Ethrain will guide you out of the gates of Redhaven to the east, and there at the gates are a few grooms from Rikken's Stables, in town.  They have a round dozen horses between them, though four are laden with pack saddles that seem to contain grain and other supplies.  Ethrain goes up to one of the grooms and murmurs his thanks, going to a sturdy and placid-looking brown mare and mounting up.

The groom looks up at you all and gives you a nod.

"These beasts are fairly calm and even-tempered, trained in the Gambrel way," he says by way of introduction.  He takes a few moments to go over the basic commands, how to hold the reins, what words to say and what actions to take to get the horses to stop, start, change their pace, or turn.  "Make sure to take their tack off at night, brush them down, and let the tack dry.  When you put the tack back on, make sure the saddle girth is tight, else you'll end up riding underneath the horse, and that's a view no one wants, for certain."  He points out things as he speaks, demonstrating his explanations on one long-suffering black gelding.  The groom gives a short lecture on not letting a horse eat too much at one go, and how much grain they can have in a day, before bringing the beasts forward.

"The black one here is Sable, and he's one of the biggest ones we have.  The bay is Heartwood, and she's a very calm one.  Hither and Yon are the two tall blue roans, and they're a bit faster then the others, and bit more mischievous.  Wellop is the buckskin gelding, and he's a titch more skittish, but very friendly.  Damson is the dark brown one with the black mane, and he's the one with the keenest nose.  Kiley is the brown one with the blaze on her nose, and she's the youngest of this group, a little prankster.  Pick your mounts, if you please!"

Once everyone had picked a beast to their choosing, and the grooms have adjusted the stirrups to fit everyone, the chief groom has one last thing to say.

"Last thing.  You're adventurers, but these are not battle-trained beasts.  They won't bolt at storms and common things, even a bandit raid won't make them panic.  Run, but not panic.  But don't drag them into any fight with any uncanny thing, because they'll only bolt and hurt themselves, you, or both.  All right?  Then good luck with you!"

With that, you can urge your horses onward, on the road to Fen-on-the-Fen and whatever mysteries await you there.

OOC:  Could I get a marching order?  The road can fit two across comfortably.  And let me know any standard adventuring procedures you want to do.  (Keep your bow out, have familiar range above/below/to the side, always look behind me every few minutes, etc.)
This message was last updated by the GM at 11:45, Thu 28 Jan 2016.

Having little experience with horses, Averdante opts for a quiet one, choosing the bay Damson; he was evidently so unmemorable as to acquire no particular name. He listens carefully to the grooms' instructions, gets himself astride, and once settled, puts those instructions in practice by riding a bit out of the way. While everone else is getting sorted out, he gets his bow out and experiments with how being mounted is going to affect his draw and targeting.

Trying to shoot straight ahead will be a problem, he realizes -- and the horse responds to strong leg pressure. He moves away from it. That could be useful, if Dante can remember it quickly enough to angle the horse slightly away from his target. And if the sound of a released bowstring doesn't alarm the horse.

He might well find out, given he'll be riding with his bow in hand for quick use.

Volsh was not all that good of a rider, but he was a big man, so he chose Sable.  He knew enough of working with animals to let the black smell him, and put him at ease before he tried to mount.  He had grabbed an apple and a handful of oats at breakfast, figuring the treat might get them started off on the right foot.   He put the apple in his flat hand and offered it to Sable as he stroked and patted his neck.  He had the oats in a leather sack for a snack later.

"Easy boy, just going for a ride, nothing exciting eh."  He had no illusions of trying to fight from horseback, and once astride noted that it would be a nasty tumble if he tried anything stupid like trying to dismount while running.  No, he was going to have to be alert and anticipate things, if it came down to it.  Hopefully, he and Sable would just be taking this ride to the Fen and that would the all of it.

Dellas wakes up early and gets ready for an early start. He made sure that his rations are fresh and that Vish got his bath (though he didn't like it)
Feeling full of energy and ready to unleash some of his spells, he eats a good breakfast before looking after Honeybee and just waits for the others while sitting on Honeybee and letting Vish run up and down his arms.

Bruenor listened with half an ear to the groom's instructions.  While he was not what you'd call an adept horseman, he had certainly ridden enough whilst living at his father's barony.  Getting in to too much mischief when he was younger usually meant extra chores, the menial kind, which would include helping old Gruden in the stables; often getting the most glamorous work...like shoveling shit from the stalls.

He snaps out of his reminiscing and walks over to Hither, looking at the animal's steel blue/gray coat.  A fast horse sounded good, and he reckoned he could handle a bit of mischief.  He walks up to the steed, and holds out his hand to let the horse smell him.  He then strokes the horse's head and neck, while speaking softly.  After a moment, he capably pulls himself into the saddle, and takes Hither for a quick walk round the area...getting a feel for the horse, and vice versa.

OOC: Bruenor will offer to take point, riding in the front with whomever will share it with him.  Whilst travelling, his gaze will mostly remain to the front & sides; scanning for any dangers or concerns ahead.  His sword will stay sheathed, unless he (or Hither) begin to feel nervous or uncomfortable about something.

Everyone finds their mount, Sir Aberlayne choosing to ride Valiant more towards the middle, to protect her brother (and also so her shorter-legged pony doesn't get left behind).  Armed and alert, familiars and animal companions ready, the group sets out.  Narthian takes Kiley, and spends several moments first communicating with Thunder before going to speak to his mount.  Thunder ranges at the edge of the woods along the road as you ride along so as to not disturb the horses.

Ethrain is eager to be on the road, and the weather is nice enough to cooperate, the sun coming up bright and clear, if warm, for the first part of your travels.  He keeps the pace brisk, but not breakneck, pausing for breaks for man and beast periodically.  You head due east from Redhaven, occasionally passing other travelers on the road.  A few merchant caravans with their guards and locked wagons of cargo, a few flocks and herds being driven to either new feeding grounds or the market, a couple lone travelers, some on horseback, some on foot.  One of the foot travelers is making remarkable time, hiking along at a clip that puts the horse to shame.  Narthian squints at the man's staff, and then again at a distant hawk far above, and mutters, "Druid," to the group in explanation.

It is just after dark when you spy a common campsite near one of the turn-offs on the road.  It has a couple of lean-tos, a couple of permanent firepits, some log benches, even sign pointing to a nearby brook where one could gather water.  Three people are already huddled around one of the firepits, a burly half-orc with a topknot, battered leather armor, and an orc double sword by his side, a delicate human women with skin the color of birchbark and eyes like the night sky, wearing traveling robes in buff and tan, and a gnome man in an eye-smartingly colorful getup, his blond hair and neat goatee impeccable.  He idly pipes a tune on a double-reed shalm and waves at Ethrain and the group as their horses pull up to the campsite and the empty firepit there.

"Ah, we made good time today!  I think we'll be to Fen-on-the-Fen by midafternoon tomorrow, if all goes well," Ethrian says, groaning slightly as he dismounts, shaking out his aging limbs from a day of hard travel.

The sunshine and fresh air helped Dellas to relax, tell a few jokes and tease his sister. (Thoguh some of the jokes were rather dry) As the light gives way to the night, Dellas gets off Honeybee rather quickly and stretches himself. "Riding is faster then walking, but the next time we should get a carriage." Vish too, jumps off Dellas and sniffs the evening air.

Volsh wanted to rub his back side, and was delighted to stop and stretch his legs, not that he would admit it to anyone.  "We should set watches for the night."  His tone was a bit more gruff than it needed to be, a little of his discomfort leaking through.

Averdante reined in gratefully at the campsite. He slid off the horse with a barely stifled oath entirely unsuitable for anywhere but docksides and the very lowest sorts of taverns, and then held tight to the saddle for a minute, not entirely sure his legs were ready -- or willing, after the day's abuse -- to take back the burden of carrying him.

"A carriage is an excellent idea," he agreed with Dellas, "if there's another time our own feet aren't good enough for the road." He eyed the saddle with a frown. Could they have devised a more uncomfortable thing to sit on? Surely it wouldn't have hurt to put some padding under that leather. He understood what the phrase "saddle sore" meant with more intimacy than he'd ever desired to acquire.

The horse shifted, and Dante discovered that, yes, his legs would support him. Not without complaint, mind, but he managed not to collapse.

Gingerly stretching, he took another look at the travelers at the other fire pit and silently agreed with Volsh. Keeping watches would be wise. Not to mention, a night spent sleeping on the ground was going to allow the lower half of his body to stiffen up. Thinking he'd volunteer for the middle watch, he turned his attention to the saddle again, shoving the stirrup leather aside for a look at how the belly strap was secured to the saddle.

Removing it would be easy enough; just unfasten it. The trick would be remembering how it was done, so he could reverse that process in the morning when, he thought unhappily, he'd have to saddle the beast back up again. He hoped the halflings would be double-checking that process for the rest of them.

He nods and looks for a nice lean-toe with a post nearby to tie his Honeybee to it. He takes pff her harness and cares for it before looking around and smiles. "Shall I get a fire going for our dinner?" without waiting for an answer he starts to look around for dry branches and more.

Dellas and any other who care to can get branches for the fire, and soon after Narthian has a cheerful blaze going, along with a large pot of stew made from vegetables and herbs he'd gathered during their rest stops, supplemented by some of their rations.  He skewers a few rabbits he (and Thunder) had caught, for people to add meat to their bowls as they wish.  Sir Aberlayne and any who care to can gather water for the horses and ponies, and she'll help the less experienced in caring for the beasts and their tack.

You can sort out watches for the night, but the older Ethrain says,

"If you younglings will take the burden of watching, then this old man will take his full rest.  Don't worry about waking me if you wish to talk, I can sleep through peeper-frog breeding season, just keep any drinking songs down to a small giant's roar, eh?"  With that, he'll set up a small, one-man tent for himself near the lean-to and crawl in if no one has any questions with him.

While Dellas was tending to camp chores, he gives the group in the next site over a good look.  The pale woman seems to be very serious, spreading out a large tome on a traveling desk and studying it in the light of a lantern.  A silver-furred cat oozes out from under her robes and goes to sit on her lap, resting its chin on the desk as if reading the book too.  The gnome in the colorful clothing keeps up his calm pipe music, making a soothing environment around their campfire.  The half-orc is scarred around both wrists, as if he once wore shackles there, and has elaborate tattoos of what seem to be owls on either side of his head, just below his topknot.  His armor, while battered, does not seem to be the usual brown of normal leather, but something vaguely greenish and... warty?  Dellas is almost positive the armor is slightly less battered than it was when they arrived.  Curious indeed...

As the rabbit stewed in the pot and everyone settled down, Dellas goes towards his sister and Bruenor and speaks in hushed tones. "I don't know much about armor, but does the half-orcs armor look funny to you? I don't know the protocol but should we talk to these travelers? Share stories and make sure that they don't want to murder us in our sleep?" He gives the three travelers another glance "I think that woman with the cat might be a magic user herself... guild members maybe?"

Volsh eyed the trio, but gave Dellas a shrug.  "They don't look murderous, unless maybe if you go over there and piss them off."  He gave the man a toothy grin.  He was half kidding, as there were some folk that took an irrational dislike to having their business poked into.  Wizards in particular seemed subtle and quick to anger.  :)

Bruenor dismounts when they reach the campsite, taking in the surrounds and noting the other travellers.  He steals a glance at them occasionally as he tends to Hither, speaking a soothing word as he removes his saddle and waters the horse.

Once his horse is settled, he makes a point of checking his weapons within sight of the other travellers...they looked placid enough, but still...couldn't hurt to let them know the new arrivals were well-armed.  Finally, he sits near the campfire; the smells from the boiling stew making his mouth water.

Bruenor turns to look at Dellas as the Halfling sits down, and then glances at the motley trio at the nearby campsite.  He gives a slight shrug and says, “Not sure…trollskin maybe?” indicating the half-orc’s armor.  “It’s unusual for sure.”

“As long as we have a watch set up, we should sleep ok with this lot over there.  Usually, travellers just want to be left in peace.  I don’t imagine we’ll be singing songs round the campfire together, but a friendly word couldn’t hurt.”

He imagines the Halfling is more concerned about the brutish looking half-orc over there.  In a test of muscle, Bruenor would bank on himself and Volsh.  It was the magic user that worried Bruenor.  While he was finally at ease with his own magic-wielding companions, he still had a healthy suspicion of the arcane arts and all those who practiced them.

Sir Aberlayne squints a bit at the half-orc at Bruenor's comment, and nods slowly.  "I think you might be right about the trollskin armor, Bruenor," she comments.  "That's difficult to obtain, and even harder to make.  Well, at least it's mighty expensive, so I gather it's hard to work with."

The rest of the group can eat and watch the other group.  The pale woman seems to finish studying her book after an hour, and closes the heavy tome with a decisive thud.  She puts it into a leather slipcase and then back into her pack.  She murmurs something to the half-orc and the gnome, and finally crawls into a single-person tent, her cat following after, and ties the door shut firmly.  The half-orc plants himself outside and doesn't move, but the gnome wanders over to your side of the campsite and bobs a short bow, smiling widely.

"Welcome, weary travelers, on this fine evening.  I am Zilini Swiftglass, tale-teller, music-maker, lore-keeper, and merry-maker.  What in the world draws out a such a large Guild party?  Is there some danger about me and mine should be made wise to?"

Volsh shrugged to the diminutive skald, wondering what had tipped the fellow off to the fact they were from the guild.  He was not sure they should be sharing their business with a stranger, but did not want to seem rude.  That said, he decided it best to leave the talking to someone without a foot in their mouth.

Looking up from his bowl he takes a closer look at the gnome before standing up and bows slighty. "Greetings, I am Dellas Nump, wizard and adventurer and these are my travel companions. I'm sure that these days the roads are dangerous in general. Though if you tell us where you are going, we might can tell you more about your road ahead."

"Ah, Zorak and I are guiding Lady Arcane to her destination in Albion," he says with a smile.  "Lady Arcane" is a name used in many ballads and stories, either as a generic name for a woman spellcaster, or to substitute an anonymous name for someone who did not wish notoriety.  "Very diligent, is the lady, and needful of calm and quiet on her journey.  Our travels westward have been mostly good, barring three solid days of rain, one of being stuck behind a farmer driving his herd to market, and an encounter with a bandit troupe five days distant who thought we looked like an easy mark."  Zilini shakes his head with mock sadness.  "Zorak had been in a foul mood that morning, and a grumpy half-orc is not someone to cross.  Alas, they crossed him, and now they they are no more.  With some aid from my humble self to fuddle their efforts at un-crossing, of course.  What of you?  What danger draws such a large party this way?  Such a colorful collection of characters as yourselves is rarely seen outside the Guild."

Volsh was still curious how they had been identified as guild members, so he asked, "Are you members?  Is that why you escort the Lady to Albion?"  For some reason he was still distrustful, despite the skald's cheerful and open manner.  He considered himself a skilled fighter, and at first glance he did not take the trio as an easy mark.  He wondered why the bandits had, as that did not quite add up, unless the bandits were particularly foolish?

Quietly watching and listening, Averdante debates whether to trust the bard or not. Bards hear all kinds of things; he might have heard something useful about mysterious, carnivorous swamp lights. And really, what did they have to hide? The job had been posted at the guild for several weeks. It wouldn't likely be difficult to discover that, or that a group had signed on to deal with it -- particularly if they stopped and talked to the people at the stables. The group's general inexperience with horses had to have been obvious.

For the moment, though, he waited to hear the gnome's answer to Volsh's inquiry.

He listens carefully and nods several times. "Well, what would drive people to be bandits? I hear it's hunger, lust for money or power. Maybe they thought that they could get lucky? Did Lady Arcane also join the fight?" He thought for a moment "I've never been to Albion. I heard that there are many places to go and many things to see, if you have the money. I guess that she will go to some kind of library or something?"

"Yes, yes, Blackwardens both.  We've been with Lady Arcane since Greenfire Lake, some weeks past.  Mostly been delayed by her need to study, and a few road encounters.  The latest, I said, bandits.  They thought they had us outnumbered, but they annoyed Zorak, and few can handle Zorak's annoyance.  I myself am I dab hand at emphasizing that annoyance, so we make a good team," Zilini explains.



"I'm sure we didn't look like much at first.  I mean, Zorak looks like a tough nut to crack, but I'm hardly imposing and the Lady was dressing down.  One strong man isn't going to deter a mob of scoundrels too lazy to work or too cruel for honest employment.  My Lady Arcane didn't join in though, that's what she hired us for.  Why buy a dog and bark yourself, eh?" he says with a laugh.  "Ah, Albon.  The city of song, city by the sea, free city of trade, and more ways to lose your money than a gambler's den, smiling all the while.  My Lady's destination is her own, but Zorak and I judged the city was just a good a place to pick up work as any.  Better, even, than all but Andeluvay.  The Guildhall there is enormous, and a fine place to trade skill for skill amongst fellow members."

"Well met, bard," Averdante speaks up, having made his decision. "I'm Averdante. The road on into as Redhaven is clear. We haven't been west of there recently though, so I can't speak to that. Master Steelhead can likely provide you with information, though.

"Currently, we're headed toward Skord's Swamp for a job. There's apparently some carnivorous swamp lights preying on a village there. Not will o'wisps, the locals are used to them. This is something hungrier."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:01, Fri 11 Dec 2015.

"Ah good.  Usually the road gets better closer to Redhaven, but you never know.  Sometimes the fools decide to be particularly bold. 

"Skord's Swamp?  Hmm... what's a will o' wisp but not one?"  Zilini looks thoughtful, and raises his shalm to his lips.  He puffs out a few soft notes in a descending scale, and blinks.  "Something hungrier...  Can you tell me more about it?"

If anyone will let him know more about what Ethrain described, Zilini muses for a moments and nods.

"I haven't heard of anything exactly like what you said, but there's some stories it reminds me of.  You know the story of the 'Ratcatcher Prince?'  The man who could lure off rats with a song, but the town refused to pay him so the next time he lured off all their children?  Perhaps something of the stripe is happening here, but whoever is doing it is experimenting.  Maybe the person is working up to luring something bigger, or is trying to scare someone in town?"

Dellas nods and pets Vish who appears on his shoulder. "Mmh it's possible, You mean that someone or something is attracting all animals of the same species at the same time to... eat them? Keep them? or just to lock them up to scare someone in the village? Thank you for your advice, we will have to ask if there is someone important enough in the village to kill rats, cats and dogs." He stares into the fire and thinks about everything for a moment.

Volsh spun his finger around his ear.  "Sounds kind of crazy to me.  I'm not sure how scared people are, but I am sure they will be angry if they find out this is some sort of ploy."  There were certainly better ways to scare folks, if that was your intent.

Bruenor listens to the ongoing exchange, not interjecting as the others seems to have it well in-hand.  He visibly relaxes a bit when it becomes clear the bard and his warrior friend are Blackwardens.  There was safety in numbers, especially when sleeping out in the wilds.

At the mention of the Ratcatcher Prince, he lets a small smile slip.  "I remember that tale from my youth... Surely you're not saying there's truth to it, master bard?"

"I could think of many ways to scare people better, but I do that for a living.  Sometimes best to scare a foe off than fight him to the death.  It may be that whoever or whatever is doing this doesn't understand people very well.  Perhaps they are ignorant, or young, or not a person," Zilini says thoughtfully.



"There are some kernels of truth in most stories.  There is magic, enchantments, practiced by mages and some bards and definitely by some fey that can make a person or many people believe they're your best friend.  Now, could someone lure away an entire village's worth of children?  Perhaps, but highly unlikely.  Unless one were quite skilled, or clever, using words and magic together.  Maybe they found some artifact of great power, a magical flute of the gods, or maybe there's more than one working together for some other purpose.  I wish you luck, friends.  Stay alert, and be fearless," Zilini says.

