Volsh can get directions to the Ruby Conclave and Skull Road from the Guildmaster.  "Be you wary.  They are priestesses of death and magic.  They are not of evil hearts, but they are hard like stone. There is no sweetness in them," she warns him.

The road is a spur north off the trade road along the coast, marked by stones carved to look like skulls.  It's about four hours away by horse, so Volsh can find the road by late afternoon.  It is not a well-traveled road; no more than a small cart could get down there with how the trees press against the path, giving it a decidedly gloomy air.

After another lengthy time on the road, he comes to a gate made of ebony wood set into a wall of stone and bone that stretches into the wilderness on either side for as far as he can see.  The peculiar ruby skull of Wee Jas is painted and carved into the wood of the gate, and red fire burns atop the gateposts.  Atop the wall are the guards, one a woman in black metal scale mail with a heavy crossbow in her hands, the other an animate skeleton of what might have been an ogre in life, a spear clutched in its fist gleaming in the dim light.

"State your intentions before the ruby fire of the Stern Lady," the woman says, her expression one of masklike indifference.

If allowed, Haazheel will accompany Volsh. If Volsh want to talk, Haazheel is an audience. Otherwise, he observes the surroundings and orders his thoughts.

Volsh shrugged his shoulders when Haazheel came to follow him, but he didn't have much to say to the man. He rode silently on Eagle. Eventually he asked, "what do you need to do at the temple?"

He looked up at the woman's stern face and crossbow, "I was told this temple could help me with a curse. If it's not true, I'll be on my way back to the guildhouse."

Haazheel looks straight ahead as he replies, "As far as I know, I don't. No offense meant; it may be the Stern Lady Whom my soul meets some day. It's just that I feel it right that you be not alone on this quest."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 08:51, Tue 28 May 2019.

The woman looks at Volsh up and down, and eyes Haazheel with equal intensity.

"A curse lies under my Lady's purview."  The gate below her swings open, and the path in front of you is illuminated with late afternoon sunlight and the ruddy flames above.

"Go along the path, you will be met by a Sister. Do not harm any of the undead; their bones are in our lawful service."

Volsh and Haazheel, inside the walls the place is a neat and orderly garden of the sort a noble might have - all small sculpted trees and contained beds of flowers or showy greenery, cut by meandering paths in decorative pebbles with stepping-stones of colorful slate. Moving along some of the beds are animate skeletons, mostly of humans, their bones lovingly decorated with gold leaf, calligraphy, or inset with gems.  The undead seem to be engaged in simple tasks like spreading mulch or evenly clipping a lawn.

You are met after a few moments by a woman in a red tunic and black leather armor.  She has a scarlet enamel skull holy symbol around her neck, and bears a black staff topped by a similar red skull.  The woman is older, her dark hair marked with streaks of gray, her face lined.  She nods at you both.

"What curse brings you to the Ruby Conclave to seek its breaking?"

Haazheel observes the garden and its caretakers. At first, his eyes widen and one hears a subvocal Mhf. Then he accepts it as normal for this place and composes himself. When the priestess appears, he nods bows his head in respect.  When she speaks, he looks to Volsh.

Volsh shrugged at Haazheel. "I did not think the journey to the temple would be dangerous or I'd have brought others. Why do you think your soul will end up with the Stern Lady and not your ancestors?"

---

"Thanks," he said as the gates swung open. He dismounted from Eagle and lead the horse trailing after him and Haazheel into the grounds. Volsh eyed the undead and the bone gardens warily, and gripped Widowmaker tightly, but as nothing attacked, he simply continued on his way.

When they met the priestess he replied simply, "werewolf. If you can help me control it, that's better. A friend is looking into that too with his circles too." Volsh actually made hand circles unconsciously when he mimicked them. "If that don't work, I want to break it. Can't start eating friends. You know? What's it cost to have it removed if I need it? How much time?"

Haazheel replies, "I don't anticipate danger either. I'm here to be here; maybe we shall find out if my presence means something.

I'm a mage, and Wee Jas is Death's Guardian. My fate after this life is unknown to me, but I hope for the best. I pay respects to all deities save those bent on Evil."
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:41, Wed 29 May 2019.

The woman listens attentively as Volsh speaks, then questions him, and Haazheel, about how he contracted lycanthropy.  Hearing about the attack and how long ago it occurred, and what steps they had taken, she nods.  She gestures for you to wait, and disappears into the garden.  A half-hour later another woman approaches you, this one in scarlet robes with a scarlet skull holy symbol around her neck.  She carries a staff as well, and leans on it slightly in a way that means she's favoring her left leg.  She is younger than the first priestess, her red hair caught back in a tight knot at the nape of her neck.

"I am Sister Lar.  Young man, I believe we can help you, though perhaps not in a way that you might want.  We have those amongst us, including myself, who can break the enchantment on you that holds you bound to the moon, then you can use your own will to throw off the disease.  We can also aid you with seeking to control your lycanthropy by teaching you to control your emotions and focus your will to make certain you do not lose your intellect with the beast rises within you.  The breaking of the enchantment must be done during the change, while the meditation to control yourself could be started immediately.  You will need all the time you can to learn before the change comes upon you again," she explains.

Volsh grunted in agreement, "I just hope for some peace and quiet after this life is passed. Too many hard things here to think that I might have them as a spirit too...anyway. No problem. Just curious why you wanted to come see the Wee Jas folks."

---

Volsh looked a bit skeptical as the priestess spoke, "never been good at controlling my emotions. My anger and rage has always been a strength to me..." he said back to her. "If learning the meditation stuff doesn't work, could you still remove the curse later?" He looked at Haazheel trying to gauge his reaction to the woman's words as well.

Haazheel replies to Volsh. Seeing them probably will be educational and interesting, but I'm here to stand beside you. You and I, we're part of group. If any of us are troubled, I think it good that somebody stands by that person.

-------------------------------------------------------------------
Haazheel stands by, an supportive observer.

Sister Lar seems a little surprised by Volsh's admission, but nods.  "The curse can attempted to be broken during the three days of a full moon.  There are two weeks to the next full moon, so if you wish to learn our ways of strengthening your will and heart during that time, and attempt to control your change, we could help ward you from running amok if it doesn't work.  Then you could make an attempt on the second night.  If you fail again, we could try to remove the curse on the third.  If that attempt fails, we could try again in another month.  But you must give the Stern Lady her due.  We will require a service from you for this teaching and, if necessary, the casting of the spell.  You would need to accompany one of our teaching sisters to a remote retreat, and keep her safe; she could give you your necessary lessons on the way.  Is this something you wish to begin now?  Or do you need to ponder and consult with your friend?"

Sister Lar doesn't seem impatient in the least, she seems content to wait on whatever answer Volsh would give, without judgment.

Volsh pondered for a second then nodded. He made a sidelong glance at Haazheel as he replied, "I'll go back talk to our other friend to see what he thinks. Sounds like a fair deal though. When does she need to leave? How long's the trip and is she coming back with me?"

He asked his questions in a steady voice, but his knuckled whitened as his grip on widowmaker tightened as internally he pondered his potential future nightmare as a slavering beast.

Haazheel speaks up. "Lady, we are part of a group that has shown itself to be efficacious. If there is guarding to be done, is there danger to be eliminated? If so, two useful things might be accomplished during one time. One thing about that, though, Volsh here, besides being a comrade, is important to any successes we may have. He fight well when enraged. So, is there a problem?> I mean, If Volsh guard you alone, he's apt to fly in a rage defending a priestess. Don't know how well that accords with the treatment you have in mind."
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:32, Sat 01 June 2019.

"Elder Orani can leave anytime within the next two weeks - her timing is not crucial.  If you both with to come, that would be welcome.  Orani will remain at her meditations for as long as she needs to, though I doubt it will take longer than a few days.  As for your rage, Volsh, passion is not a detriment to control in this instance.  You are trying to control your mind and your sense of self; your rage is a part of that self.  Now, if you were trying to control your change so that you were a specific color of wolf or something of the sort, one would need much more dispassionate meditations.  But since you seek only to retain your mind within whatever shape your curse grants you, we need only focus on what is needed for you to remain sane within the change," Sister Lar says.

Volsh grunted with a nod at the priestess and also his companion, "let's go back and talk to Narthian, see what he might have found. I'll probably come back regardless what he says, but what he says might be important too. Haazheel and I will probably come escort your Elder, maybe a couple other of our group."

He smiled proudly and leaned in, "we're newly promoted Ironguard's, badges coming soon! So your elder will be safe unless she's angered a dragon or demon or something."

"Ready Haazheel? Anything you want to talk to them about while we're here?"

After Haazheel's surprised smile ends, he says, "Yes, thank you, Volsh. Lady, have you any questions for us or something more to say to us?"

Mystique ghosts down to land on Haazheel's shoulder. Her owl eyes focus on the priestess.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:42, Thu 06 June 2019.

Sister Lar shakes her head.  "No more questions from I.  Consider carefully and weigh your options, Volsh. You have a difficult decision to make, and you must make it soon. Now that we know of your condition, we cannot let it get out of hand because that would be a danger to all.  Luckily, you have a little time to consider.  We look forward to hearing from you very soon," she says, and raises her hand in a brief gesture of blessing.

If that is all you have to speak of, an acolyte comes to conduct you back to the gate.  The young man is in dull red robes, and he offers an interesting fact as he walks with you, "All the skeletons you see here are animated under the code of law.  If a farmer falls in his field because of an ill-swung scythe, and he is unable to be saved, he is interred with full prayers.  But if a highwayman were captured, found guilty, and executed for his crimes, we would receive the body for use in our conclave.  An ogre who fell from a cliff and perished, we would not touch.  But an ogre felled because he attacked a farm and attempted to murder its inhabitants, we would animate his bones for good use."  He raises an eyebrow at you both, inviting you to understand something of the mysteries of Wee Jas, then bows you out the front gate.

If there is nothing you need to ask further, you can travel back to Port Lyalee, getting there  after dusk.  But a port city of this size rarely fully sleeps, and even now the streets will bustle with those buying, selling, trading, or conducting business or pleasure.

Haazheel laughs, perhaps a strange sound in these precincts. "What you said reminds me of two lines I heard once, part of a speech in a play:

The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones....

If it's permitted to answer: Do the skeletons wear out, or does their work benefit their souls?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 02:14, Fri 07 June 2019.

Volsh nodded at the priestess, "I'll send a runner if I and others aren't coming either way." He hestitated a bit as if what came next wasn't natural to him, but he added, "thanks," before she turned away.

Then he turned and followed the acolyte out and listened to him talk about skeletons. He shrugged, "well I hope you don't get to use my bones someday, but I can't promise that. Do you do anything else with them to serve the city or do they just tend your gardens?"

---

Once they were back on the road to Lyalee Volsh voiced a question that had just occured to him. "If we escort this lady, do we have to do it as a Guild job? Or can we do personal work without telling the guild? I'm no good with rules... especially ones you have to read to know."

Sister Lar nods at Haazheel.  "The skeletons wear out eventually, and then their bones are interred with ceremony in our cemetery.  The souls of the living are not connected with their bones, but it is a way for their forms to pay back a modicum of the damage they caused in life."



"Oh yes, the skeletons often serve in cleaning out the sewers or scraping barnacles off of ships and piers. They do not often do tasks on the surface as many people misunderstand their purpose. Those who are tending the gardens are often those who are about to wear out and are near the end of their service," she explains.

[Thank you.]

Haazheel nods his understanding. "Thank you. Meaning no disrespect; but, if any of those who die from their evil express their acceptance of their skeletons dong useful service, I pray that this may ease their souls' lot."

-------------------------------------------


"I think it's reasonable that the Guild be notified that we are undertaking a service for the priestess in return for a service... no details needed except the services are not evil.

Volsh, pardon me for asking, but you've not been taught to read? If not, and you care to learn, I can start instructing you, starting with your name."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:54, Fri 07 June 2019.

"That is our hope as well, but the Stern Lady strives to balance things, always," Sister Lar says.

Haazheel thinks, but does not say, If ever I go into business, maybe I should try to hire her to keep the books.

Volsh nodded, "probably a good idea, rules or not. Don't want to get in trouble." He smiled and laughed but shook his head, "nope and it's no bother. In our tribe, only the shaman a few others were taught. Elders, people who would go trade with settled folk, that kind. I was a man grown, but not any of those when the tribe was wiped out, so no need to teach me. Then... well they're all gone now, and I've just made my way best I can. Luckily the guild's pretty honest and all or I'd probably have been taken advantage of a lot. My name I can read and write, I learned that when I joined the Guild. To sign stuff."

He seemed pretty pleased with his last statement. "Never really saw a need though." He turned to Haazheel with a look of genuine confusion on his face, "What good would it do me? Other than reading rules and such I mean?"

"Then you can learn it all. And you ask a fair question. Contracts, messages, shop names, things like that. More than that, knowing how to read and write gives you a sense of confidence and power unlike anything else."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:30, Sat 08 June 2019.

Volsh laughed a bit, "not sure confidence is something I lack Haazheel. Most shops have pictures that tell me well enough what their name is, but sure. If you're looking to teach then I'll spend some time learning from you. Couldn't hurt to have another tool in my pack right? Plus no one's gotta know I can read. Secret weapon and all that..."

As they rode along back to Lyalee and after the sun had set, Volsh mentioned with some surprise in the gloom, "stars and moon are bright tonight. It's almost as bright as daylight out still... wonder if that's just something the Port has going for it."

OOC: GM it's taking us a full day to get out there and back, but the other thread seems like it's still not too long after Volsh and Haazheel set out for the Jasdian temple? Just let us know when we can get back into that thread.

An excellent point, Volsh! Let's start with "s" and "n". By the way, letters come in different forms, but we won't worry about that now. Your "son" starts with "s", the fist sound in "snake" and "sword". It kind o has a snake shape, thus: Haazheel holds up his arm with elbow and wrist bent. It looks like this bus with curves instead of sharpness...like this.... Haazheel traces the letter in the air.

Once Volsh has the"s" down, Haazheel proceeds to the "n" and then on to the "u", using the sun. He shows with a hand how the letters are shaped. And so it goes at Volsh's pace.

Volsh may notice that Haazheel is a happy as Volsh has ever seen him.

