After leaving the lair of the red-tusked bakemono, Gunjar and Ginjo had a new vantage point. From their height above the canyon floor, they spotted other cave mouths—higher, deeper, darker.

When they returned, they chose a new one to explore. Outside it, they found a broken shield and a scattering of copper yuan. The shield was split along the grain, its strap snapped clean through.

They stepped inside. Almost immediately, something felt wrong. The air pressed on them strangely, and the path twisted in ways that didn’t make sense. The deeper they went, the worse it got. Gunjar tried to map the tunnels, but after a few turns, he staggered and vomited.

Then came the light—dim and red, flickering against the cavern walls. They followed it, not sure why, until they found the source: a scuttle of dog-sized beetles, their swollen glands glowing around scythe-like mandibles.

The sight was horrific. But Ginjo didn’t flinch. He drew his sword and gave the word to advance.

Behind him came a half-dozen others—some local farmers, including Liu-Po, and a few monks trained in the sohei tradition. The farmers were unarmed or carried tools; they weren’t meant for battle. The monks moved with discipline, but this was something new.

The beetles were fierce. Their shells turned aside even clean strikes. And they were clever. Two climbed the cavern walls and dropped from above—straight onto Liu-Po. He screamed. They tore him apart before anyone could reach him.

Gunjar shouted a warning and called on his spirits. Ginjo cut down the beetle that killed Liu-Po. The others scattered, retreating into cracks and crevices.

The fight was over. But the cost had been too high.

Shaken, Gunjar declared the cave cursed and ordered a retreat. They gathered what was left of Liu-Po. Ginjo took the lead, lantern in hand.

The tunnels twisted again. It felt like they were being led downward. But then, ahead—daylight. A faint breeze. They walked faster.

At camp, they buried Liu-Po. Gunjar said a few words. No long speech. Just truth: Liu-Po had come when asked. He had held the line.

And now he was gone.

The Caves of Inharmonious Discord Part 1: "Other things . . ."

Dramatis Personae

Ginjo – A self-exiled warrior from the Zhou Empire. Level-headed and dependable, with a growing reputation as a local leader. Co-runs a Rowche tea shop in Pasar. Known for his cool command under pressure.

Gunjar – A white shaman from the Land of the Five Fires. Practices an older, spirit-driven tradition separate from the monastic Two-Fold Path. Merciful, mystical, and unsettlingly powerful when the spirits speak through him.

Sukh – A fellow exile from the Valley of the Five Fires. A rugged fighter and sometime rival to Gunjar. Though he declined to join the first temple raid, Sukh has stood by Ginjo since their joint investigation into the Black Flowers. He prefers action to ritual, and carries the weight of unspoken battles.

Sentra – A disciplined monk of the Monastery of the Two-Fold Path. Speaks little, observes much. Occasionally travels beyond monastery walls when duty demands. Respected by both peasants and monks.

Howzaa & Li Po – Rowche farmers turned reluctant adventurers. Survivors of the temple raid, now part of the expedition's vanguard.

Shek & Sheng – Former caravan guards, rescued from bakemono captivity. Now armed, armored, and loyal to Ginjo’s leadership.

---

Into the Caves

A few months had passed since the battle at the temple. Ginjo and Gunjar had returned to Pasar as quiet heroes, but it was the Rowche farmers who carried the most urgent news. The bakemono had not disappeared—they had multiplied.

At first, it was small things: tracks near burned ground, vanished animals, unearthed graves. Then came raids—on livestock, on carts, on lone travelers. The bakemono no longer acted as isolated bands but as a growing force. Their movements pointed to one place: a slot canyon, little more than a narrow tear in the hills, riddled with caves. Old farmers called it a place of ghosts—once a hermitage for monks, now twisted by something deeper and crueler. Dark tunnels leading to still darker places of disharmony, corruption, and discord. Or, as some would say, chaos.

Howzaa and Li Po, braver than most, followed the trails. What they saw—crude symbols, bones, flickering fires—was enough to send them back to Pasar, pale and resolute.

Ginjo and Gunjar answered the call. With the monks of the Two-Fold Path, they recruited a handful of warriors and volunteers, including Howzaa and Li Po. Their goal: not defense, but purification. They would strike into the canyon and root out the bakemono before their corruption spread any further.

They chose to enter through a low cavern mouth on the southern wall, half-hidden by vines and shadow. The air inside was still and damp. Within moments, the party encountered their first foes: half a dozen blue-green, pointy-eared bakemono, the same kind that had desecrated the temple. But this time, the heroes held the advantage—discipline, courage, and steel.