He listens with only one ear, his mind was full of ideas and theories. But he hears the last part "Thank you Zilini Swiftgrass, you gave us something more to think about and it might proof important later on. I hope that our paths will cross again and I hope that it will be under better circumstances." He nods and if there are no other questions or no new information he will prepare to sleep.

Mention of the folktale set Averdante thinking. The story rather fit, although kernel of truth or not, he doubted that's what was happening in Ethrain's village. It did make him wonder if the lights were merely a distraction. Thoughtfully, he suggested that. "The lights could be irrelevant. A distraction to keep the villagers from noticing something else -- a type of sleight-of-hand, as it were. A spell or device could have been used to summon the animals, and they didn't disappear all at once; perhaps because the spell or device could only affect a certain number of animals at a time.

"Or perhaps the lights are a secondary effect to whatever is behind this. Incidental and entirely harmless on their own, but drawn to whatever is luring the animals away." Not that he'd heard any stories of a creature that attracted or was followed by glowing lights, but there was a great deal of the world unknown to him yet.

Even so, the chances of recovering any of the animals was slim. It was easier to kill something than contain and care for it any length of time.

"Fare you well, noble travelers," Zilini says in parting, returning to the other fire.  Within an hour, he and "Lady Arcane" are asleep, with Zorak keeping watch as the evening descends into night.  Those on watch see Zorak and Zilini trade spots a few times, one always awake at some point during the evening.  The silver cat is also seen patrolling around the campsite a few times.

Those on watch hear mostly natural sounds, small animals in the underbrush, once, the death-scream of a rabbit likely becoming dinner for a lynx, the rustling of deer browsing.  This road is reasonably well-traveled, and it seems wise creatures have learned to avoid lurking about it when it is occupied.

By the time dawn comes, along with a serenade of birds, Zorak is back on watch, cooking up something meaty in a stewpot.  Ethrain is up with the sun, making a large pot of porridge and tipping in dried fruits and some honey to sweeten it.

"We didn't get eaten by lights, did we?  Good start, then," he says with a bit of a smile, spooning his breakfast into his mouth in small, efficient bites.  Before long, he has his tent broken down, and finishes repacking and saddling his mount while the rest of you go through your morning routines.  By the time you're ready to go, "Lady Arcane" still hasn't made an appearance, and Zilini and Zorak seem to be in the middle of some game with dice and colorful stones.  Zilini waves as you turn and ride down the road heading south, a spot of color on the road.

Wellop the buckskin gelding, and Kiley, the brown with the blaze, seem a bit frisky this morning, with Narthain having to bribe Kiley with a bit of apple to get her to behave.  Lantamori had taken the more skittish Wellop, and had ended up lagging behind the others a bit as Wellop dawdled and played.  But as the day grew longer, and the growth near the road became more and more impenetrable, he rejoined the group willingly.  The humidity became more noticeable by noon, and Ethrain is looking at at the road with more ease, more recognition.

There are occasional road posts of carved rock, written in an archaic form of Common and decorated with symbols, all overgrown with emerald-green moss.  While its generally scholars and historians who know the actual meaning of the writing, the meaning of the symbols are known by most experienced travelers.  Not surprisingly, many of the road posts here warn that beyond the road is marsh, dangerous for beasts of burden.  One marks a stream course, another that there was a village ahead.  A few hours before sunset, you come to a particularly elaborate road post, and Ethrain reins his horse in and waits until you've come close enough that he can speak.

The symbols on the road post are that of a sun rising inside the horizon.  The symbol for a nearby temple of any sort is a rising sun over the horizon, so the inside-horizon sun has some to mean that the shrine to a small god is nearby.  Ethrain touches the post with a hand both reverent and oddly tentative.

"This is the way to the Stone Tree.  I think she is eager to meet you.  I... she will undoubtedly like to look you over.  It may be she might know something further that has happened in this last week.  She knows..." Ethrain trails off, and looks uncomfortable about saying more.

For the most of the trip Dellas remaind silent and deep in thought, even Vish seems to have adopted his masters new mood and doesn't run as much as normal up and down Dellas' shoulders. He gives the road posts only a moment of his time before fixing his eyes on Honeybee's ears again.
But as soon as Ethrain mentions the god, Dellas looks up and smiles: "I think I would like to meet this god,I still think that we should hurry up, but only a fool charges in without knowing what he's fighting." He doesn't seem to notice Ethrain's uneasiness or seems to ignoring it... Dellas seems extremely calm.

Volsh was not exactly thrilled about meeting a god, but he had the feeling that this was necessary.  His thought about charging in, he guessed, might be slightly different than Dellas'.  In fact, he was fairly certain there would be no charging at all, for some time.

Wondering if Ethrain's uncertainty about his local deity is due to the nature of it -- her -- or due to worry over what their reaction might be, Averdante is interested in meeting her. He's never knowingly met a deity, so it will surely be a novel experience.

"Finding out if there's been a change in the situation since you left is important," he tells the old man, "so let's go see what she has to say."

Ethrain bobs his head and turns down the dim path, thickly overlaid with moss underfoot and gloomy with thick trees and vines overhead.  Glittering insects dart across the path, from one green wall of foliage to another, and flowers of deep colors add unexpected hues as you travel.  Most of the light is dim and green, though you get the occasional lance of sunlight breaking through the canopy unexpectedly.  Though the path is big enough for the horses, you have to lead them, and go single file, just to fit.  The beast seem mostly unperturbed with the greenness, though some of them try to snatch mouthfuls as you walk.

It's nearly an hour before the path opens up, and Ethrain points to several long, sturdy branches where you can tie up the horses for now.  Then he sits on a projecting tree root and removes his shoes and socks, tying them to his belt.

"To commune with her, we become one with the fen around her," he says, and looks pointedly at everyone's feet.  If everyone's willing to become unshod, he'll lead you a little further, along a path that is far from dry.  In fact, everyone is squelching through soft mud and stagnant water, the humans up to their shins, the halflings up past their knees, before a few minutes are out.  The smell of rotting vegetation and algae is thick on the air, and mist begins to gather all around you.

Finally, the path raises a little, and you pad over soft moss to a clearing flanked by finely-carved stone pillars. Beyond it stands a huge tree.  It's only when Ethrain keeps walking do you realize two things about it.  One, it is so tall that toe even reach the first branching would require six tall orcs to stand on each other's shoulders.  Two, that beneath the moss is the gray of granite, rather than the rich brown of the other trees you've seen.  The heavy fen stink of swamp gasses has faded, to be replaced with the smell of clean water and growing things.  A hum of power fills your head, and even if you had come across this place unaware, you certainly would recognize the power of one of Low'verok's small gods.

This, then, is the Stone Tree.

Though her demesne is likely very small, likely no more than a few square miles, or even much less, within it, she wields power supreme over her chosen ideals.

The tree does not move, does not speak, but there is a hum that sounds low and pleasant, and Ethrain bows his head in relief.  "They came when no one else would, and willingly," he says.

The hum increases, and becomes more focused.  And now you can hear words within it, rumbling through your feet and bones.

Spirits of the air test and trial my people.  I fear they will be next.  They could shelter beneath my branches, but they are not animals to live a simple life of existence.  Their livelihood must be preserved, as much as their lives!  Do you come with these things in your heart?  Do you come with these skills in your hands?

Bruenor is unsure what to make of Ethrain's uneasiness about the god.  Was there something he was hiding or not telling them about her?

He liked even less the idea of taking off his boots, but did so along with the rest.  Half an hour later he was wondering if they'd ever get there.

A while longer, and they were there...Stone Tree.  He starts a bit at the voice in his head...was it in his head, or was he actually hearing the sounds from the tree?

At the god's question, he instinctively answers silently in his head, "What skills I have are here to help these folk."  After a brief pause, he says the same out loud just in case; unsure why he was so compelled to respond.  Usually he let other in their group talk first...those who had a bit more 'gift of the gab'...and preferred to listen and observe.

Glad he'd removed his boots, given bare feet were easier to clean and not likely to get sucked off by the muck, Averdante follows through the bog with the others. The Stone Tree, when they reach it, is certainly impressive to look at. Then it, or the deity inhabiting it, addresses them.

A bit surprised, he can't help the wary look around, but there's no one visible but their own party. And no normal being could make the ground resonate under his feet like that.

The questions, though... he's not sure he should answer those. It was the cats that had gotten his attention, not any concern for the locals or their livelihoods. Granted, he also didn't like that the threat seemed to be escalating and might soon begin to prey upon people -- but that was practicality: when something dangerous is getting stronger, it's better to eliminate it sooner than later.

And it remained to be seen whether he had the skills needed to deal with the threat. How could he know that answer when he didn't yet know exactly what they were up against? If the lights had no physical form, or something more corporeal controlling them -- then probably he didn't.

Given he couldn't exactly give affirmative answers the Tree's questions, Dante thinks it better to be silent.

Volsh removed his boots and was fairly certain that the fresh grass would wilt and brown when he walked upon it, if the smell was any indication.  At the first sound of the hum, he thought maybe a swarm of insects would descend upon them and he looked about for them anxiously.  When he realized it was something else, Volsh culd feel his heart beat faster.  It was as though he was an awkward teenager again, trying to talk to a pretty girl.  His hands felt clammy, his throat dry and his heart was hammering in his chest.

"I don't know."  It came out reflexively, blurted out loud, and Volsh was suddenly self conscious.  In truth, he did not know that any of these things were in his heart.  He had come for coin, if it helped the villagers of the Fen, well that was all well and good.  As to whether he had the skills...he did not know what skills were needed.  If it was a strong arm and a sharp blade, then maybe.

While Vish seems to get more excited, Dellas was trying to take mental notes of his surrounding. In the last adventure he got hurt badly because he didn't keep his eyes and ears open. Now it seems that he steps into another world.
As he again won an imaginary argument in his head, he notices the stone tree for the first time. Leaving his mouth slightly open, he takes another step and remembers to close his mouth. The voice seems to penetrate his skin into the bone. He takes another step and bows low
"Greetings, oh magnificant Stone tree, my name is Dellas Nump. I humbly present to you my travel companions. I do not know if we have the necessary skills to help your people but together we have freed spirits of their curse to haunt their resting place. We have solved a puzzle to overcome deadly traps and defeated the undead. With my minor magical abilities and my friends martial abilities, we will do what we can to protect your people."
He pauses for a moment "I can't speak for my companions, but I for one am here to learn more about these lights and to help your people. Though I am sure that they are also here to help you and your people."
For the most time he keeps his head a bit lower while still looking at the tree.

Your will counts for more than your words.  To overcome death by your skill shows courage.  Perseverance.  Yes, you can help my people.  I do not know the face of those who haunt the village by night, but I know something of their nature.  Since Ethrain has been gone, they have come again, and they have taken the tamed alligators the people used to help ferry their rafts.

Ethrain blanches at this news, and shivers, visibly disturbed.

It was light without heat, but also a sound, too low for the people to hear.  A boy, Bralton Fescue, had been watching the beasts, and he followed as they were lured.  A spot in the wall had been weakened to let them escape.  Beyond the town's pallisade, Bralton passed beyond my sight, but I heard a yelp of surprise, and muffled shouts.  It was not the quiet of the spell-struck, but those of a struggling person.  Whatever magic is being used, there is something tangible behind it, southeast of the village wall.

The thrum beneath your feet ebbs and flows as the Stone Tree speaks, as if you were standing on the chest of a giant.  Ethrain speaks up abruptly, almost too quickly to catch, but you gather something about time.

The Stone Tree is silent, but three heavy stone seeds fall from its branches.

"Three days?  Why has no one gone after him?" Ethrain cries.

Fear.  Hence, you brought the fearless with you.  They do not live with our omens, and they are not ruled by them.

Volsh smiled as he heard what the tree related.  There was something tangible behind it...which meant that his spear might be of some use after all.  Sorcerers and witches were tricky and clever, and their magic could be deadly, but when faced with hand to hand combat the warrior generally had the advantage.

"Wait, are you saying that these folk knew that a boy was taken and did not try to recover him?"  He growled angrily.  Omens or no omens these people seemed to be cowards.  "What sort of omen would keep these folk shivering in their huts, while a boy had been taken by some witch or warlock?"

So the lights had something tangible behind them... that was definitely good to learn. Averdante would be happy to plant a few arrows into whatever was behind these predations. And they had a direction to start searching for the culprit, which was very helpful.

The news that a child from the village had been taken though, wasn't good. And if he was understanding Ethrain and the tree aright, there'd been no attempt to go after the boy.

He frowned at that. It was both appalling and morally offensive to him that the theft of a child had been so ignored, when it should have had the entire village up in arms. It was a human thing, he knew, that with children born so easily to them, many placed little value on what they'd been blessed with -- but were they so complacent they'd sit around their village waiting to lose more, too?

Dellas listens attentively and automatically gets the urge to step away from Volsh. He still can clearly remember how he wield his great weapon and almost cleaved enemies in two. Three days would be a long time for the missing boy, if he's still alive.
"Great stone tree, I believe that we're eager to look for the boy and of course into stopping whatever is taking the animals. Is there any other help you could offer? Any piece of information that could help us to know what we're dealing with here? I am in hope that the boy might still be alive and we might be able to bring him back to his parents." He didn't want to seem rude, but since the beginnning of this quest, Dellas felt that time is of the utmost importance

With the knowledge that there was something tangible behind these 'attacks', the first question that came to mind was who had they angered.  "Are you aware of anyone or anything that the village may have given offense?  Or perhaps a rival that might seek to undermine them?"

Bruenor listens to the Stone Tree's words, not saying anything.  He thinks they're not likely to get much more from the Stone Tree, and silently agrees with Dellas...time was of the essence.  If the others spent much more time conversing with the god, he would speak up and urge haste.

Whatever was plaguing the village and its animals had crossed a line of sorts by accosting the boy.  If he was gone three days now, they'd best be after him.

They have seen their animals go, one by one.  At first it was odd.  Then it was alarming.  With the loss of their alligators, frightening.  Then, the loss of one of their children?  Terrifying.  They have formed the turtle; they have withdrawn to protect themselves and their remaining children from what seems to want to take them.  The priest sent out a messenger to try to find Bralton, an ally of celestial waters, but it did not come back.  When allies of the heavens are swallowed up, fear spreads.



You ask wisely.  I can give you the swamp's roots, that you walk easily in the mire.  And the stone heart, that you know what does and doesn't belong.

You feel the faint touch of roots against your bare feet, touching them, then seemingly penetrating them with no pain.  The sensation lasts but a moment, but then you feel much more firm in your footing than you were in the soft mud.  There is a faint shiver from the tree, and into each of your hands drops what seems to be a seed, made of stone.

Swallow it.  It will guide you.

If you do, it goes down with no trouble.  And you have a faint sense in your mind of unease to the southeast, and a vague mental map of the area, as if you had grown up here as a child.



No known rival, but it is possible this is a new one.  There may be another god trying to move against me.  To destroy a god, first you must take one's worshippers.  The battle plays out amongst the people first.  The Stone Tree sounds incredibly sad, and Ethrain gives a moan of what sounds like sympathetic pain at his god's sorrow.

His first reaction was to move his feet back, but knowing.. or better hoping that this god wouldn't do something to harm them, he stands there and let the roots penetrate his feet. The pill was surprisingly not hard to swallow and a sense of familiarity washes over him. Knowing where to go and with more help from the Stone Tree, Dellas feels bold enough to go and rescue the child.
"We thank you for your gifts. I believe the time of our departure has come and hopefully our next meeting shall be the celebration of the return of the child."

With this he turns to the others "I'm not sure how much good it will do to ask around the village first. The people are clearly scared and have probably not seen much..." looking at Ethrain "Maybe you should go back to the village and tell the people to take care of themselves. Lock the doors and make sure that the children are safe. Maybe go and check the wall."

Averdante flinched at the feel of something that felt like literal roots wriggle against his feet -- then seem to pass right into them. Alarm froze him in place, because something that felt like that could do more damage if abruptly ripped away. The realization that there was no pain came a moment later, and by then the sensation was gone. Oddly enough, he felt steadier, although he'd been perfectly comfortable on the grassy hummock before.

He still had to lift a foot to examine the sole, but aside from some bare skin showing through the mud where it had been wiped away by grass, there seemed no visible redness or other mark present. Interesting.

Catching the seed, he was a little suspicious about swallowing a stone. A stone seed, at that. Some things hatched inside living bodies, after all... but he watched Dellas swallow it, and saw a look almost of surprise, and comprehension, come over the halfling's face.

Dante was still hesitant. He glanced around at the others, then at the Stone Tree. He had no sense of evil from it. Ethrain didn't seem evil, either, and he looked calm, as if this sort of thing were normal.

After another look at Dellas as he thanked the Tree, Dante considered the seed again, then a bit uneasily put it in his mouth and swallowed it. And blinked, as awareness of the area rose within him.

Well... that was... efficient. And apt to be very useful, indeed -- although he really hoped that discomfort to the southeast wasn't actually another deity attempting to take over the area. He offered a silent bow to the Stone Tree in thanks for the aid gifted to him, and hoped he and the others would be able to live up to the Tree's expectations.

Turning to Dellas, Dante asked, "Will Ethrain be able to handle all the horses alone? I don't think they'll do well in the swamp."

Volsh had no idea how to respond to that information.  Gods killing gods!?  Was this work that they could complete?  If they did, then would they make an enemy of this other god? The northerner fared much better when dealing with foes made of flesh and blood.   At the same time they had made an agreement, and while he might argue that this was not what they had signed up for, the party had agreed.  He was loathe to break his word and seem a coward.  Plus, it might not be a god, so that bridge could be crossed at a later date.

Bruenor seems unable to lift a foot as the sensation reaches the soles of his feet.  How would he describe it...?  Wriggling?  In any case, it soon passes; and he does, in fact, feel more sure-footed where he stands.

He raises an eyebrow in admiration mixed with alarm at how quickly Dellas swallows the stone seed; but watches the halfling's reaction and decides it's safe...and helpful.  He follows suit and then turns to look at the source of unease.

"Yes, we should be off," he voices agreement with Dellas.  Then, turning back to the god, "Many thanks for your gifts.  May we all be celebrating a success in the coming days."

"If they haven't already gotten themselves in the council house, I'll get them there," Ethrain promised.  "If you circle the village on your way towards the lights, I'll call out what I see in the wall myself."



I can protect your beasts.  If they stay under my branches, nothing can harm them.  Go, and find this source of trouble.  The Stone Tree's voice echoes in your head, and in peculiar rippling of the swamp, a rather confused herd of horses and ponies rises from the mire, untouched, next to the Stone Tree's trunk.

Sir Aberlayne lets out a sigh of relief.  "Valiant, my friend, I know you would be unhappy trying to charge through a swamp.  Stay here and protect the others with the Stone Tree."



Go.  And find those luring my people. The Stone Tree's voice is thunderous as you turn to go.  Ethrain gives you a little salute and wades ahead of you, going on what you now realize is one route to the village.  And now you can tell there is another route that bends to the southeast, towards where the boy was last heard.

You walk as if your feet had eyes, avoiding deep pools of water or quicksand, tangling roots or trailing vines.  You make excellent time on a parallel course to Ethrain, and a little over an hour later you see the log-and-stone palisade of Fen-on-the-Fen come into view.  Just outside the walls, you can see partially-protected flooded plant beds meant to secure waterplants from encroachment by other vegetation or hungry creatures.  The walls are made of dense, water-logged trees, extremely hard to hack through and nearly impervious to fire, based in stones to hold them secure.

Inside the palisade, you can hear faint conversations.  It's actually somewhat encouraging, because at least the town isn't ominously silent.  Circling around to the southeast, you examine the wall carefully.  Averdante and Lantamori spy something, a subtle break between the stones and one of the larger trees of the palisade.  Atop the wall, you hear a grunt, and then Ethrain's old face looks down at you with alarm.