As the wizard and barbarian head back to Port Lyalee, Haazheel enthusiastically explaining writing and reading through gesture, they notice something quite curious about halfway back: a small sign pointing off the path indicating "The Lying Caterpillar Tavern".  What is particularly curious is twofold - 1. That sign was not there on your trip to the Ruby Conclave, and 2. There is a brightly-colored parrot sitting on it, staring right at the both of you.

Volsh screwed up his eyes at the sign, "was that there on the way out to the Ruby place? I don't remember seeing it... but my head hurts from all the letters you keep talking about. I can't keep them straight anymore. Want to stop for a drink Haazheel?"

Maybe it's time for a break. Learning to read is hard work.But first.... Haazheel goes through what the sign reads by letters letter combinations, syllables, and words..all this prefaced by saying Volsh, don't try to memorize just relax, listen and look.l it take repetition, but there's no hurry. After going through this once, Haazheel is ready to proceed.

Heading down the path, you spy a few more colorful parrots in the trees who occasionally call out a raucous screech.  The path is close, and the greenery is closer, but after a few moments you come out into a clearing that is swarming with butterflies and caterpillars.  The trees and bushes, clearly planted by someone, teem with green ones, yellow ones, fuzzy ones, even ones that look like long, mobile jewels that munch on the leaves.  Above them, the bushes and trees are flowering, providing food for the hundreds of colorful butterflies, some with wingspans nearly two feet across, others barely bigger than a thumbnail.  There are, curiously, no parrots or birds of any kind here.

Beyond the butterfly/caterpillar garden is a small rope bridge that stretches up to a series of buildings that are built into the trees perhaps a dozen feet off the ground.  It reminds you somewhat of Greensward, the abandoned elven village you saw during the caravan trip down here.  But where Greensward had been small dwellings high in the trees with an air of melancholy and despair, these are large ones, cheerfully carved and painted with butterfly patterns, with open windows, a bit of smoke coming from a chimney, and the pleasant smell of baking cake permeating the air.

In a moment a woman appears in the doorway.  Petite and with curly red hair, she seems to be a half-elf with huge green eyes and a sweet smile on her face.  She wears a simple skirt and blouse with a blue apron over it all, and there are butterflies, live ones, slowly fluttering their wings in her hair.  She looks over at you, wiping her hands on a towel, and smiles.

"Well now Eagle... this place seems like your kind of place. Don't eat any of the butterflies though, not sure the lady would like that. Aannd some of them look like they can bite back." Volsh said to his horse as he looked around for a place to tie the huge warhorse off.

He whispered to Haazheel, "err, I guess be on the lookout? The sign did call this place the 'lying caterpiller' you said. That might mean this one's a liar, or... I don't know. Lots of butterflies around though."

Presuming Volsh can find a secure and safe place to tie Eagle, he will dismount. He takes his saddlebags and then secures his weapons on him while holding Widowmaker in his right hand. He nods and returns the woman's smile with a raised left, "Hi! Just looking for a quick rest on our way to Lyalee."

Haazheel looks around with seeming delight. He bows to the woman. After Volsh speaks, he asks Are there any rules or regulations travelers be made aware of?

Volsh can find a railing he can tie Eagle to with a moment's searching, and though she looks longingly at the butterflies for a moment, instead leans down to crop at the grass.  The woman at the door smiles at him as he greets her.

"Welcome to the Lying Butterfly!  I'm Dulinda.  Are you looking for a refreshing ale, chilled juice, some nice cool tea, or perhaps some bread and jam?  I made the bread and jam myself," she says, her voice high and oddly childlike.



"Well, don't hurt the butterflies, and be polite.  And pay your bill!  No innkeeper could want more, right?" she says with a laugh, and beckons you both inside. 

Inside, the inn is bright and colorful, with many colors of wood on the walls, lovingly polished and cunningly fitted together in a mosaic.  The chairs and tables are the same, as is the small bar on the far side of the room.  There is no fireplace, but there is a softly-glowing pile of crystals in a niche in the wall.  The windows look out over the butterfly garden, and a stairway on one side of the room seems to lead to some chambers higher up the tree.

Dulinda goes behind the bar and begins to set out mugs, glancing at you to see what you would like.  "So, there's a big change going on in your life, isn't there?" she asks matter-of-factly.

Haazheel looks around. Speaking of change, Beautiful area and place here...and, by the way, you mentioned paying the bill. What items do you offer, and what if the charge for each?

Volsh looked down at his chest and arms when she mentioned a big change. He held his arms out to look at his hands then thought for a moment. "Don't feel like a change is happening. Thought they were supposed to hurt, and not come for a couple of weeks yet still. Right Haazheel?"

He shrugged and pulled a gold coin out. "Ale for me, as many as that'll buy me. And bread. No jam though never liked the stuff. Too sweet. Have any fruit?"

Haazheel lays a hand on Volsh's shoulder while speaking. Here, maybe never. But we have comrades elsewhere.

"Oh!  I have chilled juice or tea for two silver, or ale or mead for three.  Fruit for one silver, bread for five copper, bread and jam for eight copper," Dulinda says, her butterflies fluttering to reflect her cheerful attitude.



She quickly brings out fresh, still-warm bread and pulls a mug of light ale for Volsh.  "Oh yes, I have peaches, plums, nectarines, raspberries, mangos, and something different," she says, and brings out a peculiar fruit perhaps the size of her fist.  It's egg-shaped and red, but parts of its skin seem to be peeling away green, almost looking like dragon scales.  She deftly cuts it open with a knife, revealing its flesh to be pure white and speckled with tiny black seeds.  The scent is slightly sweet. "Dragonfruit!  It doesn't have a strong flavor, but it looks marvelous and the seeds are nice to crunch.  I can make a fruit salad, if you want a little of everything."

As she starts to cut up other fruits, she adds casually to Volsh.  "It is good you're not afraid of change; being afraid won't help you, but being aware and open to it will help you, either way you choose.  The caterpillar isn't afraid of change, even though it must go through a little death to become a butterfly."

Volsh nodded as she mentioned many fruits, some of which he'd never had or heard of before. "Sure, some of all of them, that dragonfruit looks weird, I'll have some of it too!" He reached out and first ook a drink of ale before tearing off a chunk of bread. "It wasn't a hard day today, don't need a hard meal. This'll be good. Though... you don't have any meat, do you? That'd go down good as well."

He laughed when the woman mentioned caterpillars and butterflies, then clapped Haazheel on the back. "Wouldn't that be something? Someone popping butterfly wings out their backs?"

Then he took on a more somber look and tone, "too much change so far in my life to fear it...gotta embrace it or it'll tear you apart when you resist it. Go with the seasons was always my people's way." Volsh turned his eyes on the woman Dulinda as he chewed some bread, some new discernment in his eyes. "You talk like you know what change and choices I'm facing... that's curious huh Haazheel?"

Haazheel takes nothing at the moment. He ponders. People having wings; it'd take more than wings to fly...need the build and the muscles.

Yes, curious. Dulinda, I think that maybe any information you care to share will be more filling than drink or food. I'm just as you see me; but Volsh, Volsh the brave and good may be one of whom tales are told.

The ale is quite refreshing, the bread hot from the oven, soft inside with a nice crunchy crust studded with seeds.  The fruits all taste good and ripe.  "Alas, I have no meat.  I am not much of a hunter, you see."



"It would be something to see!  I know a few people who are the children of a human parent and one of the fey, and some of them do have butterfly wings!" Dulinda says with a laugh.



"That is a brave choice to embrace the change. If you choose nature, as your people do, you won't be surprised by the change."



"I do know much about change.  You could say that it calls me to witness it.  Everyone has a purpose, and this is mine," she says demurely, pausing to pour herself a small mug of what looks like purple juice of some sort.



She nods in understanding.  "That may be so."  She taps her lips, stained with the purple juice, and gestures outside.  "Fey are part of the natural world.  They are the embodiment of it.  The dryad embraces the tree, the oread the mountain, the siren the coast, the grig the pond, the pixie the mischief, the fossgrim the waterfall.  And some of us embrace the time betwix one thing and another.  Volsh, you wish to embrace nature, and that is a good thing.  A civilized person sometimes finds change to such a different form of nature so shocking they go mad.  Perhaps in spending a little time here you might find change easier than ever."  She smiles at them both.  "That is how you found this place, after all."

Volsh paused his chewing and stopped his hand halfway to his mouth with some more fruit when she said her last response to Haazheeel. He put the fruit down but finished chewing and slapped the table with a quick laugh, "wait... so you're a fey? Aww... my amma always told me not to eat the fey's food or I'd have to stay with them forever. Am I stuck now? I mean I like your garden, but I like to eat meat too..."

Then he shrugged and picked up the fruit again, "in for a copper I guess."

"So, what do you mean that staying here might help me with my change stuff. How much do you know about what I'm up against? I don't get what you said how we found this place. Wasn't it here on our way out to the WeeJas folks?"

Haazheel sitr, seemingly relaxed, and awaits Dulinda's reply.

"Fear not, I will not steal you away to my fairie hill," Dulinda says with a bit of a giggle.  "These fruits are all solidly normal."



"You don't have to stay here long, no longer than it takes to eat some fruit and drink some ale.  I know about things that change.  I sense it, like how a cat senses spirits.  And when I do, I just make certain that the path is open.  I just know that there is a change waiting to happen in you, like a storm about to break.  I want to help you not break beneath it.  How about a bargain?  A lock of your hair for a butterfly's kiss of luck for your change?" she asks, looking much more serious.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:57, Tue 02 July 2019.

Volsh raised his eyebrows at her proffered deal and looked to Haazheel, eyebrows raised in question. "My hair? Why do you want some of that ratty mess? Don't you want gold or something? Everyone always wants gold for things since I left my home. My hair isn't even clean."

Though he didn't voice it, he was obviously looking for the learned man's input on a deal like that.

He changed his look a bit and looked back at the woman while waiting on Haazheel to chime in, "did someone send you? Balador? Llerg? Vatun?"

Haazheel searches Dulinda's face. "Volsh, I think Dulinda means well for you; but, Dulinda, I think you owe it to Volsh's peace of mind to explain yourself fully...as fully as you can since he is mortal. In particular, what use do you plan to make of his hair?

One more thing: It came into my head that any bargain you two make should be sealed with a kiss—if that will not enthrall either of you."
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 01:16, Thu 04 July 2019.

"I want to remember you by.  And if some day I need help that only you could give, I would be able to send you a message.  No one sent me, only yourself," Dulinda says, her expression sobering.



"I am fey myself, a fey of change and all that goes with it," she says, shaking her head so you can see the small points on her ears, similar to an elf.  "And as I said, I want it to remember.  We live a long time... and sometimes things can slip if there's nothing to remember them by.  And one day I might want to send a message, if I need help."



She laughs at this.  "I am no nymph!  To have someone enthralled to my bower, well, they wouldn't change at all!"

"Volash, I don't know what Dulinda is offering to do to benefit you, but I'm guessing it's a good turn.

Dulinda, If you send for Vosh, I may well be with him and so may our comrades."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 15:29, Sun 07 July 2019.

Volsh looked at Dulinda for a minute, and back and forth with Haazheel as he talked. He came to a decision and reached down to his belt, drew his dagger and sawed off a length of his matted hair. He held it in his hand for a heartbeat before he nodded and reached out to Dulinda with it.

"Not sure what I can do to help you, but if you can help me, I'll take it. Plus your fruit is really tasty."

He winked, "I'll will take a kiss if they're being offered, but I'd prefer one from you than a butterfly. Wait, you're not a butterfly are you?"

Dulinda smiles at him, accepting the lock of air. Then she goes up on tip-toe (and possibly a step-stool) to give him a kiss on the forehead.  The butterflies in her hair flutter against him.  "I am not just a butterfly," she says, winking.  "Now head on back to your city, and be well about your change."

Haazheel accompanies Volsh on the way back. He works on letters and words as Volsh is willing, not teaching the new until the old is automatic or Volsh asks.

Volsh smiled at Dulinda's kiss. He seemed oddly satisfied by their short stop and was reluctant to leave, but eventually he stood. "Hope I make it through ok so there's something for you to call on later...thanks for the kiss butterfly queen." He winked at Dulinda as he said the last and headed out with Haazheel.

He leaves and is thoughtful the ride back, doing his best to answer Haazheel when asked questions about letters, though he was obviously not fully focused. He did perk up when Lyalee came into sight and he asked about some of the letters on the city gates and such.

OOC: Are we to move into the other thread now DM?

OOC: Setting out to guide the priestess of Wee Jas and seek the werebear

The group travels all together at first, knowing it will take those going to the Ruby Conclave until about noon to get there, while seeking out Fisheater Creek keep their eyes peeled for when the creek crosses the road.  It turns out that the creek is perhaps an hour before the turn-off for the Ruby Conclave.  There is a simple bridge over the creek, so those seeking the werebear can turn north and walk along the bank.

Those Escorting the Sister of Wee Jas

The road to the conclave is a spur north off the trade road along the coast, marked by stones carved to look like skulls.  It is not a well-traveled road; no more than a small cart could get down there with how the trees press against the path, giving it a decidedly gloomy air.

After another lengthy time on the road, they comes to a gate made of ebony wood set into a wall of stone and bone that stretches into the wilderness on either side for as far as he can see.  The peculiar ruby skull of Wee Jas is painted and carved into the wood of the gate, and red fire burns atop the gateposts.  Atop the wall are the guards, one a woman in black metal scale mail with a heavy crossbow in her hands, the other an animate skeleton of what might have been an ogre in life, a spear clutched in its fist gleaming in the dim light.

"State your intentions before the ruby fire of the Stern Lady," the woman says, her expression one of masklike indifference.

--

Those Seeking the Werebear

After another hour of picking your way along the banks of the Fisheater Creek, the banks widen as the creek broadens somewhat.  In a backwater along the largest part, you spy an old man in a small dugout canoe, his little boat tethered to the shore, with his fishing line dropped in the water.  It is very quiet here, even the insects at a low hum, highlighting the quiet birdsong and occasional swishes of squirrels.

At your arrival, the old man looks up, eyes bright under the brim of his battered straw hat, and gives you all a broad wink.

Narthian wishes his companions a safe journey. "I will catch you up if I can." He and Thunder trot off along the bank.

