Tharosk and Kaerith reached the log and the surrounding sticks much earlier than they expected.
"Where are we going to spend the night, sir?"
"There's a cave nearby, the scouts gave set up a small outpost inside."
The Ravager guided the Mindcarver to the large opening in the ground.
"The tunnels are low, we have to dismount and walk, also be mindful where you step, these blasted invisible cats best here."
"Of course, sir."
They carefully entered the cave, and started making their way through the labyrinthine underground space.
Tharosk walked very deliberately, murmuring to himself the order of turns. At some point it was clear that they were no longer in a real space - they walked in one direction for far longer than should be possible.
It meant they were on the right track, they entered fake dimension between the cave and the outpost, now they had to pray Tharosk remembered the right path to get in.
A few minutes of meandering later, they stopped in front of a large iron door.
"We made it." Tharosk announced triumphantly.
"I never doubted you, sir."
The chamber behind the door was small - it had two bunk beds, a chest filled with weapons and emergency rations, and a logbook to keep track of who used the outpost.
Tharosk turned to his subordinate.
"It's possible that the dustlings are still in that temple we saw today, we'll camp here for a few days to make sure we don't miss them."
"And what if they're not, sir? How are we going to catch up to them?"
"They will surely go to the settlement we have to investigate, if they've already reached it, it'll just make our task easier."
"How long will we stay here, sir?"
"A couple days at most."
Tharosk didn't want to waste too much time waiting for the dustlings - they would lurk for a bit, maybe set w trap or two, and proceed to their next goal.
"I have an idea, sir." Kaerith took out something out of his saddle bag."If we give this to one of the Stalkers it will evolve, the dustling won't stand a chance if they even approach the log."
Tharosk looked somewhat impressed.
"A Foulbloom? Where did you get that?"
The Mindcarver was holding a small dessicated flower, its were petals shriveled up, and a thick mucus was oozing out from between them.
"The Plaugeshaper gave it to me in exchange for a favour a while back, sir."
"Well, no time like the present then. Grab one of the Dravharns and we'll look for a acceptable specimen."
"Of course, sir."
A few minutes later there were out of the outpost, and back in the cave system.
It didn't take them long to find a Stalker. The feline creature hissed at the Serakhiin and bared it's fangs.
"Look at that, a volunteer!" Tharosk exclaimed. "Let's see what you're made of."
The Ravager waved his hand, and the Dravharn they brought with them swiped at the smaller monster.
It didn't manage to doge on time, and the claws of the larger beast left four deep gashes on its side.
The Stalker whimpered, and ran away.
"Pathetic creature." Tharosk sneered.
They wandered around the underground labyrinth for a while, finding various potential candidates, but none met their expectations.
Until one of them did.
In one of the largest chambers they found a very young specimen, barely able to hunt on its own - and yet when Tharosk pointed one of his swords at it, the creature didn't even flinch.
He came closer, and touched the beast's snout with the tip of his blade.
It didn't move.
The Ravager slowly moved his sword across its skin, drawing blood as his edge split the flesh.
The Stalker stood its ground, and even growled at him.
"This one will do nicely, catch it."
"As you command, sir."
Kaerith grabbed the beast by the scruff of the neck, immobilising it, and shoved the withered flower down its throat.
"It's done, sir. Now we have to wait around two days for the effects."
"Very well, let's leave it here and we'll come back when it's time for inspection."
They returned to the outpost, but since they had virtually nothing to do, Kaerith saw this as an opportunity to learn a bit from the older officer.
"Sir have you ever met the Dreadmarshal? It's a bit strange that he would personally assign us a task."
Tharosk chuckled.
"I have met Lord Korratoth once, it was during my appointment as a Ravager - there were a lot of us getting promoted that day, so I doubt he remembers me." He sighed. "The mission has little to do with us - it's a political thing, and the fact that we're benefiting from it is a mere coincidence."
The Mindcarver looked surprised.
"Forgive me for asking sir, but isn't politicking something only the lesser races do? The Serakhiin are above such things, we respect order and hierarchy above all else."
The Ravager slowly shook his head.
"Wherever there's power, struggle for leadership follows. You've been taught to follow the codex blindly, but in the real world the higher you climb, the more our rules become suggestions."
"Have you ever experienced the rule bending you're talking about, sir?"
Tharosk face fell, and Kaerith immediately knew he shouldn't have asked this question.
"Enough talk, go sharpen all the spare blades."
The Mindcarver knew better than to defy his superior.
"Of course, sir."
***
Kaerith spent the next two days making every sword, knife and spear in the outpost sharp enough to split a hair.
They had no way of telling time down here, but he had good intuition when it came to that.
"We should check on the beast, sir."
Fortunately for him Tharosk forgave his transgression fairly quickly, and everything was back to normal.
"Good, I want to see what became of the critter."
They tracked the creature down in one of the biggest chambers, the transformation was already done, but the monster was sleeping - from the state of the cave it seemed like the beast went on a hunt, and fell asleep on the remains of its prey.
"What an ugly bastard."
"I concur, sir."
"No need to wake it I suppose." Tharosk looked at the mangled corpses of Stalkers on the ground. "I think we should go on our own hunt today, I'm sick of the emergency rations."
"But sir, is there anything worth hunting nearby?"
"No, but I want some meat - I don't care if the kill is fair, just find something with edible flesh."
"As you command, sir."
***
They returned to check on the Prowler three days later - only to find its quickly decomposing corpse.
"What in the five hells happened here?!"
"It appears the beast died, sir."
"I can see that it died you fool, I'm asking why it died!"
The monster was bloodied and mangled, its armour was cracked and striped, its tough hide covered in ragged gashes. A singular deep puncture wound was visible on its side, likely the killing blow.
Kaerith kneeled to inspect the body.
"The dustlings killed it, sir."
"What about those wounds?" Tharosk pointed at the Prowler's head. "They were clearly dealt by fangs or claws."
"They might have a disciple of the green witch with them, sir. I've read that some of them can mimic body parts of various beasts."
"Bothersome." The Ravager snarled. "No need to dwell here then, I suppose. Tomorrow morning we set off for the dustling settlement."
"Yes, sir."
The dustlings most likely didn't have any mounts, so with some luck they would catch up to them on the road - if not, they'll just scout out the settlement and report what they found to the Pathseeker.
Strangely, the object they saw in the mountains disappeared yesterday - likely some kind of dustling sorcery - but they remembered its location.
The journey would take them two days, but there was one more outpost to the west, so they didn't have to worry about a safe place to sleep.
Their walk back to the hidden room was rather quiet, so Kaerith started talking:
"Sir, I have a question."
"Ask away."
"If we can't see the settlement, how are we going to report on it?"
Tharosk stopped in his tracks, and turned around. When he spoke, he chose his words very carefully.
"We will find a way to... observe the dustlings... when we get there."
"Very well, sir."
'It seems I'll have to come up with something.' Kaerith sighed internally.
***
The next morning the duo was standing outside the cave, performing the final checks.
"Have you noted everything we took in the logbook? It may not look like it but they actually do inventory of the outposts sometimes, and I don't want to be the one responsible for something missing."
"Yes, I've written everything down, sir."
Tharosk's gaze lingered on the young Mindcarver for a moment.
"Are you sad that we've wasted the Foulbloom?"
In truth, it did sting a little bit - those flowers was quite rare, because only a few Plaugeshapers knew how to make them, but he couldn't say that.
"No, sir."
Tharosk, apparently satisfied with the answer, didn't say anything.
And so, after many days of pointless preparation, they left the forest - completely unaware that their targets were nearby all this time.