"Ah, you're here!  I have everyone in the council house, and counted heads twice.  Jemma Darali, she no more than twelve, went after Bralton just barely an hour ago!  She must have went after him just after we spoke with the Stone Tree!  Her parents were about to lead a party to go after her, omens or no, when I arrived.  I just managed to get them calmed down for now."  There are a couple of raised voices from below inside, and Ethrain ducks his head to shout something back before his face appears again.  "They're farmers and swamp-gatherers, not warriors.  In their heart of hearts, they know this.  There are some faint marks in the dust here at ground level, so I think Jemma got out here."  Ethrain points at the large tree in the palisade.  "And here, for you, and the children if need be."

He tosses down several packages wrapped in moss.  There are five small gourds with wax stoppers, something sloshing inside, four balls of damp leaves bound together with what looks like honey, and three small, capped wooden pots of what looks like rich red paint.  "Healing potions, antitoxins, and battle wode.  I shall try to keep everyone here so no one else is lost!  Blessings upon you!"

Vish quickly climbs up Dellas' leg and nestles himself between his shoulder and collar, he quickly says his goodbye to honeybee and gives her a carrot from his pack. The way to the village seems to be easier for Dellas than before, the Stonetree's blessing is truly a magnificant gift, it is as if his feet exactly knew where to step.
Even his head was filled with a sense of memory and a feeling of going home, which filled Dellas' heart with sorrow... thinking about his own lost home.
Staying quiet the whole time, he almost didn't notice the huge (for him) palisade until the whole party stops.
His face turned pale when he heard that the girl, Jamma Darali, went after the missing child. He knew that they should have been faster... had they only started their journey in the evening.

He quickly picks up the items and gives each of his companions a gourd, everyone gets a ball of damp leaves except for himself and the three wooden pots to Bruenor, Volsh and Abby.

"Thank you, we'll try to find her and bring her back safely." turning away from Ethrain he turns to Averdante "Can you track them? I don't think we should waste time now"

Looking around he asks quietly: "What is battle wode?"

OOC: Each gets one healing potion, all of you get antitoxin and our front line fighters get the battle wode.

Averdante searches the break in the wall, and the ground before it, for any clues the intruders might have left regarding their nature -- footprints, dropped items, or perhaps a hand print.

When Ethrain appears atop the wall, while Dellas collects the bundles, Dante suggests to the older man, "It might be wise to take a group of your people and inspect all the walls. It's possible the ones preying on your village are preparing their access points in advance. Then you can either make repairs, or prepare to ambush them if they return before we do."

Accepting the gourd and bundle of leaves from the halfling wizard, Dante tells him, "Narthain and Thunder are probably better trackers than I am, but I'll look around, too. And even then, we can feel which way to go, thanks to the Tree."

Volsh accepted the gourds, and pots and leaves and decides the best thing is to stow them in his pack for now.  he had no idea what battle wode was, so he simply shrugged at the question.  Hopefully it was something good, but he guessed they might find out.

"I have little skill at tracking, but will do what I can to help.  If teh ground is soft, maybe we can find some footprints."

"I think our barbarian friend would be more familiar than I, though I've heard of it in passing," Sir Aberlayne says peering at the contents of the pot.  "It makes one more fearsome in battle, braver and stronger, though a little reckless, according to the stories.  Powerful stuff, particularly if you're already hopping mad about something."

She slings the items in her belt pouch and gets ready to follow the trackers as soon as they can find a good direction to go.

"We'll do that!" Ethrain says, looking pleased that his agitated and frightened fellow villagers will have something constructive to do.



Narthian gives a nod to Averdante, and shouts up to Ethrain.  "If you have any items with their scent, toss them over!  Thunder will be able to track them!"

Ethrain lights up with smiles and disappears for a few minutes, returning with two items of clothing, a battered, hand-woven hat and an old shirt.  "The hat belongs to Jemma, the shirt to Bralton!"

Narthian puts the items under Thunder's nose and lets him sniff them as he, Averdante, and Volsh hunt on the soft ground for any prints.  Volsh spies a few in the mud heading off to the southeast, and Averdante follows the line until he sees that places where the trail "disappears" in fact goes up into the trees, as evidenced by barely-dry mud on low branches.  Thunder sniffs at a few places on the tree, and gives a low whine.  Narthian nods; Jemma has passed this way.

You can head off to the southeast with care, making sure you don't overlook tracks, and keeping a weather eye out for trouble, traps, or ambushes.  The marshy ground is not exactly pleasant to walk through, but at least you're not slipping and falling every few steps, and you know when to avoid what would have been very deep holes in seemingly semi-solid ground.  While Bralton's trail is fairly cold, Jemma's is much easier to spot.  Between Averdante and Narthian, you follow it for nearly a mile.

Ahead, you can see a section of the fen when the mist grows thicker, and the trees grow in tighter groves.  The inevitable songs of insects and frogs that have been your background for now seem to grow softer, and there's a faint chittering sound, more deliberate than any animal.  Within one of the groves, you can see faint light, blue, red, and the golden gleam of fire.  Oddly, the tracks from Jemma seem to circle off to a grove just south of the glowing one...

OOC:  Are the red and blue lights in the same place as the light of what seems to be a fire?  Also what is the relative distance between that grove and the one that we believe Jemma moved to?  And how far are they from us?

Volsh crouched down his spear in hand and observed the two groves.  If the light was a fire, that indicated intelligence beyond that of an animal.  He peered ahead to see if he could gauge the distance and determine if anything moved within the groves, or what the source of the lights was.

Crouching low to reduce any obvious target to watchers, Averdante suggests quietly, "At least one of us should go for the child immediately. If she is still free, we want to keep her that way. Children can have inaccurate notions of their own abilities. If she tries to aid the missing boy while we're engaged with the ones behind the lights, we could lose them both -- particularly if the ones we're fighting notice her before we do, and spirit her away."

Volsh nodded and whispered back, "It would be best if we could approach the other grove without being noticed.  I was looking to see if there was movement near the lights so we might get a view of who or what is there.  Are your eyes any sharper than mine?"  As he spoke he kept his eyes on the two groves looking to see if a strategy for approach presented itself, but lacking that, he could always draw the attention to himself.  It was not ideal but if it enabled them to save the children it was worth the risk.

Children.. he hates it when something bad happens to children. All the way to the lights and the tracks leading south. Looking around a moment he takes deep breath and whispers. "I can send Vish in first.. or he could keep an eye open on those lights. What do you think?"

Volsh nodded, thinking that either option had possibilities.  "Can he do so unseen?"

"Can he do it without getting caught up in whatever enchantment captured all of the town's smaller beasts?" Averdante asks. "I do not think it would go well for you if he is charmed -- particularly if he comes to harm because of it." Glancing toward the lights, and then along the girl's trail, he suggests, "Perhaps it would be safer to send him after the girl, to make sure she isn't already in their hands?"

He looks quickly at Vish and turns to Averdante again "He looks fine, I'd probably have noticed if he acted differently. But you're probably right, I'll send him ahead to scout ahead." He looks at Vish again for a moment before whispering a command to his familiar.

The little weasel is soon lost to sight in the dimness of the swamp.  You wait patiently for his report.

Bruenor squats down behind the others, listening to the discussion.  He nods in agreement with Volsh's reasoning, then recalling they can't see him nod, says quietly, "Yes, let's some or one of us try to get to the girl first..."

He mutters 'shundahar' under his breath and his shiny chainmail takes on the weathered look of old leather armor, hopefully making him harder to see.  He rests his hand on the hilt of his sword, but resists the urge to pull it from its scabbard.

He watches Dellas' small animal scamper off, and hopes they'll see him again soon unharmed.  He finds himself holding his breath as the weasel disappears from view; finally breathing out and squinting his eyes, looking into the distance.

Dellas closes his eyes for a few minutes and seems to be concentrating on something. He opens his eyes and looks at the others, "I believe that Vish has found her" He whispers to the others. "He noticed predators, possible alligators. He went into the grove and found her in a tree, she's not moving... though I don't think that she's dead." He looks at the others. "She seems safe for the moment, do you want to get her first or leave her on the tree... I could leave Vish there, it would weaken me a little but the girl would probably not come to harm... or should we talk to her to see what she knows?"

"The village's alligators," Averdante wonders, "or guards on her?"

For her? What were the village's alligators trained to do? He wishes he'd thought of asking that before they'd left Ethrain.

"I can go to the girl. If she's not captive, she's probably got a vantage from which she can see the camp ahead. If you give me a few minutes lead so I can reach her, and tell her to stay hidden, perhaps the rest of you can then sneak up on those with the lights, and we can make an attack on them from two directions."

Volsh was not sure if this could work as he was unfamiliar with the ways of magic, but it seemed worthwhile to ask.  "Is there a way you can communicate with her through your pet?  If she can see the camp, then maybe she can impart useful information.  Also, it would be good for her to know that we are here to help, as she does not know us, and may be as frightened of us as whoever is in the camp."

Dellas shook his head: "We have an Empathic link, we can sense each other's emotions. It is not so easy to use emotions to tell him what to do. I think I agree with Averdante... You'll need to sneak past the alligators and tell the girl that we're here to protect her and to find the boy."

Bruenor looks over to Dante and says quietly, "Surely they've not trained alligators to guard children?"..."Without eating them??" he adds incredulously after a short pause.

"I think you'd be wise to assume they're not friendly, in either case.  Be careful, friend."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:02, Fri 29 Jan 2016.

"I'll go with Averdante," Lantamori whispered following the other elf.  She moved quietly with shortbow in hand but hadn't quite figured out how yet to keep her boots from squelching.

Averdante could only shrug to Volsh's uncertainty; they hadn't thought to ask what the villagers trained the alligator for -- or what commands might tell the reptiles to back off.

"If Jemma's indeed found a good vantage point, one we can shoot from," he nods to Lantamori, "we'll be in a good position to support an attack." With a wry grin he adds, "And if we have trouble with the alligators, we'll provide you with a good distraction for an attack."

To Dellas, he suggests, "If your little friend can watch a bit longer, you'll know if we run into trouble, so everyone here can be quick to take advantage of it."

With that, Dante heads towards the other grove, bow in hand and arrow nocked, and doing his best to move quietly. Needless to say, he also keeps a close eye out for the alligators; he'd prefer to detect them before they notice him.


[Private to GM: 09:34, Today: Averdante rolled 11 using 1d20+10.  spot gators or other threats.
09:34, Today: Averdante rolled 21 using 1d20+9.  move silently.
(Heh, he walked into it, but he did it quietly! LOL)]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:45, Fri 29 Jan 2016.

Volsh watched as to the two elves moved into the fen toward the grove.  Both moved with grace that their race had been gifted with and were silent as prowling cats.  Turning his attention back to the grove where their foe was supposedly encamped, he looked at how they might approach should it become necessary.  He was not sure what sort of signal they might get and was skeptical that an empathic link would be sufficient.

OOC: Do we have a map we can look at?

Narthian drops his backback, placing it under a tree with a curiously forked branch. "The hunt is before us, my friends. You should lighten your load in case the chase is long." A gleam sparkles in the elf's green eyes as he pulls the wolfskin hood over his head, making him look somewhat like a humanoid Thunder. There's a slight twitch in his hands, perhaps of barely contained excitement. "[Language unknown: Mo eindee all ar areanttha, el ullabe!]" he says to his wolf as Narthian prepares his bow. "Averdante and Lantamori have the one flank covered. Thunder and I will cover the other. Sir Aberlayne, Volsh, and Bruenor, when the time comes you will flush our quarry by the lights. Agreed?"

Narthian waits for a report from the other elves, but moves slightly away from the others in the opposite direction from Jemma's grove. Thunder is at his side, slinking along in hunt mode.

Dellas nods and watches the elves as they move through the undergrowth and shortly after disappear.
He closes his eyes for a moment and opens them shortly afterward to continue keep watch.

Dellas concentrates on Vish.  Vish understands a hunter's patience, and you feel his assent to wait.  You also get an impression that he's watching another who also has a hunter's patience.  You are fairly certain Jemma is watching something or someone.

Averdante and Lantamori silently creep along the exposed logs and roots that Jemma must have used to get to the grove.  They move carefully, using the shadows and dangling vines to conceal their forms.  They are barely visible to Narthian, and effectively gone to the others by the time they're twenty feet away.  But something else is much more visible.

Paralleling their course, Narthian and Volsh spy something in the water.  Low, barely visible forms cutting through the murk, following Averdante and Lantamori with a predator's patience, it looks like there are several alligators hunting your teammates!

Averdante and Lantamori, oblivious to the lurking doom, gain the grove and duck into its cool confines.  The ground is a bit firmer here, the light dimmer, filtered through the leaves and hanging moss.  The smell of rotting vegetation is stronger, and wisps of mist float through the upper levels of the trees.  Looking around, the two spot Vish, sitting on a tree trunk.  He looks over at them, then looks back up the tree.  This, you gather, is where Jemma is perching, up in the branches somewhere.

Lantamori crept closer to the tree before trying to attract the girl's attention.  "Jemma," she whispered.  "Jemma Darali.  We're here to help.  Ethrain and the Stone Tree sent us."

The elven woman wanted to make sure the girl wasn't injured and knew they were there.  She also acknowledged that young humans tended to abandon prudence in the face of danger.  They needed to forestall any plan Jemma might have of rescuing Bralton on her own.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:33, Wed 03 Feb 2016.

While Lantamori approaches the girl, Averdante keeps part of his attention on their immediate area, looking for the alligators Dellas said his pet had seen. He'd like to see what the girl has been watching, too -- though for the moment he remains where he is when he looks in that direction.

Once he's certain the child isn't going to be spooked by their presence, if he hasn't seen what Jemma's been watching from where he is, then he'll move to a better vantage.

Narthian looks over to Volsh, making sure that he also sees the 'gators, and points out which one he plans to deal with. He judges the range to the nearest aligator, and if in range, points a finger while quietly saying "[Language unknown: Art u rifo tr houet ngad]!"

Casting Flare, range 30', Fortitude DC13 or be dazzled for 1 minute. If not in range, I'll move to get in range if possible.

Volsh's grip on his spear tightened, as he saw the danger than tracked their allies.  He looked to Narthian, wanting to creep forward, or do something to alert Lantamori and Averdante, but if he did, that would alert their foe.  It seemed that Narthian had a plan, so he waited to see what the elven druid had in mind.  Perhaps whatever he planned would offer Volsh the distraction he needed to move, so Volsh moved his weight to the balls of his feet and made ready.

Bruenor is frustrated as he gazes into the darkness of the fen...  He sees and senses the tension in his companions, they clearly aware of something he isn't, but can't see a damn thing further than he could heft a suit of armor.  'Blast these eyes of mine,' he thinks...hating not knowing what's going on.

He remains alert, and watches the others for any signs of action, ready to move when it's time.

Dellas nods for a moment before he notices the alligators. Looking around, he notices that his companions are focused on them and decides to watch the lights in case of movement.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:40, Mon 08 Feb 2016.

Haazheel strains his eyes to see the alligators as well. He thinks for a moment and decides that Mystique may be able to help in this situation and sends her out to be his eyes for a moment.

Farian had been very quiet and withdrawn for sometime. His trip to the golden temple/tomb still disturbed him. For a faithful follower to be trapped for so long, could he even keep his faith that strong. So as a result when his companions started to be wary, he missed the clues entirely.

Inside the Grove



There was a small flicker of movement further up the tree from where Vish was sitting, and Lantamori could see a dark-haired girl wearing brown homespun crouched in the crook of a tree, just pushing aside a few trailing willow branches so she could be seen.  Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the two elves, and she looked indecisive for a second before beckoning to them.



Averdante can't quite see what Jemma was looking at from his spot on the ground, but the lights are a little more distinct here.  He takes a few steps up the trunk, and can begin to see what seems to be a bonfire in the next grove over, some colored lights floating well above it, and some small figures seemingly dancing about it.  But just as that moment...

---

Outside the grove...



Narthian doesn't waste a moment of time; not wanting to let his friends be exposed to the hunting reptiles, he gives them something else to think about.  Brilliant light explodes over the head of the closest one, some twenty feet away, and the alligator winces away, disoriented.  In the flare of light, you count a good seven of the beasts, including one far more massive than the others!

The king alligator is right next to the grove, the others scattered between the grove and the one Narthian dazzled.  And none of them appear to be happy.  Two submerge into the murky water, while the king heaves himself into the grove with shocking speed.  Three more charge through the shallow water of the swamp towards the others, tails swinging, jaws gaping!



With the wave of approaching alligators quite evident now, Bruenor has his sword ready to chop some scaly hide if they try to take a bite out of him or or his companions.  He holds his breath and waits until one of the beasts lunges from the waters.  Deftly avoiding their jaws, he slashes down across one, parting its tough skin until cool, ophidian blood spurts from the wound.




Volsh thrusts down with his spear as an alligator comes up nearly at his feet.  The beast misjudges Volsh's location, and he avoids getting his foot bitten, but the unexpected lunge puts Volsh's accuracy at bay, and he misses the beast cleanly.


A third alligator takes advantage of Volsh's wild stab and savages his leg with sharp and numerous teeth, staining the waters red.  It's only Volsh's strength which keeps him from being drug beneath the water to drown as he wrenches his leg from out of its jaws. 



The appearance of the alligators is quite startling, but Dellas is far enough back from the frontal assault that he can keep his eyes on what could be their prize.  The dancing blue and red lights begin to move faster and faster, and faint shouts can be heard within the lit grove.  You think you recognize the language, but between the alligators, fighting, and the distance, it's hard to make it out.



Mystique takes wing, happy to be up and away from the alligators as they lunge at the warriors of the party.  Up above, Haazheel gets an impression of "large-small people cold-prey," in the grove.  Knowing what he does about Mystique, "cold-prey" is anything cold-blooded, "people" is anything approximately humanoid, and "large-small" means bigger than Mystique but smaller than Haazheel.  You gather an impression of a disturbed and agitated nest, a quantity of these creatures brought to alert.



Farian had missed the signs entirely, but was not numb to danger when it jumped in his face.  With an alligator leaping at Bruenor, Farian brings his mace into place, swinging down at the alligator's tough skull.  It grazes the beast, but it twists, and Farian's force dissipates without harming it.


Sir Aberlayne represses a yell as the alligators lunge up from the swamp, not wanting to alert their enemies further.  Unwilling to leave their back exposed, she dropped her axe, grabbed her bow, and fired an arrow into the alligator Volsh had tried to hit.  Her little longbow thudded squarely into the beast's shoulder, but an animal of this size was going to take quite a bit of subduing!

OOC:  Drop axe, draw longbow, attack.
09:04, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 16 using 1d20+6.  Attack with longbow.
09:05, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 4 using 1d6+1.  Damage with longbow.

----

Inside the Grove

The burst of light and thrashing in the water alerted Averdante, Lantamori, and Jemma to danger at the same time it came upon them.  An enormous alligator burst out of the swamp and nearly lands on Lantamori, its jaws open wide enough to seemingly swallow all three of them whole at once.  It hisses at them loudly, and makes a loud growling sound, interspersed with  ear-splitting bursts of air.  Behind them, in the grove with the lights, they can all hear yells in a language none of them recognize...

Averdante twists around and immediately looses an arrow at the huge reptile. Unfortunately, the beast's unexpected attack caused him to rush his aim and his arrow flew wide of it.

Lantamori stumbled back from the toothy maw, trying to draw it away from Averdante and the girl without dropping her guard.  She didn't know how fast these creatures moved and hoped that she was faster as she ducked around trees and fallen limbs, hoping to get a solid trunk between the two of them before it caught her.  She kept a grip on her shortbow but certainly wasn't going to try and stand toe to claw with this beast.

She hoped it couldn't climb a tree...

Farian was startled but like anyone trained in combat his training kicked in. Glancing his mace across the alligator's head caused an interesting sound, and this time Farian was hoping to hear a familiar sound of bone cracking. Rearing back Farian lets loose another swing in an attempt to strike his target.