Narthian waves a hand in greeting to the old man. "Good day! Such a lovely one for fishing. Tell me, if you will, how do you catch the really big fish?"

Volsh was reluctant to let Narthian do this alone, but the man seemed insistent, so he lead the others away and down the road to the Ruby Conclave.

When they arrived he waved a hand, “I’ve come to escort your teaching sister to her retreat with some friends. She’s to help teach me along the route.”

Dellas looked at the priestess "So you can teach him to be a werewolf? Is that like a normal dog? Sit, lay down, roll over, fetch?" Dellas adds with a playful smirk.

Haazheel studies the guard's reaction to Dellas' "joke".

Along Fisheater Creek



The old man looks up at Narthian and the large wolf at his side.  He tips his hat at the druid, but doesn't let go of his fishing rod.  "How big a fish you wanting to catch, traveler?" he asks, his voice rough with age.

---

At the Ruby Conclave



At Volsh's proclamation, the sister's stern demeanor softens.  "It is good you returned so swiftly.  Sister Lar thinks well of you."



"And also attack, defend, maul, maim, and devour," she says in return, not cracking a smile.  She might be joking in a deadpan manner.  Or not.

She disappears from the wall for a moment, and the gate swings open, admitting Volsh and everyone with him to the neatly manicured grounds of the Ruby Conclave.  A few skeletons are working on tidying flower beds or trimming hedges, adding to the strange feel of the cool gardens.  It is after a few moments that you are met by Sister Lar, a middle-aged woman in scarlet robes, a holy symbol around her neck, leaning slightly on her staff.

"Volsh, I am pleased you have returned so quickly.  Elder Orani has been informed of your arrival, and she will be ready soon.  She is seeking a burial cave at a shrine north of here, where she will remain and meditate for several days.  She can instruct you along the way in what you need to know, and you can practice while you wait for her to finish her meditations," she says, her hand moving in a blessing gesture.  "May reason see your path clear."

Sister Lar has the group decant to an area of benches and ground for them and their mounts.  They do not have to wait for long, as within a half hour a skeletal horse walks up the path, a cushioned saddle upon its back, and atop that a very elderly woman in deep crimson robes.  A beautifully carved red holy symbol is about her neck, and she has several ropes of black beads that seem to serve her as both belt and decoration wound around her body and hair.  A small pack is atop the skeletal mount's back.

She makes a small gesture to Sister Lar, who bows and disappears down the path.

Elder Orani looks over the assembled group of escorts with her dark eyes in her wrinkled face, her hair hidden behind a black scarf, and nods.  "Let us go north to the Cave of Sighs," is all she says, and turns her mount towards the Conclave's gate.

While they're waiting, Haazheel loosens Feather's girth, makes sure she can graze and (if possible) gets water. It she's amenable, he pets her and make sure he mane and tail are untangled.

When they leave, he cinches the girth.

Volsh's smiled at Sister Lar when she came to meet them. "Figured I only have so much time here before I'm lost, Sister. No need to delay."

His mouth dropped open slightly at the sight of the skeletal horse, but he quickly overcame that and re-mounted. He nudged Eagle to follow along behind the elderly Jasdian as they left the compound, then nudged up next to her once they were on the road out and north.

"So... you're going to teach me some stuff Sister Lar said?" he asked when he was even with her horse. "How long to this cave and how long do you need at the cave?"

"One that needs five big hooks," Narthian replies, feeling conspiratorial. If / when questioned, he will share with Old Rue all of the reasons he is seeking the werebear.

Dellas jumped down from his mount, tying it to an available post as he walks over to the working skeleton, walking around it and then eventually grabbing a stick and poking at it "Interesting."

Haazheel's eyes widen as he observes Dellas' behavior.

On the road to the Cave of Sighs



"Two days at Lightfoot's pace," she says.  As Dellas pokes at the bony horse's empty spaces, it sidles away from the stick, and eventually turns and snaps its teeth at him.  Elder Oroti speaks to Dellas without turning to look at him.  "How would you like someone poking a stick in your rear?  Lightfoot had to bear enough in his first life to not be tormented in his second.  Leave him be."

Thusly ready, the group can head out north, Elder Oroti explaining the fairly simple route as they go.  As soon as the route and its markers are known by all, the Elder turns to Volsh.

"Now, your training, young lad.  Let us make sure your passion and your mind will run on the same path, rather than at cross purposes.  It is the conflict that causes the madness.  Think of running at night through the cool woods..."

As you travel along the sun-dappled path, Lightfoot's hooves making very little noise compared to Eagle, Feather, Honeybee, or Demon, Elder Oroti sets Volsh some interesting exercises, using stories about wolves, of walking or waking in the wilderness, suggesting that he run through the woods at night, in a way to bring his nature closer to that of the wolf inside him so that the wolf will run, "With you and not over you!"  It's clear this will be something Volsh will have to ponder on, remember, and work at as he goes about his duties, his day, and even in his dreams.

The day moves on, and you get several good miles in before you must stop for the night.  Elder Oroti's mount Lightfoot actually kneels down on the ground to let her dismount more easily.  She has a tent and a cot with a thick pad so she can sleep more easily, and a curious folding chair so she doesn't have to sit on a log or the ground.  As dinner is prepared, she speaks of their destination.

"The Cave of Sighs is a burial cave used by Jasians for over a hundred years.  When it was filled, two hundred years ago, we moved on to other burial grounds.  Now it is a sacred site, and one where I will consult the spirits of the dead and certain mysteries of my faith.  However, even with the cave warded, there are some unsavory creatures that might linger nearby, or be drawn to the Cave once living spirits near it.  It is possible that either hostile undead or things that prey upon those who come to honor the dead could be nearby.  If you have any preparations to make for those possibilities, then do so before morning's light."

--

On Fisheaster Creek



Old Rue smiles when Narthian gives the pass phrase, and listens quietly to Narthian's explanation, occasionally flicking his eyes over to Sir Aberlayne and Valiant, who are clearly backing up Narthian's words with nods and gestures of sincerity.

And the end of it, Old Rue shakes his head.  "Well then, seems you impressed a friend at the Temple of Ehlonna.  Now, tell me, why did your friend not come himself?"

Haaheel first helps see to the horses: Water, grass, disencumbering, grooming as needed. He approaches and asks Sister Lar, does LIghtfoot need any particular attention?

He helps set up camp: Cooking cleaning up, firewood.... He asks Should a watch be set?
This message was last edited by the player at 19:25, Tue 20 Aug 2019.

In reply to Haazheel Thorn (msg # 66):

Bruenor almost smirked at his magical friend.
"No disrespect intended, but a watch should always be set.
Honestly, I'm tempted to set up something when we're in town, but it feels too paranoid even for me.
I'll take first watch if you all need me to.  I'm a bit antsy after the long ride. "

I'll take last watch when the east begins to lighten. I need to study.

"There are two reasons," Narthian replies after a moments thought. "The first is that he promised to aid another, and he would not break his word. And since we  are under a time constraint, I came in his place with our worthy friend Sir Aberlayne. Second, as an Initiate of the Fourth Circle in the Farlight Conclave, I too can take animal form. My totem is the wolf, like to my companion Thunder here. And as you may know, no wolf can be healthy without membership in the pack. Volsh has confessed to long having the wolf dream, but if he would conquer the wicked influence of the werewolf, the pack must be strong enough to help drive it from him." He finishes without adding 'one way or another', but can't help shifting his sheathed silvered spear slightly.

Volsh took to the instruction as best he could, though it was far different than anything he'd had to do as a youth in the tribe or even the rudimentary reading lessons Haazheel had started him on just a day before.

This was more visualization and it took him a bit to get the hang of it, but once he did, he worked at it with the priestess. Occasionally he'd let out a low, though utterly human, growl if he were frustrated with a particular exercise, but he pushed on through the rest of the riding day.

He helped set up camp when they arrived at a likely spot, though continued his visualizations. "I'll take watch after Bruenor, I find my eyesight is much keener than it used to be."

Dellas had jumped at the skeletal horses snap at him and snickered when he was chided but nodded. He had been quiet during their journey. Upon making camp he helped gather the firewood and make food, he always seemed to love helping with the food. "I can take last watch as well, help get the food ready after I study. Who doesn't like waking up to the smell of cooking food?"

Haazheel, after some talk with Bruenor, has turned in.

Breunor sets himself up to take first watch

On Fisheater Creek



Sir Aberlayne nods at Narthian's words to Old Rue, and adds, "He holds himself to his own code of honor, and we as his friends stand as surety for that honor."

Old Rue gives that a moment's thought, then flicks his pole, whipping a surprised fish into his boat.  He settles the pole inside and well, then rows himself back to shore.  Tying off his boat in the concealing shade of an overhanging willow, he takes his pole, tackle, and bucket of fish from the bottom of the boat and nods into the woods.

"Come on then.  Let's go find who you need to talk to."

He'll walk into a path in the sun-dappled woods, glimmering gold and red with the setting sun as he goes on a winding path.  It's a couple of hours before you reach a pleasant glen with a sod-roofed stone and log house, nicely snug, set near a small, spring-fed pool.  Old Rue puts his bucket of fish inside his house and gestures for you to take a seat on some log benches outside the door, a stone firepit between them.

"I'm going to go send a message to him tonight, and he should be here by morning or so.  Let me write down about your friend and what he wants to do with his wolf side," Old Rue says genially.  He pulls out an irregular sheet of parchment and a charcoal stick to write down what Narthian and Aberlayne have told him so far, mumbling out loud as he talks so you know what he's doing, occasionally asking for clarification.

As the light fades, Old Rue nods and gets up, stretching.  "All right then.  I'll go make sure this gets to where it needs to be.  You rest up tonight.  Sweet dreams to you."

The clearing in front of the cabin is thick with soft grass, and there are pear trees and berry bushes that the old man doesn't mind sharing.  He goes into his cabin and doesn't come out the rest of the evening.

However, in the thin light of pre-dawn, when the moon still lingers in the sky, the door to the cabin opens up.  Except instead of Old Rue, a grizzled wearbear wearing Old Rue's canvas trousers lumbers out and sits on the ground between the two of you.

"Well then, your Volsh is lucky to have such loyal friends."

--

The Cave of Sighs

Those guarding Elder Oroni pass the night in their sleep or watches without hearing anything untowards close to camp, though there was some distant cries that may have been from animals.  In the morning you can have an excellent breakfast, courtesy of Dellas, and then saddle up for the day's ride.


Elder Oroni continues her patient instruction of Volsh all during the ride.  The scenery started out pleasant enough, but as you draw closer to the cave, things begin to get strange.  The trees begin to look more skeletal, and not in the way of having little leaves, but in their bark beginning to lose all color and eventually taking on the hue of old bone.  Their limbs become knobby, their branches even seeming to trail like long fingers, raking the ground as if scrabbling to get out of a grave.  The light seems dimmer here, the air colder, and when the land humps up to show the dark, empty face of the Cave of Sighs, you can almost hear the death rattle of air being expelled from its shadowy maw.

A moan sounds from within the cave like that of a dying man, and the Elder shakes her head.  "Not alone today.  No, that would be too much to expect."

Volsh awoke feeling refreshed and invigorated from his night of sleep and vivid dreams. He shook his body after waking in a slightly animal way, and then saddled Eagle up, ate some breakfast and helped the Elder up on to her horse.

He listened and did his best to take in as much of her lessons as he could while they road, though he still tried to pay attention to the area for dangers.

His grip on Widowmaker tightened a bit as the trees started to change and the neared the cave. Hairs on the back of his hand stood up as the moan issued from the cave. He looked to the Elder, "who are you talking to? Is there a dead walking thing in there?"

Narthian eats a pear and a few berries, enjoying the fresh fruit while not wanting to be greedy. When the werebear comes out, he's not entirely surprised. He was wondering all along if Old Rue was the one that they sought.

"And we are lucky to have him! In the battle where he became infected, his actions were heroic and helped turn the tide of the fight. I am very curious to hear your opinion on our plan. My purpose is to keep our friend alive. I would have preferred that he have the wicked curse removed. But he is headstrong, so I will do what can be done to help him control it. If you will help, we will do what we can to repay your kindness. And if not, we will leave you in peace. In either case, we will tell none your secret."

The Cave of Sighs



"Just talking to the world, lad," Elder Orani says, seeming a bit weary.  "There is indeed some undead thing in there.  They get attracted to this place, and though we try to ward the cave against them, it is old and there is a great deal of negative energy stored up around these parts.  It'll come out to try to take our energy soon enough; be ready!"

The Elder moves back away from the cave and clutches her holy symbol, muttering a low-voiced prayer that spreads a shield of energy over her protectors.

As she prays, a moan turns into a howl, and a hideous corpse staggers from the cave mouth.  Its intestines are still disgustingly slimy and wet, with one end protruding from its mouth like a long, loathsome tongue.  Flanking it are four other shambling corpses with raised arms and long, dirty nails, trailing their clothes behind them like tattered shrouds!

OOC: Everyone had two rounds to cast any preparatory spells.  You are 30 feet away from the cave.
Elder Orani cast prayer, so everyone has a +1 on attack rolls, damage rolls, saves, and skill checks.

---

On Fisheater Creek



"Then you'll need some good help to give control to your friend."  Old Rue rubs his chin, a small gray beard still evident upon his ursine face.  "We shall need some good things to melt into the metal of the amulet you need to make.   You'll need silver, of course, but you can get that in the city.  You'll need some of this," here he plucks out a tuft of his own hair, "But more importantly we need to get some herbs and stones that we're only going to find in a place sacred to Ehlonna.  There's some rough denizens that might get in our way, but I think between the three of us we can dissuade them, eh?  Let's get a move on!"

Old Rue belies his name by gathering up a small pack and a rough club, and then turning into the forest, assuming both Narthian and Sir Aberlayne will follow.

He heads mostly to the north and slightly further west, occasionally pausing to sniff the air and take his bearings.  When he spies a particular menhir after a few hours' travel, he stops and slaps his hand against it.

"Ah, one of the markers.  It's a range marked by them, a big one, that's particularly good for beasts.  But it needs careful watching.  Sometimes beasts grow too big and they attract big predators, and they can decimate the area and then go sup on on some caravan master's horses or some poor farmer's goats.  If there's a big nasty one in here, 'tis my job to drive it out, or cull it if I have to.  What we seek is near the center, so watch careful now..."

