She looks down at the stone in her hands, given by the elves. She tosses it to Heather. "You're gonna need that more than I will. Good luck."
She smiles at Alex. "You're a pretty great kid. Keep your head on straight. If you're in this life saving people, maybe talk to Missouri about puttin' the breaks on the hormones, or at least fixin' a few lines to use." She gives him a wink, waves to you all, and picks up with the elf family. Finlorin can be heard speaking to her. "So how is it you fell in with those heroes?"
In the morning, as suggested, you set off eastward, essentially following the ley line where possible. Those who took note of the position of the blight last night have found that it moved several feet outwards while you slept. The ley line is similarly affected.
With a start, Statheros wakes. "I have sent out my sight to scour the area. It was difficult; I felt I was being opposed at every turn. However, I have verified that there is nothing between here and our destination that would give us pause. Let us take caution, though, as I could not peer into the rocks the elves spoke of."
The land around you is bleak. Twisted, wilted vegetation, shriveled trees, and utter desolation greet your vision. The view in all directions is obscured by thick, rank haze. Most of you seem unfazed by the ill feeling and desolate view. Statheros almost seems energized. Fundin, however, seems far less boisterous. His skin has taken on the very slightest gray tint, and he has found himself a minor wheezing as he breathes. If asked, he brushes off any concern. "Aye, I'm fine. Ye cannot overcome dwarven constitution with some dead plants. Just see to the job, aye?"
The ground is boggy, likely accounting for Finlorin and Sherlindrea's slow going. You pass the husks of a few villages on your way. The blight is indiscriminate; the buildings themselves have succumbed to the sickness and appear rotted. Alex and Everett's respective sensors can see that the buildings are unstable due to the compromised framing. While Finlorin and Sherlindrea spent several days walking, you are being driven in a well built and maintained vehicle by an experienced pilot and a minimally-competent co-pilot. The vehicle picks its way over sudden, jagged rocks, mud bogs, and fallen trees that practically crumble on contact. You make excellent time along the ley line. Fundin, despite his new wheeze, had the throttle pinned as best he could without twisting the trailer off of the hitch. The mid-afternoon (at least, the time says it's mid-afternoon; the sunlight is so scattered by the haze that it's difficult to tell) finds you arriving at what would appear to be your destination.
A collection of jagged black rocks appear at the edge of a lake (if it can be called that). The land around them is shifted and broken, as if they were a recent addition to the landscape. Fundin pulls the mountaineer as close as he is able, but the tires are still mired in about a foot of muck, as the lake has putrified and appears to have soaked into the surrounding land, turning it into a fetid swamp. "This is as close as I can get ye. I'll <wheeze> turn her around and get us facin' the other way. I've a feelin' a hasty retreat isn't a bad backup plan, ehhhhhhh <wheeze>? I'll keep her runnin' for ye."
There is a footpath leading through a cleft in the wall, barely wide enough to accommodate Alex's armor or Proditione's bulk. The already hazy light is further dimmed by the dipping of the sun to dusk. Fundin's already dampened mood grows even more serious. "Durin be with ye all. Me beauty'll be ready to run as soon as ye make it back."
Statheros is practically bursting forth from the mountaineer as soon as the door opens, frantic with the passage of time. "Make haste! I sense a foul hour approaches. Hurry! Hurry!" Statheros, it seems, has little patience for those whose primary method of movement isn't flight.
Note: for those to whom it matters, you are directly on a ley line.