Connecting solidly Farian smiled. The skin gave way and he heard the tell tale sign of bone cracking. He was sure that alligator would have a headache from the blow. Farian prepared to strike again.

Narthian was initially quite happy with the results, the spell had its intended affect. But the smile soon faded from his lips when he saw the hornet's nest he unintentionally stirred. The tide has turned and the hunters have become the hunted! He decides that he needs to slow down the big boss alligator the only way he can. "[Language unknown: P staantive ti mostli, p sti pa ithounart, as caweeeet wial whthis chday lalius]!" he calls, point to a spot in the water between himself and the king alligator. He then immediately looks for any spot of dry land, or a tight cluster of trees for himself and Thunder to shelter on.

Spontaneous cast Obscuring Mist as Summon Natures Ally I, an octopus 30' away between him and the king alligator. He wants it to grapple and ink it to keep it out of the fight while the lesser alligators are dealt with.

Volsh grit his teeth against the burning pain in his leg.  He could feel the warm blood leaking down his calf, and his anger flared, mostly at himself, for the careless attack that left him open.

The northerner was more careful this time, he jabbed at the alligator's flat head, then stepped back.  The aggressive beast would likely come after him, but if he could draw it from the water then there was less chance he might get dragged in.  Fighting an alligator was bad enough on land, even he would not wish to wrestle with it in the swamp water.

With Narthian's magic light clearly showing their slithering foes, Bruenor lets out a groan as he sees the size of the giant reptile near the clearing.  He doesn't have long to reflect on it as some of the smaller ones are headed directly towards him and his companions. Drawing his sword, and unconsciously holding his breath, he's ready when the first alligator pops out of the swamp...slashing the Prince's longsword across its thick hide.

Not wasting any time, he brings the sword down again...and again connects with the skin of the creature; the finely honed blade of the sword drawing blood once more.

Haazheel sees the alligators attacking the warriors. He thinks for a moment how best to react and begins to prepare a spell. He focuses his attention on the gator attacking Volsh. He casts Ray of Frost attempting to inflict pain upon the beast, as well as maybe slowing it down as it leaves the water.

Dellas, torn in half between helping his friends and watching the lights needs a moment before taking his crossbow and shoots at the first alligator he can see.
Maybe it was a way of saying sorry for the previous tries of the Hafling at using his crossbow or just the crocodile moving at the wrong time. But somehow his bolt found the soft spot between the belly and the shoulder where it penetrated the skin as easily as a hot knife cuts butter.

Inside the Grove





The huge alligator seems to be laughing at Averdante as his arrow goes wide, and Lantamori wisely backs up the slanting tree trunk as fast as she could, with a grave mind for the beast's large maw.  Jemma squeaked and retreated further up into the branches, getting herself as far away from the monster as she could.  The alligator turns to Averdante, clacking its jaws a few times, and suddenly a huge ball of mud spews up from its gullet, slamming into Averdante and spattering from head to toe in sticky, slimy, stinking swamp-mud. 

-----

Outside the Grove



The alligator, already bloodied from Sir Aberlayne's arrow, looks quite dazed at the hideous crunch from Farian's mace upon its noggin.  It's still moving when Volsh repositions his spear.



The jab strikes deep in the beast's other shoulder, and creature roars in defiance, blood spewing from its mouth.  It seems to be near its death-throes, and that is the most dangerous time when hunting...

Enraged, the beast stabbed by Volsh savages him again with its fangs, ripping at his poor leg as if it were a haunch of pork.  Volsh is too fast to be pulled under, the mud around him is spattered red for ten paces. 

The one unwounded alligator snarls at Farian and tries to bite at his foot, but instead its jaws close upon a root beneath the water, which it wrestles desperately, flinging it about in wild abandon, not realizing it hadn't struck flesh.



Narthain begins his summoning, chanting the ancient words of the druids to call his ally to him. 



Bruenor's training holds true, and he slices open another gash in the alligator before him.  The beast roars and lunges, but Bruenor dances back before it can close its jaws upon him.



Haazheel feels his hand frost over, and tries to carefully target the wounded alligator.  However, in the beast's enraged thrashing, the spell goes wide, and a chunk of ice falls into the swamp some distance away.




The unwounded alligator who was attempting to murder a root suddenly finds the log transfixed in its jaw by a crossbow bolt as Dellas fires right through the creature's mouth, pinning it shut!


Sir Aberlayne gives a small whoop of excitement at her brother's skill and attempts to follow up his strike with one of her own.  It skims along the alligator's hide, and sticks in briefly, but then falls out as the creature moves, doing no real damage.  She glares fiercely at the beast and bends her bow more carefully, lining up her next shot.

OOC: 09:40, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 13 using 1d20+6.  Attack with longbow.

The lights in the grove are spinning faster and faster, and two or three small globes rise above the trees, hovering there like miniature moons, giving the battlefield an eerie glow.

"Way to go Dallas!! Let's see him chew on that for a bit!!"

Being on the defensive for the time, Farian carefully steps back away from the alligators and behind Volsh, preventing them from being able to attack him as he summons the divine power of his God into healing power. Touching his mace to Volsh, Pelor shines his holy light, mending some of Volsh's wounds, filling him with a warm radiance, closing his wounds and halting the current bleeding.

OOC: Farian takes a 5' step out of the gator's area of opportunity and positions himself within range of Volsh. Touching his back with his mace, he channels a cure spell to help heal up some of the damage and to stop the bleeding.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:34, Fri 12 Feb 2016.

"Stay behind me," Lantamori hissed to Jemma as she pulled an arrow and let it fly from her shortbow.  The arrow flew wide as Jemma shifted on the trunk behind her.

"Averdante!" she shouted.  "Get up the tree!"  She pressed Jemma further up to make room for him.

Narthian's concerned about the strangely dancing lights. But whatever they are and whatever they're doing will have to wait until the alligators are dealt with. He nocks an arrow onto his bowstring, draws, and looses it in the direction of the big king 'gator. Then he seeks dryer ground and/or the shelter of trees with Thunder.

Volsh roared in pain, rage overwhelming him reflexively.  He would not back down from a foe, he would die with his weapon in hand, taking as many foes with him, as he could.  Rather than back away from the gator he brought the spear over his head with both hands and drove it downward upon the alligator's head, his strength bolstered by his fury.  He was not even aware of Farian's presence or his healing touch, nor cared that his battle cry might attract more enemies.  He would slay all that stood before him.

Dellas smiles a big smile as he reloads his crossbow but it fades quickly when the lights started to dance. He quickly focuses on the same alligator and shoots him with another bolt.

Bruenor dances back from the alligator’s snapping jaws, unable to avoid a sideways glance at Volsh’s leg and thinking he does NOT want to be on the receiving end of them.

A couple solid hits have yet to dispatch the beast…but what option, other than to keep at it?  He parries with his longsword, attempting to keep the beast at bay, as a bead of sweat trickles down his temple.  His eyes dart back and forth as he watches for an opportunity to strike…he pulls back somewhat defensively as he thrusts at the powerful reptile with the point of his sword.

Haazheel mutters a curse to himself for missing with his ray. Noticing the threat is still there he pulls out his crossbow and readies a bolt.

"Guess I'll have to help out the old fashioned way..."

Realizing that Volsh was in one of his rages, Farian stepped further back, but ready to cast another healing spell if needed. During this break though, he turned his attention to the one currently with its mouth pinned shut. Swinging his mace downward hoping to hear another solid blow.


Slipping in the mud as he turned his attention towards the gator, Farian lost his footing and tumbled into the water. In addition to getting a mouth full of rancid swamp water, he also got all his gear wet. Now he would have to get everything dried and see what all he lost due to his footing.

[OOC: also due to the footing, our DM can decide what else resulted in the slip]

Averdante recoiled from the huge alligator, using his off hand to swipe at the mud blinding him. Hopefully he wouldn't fall right into the swamp, but at the moment, he was far more worried about the monster beast in front of him. That ball of mud that it had spit at him had felt like getting smacked by a wall; he didn't want to know what it felt like to be bitten!

In the Grove



Lantamori's arrow strikes nothing in particular as she turns to urge the girl and her fellow elf out of the way.

Jemma, nothing loathe, scrambles further up the tree.  She turns to look down at something, and gasps as a ball of something glowing and blue suddenly darts into the tree canopy above her and Lantamori's head.



Backing up, Averdante scraped the mud off of himself with a free hand.  The king alligator doesn't move any closer, just continues to make his peculiar, loud cry, a primeval call of the wild, filling the grove with strange echoes.

As he does, a octopus, of all creatures, appears on the alligator's back.  It makes some tiny sounds and wraps itself around the alligator's head, squirting ink into its eyes.  The alligator roars in great consternation and begins to flail and batter its body into anything it can reach to dislodge its guest.

---

Outside the Grove



Narthain finishes his chanting, and his octopus arrives to create its own havoc.  Sighting carefully as the king alligator thrashes and growls, blind to the distant danger, Narthian's arrow flies straight and true, sinking in deep!




Farian carefully gets himself within touching range of the wounded barbarian, and takes some of Pelor's light to close the worst of the man's wounds. 



The fury of Volsh's ancestors is a sight to behold, and he roars like a behemoth out of legend as his spear comes down like a thunderbolt, splitting the alligator's head in twain!



With care and precision, backed by a strong and solid stance, Bruenor's sword slides deep within the alligator, slicing through its tough hide until it pierces its heart.  The beast goes stiff as Bruenor rises to watch for the next unwary beast to come within his range.



Never to let good luck go to waste, Dellas follows his first bolt with a second, the alligator's jaw now starting to resemble a pin cushion.



Haazheel tries his best, but between the missed spell, the roaring, and Mystique giving him the impression that there's balls of fire floating in the sky, his crossbow bolt gets nowhere near the errant alligator.


Sir Aberlayne fires another arrow into Dellas' beast, and nods in satisfaction as the alligator slides beneath the swamp water.  She waits, wary, and suddenly spins and yells as two more alligators erupt from the dark water in the rear of the group.  One clashes its jaws right next to her head, just barely missing her!

OOC:  10:22, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 5 using 1d6+1.  Damage with longbow.
10:22, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 7 using 1d20+6.  Confirm critical on longbow.
10:22, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 26 using 1d20+6.  Attack with longbow.

OOC: Can Volsh see another gator?  If not, what is the next foe that he sees?

Dellas' grin turns into a frown as soon as his big sister made them aware of more alligators. Could they be saved? Maybe they should try not to hurt them too much? With these questions in mind he takes a step away from the new threat and shoots another bolt at a free alligator.

Averdante checks to see if there's room in the tree the girl, and now Lantamori, have climbed. If there is, he intends to join them. Fighting face to face is Volsh's style, not the elf's -- leastways, not if he can manage to avoid it.

He sees something else looking up, though. "Lantamori, above you!" Any chance at stealth had been lost with that great flash of light. It seemed to have annoyed the alligators, and of course had attracted the colored lights they'd hoped to spy on, as well.

Suddenly not so certain he wants up in the tree after all, Dante's hesitation lets him recall Ethrain's claim that the lights had stolen away the village's alligators... these alligators? How many had there been at the village, that might now be here?

Strange blue light or not, with that thought climbing the tree sounds better than remaining on the ground, but he moved for now to use the tree as cover between himself and the giant beast, and took another shot at it. The arrow hit, this time, but only scored a shallow cut across the beast's forearm as its thrashing rolled it clear.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:08, Thu 18 Feb 2016.

Narthian draws his bow again, while Thunder crouches by his side waiting for the command to join the hunt! He looses at the big king alligator again. It's another well aimed shot! With a small smile he thinks a prayer. Thank you O swift eagle of the River Running, for your excellent feathers with which to fletch my arrows!

"Keep your head down," Lantamori said to the girl as the elf swung a knocked arrow around to track the glowing orb.  It hadn't done anything other than appear but lights were the reason they were there.  It could turn hostile and reach them where the alligator couldn't.

She kept telling herself that alligators couldn't climb trees.

Bruenor pulls his sword from the alligator's now still corpse, and takes a deep breath...his respite short-lived as he hears Sir Aberlayne call out.

Spinning around he turns to look behind, and sees the two alligators that have caused the new alarm.  A quick glance to his side confirms Volsh has destroyed the reptile before him.  Bruenor calls out, "Volsh! Behind us...I'll take one...you, the other!"

Without waiting for a response, he dashes to close the distance, hoping to draw the attention of the nearest beast before it can get to Dellas and the others in the rear.  His sword dancing slowly at the ready, he comes to a halt a few feet away from the gator, plants his feet, and waits for it to come within striking distance.

Haazheel mutters some incoherant babble about how weapons are useless. He shifts the crossbow to his left and and raises his right. Feeling the frost overcome his hand he lets loose an icy blast at the nearest gator.

OOC: 11:55, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 10 using 1d20+3.  Touch attack to ray of frost the alligator.

Volsh heard something through the fog of fury that clouded his thoughts, and turned seeing two more alligators.  His breath came raggedly through clenched teeth, but at the sight of more foes he roared a challenge at the beasts, charging forward like a man gone mad.  As he neared the alligators, the barbarian raised the spear above his head and drove it down with all his fury filled might.

Inside the Grove



There's plenty of room up the huge slanting trunk, and Averdante can clamber up it without difficulty, turning to fire off a shot to wound the already enraged beast.



The orb hovers quietly, at the moment not doing anything.  Lantamori keeps a wary eye and sharp arrow point ready for it.

The alligator roars loud enough to make everyone's ears ring as it thrashes around the grove, battering its huge body into the tree trunk everyone is climbing on.  Lantamori and Averdante are able to keep their balance, but Jemma, up higher, is dislodged from her perch.  With a stifled shriek, she is airborne for a moment before she manages to cling to an outstretched branch by a single hand, dangling over the thrashing alligator below!

From outside the grove, another well-aimed arrow flies to strike the king alligator, making the beast bellow anew.

---

Outside the Grove



The king alligator is still seemingly blinded by the octopus, and is having trouble dodging your arrows.  However, Narthian can see some blue lights in that grove now, and hears the shriek of a girl.



A moving target, for an alligator, particularly for a very angry alligator, seems to be a much more irresistible target than Sir Aberlayne, Haazheel, or Dellas.  Or perhaps it's just because Bruenor looks like he has more meat on his bones.  But Bruenor is ready for the alligator's charge as it lunges for him and stabs down with precision and gusto, making one of the alligator's limbs go limp as he withdraws his sword from the angry reptile's wounded body.

With herself between alligators and her brother, Sir Aberlayne drops her bow, grabs her axe off the ground, and slams the axe into the wounded alligator's other side with a yell of, "Come after me, you scaly devil!"

OOC: 05:11, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 24 using 1d20+6.  Attack with axe.
05:12, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 3 using 1d6+1.  Axe damage.



Taking advantage of the partial paralysis of the wounded alligator, Haazheel's shard of ice freezes part of the beast's blood, skewering its heart.  The beast flops over, dead, and slides into the swamp!

Dellas reloads his crossbow and whirls to fire at the other alligator, but his bolt is at a shallow angle and bounces off, doing no harm.

The one remaining alligator slithers up on land, crunching its jaws at Sir Aberlayne, but misses the wily paladin as she jumps back.



Meeting madness with madness, Volsh's spear flashes down, skewering the beast through.  Red flashes along the spear's length, and the alligator's eyes turn blazing red.  Roaring like a young dragon, the alligator begins to pull itself up Volsh's spear, determined to take its foe with him to a watery grave!
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:49, Mon 22 Feb 2016.

His nature's ally will not stay long, so he sends another arrow rapidly after the first, but is distracted by the girl's scream and the arrow misses. Looking over and seeing the situation, he knows he must do something to assist. [Language unknown: Wastheons, etises!] he cries, point towards the alligator slamming against the tree. His faithful wolf companion charges to the rescue, but the wolf's teeth cannot penetrate the gator's thick hide. Or rather, the thick tree root he was viciously mauling instead.


Narthian's attacak: 07:07, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 10,5 using d20+4,d8 ((6,5)).

Thunder's attack (with charge - which I forgot to add in the dice roller so amended here): 07:12, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 6,4 using d20+5,d6+1 ((1,3)).

Thunder's AC is 12 for next turn.

Holding onto the shaking tree reminds Averdante of seeing flies trying to cling to his horse's hide while the animal twitched its skin. Fortunately, he's got a better grip than the flies did.

From the sudden scream overhead though, the girl doesn't. She catches herself, barely, on a branch, but it's clear she can't climb back up on her own. Nor is he certain how long she can hold on.

It's simple reflex to flip his bow over his shoulder and lunge up the tree to where he can reach the girl. Unfortunately, while he manages to reach her, his position is too precarious at that point to allow him the leverage to pull her up.

"Jemma!" Lantamori shouted in dismay.  She dropped her shortbow, the knocked arrow falling through the branches below, as she reached out for the girl's free hand. "Give me your hand!"

She watched the girl swing away, the giant alligator thrashing with it's foe below her.  Averdante grabbed the girl's other arm but couldn't pull her up on his own.  As Jemma swung back, Lantamori grabbed the free hand and hoped that together they could pull the girl back onto the trunk before she lost her grip.

Dellas mumbles angrily as he reloads his crossbow. The last bolt missed and those things are still closing in. This time he aimed a little better and hit it where it hurts.

The beast's red eyes, rather than scaring the crazed northerner, make him grin wildly.  He could sense a kinship with the raging beast, as they shared an understanding of the glory of death, especially when one could take their foe to hell with them.  He laughed like one deranged, "Ha!!  We shall go to the underworld together beast of hell, and I shall thrash you before your maker and lay your broken corpse before his feet!!"

Volsh ripped his spear from the alligator's body, and seeing Sir Aberlayne to one side, leaped to the other and drove the spear at the creature's side.

Farian watched the combat as he righted himself after his trip into the water. It looked like Volsh was hell bent on taking out the alligator and Farian did not want to get in his way. Sir Aberlayne was flanking the beast so they had that one covered. The others were focused on the King Alligator. Farian keep watch and was ready to cast any healing magic that might be needed.

Haazheel smiled when the gator gasped as it's heart froze. He turned his attention to the other beasts attacking his group. Reloading his crossbow he thought, Those lights intrigue me, Mystique, can you get a clearer few of them?

He unleashed a bolt towards the alligator.

16:46, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 22 using 1d20+3.  Attack with Crossbow.

Bruenor pulls his longsword free of the gator's body, feeling a bit of confidence as he sees its leg hanging limp...figuring it's movement is hindered.  He doesn't lose his focus or the gravity of the situation, but as a trained sword-fighter, he allows himself to 'have a bit of fun'.  He dances away from the angry reptile, gives his sword a bit of a twirl and flourish, and slices down towards its flank.

Inside the Grove



Averdante grasps for Jemma's hand, but the squirming girl is a bit of a handful, and he can't quite get the leverage needed to bring her up without tipping himself over the edge into a giant alligator maw.



Lantamori's bow goes skidding down the truck, catching on some uneven places in the bark about halfway down.  Wrapping her legs around the branch, Lantamori swings down, grabs Jemma's hand, and swings her back up in one motion.  Jemma clings to the trunk like a tree frog, her teeth chattering together as she nails her lips shut to keep from screaming any further.

Above them, the blue globe stays tantalizingly out of reach, but begins to glow a brighter blue, expanding slightly as if growing...



Arrow and wolf fangs miss the king alligator entirely, but as Narthian's octopus is summoned back to its home, it's clear the massive beast has just become much more dangerous.  Its eyes lock on the two elves and girl above it, and it makes another of those ear-splitting cries.  Prey sighted...

-----

Outside the Grove



With his first foe dead, Bruenor can dance over to the one currently trying to pull itself up Volsh's spear.  Flicking his sword down with deceptive-looking grace, he opens a long slash on its side!

Sir Aberlayne shifts sideways to coordinate her attack with Bruenor, her own axe aggravating the wound Bruenor had already inflicted.  Her face is set, and she growls fiercely as her blade slams into the creature.