Thusly warned, you can head into a particularly lush area of the forest.  There does seem to be an abundance of small game, rabbits, squirrels, birds, but not as many tracks from deer or wild boars.  When you come across an area of broken ground, Old Rue halts and sniffs the air.

Thunder, however, smells the danger first.  He growls off to the north, specifically at the ground, and Narthian can feel the earth itself rumbling beneath his feet.  It can only mean one thing: landshark!

OOC: You have one round to prepare before it is upon you!
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:43, Thu 29 Aug 2019.

Haazheel points and intones


Casting Fireball

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 77):

Bruenor scowled with disgust as the fetid monsters stumbled out of the cave.  Was it too much to ask that they battle something with good personal hygiene at least once in a while?
Still, as his prized sword ignited in flame, he was filled with glorious purpose.   This was what he had trained for, after all.   He was about to charge forward when the wizard started tossing magic about.  The interruption in his battle mode was annoying, but Bruenor had to admit that the fiery spitball actually vaporized these boogy men, they'd all be better off.  So he stood by the shaman, sword ready.  He used his swords magical ability to Shield Another on the shaman, since he was critical to this entire woodland romp.
He felt a momentary twinge of hypocrisy at using a magical swords magical ability just seconds after being annoyed at the wizard's magic, but he stuffed the feeling down.


OOC:  casting Shield Other on the shaman, otherwise holding action and guarding

Volsh gripped Widowmaker tightly in his hands. He stepped in front of the elder Jasdian and readied himself to charge only to be pushed back by the heat of Haazheel's ball of fire. He looked at Dellas, "Haazheel seems to have learned your tricks Dellas!"

He squinted at the fireball's aftermath before he decided whether to charge in or not.

Narthian is looking forward to finding a new place sacred to Elhonna, or Ehlenestra as is her name in his native tongue. He was pondering how one would go about 'dissuading' a large and grumpy predator when the landshark makes it's appearance. He chooses to try to buy time to give Old Rue the choice. He starts to sing in elven, and sway about to draw the attention of the beast.

Casting Animal Trance. Magical Beast gets a Will save vs DC 15. Hit Dice affected: 14:31, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 8 using 2d6 ((6,2)).

The Cave of Sighs



Dellas, never one to let a fireball go unaccompanied, chants alongside his fellow wizard and lets his little fiery dragon bracelet add some heat to his flames!

Both fireballs detonate over the crowd of undead, and while the undead are tough, both fireballs crisps much of the rotting flesh, leaving them as tottering wrecks as they shamble forward, seemingly ready to crumple at a touch.  The one with the long, disgusting tongue also is slightly charred, but seemingly its undead spirit is more powerful and malevolent.



The magic settles into place over Elder Orani, and Bruenor readies himself for the inevitable attack, ready to swing at anyone coming within range of his blade.




There are still enemies left standing, so Volsh can charge at the worst of the targets, the hideous seeming ringleader of this vile crew.  He charges in with Widowmaker, but his wild rush misses the undead entirely as it evades the point of his spear with seeming living agility.  Until the shambling minions at its side, it moves quickly and charges past him to Bruenor, wanting to get at Elder Orani.  Volsh swings at it as it tries to dash past him, but misses again, much to his chagrin.

The four charred minion zombies close in around him with their slow shuffle, clawing at his skin and trying to rip out his heart.  They claw at him with fiendish fury, as if knowing their wretched existence is nearing an end, and all strike with with a vengeance! 

The leader of the undead lashes its disgusting tongue out at Bruenor, with lashes at his neck, connecting with a squelch.  Though the stench of rot is strong, Bruenor keeps his cool and doesn't let it get past him.

Bruenor swings his own sword in retaliation, the prince's blade flaming in the presence of undead.  His second strike hits, the blade sizzling as it carves into the undead's flank.

Behind Bruenor, Elder Orani grips her holy symbol of Wee Jas and shouts, "Begone!"  The four undead surrounding Volsh explode into dust and ash by the holy power the priestess has brought to bear, but it seems that the leader of the undead is able to withstand the holy power!

--

On Fisheater Creek



Narthian casts his spell as Sir Aberlayne readies her axe atop Valiant and Old Rue gets ready to defend itself.  As the bulette explodes from the earth, the druid is ready with soothing words and swaying motions to calm it.  Narthian can see the bulette is a younger one, lacking perhaps a couple years short of full growth, and it is entranced by the druid's spell, grunting softly as it sways in time with Narthian's motions.  Sir Aberlayne had been ready to attack, but seeing that the bulette is, for the moment, quiescent, glances at Old Rue.

The werebear nods off to the north and both slowly and quietly begin to walk in the direction of the grove, out of the bulette's immediate range of attack so they don't disrupt Narthian's magic...

Feeling the paralytic touch of the undead chilled Breunor to the bone.   It was one of the fighters greatest fears, to be helpless before an enemy
"Careful!!! it can paralyze with a touch!!!"
Fighting defensively, perhaps too defensively, Breunor swing his sword with both hands at the monster.

OOC:


23:10, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 5 using 1d6.

23:10, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 12 using 1d8+5.  Damage first sword .

23:09, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 5 using 1d20.  Second sword attack .

23:09, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 13 using 1d20+5.  1st sword attack

+5 AC from Combat Expertise

Volsh growled in rage at the pain of the wounds from the four shambling undead, his rage granting him strength and focus.

When the Elder dusted them with the power of her goddess, he turned and charged at the back of the large undead that had ignored him. He unleashed a growl of anger and pain, he stabbed at the creature when he got it between him and Bruenor.

OOC:
Free: Rage (+4 Str, +4 Con (+12 hp)
Action: Charge attack on undead; Hit AC 17, 15 magic piercing damage if I hit

21:32, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 17 using 1d20+15.  Attack big undead (+Charge + Flank + Rage).
21:34, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 15 using 1d8+7.  Spear Damage.

So that's a 3, 3, and 2 on my last three attack rolls. Guess the next one is a fumble? :P

Seeing the things are not so easy. Haazheel points three fingers at the most dangerous undead and intones

Magic Missiles three,
streak you forth from me!

01:21, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 6 using 3d4 with rolls of 2,1,3.  MM. +3 = 9 Damage

Narthian keeps up his concentration on his spell, giving Rue and Aberlayne time to come up with a plan.

The Cave of Sighs



Bruenor's cautious attack means he is too wary to get in a good strike at the foul undead, though he keeps his guard up.



Volsh rushes in with Widowmaker, but also misses the creature's bony flank!



Haazheel's bolts strike true, splashing magical energy over the undead and burning away parts of it!

Elder Orani was chanting under her breath and brings for a celestial summons, a golden-furred bison with wicked horns snorting and prancing.  It charges the undead, missing it by inches but giving it more targets to pick from!

Dellas scoots to the side to get a good shot, and fires off a skillful scorching ray that chars another section of the undead!



The undead clearly wants to get at Elder Orani or one of the spellcasters, but it is hemmed in by Bruenor, Volsh, and the celestial bison.  It claws at Bruenor viciously, but Bruenor's wary stance lets him use the blade to deflect the creature's grasping, sharp claws!

--

On Fisheater Creek



Narthian keeps up his enticing, soothing words and actions as Old Rue and Sir Aberlayne quickly speak with each other.  Old Rue abruptly runs off while Sir Aberlayne keeps a wary watch, half-crouched on Valiant, clearly ready to swoop in and defend Narthian if the creature were to become bored with the spell.  Narthian keeps his concentration, and in a few minutes, Old Rue returns with a pair of hefty groundhogs, freshly slain.  It seems the two have decided to attempt a bit of a bribe for safe passage!

Old Rue makes motions of tossing them near the bulette while the group heads off in a different direction, hoping Narthian will be able to get out of the way in time...

Wishing to remain defensive, for the sake of the priestess, if not his own, Breunor tried to keep.the creatures at bay.

OOC:  00:33, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 3 using 1d20.  Second sword attack .
00:32, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 8 using 1d20+5.  1st sword attack

Now that's just sad....

Volsh grinned in his rage as the golden bison appeared and hemmed in the creature. He chose that moment to strike at the flank of the undead, scoring a deep hit finally as he let out a yowl of glee with the strike.

OOC:  Hit AC 30, 10 magical piercing damage
08:21, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 30 using 1d20+13.  Attack undead.
08:21, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 10 using 1d8+7.  Damage Undead.

Using hand singnals (and empathic link), Narthian has Thunder run off with Rue and Aberlayne. He keeps the bait between himself and the bullette and slowly retreats into the undergrowth. As soon as he looses sight of the creature, he turns and books it in the direction of the others.

Dellas eyes widen that the creature withstood bot his flaming attacks, but that was no matter, he began to recite an incantation, lowering his single finger at the creature as the final words left his mouth, three red glowing darts of energy form at his finger tip and streak forth towards the creature striking it in full


OOC: Cast Magic Missile, If I need to cast defensively because it's close enough the attached roll is available too

Magic Missile Damage:

15:09, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 11 using 3d4+3 ((2,2,4)).


Defensive Cast:

15:10, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 19 using 1d20+12 with rolls of 7.  Defensive Cast.

Seeing that more is needed, Haazheel again extends three fingers and Speaks

Three more missiles I do manage.
Let them strike and do their damage!

11:16, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 4 using 3d4 with rolls of 2,1,1.  MM. (Phooey!)
7 damage

The Cave of Sighs



Bruenor swings much more wildly this time, missing the undead by a clear foot!



Volsh, however, takes advantage of the undead's distraction and slashes hard across the undead, ripping away some of the viscera that still squirm within its ribcage!



Missiles away, they burn against the undead's bones, cracking away small parts of them.

The golden-furred bison bellows and gores into the creature's ugly guts with a flash of golden light, making parts of it flop down its body like dangling snakes.

Elder Orani chants and brings forth a gleaming dagger of force that slashes at the undead, but doesn't connect.



Dellas' missiles explode brightly against the undead, blackening part of its skull!

Though badly damaged, the horrible creature's lust to destroy life is unquenchable, and it launches itself at Volsh, clawing at him and slicing through his flesh!


--

On Fisheater Creek



With good timing and swift feet, Narthian can get himself and Thunder out of the way of the bulette before the full effects of his spell have worn off.  With fresh prey in front of him, the bulette happily rips into those, crunching and munching as the group can continue on their way.

The three went their way through the thick vegetation, until Old Rue pauses, his large feet squelching in waterlogged earth.

"Fox's teeth!  The stream's been dammed up and got this whole area marshy!" he mutters.  "A sloppy walk for us for certain."  Sir Aberlayne sighs and pats her pony's shoulder.  Valiant is likely to have the most struggle with a boggy area.  She dismounts and takes off her armor, bundling it up and finding a bush to hide it under so she won't burden her pony or find herself being dragged down into the muck.

Narthian, as you are looking for a good path through the muck, you notice a few little lizards deeper in the marsh climbing up and down some branches.  They look mostly normal, but then you see a sparkling flash go along their body.  Shocker lizards!  It looks like this area has attracted quite a few of them...

When Bruenor saw the undead beast lunge at Vosh, he struck out more aggressively
Though his sudden shoft seemed to throw off his aim


OOC:23:24, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 1 using 1d6.  Flame damage .
23:24, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 12 using 1d8+5.  1st sword attack damage .
23:22, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 9 using 1d20+5.  2nd sword attack .
23:22, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 14 using 1d20+10.  1st sword attack

Haazheel, looking scared and frustraated, once agan point three fingers and intones


22:43, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 6 using 3d4.  MM. 9 damage. Seems I'm unable to roll a 4.

Narthian frowns, planting his spear in the soft ground to better utilize his bow. "By Ehlenestra, this must be an enchanted wood! We cannot outrun them, so we must be prepared to fight. If they are hungry, they will try to mob us. This would be a time for us to have your brother with us, Sir Aberlayne! But I will do what I can to keep them at bay." He begins a spell.

Casting Entangle, centered on the lizard infested branches, 40' radius.

Dellas mutters "Why won't you just die.... again" as he fumbles about his pack trying to find some scrolls, after a few moments "Aha got it".


OOC: Pull out scroll.

"Rrwaaah!" Volsh screamed in the face of the undead before him. The slice to his flesh and blood running down his flank only seemed to stir him to greater rage than before and Volsh used Widowmaker in front of his own leg to kick at the creature's legs and try to knock them out from under it.

OOC:
Action: Trip the undead; melee touch attack of 27;
14:19, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 27 using 1d20+16.  Melee touch attack
Str check of 17 - If it beats me nothing else, if it fails I get the attack immediately below and the creature is prone
Volsh son of Vor rolled 17 using 1d20+9.  Actual Str check.
Free if trip: Attack, hit AC 26
14:00, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 26 using 1d20+13.  Attack undead (+Flank + Rage).
Damage: 14 magical piercing
14:00, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 14 using 1d8+7.  Damage undead.

This message was last edited by the player at 21:30, Thu 12 Sept 2019.

The Cave of Sighs



Bruenor continues his cautious attack, not able to connect against the undead, but keeping it away from Elder Orani.



Volsh's spear hits hard, but the undead's strength is prodigious, and its stand firm.  Undeterred, Volsh swings Widowmaker back around and drives it deep into its disgusting guts, taking it apart piece by piece!



The magic missiles burn away more of the creature's bones, cracking and flaking them as the magic holding it to unlife begins to fail.

The headbutt from the golden-furred bison is little more than a grace note as the undead gives a final strangled screech and collapses in a heap of bones and guts.

Dellas clutches his found scroll tightly, ready for any more foes.  After several long moments of nothing but silence and wind, it seems the threat is over for now.

The golden-furred bison winks back to its celestial home, and Elder Orani sighs.

"The cave is a nexus of energies that can attract such things, which is why it needs tending periodically.  Come, barbarian Volsh, let us invoke Wee Jas power upon you before you turn the dirt about here into bloody mud," Elder Orani says.  She'll reach down and touch Volsh, the blood trickling down his side abruptly reversing course and stitching itself back into the wound, pulling it closed until there is only a faint scar.