Ginjo led the charge. Gunjar invoked the spirits. The bakemono, caught off guard, were overwhelmed.

Deeper in, they found a cramped chamber made to resemble a throne room, pitiful in its pomp. A larger bakemono sat there, fanged and howling. He commanded his underlings to attack—only for Gunjar to step forward and deliver a scathing sermon, condemning them for their cruelty. The spirits answered. The air grew thick. The bakemono collapsed. Most would never rise again. But there were a few who rose and fled screaming, horrified by their own wickedness. 

The group pressed on, ascending narrow stairs and winding tunnels. The deeper they went, the stronger the resistance: larger bakemono, better-armed and less easily cowed. Still, Ginjo’s leadership held them together. Gunjar tended wounds with quiet devotion. And when they entered a prison chamber, they found survivors.

A wealthy silk merchant, his wife, and two guards. Captured on the road and held for ransom—or worse. The heroes escorted them to safety. The merchant, once returned to Pasar, offered Ginjo a generous reward through the Silk Guild.

His two guards, Shek and Sheng, outfitted with fresh gear, pledged their blades to the cause.

---

New Allies, New Plans

The battle had begun in earnest.

With evidence mounting of a large and organized bakemono presence, the party began assembling a broader force. The silk merchant’s influence helped. So did the quiet authority of the monks.

Sentra, a monk of the Two-Fold Path, and Sukh, the warrior from Gunjar’s homeland, agreed to join the next raid. Gwinch, an elder at the monastery, sent five additional sohei. In total, the expedition now
numbered a dozen fighters—sohei, caravaners, farmers, and four proven leaders.

They established a camp in the canyon—a central base from which to raid and regroup. They would strike in turns: one team would attack, the other defend the camp and tend the wounded.

The first strike had gone well.

But darker things lay deeper in the caves—and the bakemono had begun to organize.

Sentra and Sukh’s Sortie

Sukh had declined the temple raid—but he had never left the fight.

He’d been watching. Listening. The stories coming from the caves sounded worse than those from the Rowche ridgeline. So when Ginjo proposed a second sortie, Sukh agreed to lead it. He would go with Sentra, the quiet monk, who had once spoken of peace with a tone so cold it sounded like steel drawn from a scabbard.

They took with them a handful of sohei, plus several brave farmers. Their target: a narrow tunnel on the northern side of the canyon, half-hidden by brush and trees.

As they approached, it happened fast—a sudden rain of spears. Half a dozen small bakemono-- half-rat, half-dog, half-lizard-- dropped from the trees, shrieking and stabbing. One monk was run through and barely clung to life. Sentra charged into the fray, and swept two of the creatures aside with his staff. The ambushers fled into the underbrush, barking and hissing.

Sentra stabilized the wounded, wrapping their wounds with calm precision. He insisted the wounded be returned to camp immediately. 

That decision may have saved lives.

---

Sukh and Sentra returned hours later to a larger cavern mouth, higher on the canyon wall. The afternoon sun slanted into the opening. Inside, the light revealed ranks of severed heads, lined in niches carved into the stone. Human and bakemono, all grim trophies.

One niche was empty.

Sentra’s eyes narrowed. He had seen movement. A pig-nosed head, twitching ever so slightly—then gone. Behind the niche, he found a small tunnel. Throwing a torch inside, he glimpsed a parallel hallway, hidden behind the rows of skulls.

"They saw us first," Sentra muttered.
Sukh nodded. “Then we move fast.”

They charged into the main corridor, seeking an intercept point. They did not find the watcher—but they found four armed pig-faced bakemono.

The battle was sharp and fast. The creatures were tough but scattered. Sukh gutted two. Sentra crushed the windpipe of a third. The fourth tried to flee—but never made it to the tunnel.

They followed signs of habitation deeper in—and soon came upon the chief's lair.

He was bloated, bright red, with massive tusks jutting from his mouth like daggers. He sat in a heap of cushions and bones, surrounded by snarling bodyguards and several female bakemono.

The sohei and farmers squared off against the guards. Sukh pointed his blade at the chief.

The duel was brief, brutal, and strange. The chieftain fought with reckless strength—smashing, howling, lashing out blindly. But Sukh was patient. He waited, deflected, retreated. When the chief overcommitted, Sukh stepped in and struck low, then high—a clean kill.

The other bakemono panicked. Some tried to flee. None made it out.

The heroes looted the lair and returned to camp.

They had found one lair—but the canyon was full of mouths. And not all of them would be so clumsy.