OOC: 11:07, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 3 using 1d6+1.  Axe damage.
11:07, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 25 using 1d20+6.  Attack with axe.



Dellas has to move a little to the side to get a clear shot, but he waits until Volsh goes to pull out the spear, and then fires carefully.  His bolt goes clean into the alligator's eye and sticks out of the back of its skull.  It stops thrashing, mouth gaping in death.



Volsh is nothing if not completely thorough when it comes to death, and makes utter mince of the alligator's heart as he skewers it through completely.



Farian waits, and sees no more foes closeby, though the king alligator in the grove about fifty feet away is still active and lively, and very, very noisy.  Volsh is bleeding badly, however, but still looks quite ready to pick up the alligator and beat its brethren to death with its broken carcass.



All the nearby alligators are quite dead, but the king alligator a little ways away is still quite ready to chomp your elven companions to bloody tatters, so Haazheel looses his bolt in that direction.  His aim is superb, and it sinks deep into the alligator's neck, abruptly cutting off its loud cries.

Mystique sends you the impression that the lights are growing like a bonfire grows, and that the "little-big" creatures from the next grove over seem to be retreating further to the east and south.

Lantamori didn't like the look of the blue globe and shook Jemma's shoulder.  "Come on," she said urgently.  "The alligator is dead and we have to move."

Trying to coax the girl down the trunk and away from the light, another thought occurred to Lantamori and she asked, "Did you see Bralton?"

"Nice shot Haazheel!" Narthian calls to the wizard. He calls Thunder back to his side, and studies the expanding blue light from the relative safety a few trees distant. It's possible that his long experience in nature may reveal some information about these things.

Knowledge Nature to ID glowing thing(s): 19:02, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 14 using 1d20+8 ((6)).
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 01:06, Sat 27 Feb 2016.

"Good job all, especially you Volsh, all have done a fine job in vanquishing these monsterous animals. Now relax and let my Diety wash away your fatigue and stop all those wounds from bleeding."


Uttering a prayer to Pelor, Farian asks his Diety to awash Volsh with his healing power and grant him strength to carry on when need be. Feeling the rush of sunlight going from his holy symbol, through his body and into Volsh, Farian smiles.

"Those orbs might be problems. Any idea what they are? Are they natural, magical, or what?"

Seeing his bolt killing one of those crocodiles makes him smile for a moment before going closer to Vish and Jemma where he can see the lights dancing high above the three in the tree. Taking a closer look he tries to remember anything magical that could explain this phenomenon.

[Private to GM: 09:56, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 28 using 1d20+8.  knowledge arcana.]

Bruenor pokes the nearest gator, making sure it's not moving, then turns towards the clearing.  He directs a brief withering look at Farian...Volsh? The wild man was simply getting angry and smashing things.  And getting eaten in the process!  Clearly the brutish cleric was incapable of appreciating Bruenor's own sword-wielding finesse.  Bad enough to play second fiddle to his sister all those years in the training grounds.

He shakes the thoughts from his head...sometimes it was hard to keep himself from returning to the snarky, condescending Bruenor of old...but comments like that...

'Nevermind that now,' he thinks, returning his attention to the clearing and scanning for any imminent threats.  "Everyone's ok?" he asks.

Not too sure about the alligator now bleeding on the ground beneath him, Averdante suggests, "Might want to drop something on it and make sure it's dead before stepping down beside it."

Then he turns his attention to the glowing blue globe, which seems to be getting bigger. Warily drawing out another arrow, he nocks it but doesn't draw on the thing. While not happy at being so close to it, he nonetheless can't resist taking a good look at it. Does it seem to be a solid globe, like a bubble or a crystal ball? Or soft-edged, like something intangible? Does the glow generate heat like a flame? Is there any detectable scent or sound to it?

He'll retreat from it to avoid direct contact; he's curious, but not ready to go quite that far!

Farian notes Bruenor's "disdain" at his comment, but lets it slide. Walking towards the large gator, Farian gets a limb and standing back out of the reach of the beast, wracks it on the side with the limb to see if there is a reaction. "If nothing else, we might be able to collect the hide and meat. The hide might be taken to a leatherworker for boots, or hide armor. Does anyone know what those balls of bluish light are?"

Farian is still focused on the gator more than the lights.

Haazheel waved a sign of thank you in response to the good shot.

"I'm not sure but I may have heard a story of these before. Give me a moment to try and remember if I have or not."

In the Grove



Jemma clings for a few moments more before managing to move her hands and feet again at Lantamori's urging.  "Ok, ok, I can move, I can..." she looks up at the blue light above you and flinches, looking down and covering her head.  "It can see us!" she hisses, sliding down the trunk as fast as she can.  Jemma hears Lantamori's second question, and she answers quickly.  "I think he was with the little lizard-people the ah..." she smacks her hand on her head, trying to remember, "Kobolds!  They had him all wrapped up in some fancy robe and painted green and he had four lights right around him and a mask on his face, but I heard his voice once and I knew it was him!"



The alligator has yet to move, and Averdante is reasonably sure it isn't breathing.  Looking at the globe, it seems to be almost bubble-like, with a blue radiance halfway between fire and dawn light, but blue, emanating from its surface.  There might be something in the bubble itself, but it's difficult to make it out clearly because of the light.  There is no heat you can detect from it, but it's making a faint wickering noise, like a candle does when it burns.  There is a faint scent of salt to it.

The globe swoops a little lower, above the alligator, then begins to rise, slowly.

----

Outside the Grove



Thunder runs back from the grove, pressing himself into Narthain's leg and growling slightly.  He's still perturbed from the fight and ready for action, if need be.  All the strange scents in this place are confusing, but Narthain's presence is comforting.

Concentrating on what he can see of the lights, they look vaguely like will-'o-wisps, creatures who use their lit, spherical spongy bodies to imitate lanterns or spirits and luring their prey to their doom.  However, the size looks off, the appearance doesn't quite match, and they don't seem to be luring so much as... lurking?  Observing?  Lingering?



The sun-power of Pelor flows through Farian's hands to wash over Volsh's wounds, leaving them warm, closing them up, and soothing the pain.



Dellas considers carefully.  The orbs of light remind him somewhat of a dancing lights spell, and somewhat of a will-'o-wisp.  And... he'll be perfectly honest, it reminds him also of a scrying sensor.  It could likely be a custom spell, or a familiar who is carrying a spell or two from their master.  Whoever is holding the leash of these creatures and their spells is likely an innovator, an experimenter with magic, so there's a dedicated arcanist of some stripe out there.



These do remind you somewhat of the dancing lights spell, and historically they're used in swamp terrain, like this, to imitate insects or lanterns in order to lure people into a trap.

Lantamori took her by the hand and hustled Jemma back to the others.  "They have Bralton," she explained, "but he's dressed up in a robe with green face paint.  They looked like Kobalds and he might, too.  So be careful.

"I'm going to get her back to town.  It's not that far.  I'll come back here and maybe Mystique could lead me to you."

Vish follows Jemma first and then runs back to Dellas. He keeps his eyes fixed on the light but welcomes him back with many belly rubs. He almost doesn't notice the huge alligator but when he does he gives a yelp of surprise and steps back. "Well, good that it's dead... right?" Stepping around the alligator (with at least 10ft. Between them) he gets closer to his sister and everyone. "it could be a spell, like a sprying spell or maybe a wizard familiar. I believe that we are being watched."

"It may simply be a distraction," Narthian says. "In either case, there is naught to be done unless our arrows can destroy it. Some of you may try, but I'd like to go to the clearing and see if Thunder can pick up the boy's scent. Narthian and Thunder move off towards the glade where the suspected kobolds were.

Bruenor listens to the discussion, not having much to add regarding the mysterious lights.  Now, kobolds, that was different...something he could deal with using brawn and steel.

His mouth gapes open as Narthian starts moving off towards the other glade.  He says nothing, but thinks, 'Bloody druid! Not by yourself!'  After a moment, he follows some paces behind the druid and his animal companion, trying to stay quiet and keeping them within sight.

Since it doesn't look as if the blue light is going to do anything -- except spy on them, which anything nearby could likewise be doing, at this point -- Averdante decides he might as well make use of the tree's vantage. He starts with taking a better look at the clearing where the lights had been gathered.

Probably none of the lights, or the other beings they'd glimpsed, remain, but he wants to be certain.

And he'll take a good look around the rest of the surrounding area he can see as well. If any more of the lights remain to be seen anywhere, it could give them a direction to go in next.

"Mystique...please accompany Lantomori on her journey and lead her back here. Keep an eye out and alert her if anything should happen. Safe travels!"

Haazheel turned his attention back to the group. "Well..we could sit around here and think about it...or we could move forward and hope for the best. I vote we try to figure out where the source of the lights are. The lights themselves are not hurting us, but whoever is controlling them may be an issue."

He nods "Not that I like people running off on their own but we have to find out what the lights are all about." He follows the others (mostly his sister) and keeps an ear open for any unpleasant surprise that might charge from behind a tree.

[Private to GM:
11:56, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 19 using 1d20+5.  listen.]

Farian followed along with the main body. He tended to those who had been injured, bandaging their wound and using minor orisons to stop the bleeding and closing any open wounds.

"As for the balls of light, if our Druid and Wizard fears them naught, then I trust their judgement. I do not recognize their appearance. As for the possibility of Kobolds, the quicker we can get rid of those accursed creatures, the better. Deviant little trouble makers that they are."

Volsh pulled his bloody spear from the gator now dead at his feet, his chest still heaving with fury.  He looked around for more foes and saw another gator by the grove surrounded by a bluish light.  He hefted his spear, blood spraying about and he charged it heedless of the danger.  He would send this devil to the hells as he had its brethren.

Bruenor stops in his tracks and turns, hearing a commotion behind him.  'What now??' he thinks.  He sees the barbarian charging towards the far grove...heading right for...a dead alligator?

He casts a nervous glance back toward Narthian, hoping the druid doesn't get too far ahead, but pausing to see if Volsh would require any help with the behemoth.  He draws his sword and watches...waiting to see if Volsh's charge is met by a dangerous foe, or a dead lump of flesh.

The village of Fen-on-the-Fen is perhaps a mile away, and at a trot might take you a little over an hour to get there and back, probably a bit more with Jemma in tow.

"Don't take me back!" Jemma exclaims, as the others discuss her fate.  The girl swallows her gorge at the seemingly dead alligator, and while she gets pale, she does not faint or lose her lunch.  "I can help, I can scout, I know the swamp, and I want to help rescue Bralton!  If anything happened, he knows me!  He doesn't know you."

Sir Aberlayne, sloshing over from the other grove, axe in hand in case the king alligator proves to be less dead than thought, spears the girl with a sharp glance.  "You have spirit and sense, child, but we don't know all what has Bralton, and unknown dangers could kill you and leave your kin weeping."





Sir Aberlayne mutters something under her breath that doesn't bear repeating.  "Then we'd best blind their eyes.  Our stealthiest moves will be for naught if those things report our every move to their masters!"



Listening carefully, Dellas can detect little sound from the blue light drifting away from them, just a hint of an almost firelike whickering.  He detects no language, no speech, no animals cries or magical resonance.

---





Druid and warrior and wolf head towards the second grove.  The blue light that had been hanging above them floats up a little farther, its glow dimming, as they draw close, peering between branches to see what looks like a crude, moss-covered stone table, and a makeshift throne made of woven branches decorated with colorful fungus.  Small glints of something shine from the table, and faint rustles can be heard in the grove.  Thunder sniffs the air, and it seems he's caught scent of something from the far side of the clearing, close to the throne.



Looking, he sees the blue light rise and drift, and beyond, to the south, more red and blue lights drifting in that direction.  They aren't going in a straight line, but spread and contract, spread and contract, like a heartbeat, or the tide.

----



Volsh, never one to leave anything to chance when it came to an enemy, sprinted across the intervening space and thrust his spear deeply into the king alligator.  One might expect a spurt of blood or brain matter, perhaps a death rattle of a groan from the dead or dying creature.  One would not suspect that Volsh's heavy magical spear, creating a much larger hole than the arrows and bolts the others had used, to be thrust in and out again... and lantern light to spill out of the hole!  There is a sudden pause, and then a frantic squeaking in a high pitched voice, "[Language unknown: Sanhisver unwhla!  Stio a il ivecompre ineus ithev red e!]"

Narthian sets an arrow to his bow string and signals Bruenor to go around to the left. Narthian will circle to the right. [Language unknown: Astonsith, Usasiv!] he commands the wolf. Narthian edges around the throne to the right, keeping a safe distance and ready for anything the might jump out.

OOC: Ready action: Shoot anything that makes an aggressive move towards Narthian, Thunder, or Bruenor.

Lantamori pulled Jemma further away from the alligator carcass.  That light was not natural but hadn't yet hurt the large man that created it.  Still, it reminded her of the light above them.

"If you stay," she said to the girl, "you must remain by my side and do what I say.  If you see something, tell me.  Don't do anything on your own.

"Do you agree?"

The elven woman wasn't thrilled about the girl's accompaniment but she could be of use if the Bralton boy were unsure of his rescuers.  As well, she did know the Fen and it's dangers better than any of them.

Looking full of curiosity at the light emitting from the inside of the big alligator. Dellas creeps a little closer but stops as soon as he hears the voices. He shouts: [Language unknown: Et waek e olca, ratticous esitni resis outalltic has. And men ofne yinbutovetin k red ce.] Just in case he takes one of his many scrolls and keeps it ready should they/it attack.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:59, Thu 24 Mar 2016.

Distracted from the more distant clearing by what's happening just below him, Averdante shifts to make sure he's not directly overhead. There was someone in the dead beast? That was considerably creepier than walking dead.

He looked around at the other dead alligators, looking for any sign they weren't simply carcasses. Were they all harboring other beings inside?

Hefting his mace higher and preparing for a possible new enemy, Farian took flanking positions on the other side of the giant alligator. Although he didn't recognize the language, he did briefly recall something bout light flaring from the eyes of the king croc. Maybe he should be paying more attention.

The others were on their own, he knew that this might need his utmost attention.

Volsh shielded his face from the light and roared, "Demon...back to hell  with you!!"  He was not sure what it spear would do against a glowing light, but he was sure that it had somehow possessed the alligator and therefore meant no good.  He would slay it and its kine or die trying.  He lashed out with his spear, not knowing if it would do any good, but he had faith that the magic of his Widowmaker was greater than its.

Bruenor curses and follows Narthian to the grove, trusting that Volsh and the others will be able to handle the dead alligator.

Gripping his sword, he moves around towards the left side of the clearing, keeping his eyes and ears scanning the area.

Jemma nods eagerly.  "I promise, I swear I won't slow you down, and I'll be careful.  I want to find out what happened to Bralton!"  She tucks herself at Lantamori's side, out of the way of her bow.  "Do we follow the kobolds now?"



There's a pause, the lantern light flickers, and the squeaky voice shouts again, "[Language unknown: Ronepa?  Oereauoer?  Astch lin ekch?  E yinioukor andle hat Whe Earpa!  Are Ie Kor one lamiho ck, na anype ons!]"



Looking at the group's original position, Averdante evaluates the other carcasses, trying to spy any hint of movement from the dead.  So far, nothing but a few opportunistic scavengers,  a fox on land, some turtles near the softer muck, seem to be alive.



Farian prepares himself for action, readying to coordinate his attack should the king alligator turn on them again.  The light inside the hole from Volsh's spear flares a little brighter, and Farian suddenly smells smoke.



Volsh's spear slices into the king alligator's side, not with the expected splorch but with a dry crack!  The king alligator splits open along the seam from head to tail, revealing it to be the supple armored skin on a framework of wood and vine, its limbs controlled by clever mechanisms piloted by three kobolds seated in a row down its middle.  The one in front is setting fire to the whole contraption with a lantern, while the other two have gourds of something in their hand.  Suddenly uncovered, the kobolds shriek and panic.  The one in front smashes the lantern on the floor, making the alligator burn, while the two in the back hurl their gourds at Volsh.  One sails past his shoulder to smash on the ground, the contents bursting into flames.  But the other smashes right into Volsh's chest, making the barbarian catch on fire!
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:05, Mon 04 Apr 2016.

Shielding his eyes from the flames on Volsh's chest he pulls a scroll out of his sleeve in one fluid motion and finishes the last part of the ritual and a fire spreads from Dellas' hands, engulfing anyone too slow to move aside.

Lantamori made sure to step in front of the girl before drawing an arrow back to cover the alligator carcass.  She didn't know what was going on but Volsh was somehow now on fire as he stood over it.  There seemed to be something inside.

She held her arrow in case something emerged and allowed her a clean shot.

Looking down again as the alligator suddenly cracks open to reveal kobolds inside, Averdante shifts and if possible, braced himself to take a shot at one. The alligator shell seems to have been made into an amphibious conveyance, from what he can see, and he's intrigued.

And almost as quickly annoyed, as the kobolds intentionally set the contraption -- and Volsh! -- afire. Now he won't have a chance to take a better look at it!

So he looks for their most likely route to attempt an escape, and if it's not going to endanger his friends, waits for a chance to put an arrow in one. They'll bolt, he's certain, because nothing alive voluntarily burns to death if there's another option.

Farian yells to Volsh to dive into the water to put out the fire, and at the same time he swings towards the first kobold who happens to raise his head up out of the now ruined contraption.

[OOC: 20:03, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 4 using 1d20+3.  attacking kobold with mace.]

Obviously Farian was still shaken by the sudden appearance of the Kobolds and the sudden envelopment of Volsh into flames.

Volsh roared in anger and pain, as the gourd smashed into him and he burst into flames.  He immediately dropped to the ground and started to roll about on the soggy ground, trying to extinguish the flames.

The Lit Grove





Heading around the stone table from opposite sides, you can see what seem to be gleaming shards of colored glass, beetle shells, polished stones, and animal teeth scattered across its surface.  Wary and cautious about what Thunder had scented and the faint movements you had heard, you're not surprised (startled maybe, but not surprised) when something darts out  from behind the stone table.  Except... except you can see some impressions in the mossy ground and feel the wind of its passing, but you can't see it!  There's a scent of earth and rotting vegetation, and the clacking sound of a chomping maw.

Narthian fires off an arrow far too wide to strike the unseen foe, while Bruenor's sword slash cleaves closer to the creature's wide footprints, yet fails to find purchase.

OOC:  Rolling for invisibility, Narthian rolled even, Bruenor rolled odd, so only Narthain had a chance to hit it, but his hit didn't penetrate your foe's AC.

---

In the Alligator Grove



Two of the kobolds, the ones who had tossed vials of alchemist's fire at Volsh, had been too focused on their target and take the full brunt of Dellas' spell.  The third, the lantern-kobold, manages to only get scorched a little, ducking with fear-born speed.




Lantamori holds her bow, sights, and then looses as the kobolds take a blast of fire.  One of the one who had tossed fire at Volsh takes her arrow through its throat and keels over, spasming in death.



Averdante follows suit with Lantamori, and the second tossing kobold is skewered to the ground with the force of the arrow snuffing out his life.




The burst of fire and the flashing arrows startle Farian from striking effectively at the last remaining kobold.  It screeches and leaps out of the flames, scales smoldering, and you see it smash something against its chest, something blue and glowing.  Ethereal wings made of blue smoke stretch from its back and it darts into the upper branches like a bat.  Two glowing motes, the blue one and a red one, dive down to interpose themselves between the flying kobold and the party's deadly arrows.



The wet ground and Volsh's quick action extinguish the flames before they can burn him any further, leaving him with a thick coating of mud and moss.

Lantamori drew another arrow back and pointed it skyward.  She didn't have a clear shot at the kobold and they still weren't sure what those lights were.  She was hesitant to fire into one of them as the lights hadn't actually done anything hostile.

A flying kobold?  What had they stumbled into?

Narthian points between the two footprints and chants. "" When the spell completes, he commands Thunder. "Sic'em!"