--

On Fisheater Creek



"I told you it was rife with magic, too much of it in places," Old Rue rumbles.  Sir Aberlayne nods as she ties Valiant's reins out of the way, holding her axe at the ready.  Narthian calls upon the trees and vines to answer him, and they do, twining around many of the lizards and causing others to flee to less writhing ground.  Old Rue takes a long stick and probes the softened mud, finding a route that will involve the least amount of swimming and sinking, so you can clear the area before the spell's magic runs out.

Valient and Sir Aberlayne are a bit better than you had expected, jumping from one little bit of solid land to the other, but then again both are fairly light.  Old Rue does more wading, large as he is in half-bear form, but uses trees and roots to pull himself along until they reach a drier hummock on the other side.  They both wait for Narthian, Sir Aberlayne guarding Old Rue's back, her stance wary.

OOC: I'll need a pair of Balance, Swim, Tumble, or Jump checks, DC 15 each, to get to the other side without getting stuck in the muck before the spell runs out.

Haazheel slowly relaxes. Are we apt to meet any more...things...like that? he asks.

Volsh let his rage slip away as his strength faded and his shoulders slumped when the creature fell and silence reigned.

He nodded tiredly to the priestess as his blood fled out of him, "thanks to your goddess."

"We should explore the cave to make sure there are no other surprises," he said tiredly. "If nothing else is in there, what do you need to do then Sister?"

Breunor scowled but said nothing as the priestess tended to his barbarian friend
He was genuinely torn.   He certainly didn't want to face more disgusting undead, but he was so annoyed at his own performance in the battle that he almost wanted more monsters to shamble out of the cave so that he could redeem himself

Haazheel looks at Breunor.

In reply to Haazheel Thorn (msg # 103):

Breunor looked back at.the wizard and rolled his eyes, though he gave a wry chuckle
This message was last edited by the player at 22:37, Tue 17 Sept 2019.

Dellas smiles as he exclaims "That was exciting, wasn't it?" He looked down at the scroll in hand and held onto it as he nodded towards Volsh "Yes we should see if anymore wonders are within. You lead."

Bruenor strode forward
"I'll go first.   If anything happens to our hairy friend, this trip was for nothing.   Besides, be needs to rest a moment"
The fighter wasn't eager to run headlong into more magical hooligans, but he wanted to do more this day than he'd done so far.
Granted, protecting a priestess was a noble deed, surely, but a frustrating one for a warrior

Narthian briefly considers changing form, but decides to save that for later. He and Thunder do their best to follow in the unforgiving terrain.

Gah! If only I had put one more point into Swim, I could have taken 10. Kinda hoping Woodland Stride might apply? A little synergy from Survival or Knowledge(Nature). But even these won't help Thunder's second roll. *sigh* We gonna be fight'n lizards. :D

Narthian's Swim check: 21:47, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 13,14 using d20+4,d20+4 ((9,10)).

Thunder Balance: 21:49, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 22,10 using d20+3,d20+3 ((19,7)).

The Cave of Sighs



"I ruddy well hope not!  But I will not say it's an impossibility," Elder Orani says with a sigh.  "When I go inside to meditate and renew the protections, I will be there for likely two days. Some other creatures who care for a supper of suffering may try to come to siphon off energy of the undead whilst they can, and that is why you strapping  young men are here.  If we're lucky, the mohrg that we just destroyed was the worst of the lot around here and didn't suffer competition.  That'll give Volsh plenty of time to go over what I taught him."



"I meditate my way, you meditate yours.  Set up camp just outside and fend off anything hostile," she says, dismounting from her bone horse and patting Volsh's shoulder gently.



Bruenor approaches the cave with care, senses alert.  Behind him, Demon snorts, likely feeling deprived of combat as well.  There's the sound of rattling bones, and then a squeal from Demon.  Perhaps the feisty horse tried to gnaw on Lightfoot, Elder Orani's skeletal mount.

Inside the cave, the gloomy light illuminates the entry chamber enough to make out the shapes of a shrine to Wee Jas against the back wall, two passageways going deeper into the rock, and a myriad of enshrouded bodies neatly packed together on the floor. There are what looks like paths made through them, though some are disturbed, likely by the undead you faced.

The cave is quiet, aside from faint wind that sounds like a sigh, you can hear no moans or rattling bones from within.  It is, as appropriate, quiet as a tomb.

--

On Fisheater Creek




Narthian watches as Thunder weaves through part of the swampy area gracefully, but puts a foot wrong and ends up chest-deep in mire.  In his haste to aid his friend, Narthian finds himself also to the armpits in the swampy ground, wading through a thick slurry of earth, algae, and water.  While it's not quite deep enough to sink entirely, it's rough and slow going for elf and wolf alike.  Sir Aberlayne quickly grabs and rope and a stone, hurling it out to him so that it lands within an arm's length of him so they can pull them in.

A few moments later, the entangle spell fades, and the lizards begin to hiss, agitated.  Two jump down and begin to hop over to Narthian and Thunder.

Sir Aberlayne looks back and forth between the rope, Narthian, and Old Rue rapidly.

"Want me to get my bow and shoot them?  Or just help haul you out?" she hisses softly.

Trying not to sound disappointed, Breunor reported back
"As far as I can tell, it looks clear "

Volsh nodded and relaxed his grip on Widowmaker. "Should one of us guard the Elder while she is in the cave? The others can set up camp and watches out here," he said to Bruenor.

To the Jasdian, "Elder, are you praying through the night for two days or will you take rest out in the camp with us?"

An almost audible sigh escapes Dellas's lips as his shoulders droop. He had hoped for more... "I'll help set up camp. We should probably do something with the dead bodies though, they are not to appealing to smell no matter how interesting they are when they move around." Dellas speaks rapidly as he hops about the camp deciding where to set up.

Volsh nodded at Dellas' smart thought and asked, "if I drag them away far enough with Eagle, can you burn them hot enough to actually burn them? I'd rather incinerate them than let them be fodder for raising unnaturally again."

"I got some jars of Fire. Burns Bright Green. Fun to watch. Though maybe not so much fun on bodies... Should be hot enough to burn them away. Perhaps a bit of extra kindling to be sure." Dellas says as he seems excited at first about the prospect of using fire but mellows as he realizes its bodies he has to burn.



ooc: 4 jars of Alchemist Fire (need to get more)

Haazheel considers. If it is permissible, We can use dead wood to build a pyre and burn the bodies that way. We should also set up a defensive camp, just in case. For one thing, fire will attract the notice of any thinking creatures in the vicinity.

Volsh shrugged, "we can do that pyre thing, sure. I don't get the sense that there're too many thinking things out here with the dead and this cave. Animals'll be driven away by the smell of burning undead flesh and the sight of the fires. If there're more undead threats, then the priestess seems to think they're coming anyway. Light and fire might keep some of 'em at bay at night anyway if we can keep up the pyre."

Bruenor will set to work gathering dead wood

"Shoot!" Narthian replies before uttering a few quick mystic words. A bright flash appears before the nearest lizard.

Casting Flare, Fortitude save vs. DC 13 or be Dazzled for 1 minute.

Side note: Flare has only a verbal component, but I just feel that Jazz Hands are necessary to properly dazzle.

"Ah, good.  At least some things have come out well.  I'd hate to have to roust out the whole cave..." she says.  Elder Orani pulls her pack from Lightfoot and walks up to the entrance, her bony horse following her in as she stands in the antechamber.



"I'll spend most of my time meditating or praying, and I won't come out to sleep at night, but I will come out a few times to talk to you, see how you're getting on with what I taught you," she says, pulling out a deep red blanket and spreading it on the ground, then centering a cushion on the blanket.  A small piece of a wood and a little brazier is next, followed by sticks of incense.  "I'll also be renewing the protections on the cave, and that might draw some unwanted guests as I purge the last of their feasting energy, so be wary."

As the group discusses a pyre, Elder Orani nods in approval.  "Aye, burning them would be best to dissipate the negative energy surrounding them.  The smoke might attract more mundane dangers, but you're well-equipped to ward off such nonsense."

The group can gather wood and start up a hearty pyre, fueled by lamp oil and alchemist's fire to ensure it burns all the bodies to ash.  They can settle down to make a decent camp and keep a weather eye out for any danger.

Elder Orani begins her meditation, sometimes walking, sometimes sitting, sometimes kneeling at her altar, othertimes walking into the deeper rooms of the cave.

As the night drags on, a beginning of whispers begins to be heard.  Nothing specific, just a mass of whispers that seems to emanate out of the dark, somewhere west of the camp...

--

On Fisheater Creek



Sir Aberlayne fires her bow quickly, twice, skewering one lizard unto death.  Narthian's light easily dazzles another.  Old Rue takes up the rope and makes a lasso loop, hurling it within the circle of Narthian's arms.  All he'd have to do is hang on.

Two of their kind dead, the other lizards seem reluctant to pursue further action, at least until the hissing of a larger lizard near the back seems to prod a couple more into action.  Two more begin leaping over the tufts of grass, tails swishing as sparks dance over their hides!

Anless awakened, Haazheel sleeps; he has to study as soon as his body is refreshed.

Bruenor, after seeing to his horse, takes up first watch.  He looked with annoyance towards the whispers out in the darkness, fearing more magical shenanigans

Volsh set Eagle to rest with some feed and water alongside Bruenor's horse, then set about practicing the meditations and focusing exercises that the elderly Jasdian had set him for a time while Bruenor took the watch.

Volsh relieved him after a couple of hours as his newer keen eyesight let him pierce the gloom far more than he ever could before being bitten.

Volsh took the second watch and he griped Widowmaker tightly as the whispers outside their camp increased to the west of camp.

OOC:

16:36, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 30,13 using 1d20+10,1d20+10.  Spot & Listen.

I have two options. Plan A depends on the lizard 'pack leader' being within 40'. In this case, Narthian ignores the rope and casts Dominate Animal on the pack leader, DC 16. Plan B, grab the rope and hang on while Aberlayne provides cover fire and encouraging Thunder to find solid ground.

Della's watches the pyre with grim determination, his usual happy cheer gone as they burn the bodies. As the pyre begins to die down though he seems to cheer up as he bounces around the camp. His eyes scan the darkness to the west but he shrugs it off as he gets comfortable and dozes off until his watch.

The Cave of Sighs



Looking carefully about the campsite, Volsh does spy something in the distant trees.  His new, keener eyesight lets him see several figures shuffling through the threes, but at a far distance.  They seem to be no bigger than humans, and vaguely heading away from the entrance of the cave, more towards the back of the hill.

--

On Fisheater Creek

Narthian, the shocker lizard with the largest thrill falls under your sway as you cast your magic upon its mind.  Sir Aberlayne fires more arrows, not to hit, but that come close enough to the other lizards to show them she is a threat.  Old Rue calls out softly, "Get yer hands in the rope!  I'll tow you, then toss it back for your wolf!"

Volsh kept his eye on the figures who walked away, but didn't bother them or provoke them.

When it was time to change the watch, he woke one of the wizards for their share of the watch and went to check on the elder Jasdian in the cave.

If he found her in a place to speak, he said, "spotted some figures a bit ago walking 'round the backside of the hill. Is there a back entrance or exit to this place they might be making for?"

The Cave of Sighs

You find Elder Orani kneeling on a cushion in front of the altar of Wee Jas, incense from a small brazier at her feet wreathing around her, filling the cave with the scent of spice.  She chants in an unfamiliar tongue for long moments as Volsh waits.  After a half-hour, she opens her eyes and turns to look at Volsh.  When he discloses the mysterious figures in the woods, she purses her lips.

"None that was natural, and none that I saw when I walked the chambers earlier.  Could be beasts passing through, bandits checking out a fire where there isn't one, or something lurking to try to get at the cave.  I have a little stone that I can set to shout if something gets too close, and I'll put that towards the back to keep myself safe in that direction.

"How go your meditations?  Are you running with the wolf in your dreams and thoughts?" she asks.

She will speak with Volsh for a little longer, and during that time he hears little else coming from outside, no sounds of combat or ambush.  Eventually he can return to the camp to get his rightful rest.

Everyone else's watches pass peacefully.

In the early morning, just barely dawn, a heavy mist descends on the campsite, cave, and surrounding forest.  As you are all breaking your fast and finishing up your morning study, there is a sound of several people walking.  Out of the mist you see a man in robes, with perhaps six other robed figures behind him.  The man is old, with a long gray beard, bearing an amulet of some sort about his neck.  It seems to have a skull on it, which is one of Wee Jas' symbols.

"Hello the camp!  I seek the Cave of Sighs for me and my servants," he says, his voice rough and hoarse.

Volsh listened to the Elder talk of her item to warn of danger and nodded. "I've been running in my dreams and trying in my thoughts, though that is hard at times to focus on that idea. Call out if you have need of us, I'm going to rest now."

He left the Elder and slept, in his dreams he ran with the pack again. He was working on the exercises he'd been given when the voice called out.

Volsh stood, Widowmaker in hand and looked at the man and his robed entourage. He turned and said to Dellas quietly, "go get Elder Orani. Let her know another with a skull amulet seeks the cave."

He turned back to the approaching group, "who are you and what business do you have with you and your servants at the Cave of Sighs?"

Bruenor woke up, having been dozing a bit. He got to his feet as nonchalantly as possible, getting his sword but regretting sleeping late, since he was unarmored.  He looked at the approaching group and sighed with annoyance.
Then he wondered if that was how the Cave of Sighs really got its name, since people were always interrupting you here.

He let the barbarian take the lead in interacting with the new group, and remained the "strong silent type"

Narthian gives the lead lizard the thoughts of "Danger!" and "Flee!" before following Rue's advice.

Dellas smiled at the man and the others with him "Good Morning to you. Have you had a chance for some breakfast? I'm sure I can fix up something right quick if you're still hungry. I'm always hungry." Dellas rubs his belly a bit as he jabbers at breakneck speed towards the man.

Haazheel puts his book away, stands, and pays attention to the scene.

The Cave of Sighs





"If it were easy, there wouldn't be so many horror stories about werewolves!  Keep at it, young man," she says, patting his shoulder in stern encouragement.



"I am Brother Varlis.  I have business of my own, important work to be done on the mysteries of death.  You are not of the Ruby Guard.  Who are you to be barring access to this holy site?" the old man says with a scowl.

Bruenor stands ready, sword out, wary at yet another intrusion. 



Brother Varlis shakes his head, looking rather repulsed at the suggestion.  "My needs have been met for the present," he says with a curt nod.  "We'll feed again when necessary."

Haazheel pays close attention to the scene. 

---

On Fisheater Creek



The lead lizard takes Narthian's commands and squeaks, sparking as it dashes away, followed quickly by its brethren.  Within a few moments, Narthian and Thunder are back on solid ground.

"A bit of excitement, eh?" Old Rue says ruefully.  Moving with more care, the little group keeps their senses wary as they finally find menhirs marking the inner grove.  Inside there is a bewildering profusion of herbs, mushrooms, berries, and fruit, oftentimes with multiple kinds growing on a single bush, tree, or vine!  Small rocks are strewn about as well, everything from water-worn river pebbles to sharp-edge pieces of mountain scree to small lumps of weathered granite, to chunks of banded agate and fool's gold, as if brought there and deposited by a hundred years' worth of magpies.

"Here is where we must find what your friend needs.  One perfect maidenhair, two Ruby Apples of the exact same size, four Angel Eyes mushrooms with the same pattern of spots, twelve perfect yellow raspberries, two blue holey-stones, six pebbles of the same size but not of the same kind or color, and four perfectly symmetrical leaves from a Cloudseeker Vine," Old Rue says, spreading his hands at the wealth of natural profusion around him.

Sir Aberlayne looks briefly as if she wants to mutiny, before tying Valiant out of the way of accidentally eating what the might need, and taking off her boots.  "Well, I don't know one mushroom for another, but I can start looking for rocks!" she says.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:18, Mon 30 Sept 2019.

Volsh chuckled and left the Elder to her work. "So I will."



Volsh sighed when the small halfling missed what he'd said and faced the man. He looked unmoved at him, "we are Ironguard members of the Guild. Here at the behest of the Ruby Conclave to guard and eliminate threats in this area."

"Haazheel, can you advise the Elder that a Brother Varlis has arrived?"

Dellas looked up to Volsh "Oh you asked me to do that a minute ago, didn't you? I can do it now if you prefer" Dellas skips off towards the cave to find the Elder, stopping only a moment at his pack to grab a bit of sweet bread before he continues on.



------

Dellas comes skipping up the path to the Elder, approaching "Hey Volsh said there is a guy outside you should speak to or something. Varlis or something like that asking about a Ruby Guard. Rubies are the color of fire, I like rubys."

Haazheel cries out EVIL! UNDEAD! He points and declaims

Fireball, now burn, burn, burn!
Char to a crispy turn!

[Haazheel places the Fireball so it'll affect the baddies but do little or no harm to the goodies. If possible, he'll make sure the Fireball affects the lead baddies.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:29, Tue 01 Oct 2019.

Bruenor was prepared to merely stand nearby, looking vaguely intimidating, but then noticed his sword flicker a bit.  He instantly became suspicious of the newcomers and moved with forced casualness to stand near Volsh, to back him up.
When the leader said "his needs have been met", rather than "he wasn't hungry", more alarm bells rang in his head.
Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions, but as a Warrior, Jumping was one of the things he did best.
He didn't say anything, but his good friend Volsh, also an experienced fighter, might recognize Bruenor's body language as being ready for trouble

"Now I understand why we had to come here, what a marvelous grove! And thank you Sir Aberlayne! That will be most helpful. And although I am sure that we are safe here, Thunder shall keep the watch." He contemplates a moment on Rue's extensive list. Then a smile stretches across his face. "I think that I have a way to find what we need sooner." He chants softly in the magical druidic tongue as waves his hands and arms slowly like a willow in the wind. The chant fades until it sounds like the rustle of leaves in the breeze. He travels about the grove, visiting the places where the items Rue listed grow.

Casting Speak with Plants and enlisting the aid of the plants themselves. The spell lasts for 6 minutes. The idea is to have the plants identify themselves whether they meet the criteria, or at least narrow the search area to the most likely spots. This should make Taking 10 a viable option without losing too much time. Survival modifier is +11, so with Rue's +2 that makes 23.

Or I could Take 10 on the 17.

20:27, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 17,33,31,25,30,23,25 using d20+13,d20+13,d20+13,d20+13,d20+13,d20+13,d20+13 ((4,20,18,12,17,10,12)).

Regardless, Narthian will mark the location of the items that spoil quickly - using arrows, for example - and help Aberlayne find the rocks before collecting the fruit.

[Message 135]

You hear Haazheel shout a warning, and a Fireball strikes...amid the oncomers.

Breunor was taken aback by the fireball, but trusted his friend's instincts and prepared to charge

Volsh is caught completely off-guard by Haazheel's spellcasting. "Haaz, what the hells?"

He gripped Widowmaker and prepared fight whatever survived the latest conflagration one of the mages caused.

OOC init?

The Cave of Sighs



Dellas doesn't see the Elder in the outer chamber as he starts to chat, and as a matter of fact only sees a hint of candlelight from one of the other passages.  He was about to head down there to speak with the Elder when a fireball exploded right outside!  Turning around, he can see the remains of the fiery spell has engulfed the newcomers!



Several of the robed figures collapse in the heat of the flames, leaving behind three plus "Brother Varlis".  The three drop their robes, revealing shambling corpses that might have once been human warriors or guards.  Wielding filthy longswords and bearing dirty shields, they shamble forth in their earth-smeared armor with intent to kill.

Brother Varlis is scorched, but he dances backwards behind his undead warriors and utters a few words in a harsh tongue, a ray of black energy springing from his hand to strike Volsh!  Necromantic energy washes over the barbarian, leaving him exhausted. 

OOC: Now begins the killing, followed by a light salad.  :)  Proceed with the attacking!

--

Ehlonna's Grove




Narthian opens his mind to the world of green, and whispers his questions.  He gets a clamor back, "I am the best, me and my cluster!"  "I am the most perfect, take me somewhere where I can put my sees!"  "Up here, up here, see, we are the best!!"  Plants don't require much to make happy.  The fungus is mostly silent, though when prodded they finally mutter about which if their kin has the right number of spots.  Old Rue chuckles when he realizes what Narthian has done, and sweeps up the plants indicated with delicate care in his clawed paws.

Sir Aberlayne seems to be having fun collecting stones, lining some up on a low tree limb to check their size before sweeping the winners into a bag, sticking her thumb through the holey-stones to make sure they were pleasing to the eye and touch as well as being the right color.  She finishes about the same time as Old Rue and Narthian finish gathering the plants.

With the last stone gathered and the last plant picked, Old Rue smiles.  "All right.  Now we get to help your friend.  By moon's light, we'll make the amulet he needs."

Old Rue will lead both of you to a clearly slightly away from the grove, this one with a sliver of sky that can be seen through the canopy, and a seemingly natural cropping of flat stone in the middle.  "We can rest, because once the moon is up, we'll be working.  Have to ask Ehlonna's favor, put out the things we gathered for Her creatures, give them a vessel to sink the power into..." he says, pulling out a thin leather cord on which is strung a silver-rimmed slice of wood perhaps two inches across, onto which is bound a tuft of what is presumably werebear hair.

"'Tis about intent.  I can put into it what I know about living with the beast inside you peaceably.  And you can put what you know into it; about nature, and about him," Old Rue explains.  "The moonlight it our fire, the stone is our forge, the creatures' favor is the bellows, and our words are the hammer strikes."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:34, Fri 04 Oct 2019.

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 141):

Breunor scowled as he moved forward.    Why did undead always have to be so blamed filthy???   He didn't mind a good sword fight, but he'd damned if he was going to pick up lockjaw from some zombie's rusty blade!

Swinging The Prince's Sword swiftly, Bruenor attempted to disarm, and then trip, the lead undead.

OOC: 11:47, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 19 using 1d20+6.  Initiative .
11:46, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 13 using 1d20+9.  Improved Trip attempt .
11:46, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 26 using 1d20+14.  Improved Disam attempt

Haazheel continues his work by pointing and intoning

Flaming Sphere from the Weave,
Just burning now achieve!

When the Sphere appears, Haazheel directs it so it appears right on or by this Brother Varlis. l

Dellas crinkles his nose at the smell of burning dead, but a glimmer in his eyes says he's more than prepared for what is next. He quickly begins an incantation as he lines up the location of the dead, smiling that the others have not yet moved forward and launches a fireball into the midst, hoping he had lined it up well enough not to hit Bruenor.



OOC: Cast Fireball, Try not to hit Bruenor but hitting the undead guys he can see from the cave entrance. Ref DC: 17 to reduce by half.

14:22, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 20 using 6d6 ((1,4,3,3,3,6)).

Narthian nods along, listening intently. "I think that I know just the things to add," he says. Of Volsh he speaks of his endurance, his keen sense for the hunt, and of his connection to his lost family. To that he ties in the nature of the wolf, the oneness of the pack, their keenness to hunt together under the moon, the connection to - or role in - the balance of nature. Then he calls upon the teamwork of the Leafblade Company, the sense of belong to the pack-family and how each helps look out for the other and the whole. And specifically Volsh's contributions to the company. These things, Narthian hopes, will join with Rue's gift and give Volsh the focus on what it is to be more then a werewolf. To be in his mind a wolf.

Bruenor swings the prince's sword at the undead, neatly flicking the weapon out of its hands, then deftly hooking the sword behind the creature's knee and upending it!

Volsh roars his outrage at being struck with "Brother Varlis'" draining magic, calling upon his rage to counter the exhaustion and bulls through the undead.  The one Bruenor upended cannot hit him, but two more swing their swords reflexively at him as he passes.  They open up his hide, but Volsh is not to be stopped.  His charge ends in Widowmaker striking the magician hard in the side.  As the obsidian spear is withdrawn, "Brother Varlis'" eyes go red and he roars in mindless rage!




Haazheel's sphere of flame appears right next to "Brother Varlis", scorching him unmercifully!  He screeches in fury and agony!




Dellas cannot hit "Brother Varlis" without hitting Volsh, but instead he targets the three remaining undead.  This time the second dose of fire sees the remaining three drop, though sparks dance in their eye sockets for an uncomfortably long amount of time before they do...

The enraged Brother Varlis howls fury and attacks Volsh with his bare fist and a drawn dagger, missing him, but clearly unwilling to stop!

--

The Sacred Grove of Ehlonna



Sir Aberlayne adds her own memories of Volsh, "His sense of honor, his loyalty, his willingness to throw himself into danger not for glory, but to destroy evil and protect us, his friends," she says, and much more.

Old Rue smiles at you both and says, "Keep those in mind, and tonight we will do the making."

The three can rest, eat, and nap a bit once they've set up the plants and stones upon the "anvil" of the altar with the amulet in the center.  When night falls and moon rises, Old Rue begins a small chant in the Sylvan tongue, a prayer of entreaty to Ehlonna.  He gestures to both of you to bring forth your intentions to Volsh as the moonlight pours down and animals slowly creep forward.

It is a long, intense evening of concentration, chanting, and focus as each berry, leaf, mushroom, and pebble are gradually taken away by a wide variety of Ehlonna's chosen creatures.  When the last of the moonlight fades, the amulet seems to shine softly in the darkness like silver.  Old Rue, looking as exhausted as both you likely feel, picks up the amulet with two trembling claws, and puts it into Narthian's hands.  Then abruptly he transforms back into an old man and collapses onto the ground!

Bruenor swung his flaming sword at the temporarily downed foe, putting his back into it so as to finish the fight more quickly.   His second strike, in his haste, slashed only dirt, however

OOC: 11:08, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 2 using 1d6.  Fire damage .
11:07, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 10 using 1d8+8.  1st damage .
11:07, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 5 using 1d20+3.  2nd sword attack .
11:06, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 25 using 1d20+8.  1st sword attack

Volsh growled in pain at the sword swipes, but he continued to stab out at the spellcaster even as the creature writhed in the throes of its own rage.

OOC:
Action: attack, hit AC 13
09:46, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 13 using 1d20+8.  Attack spellcaster.
Damage: 10 piercing, magic
09:47, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 10 using 1d8+4.  Spear.

Dellas issues a halfling curse, even that sounds cheerful, towards Volsh who charges into the fray and keeps him from targeting everyone with his fireball. Seeing Volsh engaged and the others down Dellas takes a few more steps out of the cave closing the distance between him and the undead magician and begins a new incantation, amotes of red fire appear upon his finger tips during the incantation, as the incantation comes to a close he points his hand towards the undead magician and a ray of fire streaks towards the creature from his outstretched hand....


OOC: Cast Scorching Ray. (Range 55'), AC 15 (Touch), 16 Damage.


11:14, Today: Dellas Nump rolled 15,16 using d20+7,4d6 with rolls of 8,6,3,1,6.  Scorching Ray, Ranged Touch Attack.

"RUE!" Narthian cries. He kneels beside the old man, checking to see if he still breathes. "Aberlayne, we need your healing hands."

Heal check (if needed): 20:04, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 9 using 1d20+3 ((6)).

Haazheel circles so he can get behind the crazed old man; he doesn't close yet.

The Cave of Sighs



While Dellas' fireball seemed to have finished off the undead, a second slash certainly won't hurt, particularly not when the light of fire seemed to linger in the bony eye sockets for far too long.  Bruenor's first swing neatly decapitates the undead at his feet, and the embers in his eyes go out.



Volsh thrust Widowmaker again, this time hitting "Brother Varlis" right in the middle.  The man's eyes bulge as he folds around the spear, and he gasps in a death rattle as he starts to slump.



If "Brother Varlis" hadn't been dead when Volsh stabbed him again, he certainly entered the realms of the deceased when Dellas' scorching rays struck his back.

The remaining undead, already on the ground, slump into immobility and slack piles of bones and rotted, scorched flesh.  "Brother Varlis", from the fresh burns and bright red blood on Volsh's spear, had been of the living before he was slain, though it was a certainty he was controlling the undead warriors.  About his neck is his skull pendant.  After a moment's examination, Dellas recognizes it as a hastily-repainted amulet of Nerull, the god of the undead and necromancers.

He has a jeweled dagger, a small book wrapped in brown and black leather and tied with thin red twine, a dozen onyx gems, a clear spindle crystal, something liquid red in a glass vial, and two keys, one iron with a skull on it, the other silver and tipped with wings.