Casting Faerie Fire.

stepping backwards, Dellas sees the kobold smashing the bottle against his chest but the etheral wings surprised him. He takes his crossbow out and waits for an opportunity to shoot the goblin with the lights out of the way.

[I'm waiting until I have a clear shot at the kobold, if not then I won't shoot.
Private to GM: 16:35, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 10 using 1d20+4.  atk with crossbow. (probably missed)
16:32, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 18 using 1d20+8.  knowledge arcana Do I recognize the spell, do I know how much such a bottle would cost?]

Choosing to ignore the glowing lights, Averdante looks for the kobold. He's still sore from what they did with their alligator construct, and since he can't investigate it further, he'll settle for the kobold's death. If he can spot it, and get a shot at it, he will. The lights, he expects, will get out of the arrow's way.

And if they don't, well, they are clearly allied with the kobolds.

Bruenor’s eyes go wide as he hears, smells and feels something rush by…how in blazes is he meant to fight something he can’t see??  He swings his sword, connecting with nothing but air; then turns slowly in place trying to follow any footprints in the muck.

Recovering quickly, he balances his sword before him, moving it back and forth, hoping to see some sign – or hear something – that might help him direct an attack.

OOC: If he can spot footprints or sounds, (or if Narthian’s spell takes effect first) he’ll lash out with his longsword in the area of the creature; otherwise, he’ll wait a few seconds and then swing in an arc in front of him anyway.

In the Lit Grove of Unknown Assailants



The faerie fire washes over the area in a pulse of purple light, abruptly outlining a stumpy shape and a large maw.  It's difficult to tell precisely what it is with only an outline to go on, but now you can clearly see what to swing at!

Thunder bounds in and lunges for a bite, coming back with a large mouthful of something gray that he tosses aside with vigor.




With Narthian's spell as a guide, Bruenor cuts with precision and skill.  Abruptly there's a heavy thump, and in death their foe becomes visible (in two parts).  A stumpy-legged mass of green and brown, nodules on the top, a maw on one side, it reeks of earth and slightly vegeteal decay.  Again the grove is silent, save for the hovering lights...


----

In the Alligator Grove



The lights remain stubbornly in the way, which may have been all for the better, because Lantamori's perch seems precarious and she wasn't certain her shot would have been good.



Averdante figures it's damn the lights and full arrows ahead.  With careful aim, he manages to just squeeze the arrow in between the lights and into the kobold's skinny chest.  The creature's eyes go blank and slack, its body sags, but bizarrely the glowing wings still keep beating, raising the corpse up.



With the goblin already dead, but the lights still interfering, Dellas can't get a good shot.


The lights crowd around the winged kobold, and the trio rises above the canopy, out of sight amongst the trees...

Narthian pulls his blade from its sheath and carefully approaches the thing, wondering what it is. He hears the commotion in the other glade and wonders what is keeping them. "The hunt is up! Let us pursue our foe and run them to the ground before the trail is cold!" he calls.

Knowledge Nature to ID the dead thing: 16:55, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 20 using 1d20+8 ((12)).

"That's... interesting," Averdante observes, watching the dead kobold's magic wings fly him away. Without further direction, will they just keep lifting the corpse upward until the magic fails? Or will the lights guide it somewhere?

Well, it was no secret there was someone out here hunting them anymore, so finding his arrow in the body won't tell them anything they didn't already know. At least he hadn't used one of his magic arrows. That he'd want back!

A distant call prompts him to take a look back into the clearing they'd intended to sneak up on. Hmmm... so the druid had found a trail. Probably a more likely choice than back-tracking the false alligator -- although he'd look around, just in case. And take a look at what was left of their contraption, if any of it survived the fire.

But before he starts climbing down the tree, even as the ache from what is likely a spectacular bruise across his chest starts to remind him again that he was injured, Averdante uses his vantage point to verify that the rest of the dead alligators still seem properly dead and motionless. And looks to see if there is anything else that might concern them moving out around there.

Keeping her bow at the ready, Lantamori waved to Jemma to stick with her and moved to follow Narthian and Bruenor before the lights decided to come back.

Volsh stood panting, and grimacing in pain and growling, his anger the primary thing keeping him on his feet.  He was confused, as he thought they had been fighting alligators but it seemed that smallish creatures had been inside the beasts.  he looked about trying to get his bearings and determine who or what was now his foe.  He would then send them to meet their gods.

Being rather fascinated by it, Dellas takes a few seconds to think about how to put out the flames without destroying the alligator. He looks around and tries to use the surrounding water to extinguish the flames

Farian slowly walks towards Volsh, "Well done barbarian. The enemy is defeated, our friends are on the trail of more enemies and your barbarian heritage would be most welcomed."

Farian looked around for those where were wounded and only if needed would he spend his last healing spell on that person. (probably our barbarian if he was the most wounded)

Bruenor stands there, looking down on the abomination of vegetation.  What foul magic was this?  His discomfort with magic returning quickly to the surface.

He grips his sword and looks around for more foes, letting Narthian poke at the thing.

The blood pounding in his head makes it difficult to focus on any sounds, but he keeps his eyes trained on the surrounding area.

"What is that thing, Druid?" he calls out quietly without looking down.

As Farian noted that the enemy was defeated it was as though Volsh deflated.  His shoulders sagged with exhaustion, and he stuck the but of spear in the ground and leaned over one hand on his knee the other holding the weapon.  He grimaced, finally feeling the pain of his wounds, but he was alive and his enemies were dead.  So all was good as far as he was concerned.

He caught his breath, for a moment then looked up haggardly at Farian, "Good then...well lead on and we shall join our companions."  He straightened himself, and forced his feet forward into motion, following his pious companion.

In the Lit Grove of Unknown Assailants



Narthian ponders as he and Thunder move, and realizes their vegetal foe is a rather unusual ambulatory plant known as a phantom fungus.  Invisible until slain, the heavy fungus will go and seek its own food, killing animals (or unfortunate humanoids) to make a satisfactory supper of the slain.  With sufficient tidbitting, a phantom fungus can be trained to patrol a particular area, learning to recognize the scents of its trainers as "non-food."

Bursting from one grove to the fringe of the next, Narthian sees that any lights here have gone.  Also that the king alligator seems to have... split in half and caught on fire...?



Narthian dashes off before answering Bruenor's question.  Bruenor hears some yelling from the other grove, but looking about for more trouble he can see, just barely visible above the canopy, he spies a couple blobs of light moving to the southeast.



Using the tree branches as their road, Lantamori and Jemma creep over to see what's going on in the other grove.  There is a blue light dimly glowing, hovering in the canopy above the grove, illuminating a crude, moss-covered stone table, and a makeshift throne made of woven branches decorated with colorful fungus.  Small glints of something shine from the table, but what they are is hard to see from your height.  Narthian and Thunder are dashing from the grove, likely drawn by the noise of combat, while Bruenor is looking up into the canopy, or maybe past it.  At the warrior's feet lie four foot high twisted lump of green and brown lumpy fungus with stumpy legs and a large maw, its side cut open.  It lies inertly, the ground around it disturbed as if there had been a fight.

-----

In the Alligator Grove



With the simple expedient of borrowing his sister's helmet, and in a minute, his sister, the Numps chuck enough water and muck on the alligator contraption to arrest the flames and preserve what was left.



With the alligator contraption extinguished, Averdante can examine it more easily.  While messier (there's no avoiding getting his hands mired to the elbow with all the muck and blood splashed about), it's also not on fire, so that makes things easier.  He takes his time and plucks out two unbroken gourds with stoppers made of moss-wrapped pebbles.  They have something inside them that sloshes.  The kobold corpses yield three small daggers and three small slings, along with hard sling pellets.  One had a hat made of three intertwining dead fish, another a broach made of five copper pieces nailed together and then painted bright red, and the third had a crystal pendant on an elaborate necklace of dried and polished seeds.  He also finds a pair of dried bird's wings, tied together with golden thread, curiously unburned within a burned leather belt pouch.

Backtracking where the alligator-thing may have come from, Averdante casts around until he finds that its tracks seem to appear from the precise center of the grove, as if it had not hauled itself up from the swamp, but had appeared on the spot...

An examination of the other alligators reveals them to be flesh and blood and seemingly mundane specimens of their kind.  Two bear old scars on their head that look like a pair of capital letter "F"s.





Volsh has battled hard, and it decidedly the most battered of the group.  Farian gathers his concentration on Pelor's healing light, and his hands glow like a young sun as he places them over Volsh's wounds.  With a flash, several of the wounds heal over with a wash of warmth and wellness.

Averdante will be very careful with the gourds he finds. "Dellas, perhaps you'd want to take these? They look rather like the ones thrown at Volsh." If they were more of the fire pots, the halfling seemed to best suited to deal with them, given his penchant for fire. Dante drops the slings and stones beside the alligator-contraption, along with the red-painted brooch. "And you and Haazheel might want to look at this," he passes over the bird-wing token as well. "It didn't burn, even though the leather pouch around it did."

The crystal pendant he wants a closer look at, as creatively crafted as it is, but that must wait until later. For the moment, he leaves the halfling with the kobold's alligator and has a look back along its trail. Returning, trying futilely to scrape some of the mud off his arms and chest, he tells the others, "The kobold's may have given that alligator-boat of theirs wings like that survivor made use of, for there's no evidence the device was either built out there, or traveled to that point. It seems to have simply appeared in the grass, and then come out to attack us."

When it appeared out there would have been helpful to know -- before their arrival? Or after that blast of attention-getting light? -- but there's no way to determine that. The wings-magic clearly didn't require a living being to function, and if the little lights could guide it, that might have been all the magic used. He doesn't like thinking that the kobolds might have enough magic to teleport their contraption into position.

"At least a couple of the real beasts were likely ones stolen from the villagers. They were marked with a letter 'F' on the head. Jemma might be able to tell us how many were taken, and if they're all marked, or not." Not that he could see the little girl, just then. She'd been with Lantamori, and he since he couldn't see her just then, either, he hoped they were still together.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:45, Wed 27 Apr 2016.

"This is interesting," Narthian says to the scene of the alligator robot thing. "But time is passing and the trail grows cold. Let's collect our things and be on our way." When time allows, he'll explain to the others about encountering the phantom fungus, as a warning that other such things are likely to be encountered. He also says, "We may be facing an evil druid. The powers of nature in such hands will be very dangerous."

When everyone can be collected, he'll have Thunder search again for the trail of the missing child and/or fleeing kobolds.

The elven woman looked around from their perch to see if there was any movement nearby.

"Is this the only place you've seen them?" Lantamori asked Jemma.

Taking the gourds from Averdante he smiles and opens one at once, putting a drop of the liquid on his finger, rubbing it between his index finger and thumb and finally taste it his smile grows bigger. He repeats the same with the othter gourd and looks at Averdante.
"I believe that one should help anyone who wishes to pass without any trace, the other seems to be a potion that makes it more difficult for others to hit the user..."

He stows both in his pack and adds some of his spare clothes to keep them safe before looking around "Hey, where is everyone?"

Volsh's aches and pains were subsided significantly by the healing of Farian.  He smiled in thanks, but clearly the Northerner was fatigued by his efforts in the battle.  He did his best to hide it, and plodded behind the priest, making sure he kept pace despite his weariness.  The day was still young and tired or no there was still work to be done.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:47, Tue 10 May 2016.

With the immediate threat dispatched, Bruenor gives the lump of fungus a nudge with his boot, and steps over to the moss-covered table.  He takes a closer look at the shiny objects on the table to see what they might be.

If they were arcane, he probably would not be able to make heads or tails of them, but perhaps they were mundane?

Haazheel had been looking upward, and brings his attention back down as Averdante hands him the bird-wing token.

"I sent Mystique to follow the floating kobold at a safe distance.  It's still moving slowly to the southeast.  Perhaps if we're lucky, it'll go right to wherever they are holding the boy."  He examines the token minutely, and his eyes widen.  "It's decidedly magical, with a conjuration aura about it.  I think it won't last very long once the magic is released, but it would be enough to make a difference.  I don't know exactly what will happened, but if it's like what we saw, then I'd say it would give someone wings for a little while."



Sir Aberlyane nods.  "Then they definitely have a shaman of some stripe on their side.  Our attack on the alligators was hardly subtle, or perhaps they had someone or something watching us.  We were careful, but kobolds are small and even sneakier than halflings.  Or maybe their shaman had a familiar beast, like Dellas' Vish to spy for him.  That would have given them enough warning to bring their false alligator into play."





Narthian gives Thunder the scent again and commands him to hunt.  Sniffing the air carefully, Thunder heads off towards the lit grove to find what he can.



"So far," Jemma says.  She pauses, and grips the bark of the tree as Lantamori looks around.  She can note the motes of light moving off to the southeast above the canopy, and then Thunder coming into the grove to nose around the stone table and woven throne.  "Bralton was there," she says, pointing to the woven throne, colorful with bits of bright fungus.  "Wrapped in robes, painted green, masked, with four of those lights around them.  The kobolds were dancing around a bonfire, and he was talking to them, but I didn't understand what he was saying.  Then the alligators started to attack, so the kobolds must have taken Bralton with them when they fled!"

Jemma squints down below, and looks thoughtful.  "I didn't see any ropes on Bralton.  And I didn't know he knew any other languages.  I mean, I know a couple words of Goblin and a few Orc swears I can't say around my mother, but there haven't been kobolds around here since my great-great grandfather's day, or so the swamp witch said.  Maybe... the swamp witch sometimes told us some old, old legends about the Fen.  I remember something she said about the 'Eyes of the Swamp King,' like will 'o wisps but they let King see through them so he could watch his whole kingdom."  The girl shudders and hugs her arms to herself.



Sir Aberlayne nods.  "Those will be mighty useful.  And everyone else is going to the other grove.  I think that's where they last saw something of use.  Come, let's join them before something else pops out of the water with teeth and a terrible attitude," she says, retrieving what arrows she can and gesturing for Dellas to precede her into the next grove.



Following behind Farian, the two make their way into the lit grove.  The remnants of a bonfire, hastily quenched, is on one end of the grove.  The stone table and wicker throne are at the other, with the bulk of the dead phantom fungus toppled between them.  Bruenor is stepping around the dead creature to examine the table.



The majority of them seem to be items of beauty or shine, polished pebbles of lovely colors, bright flowers or bark or mosses, colorful beetle shells, strips of shiny dried fish skin, polished bits of bone or teeth.  You're reminded of the keepsakes of children, who might collect little tokens like this.  However, scattered amongst the innocuous things are at least five alligator skulls, elaborately decorated with carving, paint, and feathers.  There are also several faceted crystals, two pink, one purple, one yellow, and one deep red, each about the size of a human man's thumb.

There are some crude drawings below the melange of objects, seemingly made with charcoal paste.  They circle some of the things, and trail off the table legs in others.

As Bruenor searches, Thunder slips by him and sniffs the wicker throne all over.  With a small yip, he licks at something, pulling it from the throne with his teeth, then trots over to the southern part of the grove and waits until Narthian pushes his way into view.

"Good boy Thunder! What do you have there?" He approaches the wolf to see what was found.

Dellas follows his sister to the grove, he sees the shiny pebbles and looks at the others "If you don't mind then I'd like to take these.. and the crystals to take a closer look at them when we're safe." but before he could get a reply, Narthian's companion seem to have found something. He stands there, ready to burn whatever is hiding there.

After washing his hands in the water to get the mud off at least that much of himself, Averdante rises with a wince. Reflexively checking that his arrow is still nocked and ready to be fired when he picks up his bow, he takes a last look around for anything suspicious, ending with a regretful look down at the burned contraption.

Did kobolds really design and build that device? He knew they were clever little fiends, but were they that clever? Or had someone else helped them?

Had that help been from just what the Stone Tree had suggested -- a rival small god invading? Considering how communicative the Stone Tree had been with them, it wasn't unreasonable to expect the same from another supporting the kobolds.

If that were so, it was a deviously clever small god they were going up against... which wasn't a really comforting thought.

Turning his back on the device, he followed the others.

"Bralton may be possessed by something," Lantamori replied to the girl.  "Let's get down to the others.  It looks safe for now."

The elf made her way back down the tree, helping Jemma as they went.  She hoped that Narthian could pick up a trail.

Bruenor looks down at the trinkets on the table...an assortment of childrens' baubles by all appearances.  They meant nothing to him.

What was the significance of this place...the throne...taking the boy?

Without much insight to offer, he gazes at the table for a moment; looking up when more of his companions arrive in the grove.  Narthian's pet, at least that's what it seemed like, sounds like it's found something...so he hefts his sword and heads over.

Volsh leaned on his spear, and waved to Breunor, "Has Narthian's beast found something?  Have we found the children or the missing animals?"  He looked about at the various items, and given his fatigue nothing made much sense, so he let the others search through while he kept watch.  They had likely slain any immediate foes but the battle might attract others.  He was not convinced they had solved this mystery just yet.

Where Thunder has his nose to the ground, there are light but just visible impressions of three-toed feet about the size of a halfling's, along with broader footprints more akin to a small human.  The human footprints are filled with crushed bits of colorful fungus, and they seem to be blurred and close together, like someone shuffling their feet.  They head off to the southeast.  Looking in that direction, beyond the grove the footprints sink into the mire of the swamp.  However, colorful toadstools sprout on a few exposed tree roots, tufts of grass, and floating logs in that general direction.

Volsh, at your questions, Sir Aberlayne says, "Averdante saw a double 'F' carving on the forehead of a couple of the beasts."  The paladin looks around until she spies Lanamori and Jemma up in a tree.  "Child, three or so of your village's beasts went missing?"

The girl nods, her eyes wide.  "The Elders mark the alligators young.  Maybe someone bewitched them away!"

Narthian, you know this is not unlikely.  While trained and loyal beasts are hard to sway, someone with your magic could at least temporarily convince an animal to do as you ask.  A more powerful caster could make such an effect last much longer.

Bruenor nods at Volsh, noting what he perceives to be the barbarian's fatigue.  He was not feeling spry himself, but he could continue for a long day yet if need be.  He wondered how long the effects of Volsh's rage would stay with the man.

"We should follow them, yes?" he says to no one in particular, indicating the tracks.

"Yes," Lantamori agreed.  "Let's follow before they get too far ahead."

"Yes! The hunt is on! Thunder will lead the way! Nock your arrows or ready your spears! They will not escape our pack again!"

Volsh sucked in a deep breath then exhaled.  He nodded and trudged after his companions, following them to where Thunder led.

Looking in the direction in which the tracks disappeared, Averdante eyed the brightly colored mushrooms. Colored fungus, colored flying lights... "You know, I'm not sure I want to know the connection between the mushrooms and the lights." He certainly planned to avoid contact with them, just on principle.

He'll move out with the others, watchful for whatever other mischief these kobolds might have crafted.

Dellas walks over to the table and does indeed take a few of these shiny stones and crystals before turning around to the others "I'm fine, let's find the boy and discover what's going on here"

Dellas scoops up the shiny stones and crystals, just in case.  If they're nothing he can use magically, they're certainly worth worth enough coin to barter, and lighter than metal.

Everyone readies themselves, and Haazheel speaks up as they move out to follow Thunder.

"Mystique says the lights are moving ahead, the same way we're going.  The dead kobold with the wings was guided to..." Haazheel tilts his head, trying to find the right words to translate from the empathic connection with his familiar to the Common tongue.  It's not until a magician and familiar have grown together in power that they are able to speak more plainly to each other, as Dellas well knows.  "Guided to a large plant, something big enough to swallow him up.  There are smaller plants of the same sort all around and... they're breathing?  Moving slightly.  He heard something like 'dragon tongue in lizard voices,' but wasn't close enough to make it out.  It sounds like maybe the kobolds were speaking the Draconic language, though he didn't spot any kobolds on the surface."

Thunder keeps his nose out of the swamp as he forges forward, Narthian at his heels to encourage him and keep him on track.  The path underneath your feet is soft, but you don't sink terribly deep; if the kobolds had come this way over the ground, it couldn't have been too deep in muck or they couldn't have made such a speedy escape.  You continue to be surefooted in what would otherwise be very slippery and treacherous terrain, courtesy of the Stone Tree, and make good time.  The bits of fungus that seem to mark the path are brightly colored, and potentially trouble.  Narthian recognizes several of them as poisonous or capable of causing visions.

You can try to skirt them whenever possible, but as the land rises slightly at the end of a trek of nearly three hours, you come to what looks like a descent into something of a valley.  The slope down is lightly covered with spindly trees, thickly mossed, and the oozing ground is covered with a carpet of very brightly-colored fungi.  Beyond that, perhaps over a hundred feet away, you can see the larger plants that Mystique and Haazheel must have been talking about, smooth green leafy pods the size of large dolmens, horses, large dogs, and some only the size of pigs.

The light is starting to fade, and there are a great deal of insects whose bodies flicker with restless light fogging the air.  No glowing balls of light at the present, just the singing of insects and frogs and the silent, ominously colorful vast slope of fungus between you and your goal.

"How many of those antitoxins did we get from the mayor?" Lantamori asked.  "We could use those to protect us from the fungus for a time.

"We have to go soon.  Once it's too dark to see, any light will tell them exactly where we are.  The boy might not have that much time left."

"I can see well enough in the dark, as can Thunder," Narthian says. He tries to capture one of the light-bugs (until successful), to see if it is like the lightning bugs he knows well from the meadows of his home forest. If so, he tears the glowing parts from the bug and smears it on his backpack. "Everyone do this, and line up in single file. Even the humans will be able to follow the glow in front of him. If we're lucky, it will last about an hour or so."

Dellas' cheery voice pips up "I've no problem with the darkness... but you're right, we have to hurry." With this he started to walk briskly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:57, Mon 13 June 2016.

"Dellas, you, particularly might want to hold a moment," Averdante says, "and consider taking some effort to keep from inhaling any dust or spores from those mushrooms. Walking through them is going to break a number of them apart, and you and your sister are closest to the ground. Bright colors often mean something is poisonous."

Eyeing that disturbingly sinister descent, he ventures, "Perhaps damp cloth over our nose and mouth? That's helpful to avoid inhaling dust or smoke."

Dellas stops and looks at Averdante "Poisonous? How did the Kobolds get through here? Can you see any footprints?" He must have been half asleep or not paying attention before, either way he looks warily at the mushrooms.

"Thunder has their scent," Narthian says. "We don't need tracks. And Averdante is right, stay clear of the fungi. Let's go, pack! The hunt continues!"

Volsh listened to the directions and followed his companions.

Thinking of the veritable lawn of green fungi between them and the pod-tree, Averdante doubts it will be possible to avoid treading on some of the mushrooms. With that in mind, he unslings his pack to dig out his spare shirt. Shouldering the pack again, he backtracks to the closest water.

After soaking the cloth thoroughly, he wrings out most of the water, then ties it over his face below his eyes. Hopefully, any dust or spores that arise will not seriously harm his eyes -- or have as much affect on him as inhaling them freely might do. The wet cloth, he sincerely hopes, will block such airborne particles entirely.

"I'll bring up the rear," he tells them, an arrow again laid against his bow at the ready. "That way, if something shows up as you descend, I'll have a good sighting on it." And, not-so-incidentally, a good view of any early-onset symptoms from inhaling the trampled mushrooms before he is also at risk.

Dellas follows Averdante and does the same, not having the same experience as others with mushroom and poison he ties it over his face leaving only his eyes free. You can hear his muffled voice "I do hope you know what you're doing"

With rueful chuckle, Dante answers, "So do I. This is not a situation I've encountered before, but this tactic lessens inhaling dust in a severe wind, so I'm hopeful it will block mushroom dust as well." With a shrug he adds, "It's worth a shot."

Bruenor watches Dante and Dellas mask themselves...although the thought of putting a cloth full of foul swamp water over his mouth is none to appealing.  He opts for a dry handkerchief which he pulls from his pocket and holds near his face.

He moves up towards the front of the line, his sword sheathed, but within easy reach should he need it.  As they prepare to set off, he mutters, "Shundahar"...and his shiny chainmail seems to morph back into a well-worn suit of leather armor.  Less conspicuous, which is his preference at the moment.

Lantamori just opts to drink one of the antitoxins before they head down the fungus strewn hill.

Volsh watches teh others, but realizes that he has no cloth to cover his face with.  In the end he shrugs, hefting his spear over one shoulder, and putting his arm over his mouth and nose.  He thinks that perhaps his underarm smells a bit worse than the swamp water, and chuckles to himself wearily.

Jemma nods at Lantamori's suggestion.  "This doesn't look exactly like greenspores, but a lot like, and they can be very nasty.  Sometimes they make you cough or sneeze or cry, but sometimes they make it really hard to even breathe, or you get so sick you can't keep anything down."



Narthian will have to take a few minutes, but he can get a glow bug eventually.  The smear of dull light on his pack will make for something to follow as darkness falls.



Sir Aberlayne was about to hook her fingers into her brother's collar to get him to stop being quite so hasty when Averdante spoke up.



"Ah, that's a good idea.  Certainly going into a possible fight when hacking our lungs our or spewing all over the swamp would not lead to victory," Sir Aberlayne said, shaking Dellas a little to get him to pay attention.  She used her waterskin to douse a handkerchief and tied it over her face, tucking the end into her gambeson.

Averdante, Dellas, Bruenor do something similar, and Lantamori downs her antitoxin.  Farian considers, and takes his own antitoxin as well, as does Haazheel.  Jemma knows such things are expensive, and she has none of her own, so she rips a corner of her tunic off and douses it, tying it about her face too.  Volsh does the best he can.



There appears to be no tracks or disturbed path through the mushrooms.  Possibly the kobolds tiptoed through them, though that is highly unlikely.  They might have flown through, which you can seen they were capable of doing, at least to a few of them.  The colorful fungus might be an illusion (though Dellas can smell them and thinks that less likely, as smell can be hard to add into illusions).  The kobolds might have had some spell or special divine favor that let them pass through the fungus without disturbing it.  Or the fungus might have grown up after them, possibly spell-assisted.



The scent goes through the fungus, though Narthian doesn't see any tracks, Thunder seems confident about the scent.  He moves through as carefully as he can, but the fungus is close-set, and unless one is, perhaps, a spider, there seems to be no way to avoid it entirely.  With great care, the group moves through it, trying to avoid breaking as many as possible.  While Averdante, Lantamori, Jemma, and Bruenor are fairly good at it, Haazheel blunders through more than he should, and Narthian puts his foot square on at least one.  Volsh doesn't do too badly, though Dellas and Sir Aberlayne take turns either avoiding or tripping over them, to both of their annoyances.  Farian just figures that he had little luck of avoiding them anyway, damps a cloth around his mouth and nose, and plows through them with a wince.

Spores rise in a cloud, settling on everyone to a greater or lesser degree.  Averdante feels sick to his stomach, almost violently so, as does Haazheel.  Narthian feels decidedly queasy, as does Dellas and Vish.  Everyone else feels a decided need to sneeze, but don't seem quite as badly off as the others.


After getting through the fungus (and/or having to offer one's lunch to the swamp gods), you're now amongst the tall green pods.  They ripple and pulse slightly, as if breathing, or if they had a beating heart in them.  One makes a distinct muttering sound, as if something is speaking to itself... or being digested.  Colorful insects swirl about above you, not the balls of light you saw previously, but glow bugs in great profusion.

The ground shifts slightly under your feet, as if you stand on the side of a great beast, hidden beneath the swamp.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:04, Fri 12 Aug 2016.

Volsh does not like the scene one bit, and his stance shifts to counter the ground movement.  He had once been on a boat, and it seemed much like that, trying to stay upright.  He had half a mind to stab the ground with his spear but he was not sure what woudl happen.  if it was a great beast, then perhaps it was best to let it rest.

"I do not like this...it seems wrong."  The barbarian held his spear defensively as he looked about, half expecting the ground to erupt or the plants to come to life and suck their faces off.

Bruenor exhales with relief once they pass out of the fungi and spores, although his celebration is short-lived as he goes into a momentary sneezing fit.

When it subsides, he takes a moment to look around, noting the unusual vegetation...no, wait...unusual is not the right word...disturbing?  Perhaps those spores affected him more than he realised...the ground itself seemed to be moving...or was it breathing?

Turning aside to Volsh, he replies, "I'm with you, Volsh...this whole place is unnatural.  We must stay sharp."

He stands ready, observing the area, and waiting for those more familiar with arcane things to work out their next move.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:44, Tue 14 June 2016.

Despite his rebellious stomach, Narthian moves to the mumbling plant. "Bruenor, Volsh, help me with this." The druid pulls at the pod, attempting to pry it open.

Dellas holds one hand in front of his mouth, he hates spores... and gas. Anything he can't effectively defend himself against it. "W... Why *gurp* are you *gurp* excuse me" he just stands there trying to keep his food down.

Lantamori kept her bow in one hand and looked around.  She made sure to keep Jemma within arms reach and looked the girl over to ensure that she was going to survive the fungi spores.

"Haazheel," she asked the man, "can Mystique direct us from above?  Where should we go next?"

Volsh moved cautiously over to Narthian to offer his aid.  He looked to see where he might get some leverage then added his strength to the effort.

Averdante gets no closer to the pod-tree than necessary to get away from the cloud of mushroom dust stirred up by everyone's passage. Only the urgent need to keep as distant as possible from the vile green fungi keeps him on his feet, albeit a little unsteadily. The sense of movement beneath his feet isn't helping. His stomach keeps threatening revolt, but it's been a while since he last ate or he'd have no choice in the matter.

At the moment, fighting the nausea and trying to maintain his balance, he's entirely too sick to be interested in, nor caring, about what the others are doing.

Despite Volsh's fears, nothing emerges from the ground quite yet.  Though it does feel warm beneath his feet...

Bruenor looks around and listens cautiously, but between the rather nauseated reactions of some of his friends, it's a bit distracting.



Sir Aberlayne pats her brother's shoulder, and holds her axe ready.  "Kobolds like to hide, and they like traps.  I shouldn't wonder if that mushroom hill wasn't their version of a welcome mat," she mutters darkly.



Jemma looks queasy but stable; perhaps growing up in the Fen, she is more used to such spores.

Haazheel finishes up his offering to the swamp gods, wipes his mouth, and swishes it out with a swallow of water from his waterskin before he can answer.  Above, his owl wheels and turns, then suddenly darts down and clings to his master's shoulder as a murder of a dozen crows take to the air, cawing contemptuously and circling above them.  Their wings are dusted with something blue and green.

"He says... he says... there's logs and rocks a little more south, like the entrance to rabbit warrens but bigger.  And a big crow, huge, nesting in some mighty big mushroom beyond the next rise," Haazheel gets out, gulping air a few times as he steadies his stomach.

Averdante keeps his distance for now, trying to settle himself.  Farian busies himself with taking some bits of mint and resin from his healer's supplies and handing them to those most affected by the nauseating spores.

"It'll help calm your stomachs, so chew but don't swallow, not until the mint flavor is gone," he advises, and brings out his warhammer as Narthian gets to work.





With a heave, between the two men they manage to pull open the mumbling plant.  It makes a noise almost like a yawn as it suddenly yields, opening like a toothless maw.  Inside is a slimy green throat that descends into darkness, and hanging there is the flying kobold you last saw in the alligator grove.  Small vines pin its wrists to the sides of the throat, and it undulates slightly, muttering sounds coming from its mouth, its eyes closed.  The glowing wings it had have been replaced with a network of what looks to be vines and leaves.  Its tail thrashes slightly, like that of a disturbed cat.

Dellas still feels bad but the sight of the Goblin and talk of a giant crow makes him prick his ears. He takes some of the offered leaves and chews quickly on them "Aha.... At least we know that the plants are not controled by the goblins... or the master of the goblins. Is it still alive?"

OOC: Is the kobold within arm's reach?  I.e. does it appear that Volsh could reach in and pull it from the plant's maw/throat?  I assume the vines entangling it are part of the plant...how it snagged the kobold?

Volsh sighed as he peered down at the entangled creature.  It well deserved to be slowly digested by a plant for all the nuisance it had made of itself.  However, Volsh was not cruel, and if they had no use for the kobold, he would end its life cleanly.  He looked up wearily, "It appears so.  Do we need this one, or shall we let the plant have its meal?"

Bruenor simultaneously feels sorry for his sick companions, and has a quiet chuckle...something about seeing the old wizard 'feeding the fish'...or alligators, in this case.  He sneezes again, but thankfully his stomach has a firm hold on his last meal.

He recoils slightly at the sight of the kobold.  Something about it seems...off?

"Good gods.  It almost looks like...well, perhaps it's not being eaten?  Stored, maybe?  I've never heard of winged kobolds, and with some of the fantastical things we've seen, I don't doubt that they've grown this creature in these...pods...or some such unpleasant magic?"

After a pause..."Anyway, I don't fancy staying here any longer than we have to.  Shall we see what this big bird is all about?"; he finishes by resting his hand on the hilt of his sword...his hand almost reflexively checking to make sure it's still there.

"The kobold is dead," Averdante says quietly from where he stands, still queasy and none too steady on his feet. "I killed it back where we fought the alligators. And if that plant is eating it, that's likely why it's not trying to make a meal of one of us right now. Best to leave it be, and be grateful the creature served at least one useful purpose with its existence."

"They know we're coming," Lantamori said to Bruenor.  "Be careful."

She followed behind the man.  While he looked for kobold and crow, she looked for traps.  These kobold seemed mechanically savvy and she didn't have a good feeling about it.

Narthian ignores Averdante, and supports Volsh in his attempt to rescue the kobold, if it can be done without destroying the plant. "Keep clear of these plants!" he warns the others unnecessarily.

The kobold is certainly within the reach of Volsh's long arms, and with a little effort, he could easily wrest it free, if that was his wish.



"Kobolds, Dellas, not goblins.  Goblins were near Boltharrow.  Kobolds are sneakier and not quite as crazy, and far better trapsmiths," Sir Aberlayne says.

Dellas doesn't see the kobold's chest moving to indicate breathing.



Bruenor's sword is still close at hand, so at least the swamp has not grown hands to steal things from him... yet.

At Bruenor's mention of things being grown by magic, Haazheel ponders through his nausea.

"Maybe not grown from the plants...  Kobolds hatch from eggs, not from seed pods.  But maybe the plant was supposed to give them some boon and the kobold received it whether he was alive or no?  Some spells can be set to be cast when certain conditions are met, and 'alive' doesn't have to be one of them," he says.

"There's another possibility we should be wary of," Farian says.  "The Stone Tree is likely not the only small god in the Fen.  She hinted at as much.  Perhaps the kobolds have some small divine help in whatever they are plotting."



Farian and Sir Aberlayne nod, endorsing Averdante's sentiment.



Following behind Bruenor, Lantamori checks the ground and trees for traps.  Despite the small stature of kobolds, they are used to setting traps for "bigfolk", and no one wanted to be decapitated by a log.  That would be embarrassing to explain to the guardians at the gates of paradise.

She examines the ground carefully, and notes something as Bruenor moves off - the mud his feet are churning up are coming from a different layer, and are a distinct and different shade and smell.  Not wildly so, just a different shade of green, but a clear one.  The smell and sight of tracks that could only come from a heavier human could alert nearby watchers or smellers who were not airborne.  And the trees at the top of the hill have unusually lush foliage for their type in a swamp.  Something might be concealed within their branches.  Sneaking along the side carefully, Jemma lagging back just enough to not spoil her stealth, Lantamori gets close enough to see ropes binding a huge spear.  If that spear were to be set off, it would skewer three men together, easily.



With Volsh's help, Narthian can pull the kobold free of its green tomb.  It feels oddly light, and when they turn it over, they see the end of a green vine disappearing into the base of the kobold's skull.  As they turn it back over, its eyes open.  Inside are two blooming yellow flowers.  Its mouth gapes in a silent grin, full of yellow blossoms, and its wings hang limply, like a rag-and-twig doll on a massive scale.

Dellas scratches the back of his head "He, yeah I meant Kobolds..." He watches Volsh and Narthian pulling the Kobold out of the plant and looks at the flowers with a kind of facination. "What... this doesn't look safe. Maybe you should back up?"

Volsh grimaced as they turned the kobold over.  It was an oddly ghastly sight, and despite the nature of the of the vermin, he would not wish it upon anyone.  "Yep, it's dead alright.  Looks like the plant their is trying to turn it into a bloody flower."  Volsh backed away, leaving the corpse there.

The northerner was still fatigued from the battle, and sighed with some exhaustion.  Given teh chance he would gladly take a nap, but the environs and their duties would not allow for that.  "What is our next curse of action?"  Maybe if they could finish their work quickly and get back to the village, he could find a pint and a nap.

"Bruenor," Lantamori said quietly, holding up a hand to forestall the man, "the kobold have set a trap for the unwary.  Stand to the side and I will render it useless."

She makes sure that the path is clear and sets to work disabling the trap.

Narthian leaves the kobold corpse and plant to their fates, and retreats a safe distance with Thunder to allow Lantamori to do her work. "It seems to me that the plant is imitating the kobold, using it's blossoms for eyeballs and teeth. I agree with Farian. I think it probable that we are in the domain of a different small god."

Farian's mint helps ease some of the nausea, although Averdante is still not feeling much inclined to do anything. Sight of the blooming kobold doesn't improve anything, though, so he's glad to look away and watch Lantamori work on the trap she saw -- and to make sure he's not in the thing's line of fire. He can move a few feet to the side, if needed.

Although he'd be happy to just sit down somewhere for a while yet, if it didn't mean getting closer to the vile mushrooms.

"And towards no others of these things.  I do not know if the kobold ended up in there as sacrifice or warning or feeding, but I don't intend for one of us to be the next snack," Sir Aberlayne says, and with Dellas edges more towards the Bruenor, away from the mushrooms and giant plant pods.



The corpse flops on the ground, beautifully grotesque. There's no apparent danger present, though Volsh could imagine that if something were to arouse these plants to action (something sung about by some skalds and bards), a fight here would be quite a trial.



Thunder sniffs at the kobold, sneezes, and retreats with Narthian.

"If this is indeed a small god, we must need to determine its sphere of influence.  Some are in one place, like the Stone Tree, and powerful within it, some can roam more freely, and their powers are confined to a certain specific thing.  I've heard of the god of rats that could bring a plague of rodents down upon you if you angered him, or cause rats to avoid one's home for all time, should you do him a boon.  The Stone Tree mentioned something about the 'spirits of the air', we've seen floating lights, and the kobold flew off, so perhaps our foe is airborne.  With kobold allies, that covers a weakness," Farian says, stroking his chin.

Haazheel nods and mutters to himself before speaking up.  "I'm sending Mystique to circle the area carefully.  If that spirit of the air is in the form of that big crow, I want to keep him safe."



Lantamori creeps up carefully, and finds the thin, strong vines that are holding the log ready to swing.  With careful skill, she takes a metal spike and pins the vine in place to the tree trunk that's concealing it, then severs the tripwire-vine with a slash.  Now, the trunk with only fall when she is ready...

Narthian keeps a wary eye on the plant-kobold as he says to the others, "Is it safe to resume the hunt?"

Dellas listens attentively, chewing the stuff makes him also feel much better, he has to remember to ask for more.  Looking up at the sky he hears Nathian talking about the air god... or a air god "If it's really an air god... or crow god, what can we do against it? Maybe trap it so that it can't fly? Talk to it? I believe that we will have to choose our battle carefully but I concur... let's continue slowly, there might be more traps." He looks at his big sister for a moment before again keeping his eyes on his surrounding.

Moving away from the mushrooms, and the rather gruesome kobold-growth, appealed to Averdante. Another sight like that, and whatever was left of his breakfast was going to be sacrificed to the swamp. He left it to others to lead the way, though.