--

The Sacred Grove of Ehlonna



Sir Aberlayne runs to Old Rue and examines the man before placing her heads on his head, a soft golden glow coming from her palms.  Narthian thinks Old Rue is exhausted and drained, certainly, but not sure about what else might be wrong with him.

After a few moments, Sir Aberlayne looks him over, and daubs his temples with rosewater from her healer's kit.  She sighs and sits back on her heels.  "Well, he'll be fine eventually.  We should have realized, werebear or not, Old Rue is still old, and he's been awake a two nights and most of a day, slogged through some rough territory, and just put his heart and soul into a complex ritual.  He needs rest, unless we want to try to get him back through that swamp on Valiant's back.  We were just so focused on helping Volsh that I didn't even realize..."

Haazheel observes the corpse and suggests, "Cut off some of his clothes and use them to hold his stuff. I'd rather nobody skin-touched any of it. Let Elder Orani examine it."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 08:57, Sun 06 Oct 2019.

Volsh calmed from his rage at the man and his shoulders slumped as the rage left and exhaustion set in fully.

He did his best to pull out his small knife and cut some strips of cloth from "Brother Varlis", then cuts the man's bags and possessions off. He started to  knock them in with the backside of Widowmaker when the exhaustion got to be too much and he slumped to the ground.

"Bruenor, can you finish? Not sure what I got hit with, but I... I can barely move my body."

Alarmed, Haazheel hastens to ask/help Volosh lie down on his back. If Volsh does so, Haazheel fetches a bedroll or backpack etc. to put under Volsh's lower legs. He says, "Maybe the Elder should be summoned if Volsh feels the same or worse."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:57, Sun 06 Oct 2019.

Bruenor, after breathing a sigh of relief, was already planning the body looting in his mind, but tye wizard's words brought him up short.  He already was going to give the necromancers book a miss, but he nodded at the wisdom of touching nothing with his living flesh until it was vetted by the elder clergy.
He looked at Volsh with a firm nod.
"Do what you must, my friend, to take care of yourself.  I can handle the clean up.  I have some healing draughts and such in my pack, if you need any."

Following the mages advice, he cut strips of cloth off the bodies and used that to gather the valuable looking items, dropping them onto a second large cloth.

Volsh nodded his head wearily at his friends as he accepted Haazheel's help in lying down.

"Whatever he hit me with sapped my vital energies. I am exhausted beyond anything I experience after a battle rage. If you think the Elder would help, please get her. I'm... I'm surprised she hasn't come out with all your fireballs blastin' all over the place."

Bruenor chuckled
"Old people have surprising concentration.   i once had an elderly uncle who was writing a letter to an opd colleague and didn't realize his house was on fire.  "

Or she's in trouble. A couple of us should go and see.

Bruenor, somewhat distracted by his gruesome task, blinked in surprise and looked sharply at Haazheel.
"Well, bloody hell....i hadn't considered that."
Letting out a slightly martyred sigh, he picked up his sword and jogged lightly towards the cave
"Alright, I'm on it."

He entered the cave at a brisk walk, not really expecting trouble but trying to be ready for anything.

The Cave of Sighs

Bruenor can carefully collect the items "Brother Varlis" had on him, using cloth to keep his hands away from direct contact with the man.  Assisting Volsh in lying down, the barbarian feels no better, but also no worse for being horizontal.

Haazheel and Dellas, if they wish, can head into the Cave of Sighs to find Elder Orani in one of the deeper chambers, meditating before several wrapped and mummified bodies.  A few moments after the magicians enter, the priestess turns, opening one eye.  "Good work.  The shadow I had worried about is gone."  She beckons them closer to help her rise, and walks with them to the entrance and down to the campsite.

She'll listen to their accounts of "Brother Varlis" and examine the body of the mage, prodding it a few times with her staff.  "Necromancer," she pronounces.  "There's an old watchtower around here some hours away.  Used to watch over some road that shifted elsewhere a dozen or two kings back.  Too badly-placed for the Army to use, too expensive to tear down, too expensive to fix up unless you're swimming in gold.  Sometimes bandits or monsters use it as a lair.  Local council hires adventures to clear it out a couple times a year.  Last ones should have finished not long before, which was why I wanted to head here now, while things were relatively quiet.  They must have rousted him out but not captured him.  Wretch found his way here after we beat the stuffing out of that mohrg and his lackeys."  She spits to the side to shows what she thinks of him.

"Man's not diseased or poisoned, just was an evil, greedy sod without a compassionate bone in his body.  Burn him and his victims.  His goods show no evil or curse I can see," Elder Orani continues, and heads over to examine Volsh.  She touches the barbarian's head, and nods.  "Exhausted.  Probably feel like you've walked a week's worth in a day while carrying your horse above your head, eh?  'Twas a spell to drain you of energy like after a terrible day's labor.  I'll make you some good tea and pray a restoration spell over you; you should be right as rain by tomorrow evening if not sooner."

Bruenor was relieved that theloot from their battle wasn't cursed or worse, and he spread it out for the wizards to examine as well.
He still.was.damned sure he wasn't about to read that book.  Something about it gave him the creeps.  It was probably just paranoia, but he couldn't shake it.

Elder Orani settles herself on a log by the firepit and holds onto her staff with both hands as she leans forward.  "My thanks to you for watching for me.  I am here to renew the spells that consecrate the Cave against evils like that, the unregulated cruelty of selfish necromancers and their ilk.  If you had not been there, likely I would have been slain.  I might know much of Wee Jas' magic, young men, but sometimes there's no substitute for a keen eye, stout heart, strong arm, and a sharp blade.  Or fiery magic, as the case may be."

Bruenor smiled, genuinely pleased at the complimentary praise.
"In all sincerity, ma'am, it was a pleasure to assist you in this noble endeavor. "

Dellas nods to Bruenor and runs off inside, skipping along to find the elder to tell her what had transpired.

---------------------------------------------------------------------


Dellas nods in agreement with Bruenor "This was most exciting. Don't get to see many of the dead walking. They kinda stink though." Dellas moved over to the other items picking them up and examining them before looking over to Haazheel "I was not prepared to determine if Arcane energies are present. What of you? I do have a pair of scrolls I could use." Dellas picked up the book absently and looked through it, flipping the pages.

OOC: If it is a spellbook he will take a moment to cast read magic, that I do have prepared.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:32, Mon 07 Oct 2019.

"Ah, thank you Sir Aberlayne! We will owe Rue quite a debt! Let us rest here then. I will send a message to Volsh." He takes a pencil and a scrap of paper from his pouch and scribbles a note. Then he pulls some seeds from his pouch and calls to a nearby dove, offering the seeds. As the dove comes down to nibble, he describes the route the others followed to the Cave of Sighs. He gives the dove the scrap of paper and it flies off.

Cast Animal Messanger. The note reads, "have amulet to help you control lycanthropy. Werebear above and beyond expectations."

Haazheel intones


He looks over the taken goods.

Volsh smiled wearily at the Elder as she checked him out and nodded, "like I dragged an ox through the mud for an hour is how I feel right now. Glad I'll be ok and he didn't steal something from me forever."

"If this place continues to attract things like that undead and this necromancer... why keep it around? Why not burn the bodies and make the ground holy or something and then collapse the cave?" he asked the Elder as she checked him out.

Then he rested while the others checked out the mans gear and equipment for magic or worth.

Eventually, a dove comes and lands on his chest with a note attached and he grunted. He did his best to untie the note with his shaking and tired hands. It took a bit, but he was able to do it finally and read the note.

He grunted and seemed to relax further. "Narthian and Sir Aberlayne found the werebear and crafted some sort of amulet already. Quick work. Hope I can meet this werebear. Guess... they'll be coming along at some point depending on how much longer you need Elder?"

He let his eyes close as he tried to focus in his exhaustion on the exercises she'd shown him. Nows the best time to practice, he thought to himself.

The Cave of Sighs



Of the various goods taken from "Brother Varlis", the jeweled dagger, clear spindle gem, red potion, and the winged key are actively magical.  The book has fading necromantic energy on it, but not as if it were enchanted. 




"Oh, he was probably going to try to.  He probably wanted your body for an undead soldier, so he wanted you intact rather than overly wounded or disintegrated.  Good thing you kept him too busy to dig into his filthy bag of tricks any more," Elder Orani says.



"I don't know about your people, lad, but mine inter the dead and revere their resting place.  Going and disrupting all of our ancestors, rousting them from their resting place, it's blasphemy.  It's a sacred place to Wee Jas, and one where She is known to give visions and insight to the worthy.  As for making the ground holy, what do you think I was there for?" she says, raising an eyebrow. "We're not going to brick the cave up when magic usually fences out those horrors.  It's usually less of a problem, but clearly that wretch you dispatched was stirring things up.  At most we get a shadow, maybe a ghost or a wraith if we're unlucky.  A rogue necromancer, though, that was what caused all of this mayhem."



"I'll finish up tonight, spell you, and we can go in the morning," she says, and levers herself back to her feet.  "Rest, lads.  Should be all over soon."

The rest of that day passes quietly and uneventfully, and Elder Orani returns after nightfall.  After dinner, she sits at Volsh's bedside and sprinkles him with a glittering powder while murmuring prayers.  Soon enough the exhaustion is wiped away, leaving him feeling whole and well again.


--

Ehlonna's Sacred Grove



The three rest, and Sir Aberlayne nurses Old Rue with the substantial bounty present around the sacred grove.  The old man is still old, and it's not until the following morning that he even cracks his eyes.  Berry-laden porridge is an excellent thing to wake up to, and for a werebear must smell exceptionally nice.  Old Rue's nose twitches, and he wakes up and starts to reach for the bowl with a hand that trembles.

"No, you are not going to start the day covered in porridge.  Sit," Sir Aberlayne says severely, and proceeds to spoon it into his mouth until he actually gets the strength to stop trembling and sit up probably on his own.  As he cradles the bowl, he looks down at the amulet with a small smile.

"Well, that worked a treat!" he says with a smile.

Sir Aberlayne's look to Narthian is one of skepticism.  Clearly she thinks the old man very much overdid things.

Haazheel reports his findings. "The book has a feel of fading necromantic energy. The Dagger, jewel, potion, and winged key radiate minor magic...feels like transmutative. I'm guessing the dagger is slightly enchanted to hit., but something exhausted Volsh. As for the others, I'll not guess...though often where there's a key, there is a lock."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:12, Thu 10 Oct 2019.

As Haazheel worked, Bruenor got into his armor.  He nodded to the wizard.
"A magic dagger i understand, normally.   But you're suggesting that was what sapped Volsh of his strength?"

Having rested for the night, Narthian prepares his spells for the day. He includes one that should help restore Rue's constitution, and casts it on the self-sacrificial werebear. "You have been generous beyond our hope. Name what we could do to repay your kindness, and if it is within our power, we will see to it."

Casting Lesser Restoration for Constitution.

"Err, I think it was the black ray of doom that shot out of his fingers after wiggling them something fierce and saying some... something. I don't think it was any of those things. Maybe my memory is off though after I got hit by the ray. Can you two read any more information in the items before we try to use them or sell them or anything? Could they be cursed?" Volsh said climbing to his feet with a big stretch.

"Ahh, that's nice. I've not felt this rested in a long time! Thanks Elder. The pack was running well last night."

I didn't see that, so probably the dagger is enchanted to be more effective, a bit more. Perhaps Dellas can tell more about these items.

The Cave of Sighs

The spellbook Haazheel examines is as follows:  A leather book with parchment pages, well-used and somewhat battered, indicating it likely traveled everywhere with the user, and the user traveled often.  It has a faint scent of rot about it.  The front cover has a symbol to Nerull (a skull and sickle) with small garnets attached for eyes.  It's bound shut with a strip of leather.  Inside it has several notes on necromancy and several sites identified as places of potential necromantic power or a source of "material" for "servants".  It seemed that "Brother Varlis'" name, or at least what he called himself, was Jarian Bones.

It also has the following spells inscribed:
touch of fatigue, mage hand, mending, dancing lights, ghost sound, disrupt undead, cause fear, chill touch, ray of enfeeblement, detect secret doors, protection from good, command undead, false life, ghoul touch, scare, blindness/deafness, spectral hand, gentle repose, halt undead, ray of exhaustion, vampiric touch, animate dead, fear, enervation, bestow curse

Dellas can examine the rest of the items more closely.  Very likely the dagger is enchanted to be more effective in battle, but upon further examination it also glows a sickly blue in the dark.  This doesn't seem to indicate anything in particular, but it is an eerie effect.  The potion is one of false life.  The key doesn't have an obvious magical effect (an identify spell will likely be needed) though it could be a version of a knock spell, or arcane lock, or possibly a specific key to one of the locations in the man's journal.

Elder Orani will tell Volsh, upon description of the spell, "Oh yes, necromantic magic is what exhausted you.  Nasty spell, but it runs out eventually.  He likely thought he could weaken you enough to kill you quickly, but you all put paid to that quickly enough."  She smiles slightly at him.  "And it sounds like your thinking is getting better all the time."

The group can sleep through the night, keeping watch through the small hours without incident.  By mid-morning the next day, Elder Orani has finished the last of her meditations and spellcasting and is ready to return.  The gloom about the Cave of Sighs has lessened, and while you have a sense that this will never be a place of bright sunny days suitable for picnics, it has a quiet feeling of peace about it, rather than menace.

You travel back to the south, pausing when it gets dark, with Elder Orani's patient instruction to Volsh a constant accompaniment.  It's about another day to get back to the Ruby Conclave.  That evening, during dogwatch (early morning), the person on guard sees a most peculiar sight, that of a softly glowing series of bats flying through the trees, around the perimeter of the camp, and then pausing to land on a branch in a very neat row.

----

The Sacred Grove of Ehlonna 



Old Rue shakes his head as Narthian's spell washes over him, then smiles.  "Thank ye kindly, both of you."  He pats both Narthian and Sir Aberlayne's hand as he sits back, thinking about what Narthian had offered.  It was clear from Sir Aberlayne's attitude that she entirely approved; the old man had done much for them without even hinting at compensation.