Lantamori waved for Bruenor to proceed and fell in a few steps behind him.  The elf reached out toward Jemma and gestured for her to follow.  She tucked her long blond hair behind  pointed ear with her free hand, in the other she held her bow in case of trouble.  Her eyes scanned for further traps as they went.

Bruenor gives Lantamori a nod and what may have looked like half a grin, before leading the way through the swampy terrain.

He turns back at the wet, thumping sound and looks for a moment with a flat gaze as the kobold’s corpse hits the ground and stays there.  He looks away, and turns his attention back to the path before him.  He walks a moment longer, but stops mid-stride as Lantamori warns him of the trap ahead.

He pulls his lead foot back, and steps just off the path; letting himself take a deep breath as he thinks about what he might’ve walked into without the elf’s help.  He watches Lantamori disable the trap…She certainly seemed adept at dealing with things like that…and hopefully just as adept at spotting them.

At Lantamori’s signal, Bruenor says a simple but genuine, "Thank you," nodding at the disabled trap.  He resumes his place on the trail, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword…ready to pull it at a moment’s notice.  He strains his eyes as they walk, trying to see something…anything…that might indicate a danger, but eventually he gives up and relies on the Lantamori’s keen eyes.

Volsh listened to the others but had nothing to add that might be considered constructive.  He prepared himself to move on but was not begrudging the short rest while he waited.

Looking around carefully as the rest of the group moves up the slope, Dellas doesn't see anything at first... 

Sir Aberlayne nods at the idea of more traps, "If not things meant to kill us, then more meant to harm us or warn them.  Those mushrooms might have been a trap all of themselves.  They might have swarmed us while we were ill, though not all of us were so badly affected."  She taps her chin.  "Why wait to attack?  Cowardice?  Fear because we killed the alligators?"  Sir Aberlayne doesn't seem to know the answers, but rather is just speaking her thoughts out loud.





Jemma follows closely as Lantamori keeps herself low behind Bruenor's larger frame.  As the fighter crests the hill, he can see what Mystique had been talking about.  The ground here flattens out, firmer and drier than before, but still damp and thick with moss.  Mushrooms and toadstools of various sizes parade over the ground like a meadow, rimmed with twisted swamp trees draped in curtains of moss.  In the middle is a monstrous toadstool, some six feet all, and atop that, a crow the size of Volsh.

The bird catches sight of Bruenor and gives a harsh laugh, its wings flapping hard in the air.  Huge spores swirl up in the disturbance, each of them taking on a different color of light as they soar through the sky, illuminating the ground like a second sun.  As the wind swirls, someone stands up from amidst the toadstools, a human figure in a thick, colorful cloak of vines, a mask of painted bark covering the face.  Behind Lantamori, Jemma gasps and squeezes her ankle.  "Bralton!," she hisses frantically.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:53, Wed 03 Aug 2016.

Dellas takes a second look at the pods, something seems off "Hey guys...did these pods just now move?" but before anyone could answer the man appeared. "Bralton? Who's Bralton?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:17, Wed 03 Aug 2016.

Hazheel gripped his staff tightly when the man appeared beneath the enormous crow. He stepped back and already began to order his mind to cast a spell. ”Bralton is the boy missing from Fen-on-the-Fen.” Hazheel said quietly. The wizard studies the boy’s movements looking for any sign that he was under any enchantments. If he was Hazheel was unable to discern it.

10:46, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 4 using 1d20+1.  sense motive (sense enchantment).

"We see him," Lantamori whispered back to Jemma.  "Stay down, we need to see what they've done to him."

Lantamori kept her eye on the crow.  It was bigger than any she'd ever seen.  She was less worried about Bralton.  He seemed under their sway but otherwise unharmed.

"Pods?" she asked the halfling absently, still watching the crow.  "What pods?"

Gaining a glimpse of yet another mushroom field, this one with a rainbow of spores, Averdante just retreats from the crests with a deeply unhappy sigh. He wasn't nearly ready enough for more mushrooms....

"Whatever else we do, we must not hurt the boy," Narthian warns, as the words of the Stone Tree come back to him. Spirits of the air test and trial my people. ... To destroy a god, first you must take one's worshippers.  The battle plays out amongst the people first. "Jemma, have you heard any stories of the bird? Could it be a small god?" He readies his bow and looks for signs of more kobolds.

Volsh eyed the mushrooms and the strange boy, that had been identified as Bralton warily.  The previous fungi they had encountered had deleterious effects on his companions.  The lad looked like he had "gone native".  Maybe this small god they kept talking about had brainwashed the lad.  That would potentially make it difficult to bring him home.

"Maybe someone should try talking to him?  See where he stands on things."  He had suggested someone, because it most certainly should not be him.  With his current fatigue, he would likely lose patience quickly and simply just clout the boy on the head and throw him over his shoulder.  A small god may take offense to such things...at least he was wise enough to recognize that.

Bruenor looks at the huge bird, not finding it near as humorous as it might have seemed moments ago.

The vibrant swirl of rainbow-coloured spores is scary and beautiful all at once.  While he didn't really get sick like some of the others, he did not want to follow suit.

"The anti-toxins from the village..." Bruenor calls out, before quickly retrieving his from his pack.  He pulls the stopper and drinks it down...then draws his longbow and nocks an arrow.

Looking over his shoulder at Lantamori, who seemed to be the young girl's protector now, he says, "Perhaps the girl should speak to him?  He's not likely to respond to us...we're no one to him."

He keeps an eye on the monster bird...watching for any sudden movements.

"Maybe," Lantamori replied to Bruenor.  The elf looked back at Jemma.

"Jemma," she said to the girl, "How well does Bralton know you?  Do you think he'll listen to you?"

OOC: There were 4 of the antitoxins from msg #51.  Lantamori Farian, Haazheel, and Bruenor have now used all of them.

Sir Aberlayne whips around at that mention, trusting the rest of her group to keep their eyes on the large crow, and stares back at the way they came.

She speaks very softly as she reports, "I don't think you're wrong, brother-mine.  I think they're a little closer.  Next time, let's set some more things on fire."  She holds her axe ready, but doesn't strike yet - being stalked is one thing, overwhelmed by a bunch of charging plants would be quite a different ending to the story, one no one wants.



Haazheel can't discern if there's anything magically wrong with the boy, not from this distance, not with the mask and all on him.



"The big green pods back there, where the dead kobold was?" Jemma says softly, eyes fixed on what is likely Bralton.  The girl has gone very pale, almost milky underneath a layer of swamp dirt.



Upon second glance, these glowing "spores" look a little less like what he was retching over  a little while ago and more like the glowing motes they'd seen during the alligator fight...



At the nonce, Narthian doesn't see any kobolds, but they are small and known to be good at hiding.  He can't forget the king alligator.  Thunder growls softly in his throat, looking towards the boy.  This was the scent they'd been following, but there are other scents of danger nearby.



Even the village chief could recognize the need to talk before applying the necessary amount of overwhelming force.  Judging by the size of the crow's beak and talons, words could be wisdom indeed.



The antitoxin tastes intensely green and seems to coat his throat like thick pond scum.  It better do the trick, because the sensation is only slightly better than nausea.

Watching the bird closely, the crow turns its head to eye you all as the motes of light circle and dance above you in a frenetic swirl.



"I'll...  I'll try.  I'm his friend," Jemma says.  She stands up, hands clasped together to hide their shaking.  "Bralton?  Bralton, it's Jemma!  Do you remember me?  Remember raiding the nests and bringing the eggs back?  Remember watching them hatch?  Remember Kulo?  Those kobold, the lights, they took Kulo, Bralton, and that killed him.  The lights made him savage and that got him killed.  Our alligator, the one we raised from an egg.  Bralton, please, answer me!"

The masked figure looks up, its head swinging from side to side, as if a sleeper waking up.  Suddenly the crow moves, thundering up and then down, landing behind the masked figure.  One huge wing sweeps Bralton against its chest, holding him there, the masked face peaking out from behind the massive feathers.  The crow lets out a, "CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW" loud enough to make everyone's ears ring, and the motes all suddenly freeze in the air, like new star constellations.

It seems as if the whole swamp is holding its breath.

From your feet, you can feel the firm hold of the Stone Tree seeming to loosen slightly...

"It's a small god alright!" Narthian says with a bit of trepidation. He's hunted many creatures, but never anything like this. "We need to find its followers to destroy its power!" Narthian turns to Thunder. "What is it, Thunder? Danger? We can't touch the boy or the bird, Thunder. What else is out here? Go get it!" He leaves any negotiation with the god-bird to the others, it's not Narthian's strong suit by any means. He encourages Thunder to sniff out hidden foes.

Curiosity about the glowing things curbed by lingering nausea, Dante turns his back on them for the present. He'll leave the crow and mushrooms and lights to the others. Retreating a little further from the crest of the rise to insure he's not in view from that quarter, he focuses his attention on the pod plants instead.

Narthian and Volsh had made certain they all knew the grotesque fate of the pod-things' victims, and Averdante didn't intend to become one. If Dellas was right and the things were moving in pursuit, he wanted to know before he was within reach of the predatory plants; he'd rather kill them at bow-range than in melee.

If they were, indeed, advancing, he'd shoot them. Or any stray kobold he happened to glimpse spying on them. They were both fair targets, at this point.

Volsh harrumphed, as the response was somewhat expected.  It seemed pretty clear to him that the bird had taken the boy for its own.  What was not clear was why.  "Okay so maybe we need to be talking to the bird instead.  Seems it has decided that the boy is his, or hers or whatever.  Maybe we can trade something?"  Volsh was just following his instincts, as he had little else to go off of in this particular case.  "Unless someone has a better idea?"

Dellas lowered his head and thought. Half a minute later he raised his head... "I think that's actually a good idea, though the people of Fen on the Fen will still be in danger. Are we sure that the giant raven is responsible? we could test it by proclaiming to defeat whatever caused the animals to leave. But we would be a good target.. I also feel the power of the stonetree dwindling. It's another indicator..." he still didn't trust the pods and looks behind his shoulder.

"That was good, Jemma," Lantamori said to the girl as the elf stood up beside her.  "It proves that we can get him back.  We just have to deal with the small god."

Lantamori turned and shouted to the crow.  "We're here for the boy and for you to stop accosting the people of Fen on the Fen!  Release him and the animals you have guiled from the town and we shall leave in peace!"

"This might be a good time for that battle wode," she whispered back over her shoulder to the others.

Volsh was surprised by Lantamori's directness, and his hand tightened on his spear reflexively.  If they were in fact dealing with a deity, even a small one, tact was likely the wiser path.  They would likely find out soon enough, if the creature took any offense to her words.  The barbarian shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, just in case the worst case scenario came to pass.

Dellas feared what might come next, in his mind he goes over all the spells he has learned so far and chooses one that might help them the most, watching the pods with a scroll in his hand.

Bruenor has no magic to rely on, and simply holds his bow ready...and watches.  He thinks a ranged weapon may come in handy against a bird; giant or not.

He calls out 'Shundahar' to no one in particular, and his armor seems to morph from the very worn, battered leather he wore into the swamp, into a glistening suit of finely-crafted chainmail.  Perhaps the magic would make the god think it was up against more powerful beings.

Haazheel held his breath for a moment when the bird called and as the motes of light froze in the air he pondered what kind of magic had created them. Jemma and Lantamori seemed to have the situation well in hand and didn't need any help speaking with the boy or the bird; so he kept his mouth shut instead trying to puzzle out the magics at work.

07:35, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 17 using 1d20+8.  knowledge arcana.

Thunder darts off to the side in a short burst, snout burying into a tuft of something grassy at the base of a toadstool, coming up with teeth clamped around the arm of a struggling kobold smeared with mud.  The kobold has what looks like a dagger of black glass, and strikes fast and hard at Thunder, slicing open Thunder's forehead.



Averdante turns with Sir Aberlayne to cover the slope.  The green pods, some large enough to swallow small cottage, are out of their former positions.  They're slow, but they are creeping towards the party, their leafy seams gaping slightly, as if getting ready to open.  The elf wastes not a moment, picks the largest one in the lead, and fires off an arrow.  The pod is so large that it can't really be missed; even though the shot was not quite square, the arrow pierces the pod, letting sap gush from the wound the dampen the ground further.  The other pods halt their advance as the wounded pod lets out a high sound that almost sounds like a child crying.




"Whatever you decide, we better do it quickly!" Sir Aberlayne says.  "These wretched pods have stopped for now, but I don't think they're going to stay that way!"

"What does a god want?" Jemma asks frantically.  "It took our animals and it took Bralton and I'm not going to give it anything else!"

"Worship," Farian says succinctly.  "It has that from the kobolds, and I would guess it's trying to get that from the village."



The pods had stayed their advance with the wounding of one, but both Averdante and Sir Aberlayne are ready should they start moving again.

"Dellas, if you're going to proclaim your power to the raven, do it!  I don't want to end up as food for a plant!" Sir Aberlayne hisses.



The giant raven cocks its head, then lets out a raucous scream, never letting go of the masked figure trapped against its feathered breast.  The colored, glowing motes, once frozen, now spring to frantic life.  They form into the collected shapes of birds, insects, cats, dogs, alligators, even a kobold, flanking Thunder and his kobold captive.

"They are mine!  All those who live here will be mine.  He will go and bring back the others, and they will all fly and dance and glow.  Why should I let mine go?  Why should I give you any of my power?  What would you give me, other than peace?  Peace, bah, I have no need for it!"



With fire on hand, Dellas readies to show the crow some real firepower, if necessary.



Volsh was ready and prepared, but it seems the crow wasn't offended enough to attack, not yet.  He seemed curious as to what else the group could offer; crows were greedy creatures.



From the shapes that had formed out of the motes, it looked like the crow had somehow either converted the bodies of those it had captured into a series of motes (a transmutation effect of frightening power), or was using a series of powerful illusions (possibly backed with a little substance) in imitations of those he'd taken.  The former would be a display of divine intervention that was rarely seen even amongst the greater gods, while the latter was more plausible, though still very formidable.  It could be that the creatures taken were even still alive, though possibly held somewhere.  With all the poisons and mushrooms about, it was not inconceivable to hold so many creatures docile, though one would need someone skilled in the use of swamp plants to administer such potions and powders.

"Gah! Damnable kobolds!" Narthian shouts, whipping out his scimitar. He attacks the one that wounded Thunder.

Initiative: 16:56, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 14 using 1d20+3 ((11)).

Scimitar attack! 16:55, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 19,2 using d20+1,d6 ((18,2)).

Thunder yelps at the wound and tries to bite the kobold but misses.

Bite: 16:58, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 6,3 using d20+3,d6+1 ((3,2))."

Edit: Scimitar Crit? 21:33, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 13,3 using d20+1,d6 ((12,3)).
This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Sat 13 Aug 2016.

Farain was surprised to see his companion attack. "Wait, we should try to convince it to leave instead."

Dellas bows to the gigantic crow "But don't you need people to worship you? If you turn everyone into these pretty sparlking lights then there's no one to worship left."

Volsh clenched his teeth, and if he had not been so fatigued from teh last battle it is likely he would be flying into one of his frenzies.  He growled between his clenched teeth, "Its?  From what what I heard it took these animals and children from the villagers, they were not its, but theirs.  This bird may be a god, but it's no better than a thief...even worse since it has stolen children.  If it expects worship for such cruel and cowardly acts then it is sadly mistaken."

Volsh began to advance on the bird, taking deliberate strides, and this time spoke more loudly, enough that the bird would hear him.  "There are some lines that may not be crossed, and taking children is one of them.  Where I come from the penalties are harsh for such vile acts.  Return the child to its family, and animals to their owners or pay the penalty for your craven acts."

He did not move swiftly conserving his energy, but also knowing that it was possible that other creatures lurked in the mushrooms.  if they tried to impede his way, he would strike them down.

Actions
Move 30 ft

Readied action to attack anything that tries to impede his way, except the boy, who he will avoid.

Roll if needed:
Attack AC 10
Damage 9
18:33, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 5,6 using d20,1d8 with rolls of 5,6.  Attach +5 Damage +3.

"Jemma," Lantamori said, putting her hand on the girl's shoulder, "get down and stay put.  This isn't going well."

The elven woman crouched beside the girl and looked around to see which way the threat would come from.  She held the girl's arm in one hand and her bow in the other.

Decidedly unsettled by the fact that the pod-plants had, in fact, been pursuing them -- however slowly -- Averdante nocked another arrow in readiness. "I don't think arrows will do much real harm to them," he advises Sir Aberlayne, "not unless I pin-cushion them. We need to move away, or prepare to do fight them."

From what he could hear behind him, moving in that direction meant taking on the giant raven and its lights. And that would leave these hungry plants still coming up behind them.

With the positions of the plant things in mind, he risked a couple glances to either side, looking for an alternative path away -- or anything else moving up on them. The plants didn't move quickly, it seemed, but would probably keep after anything that remained in reach.


23:35, Today: Averdante rolled 18 using 1d20+10.  Spot check.

In a curiously violent counterpart to the diplomatic actions being espoused by the party's barbarian, Narthian runs the struggling kobold through.  It gives a final shriek as it yields its life to the blade, though what blood runs from the wound quickly turns from red to... pollen?  The masked figure of Bralton puts out a hand, echoed by the wing of the crow, and motes of light start to spiral upward to join those in the crowded sky.



Farian's warning comes just a breath too late for Narthian's hot blood, but the crow, oddly, favors Farian with an almost sympathetic glance. 



The crow caws in amusement.  "They will see my power first, that I have made guardians for them, eyes that will watch for their enemies.  Then they will give tribute to me, for they will see how strong I am."  He flexes the wing holding Bralton in place.  "He will return as my priest!"



The crow's eyes blaze red, and behind the mask, Bralton's eyes seem to glow a dull yellow.  "Craven?!  The boy wished this, the boy wanted power to protect his people, power I can give him.  Their precious Stone Tree could not protect them, but he will!  He will be strong!"

The crow lifts his wing to spread them and bate them in fury, and Volsh finds himself surrounded by mote-creatures, at least four of them, a hound of some sort, two alligators, and what must have been a dragonfly the size of an eagle.  The motes look soft, even fuzzy, but combined together into an animal-form, they lose any possibility of harmlessness.  If the creatures no longer had teeth or claws, they could possibly smother one with their bodies.  The moment stretches like a red-hot wire, the crow's power thick in the air.

Bralton reaches out his hand to Volsh.  But it not the palm-up, beckoning gesture, calling Volsh to worship, nor the sideways handclasp, encouraging him to join Bralton.  Instead it's the palm-down gesture of someone seeking anyone to help them rise from a fall.

Under the screeches of the crow, Volsh can hear a very small, "Please..."



Lantamori stands ready as Jemma crouches, tears in her eyes.  "It did something to him, I know it..." she whispers, but gets ready to run all the same.



The pods have advanced only slightly, but Sir Aberlayne nods.  "From what that feathered fraud back there is squawking about, I don't think they're here to eat us so much as maybe capture us until we see 'reason.'  No reason to damage the goods until then," she grimaces.  "What I wouldn't give for Valiant now."

Averdante looks sideways, and believes there is a way mostly free of toadstools, pods, and mote-creatures, up and over the bole of a low tree, then down a slippery-looking embankment over what could be a rivulet.  It would be a mighty messy escape, but escape it would be.

As Averdante considers, Sir Aberlayne makes a strangled noise.  Next to her rises a muddy hummock, quite big enough to swallow her, or so it seems.  She turns to keep both it and the pods in her light of sight, not willing to strike just yet, not with the crow screaming behind them.  It grows up, then suddenly the mud parts, revealing a slightly dirty snout, dirt-streaked hide, and muddy saddle.  The rather confused warpony turns to Sir Aberlayne and wickers slightly.

"Valiant!" Sir Aberlayne says, in a controlled shout.