He ponders a few minutes, finishing his porridge, and finally nods, putting his spoon down.  "There is something you could get for me that'd help me quite a bit.  I have a..." he blushes suddenly, coughs, and resumes.  "I have a lady friend I'm courting.  She has a mischievous little fey who's causing her all sorts of trouble, and I've not yet found the rights words, tricks, or bribes to get it to leave her alone.  Would you help get the grig out from Stellana's hair?"

Bruenor had learned more about werefolk than he cared to admit.  He only hoped that he could gradually forget about it in the days to come.
Later while on watch, which he'd taken because he'd been too restless to sleep, he thought about all the strange experiences he had been having lately.   He'd always disliked magic.  Magical shenanigans and mystical hooligans had always given him the creeps.  Lately, however, he'd seen another side of magic.   Helpful and beneficial, at least to him.  He shrugged as he thought about it.
"...perhaps I've judged magic too harshly.  perhaps there's a better side to..."
Then he saw a flock of glowing bats circling the camp.  He sighed
"Nope.  Still hate magic "
He moved quickly to wake Volsh, then the rest of the party

Volsh popped up, sleep falling away from him quickly, despite having been running well with the pack.

He eyed the glowing bats and reached down slowly to grab at Widowmaker. "You bats smart? Come for something?" he called out with a raise of his chin.

OOC: 10:59, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 13,23 using 1d20+10,1d20+10.  Spot, Survival.

Bruenor went on to wake up the closest wizard

"A worthy women, I have no doubt!" Narthian says trying to dismiss Rue's embarrassment. "Sprites can be... troublesome. My conclave once had to deal with a troop of brownies who insisted that we buy their delicious cookies..." He trails off remembering. Then a new thought enters his mind. A delicate thought. "Is um... is Stellana a bear?"

The Cave of Sighs



The bats seem to be normal, or at least they are not showing any fangs, spikes, scales, or anything that shouldn't be on bats.  They just seem to be glowing.  And oddly bold.  When he poses his question, they fly up again in a sinuous pattern, weaving through the air like streamers of silk, then diving down to the ground.  They swirl around there for a moment, then flit off into the sky, separating and flying off in more random, natural patterns, their glow fading.

On the ground there the bats had nearly landed are five bone-white flowers with a red impression of a small fox face on their centers, each freshly cut and lying in a neat row upon the earth.

--

The Sacred Grove of Ehlonna



Old Rue laughs out loud at that.  "Oh ho ho, I can see why you'd think that!  No, Stellana is dryad, and the grig won't get out of her tree.  He likes it there, and it's funny to him to have someone to play pranks on every day, being as she's the sober and dignified sort.  We might have to bring it to the Faerie Court, and I... My words and manners were never sweet enough to get into a bargain with the Fair Folk."

Volsh stalked forward but didn't touch the fresh cut flowers. He looked back at the rest of the crew to see who Bruenor had awakened so far.

Now it's Narthian's turn to blush in embarrassment. "Ha, ha! It will not have mattered if it were," he chuckles in... not quite relief, but more to pass the moment. "Although I try to watch my manners, there are others from my company that are more eloquent than I. If you prefer, I am sure that Sir Aberlayne will not object to our seeing about this task immediately - when you have fully recovered. Otherwise we can see you safely back to your home before we seek the aid of Volsh himself and his other friends."

Dellas sat there looking at the bats that are flying away "Those were pretty were they not?" Rolling over he pushes himself to his feet as he walks over the flowers "A Fox, one for each of us. How odd?"

"Odd is right..." Volsh nodded as he looked at the fox head flowers. "Anyone know anything about... this kind of thing? Elder? Haazheel? Should we touch them or avoid them?"

OOC: I have no knowledge skills, but Survival?
11:05, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 13 using 1d20+10 ((3)).

anyone else have any idea about these things? Anyone else want to chime in? Bruenor? Haazheel?

Haazheel asks Is there any such thing as werefoxes? Anyway, pick them up, leave them be, or travel in the direction the bats went.

Bruenor frowned, even scowling a bit at the realization that he woke everyone up for nothing more threatening than a bunch of weird bats playing around.
"Maybe we should.burn them and be done with it"

Returning from the Cave of Sighs



The fox spirit has often been seen as that of a trickster, as far as Volsh can remember from the lore of his childhood.



The flowers have a subtle scent of rose and musk, and would easily fit behind an ear or in a buttonhole.



The flowers look vaguely like some mountain blooms Volsh has seen, usually harmless flowers that are sometimes used for mild medicinal purposes like upset stomachs.

Elder Orani wakes up grumpily, but when explained about the situation, examines the flowers with more interest.



"I'm pretty certain there are werefoxes and fox-shapeshifters, though I'd be at a bit of a loss as to why one would or could send glowing bats with a bouquet.  The flowers aren't evil or poison or magic, I can tell you that right off," Elder Orani says.



"As you will, but far as I can see they're harmless to touch.  Might be that some of the local denizens wanted to give us a thank you for ridding the woods of undead and necromancers.  Fey often are friends with foxes, and most are notoriously shy.  That's just one theory, though.  I can look it up back at the Ruby Conclave," she says, stifling a yawn.

--

The Sacred Grove of Ehlonna



"If that'd help my lady more, then that would be fine.  Asides, then I can get myself back in order, and give her fair warning of your coming.  Don't want to get too confident and end up riding a landshark backwards on the trip home because I was too tired to dodge, right?" Old Rue says with a laugh.

Bruenor frowned, but didn't move to harm the weird flowers.  He looked to the mages for their lead.

Narthian nods. "Then it is settled. We'll see you safely home, and bring Volsh and the others to rid Stellana of her pest."

Volsh nodded at the Elder's words then leaned down and took up the flowers.

"If the Elder says they're safe, I'm taking one for myself. Anyone else want one?" he said extending one out in offer to any who seemed inclined to want them.

Visibly indecisive, and annoyed at being so, Bruenor picked a flower.
"Well...I suppose if it's a gift.  I don't want to offend anyone."
"especially," he mused, "one of these magical yahoos"
His distain for magic and his urge for self preservation warred with the sense of decorum and court-taught politeness.

He took a flower, trying not look like he was picking up a live tarantula

Reassured, Haazhel picks up a flower and gives it a sniff.

Dellas nods and smiles at the Eldar's response, gathering one up hastily as he places it carefully within the confines of his cloak so that people can see it. Looking out towards the horizon "Thank you. Very Pretty. We were happy to help" he called out.

On the Return From The Cave of Sighs

The flowers have only a subtle sweet scent, and seem fairly innocuous.  The one curious thing is that in the morning, they are still fresh.  They remain fresh throughout the rest of your travel the next day.  And they are still fresh when you return to the Ruby Conclave.

Elder Orani gives a gesture of blessing over each of you at the gates of the Conclave, and will give Volsh a scrollcase.  "Keep up your good thinking, young man.  If things don't go as planned, come back and we'll try to get the wolf out of you."    "For the rest of you lads, unless you have other needs of Wee Jas you can count your debt discharged."

If naught else is needed, the group could say here the evening and return by mid-day, or carry on in the dark and arrive at Port Lyalee after midnight.

--

The Sacred Grove of Ehlonna



Old Rue grins at that.  "Thank ye, then.  Now, let's get my old bones back home, eh?"

The quintent of werebear, halfling, pony, elf, and wolf trek back through the wild wood.  Now knowing about the bulette and the shocker lizards, they can plan their route more carefully.  With a bit of misdirection and a little diversion they can get through both areas without too much delay, and find themselves back at Old Rue's cabin by nightfall.

He'll point out the fixings for a heart vegetable stew, which Sir Aberlayne can assist in making.  "Life on the road and in Yondalla's service makes you learn how to cook something decent.  Can't call yourself a servant of the goddess of community if your food will scare everyone away!"

You can eat and rest, and by morning can be on your way back to Port Lyalee by mid-morning.

Haazheel happily will accept a night's hospitality. As occasion offers, he'll work with Volsh on reading...if Volsh cares to.

Bruenor was more than happy to accept a bed for.the night, easily tired of sleeping outdoors

Satisfied that all is well and the pantry is appropriately stocked for Rue's recovery, Narthian thanks the werebear for all of his help. "We will send word once we have the grig sorted as well." He transforms into a wolf for the trip back to Port Lyalee, to be more able to keep pace with Sir Aberlayne.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 04:02, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

Dellas welcomed the chance to stay at the Ruby Conclave, he spent the evening walking around and looking at the walking skeletons and such. Still in some awe but at afternoon rolled into evening, his stomach growled and he made his way to the food. Happy as can be to assist if necessary, otherwise he just seems to be in the way...

Volsh took the scroll case with a smile, "Thanks Elder. I'll do that."

He was happy to stay the night at the Ruby Conclave as well with the others. It was at least mostly warm and dry with warm food and such. Though his bones called to the wilds, he like the occasional comforts that city life provided.

Volsh, Bruenor, Dellas, and Haazheel can rest at the Ruby Conclave for the evening, enjoying the quiet, impeccably neat Jasian cells and a simple breakfast of cooling fruit soup.  By mid-day they are back at the gates of Port Lyalee with no trouble on the road, meeting Sir Aberlayne and Narthian along the way.


OOC: You guys can go back to the main Port Lyalee thread, unless you had any detours to the seashore or anything you wanted to make.

Bruenor was content to regroup with his other Traveling Companions

Volsh said his goodbyes to the clerics at the Ruby Conclave as they left with a "see you in a week for the full moon."

As the road back to the city he smiled when he caught sight of Ser Aberlayne and Narthian.

"How did you two fare? Were you able to find the contact? Did he lead you to the werebear?"

OOC: I know we can post back in the other thread, but Volsh would want to know how their side quest went as soon as she saw them :)

Dellas rode forth to greet his sister as the pair were spotted "Sis, you should have seen it. They had walking skeletal horses and servants. It was most interesting. And then at the Cave we saw these glowing Bats. And some guy with a bunch of dead assistants tried to attack us, they didn't like our fireballs very much. No they didnt." Dellas quickly rambled out.

After the breakfast, Haazheel regards the flower. Making up his mind, he olds it out to the most senior cleric he finds. This flower stays fresh, and its scent engages and soothes. Should someone come here, troubled, as we did; or, if someone residing here feels the need, here is this flower for heart's ease. I'm guessing it should be kept out so sun and air may embrace it.

Somehow I missed the "meeting Sir Aberlayne and Narthian along the way". :/

"Yes!" Narthian says with a grin. "And he was most helpful indeed!" He presents Volsh with the talisman. "We made it within a sacred glade of Ehlenestra - or Elhonna in the Common speech. We owe him a great debt. In fact, we can make a payment by removing a grig from a dryad's tree. We'll need the most clever and persuasive of the Company to accomplish the task, I am sure!"

Volsh accepted the talisman from Narthian and then grabbed the elf, who was over 2' shorter than the big barbarian, in a great big Volsh hug and then sat him down again.

"You have done far more in this than I ever could have hoped. Vatun and Father Bear willing, everything that we're doing will help me safely embrace the beast and run with you. You have joined my pack in my wolf dreams... let's hope dreams can become real."

He turned to all those who were gathered as the two groups came together.

"That goes for all of you. Thank you for helping me try to control this curse. I owe each of you a debt. Assuming I pass the test to control this curse and you don't have to kill me in the next week or two, name something and I will do all in my power to help you with it as well."

"I will return to the Ruby Conclave to endure the full moon in a week's time as well. Any are welcome to join me to see the results or bring more protection to the Jasdians as you see fit."

Narthian is surprised by the hug, and Thunder growls a bit before realizing that all is well. "I would have preferred another way for you to embrace the wolf spirit," Narthian says. "But Fate will have her way. I will be with you at the Ruby Conclave."

In reply to Volsh son of Vor (msg # 206):

Bruenor chuckled and smiled
"You're family, big guy.  We take care of each other"

Volsh smiled at both Narthian and Bruenor, though he gave Bruenor a hard punch to the arm as he smiled. He knew from experience the man could take it and jested with him as he'd learned from the older men in his tribe.

He mounted back up on Eagle, "come, let us get back to the city and see how Farian and the others are doing without us."

OOC: we can all head back to the main thread at this point I think unless someone else has something else to say/add?

Once the group had sorted out their last odds and ends in town, they had a few days to assist Old Rue in ridding his lady-love's grove of mischievous grigs.  Mounting up and leaving town, Old Rue's home was halfway between Port Lyalee and the Ruby Conclave.   Old Rue is outside his cabin, industriously weeding his garden, when the group rides up to meet him.  He brushes his hands off on his trousers (as he his back in his form of an old man) and greets you with beaming smiles.

"So good to see you all!  Here to help Stellana, eh?  My lady's grove has a grig and possibly a few of his friends causing her all manner of trouble.  Stealing things to mislay them, playing pranks, and it all sounds so harmless, but it's not.  She can't get much peace from his tormentings, and he won't talk to me.  I don't want to kill him, just drive him off or bargain with him to leave her alone.  But I don't have the silver tongue to get him to finally go..."

Along the early part of the road, before Narthian takes wolf-shape to scout with Thunder, he shares with the party what he knows of grigs.

Grigs can disguise themselves, turn themselves invisible, use the pyrotechnics spell to create sparks and smoke, and throw their voices.  Some have fiddles that can make someone dance without stopping.  They are stealthy, clever, very fond of jokes and pranks, and like to see people work themselves into a froth but be unable to do anything.  They're sneaky and slippery as well.  Their tricks can be humiliating, but rarely harmful.  To beat a grig at his own game, you often have to turn their prank back on them, as they respect a well-done prank.

He greets Rue as a respected old friend and introduces Volsh, then the others. "Sir Aberlayne sends her greetings. She has remained in Port Lyalee on other business." He nods at Rue's words. "The base of my plan, perhaps some element of a prank, is a spell that I learned to affect the size of plants. I'm sure that my friends can help round that plan out."

Bruenor, not normally the pranking type, waited for further instructions

"My pranks tend to fall on their face," Farian shrugs. "But I'm happy to lend what diplomatic skill I have. And if I can't convince him to leave Stellana alone, I could lay a curse on this grig, make him feel slow and sluggish. I suppose that would be a good prank?" She seems to have a thought. "I suppose I could Enthrall the grig - or grigs - first. I don't suppose that any arrangement made under the spell would necessarily hold once I release them, but that might be a good prank?" Her face screws up as he looks to her teammates, hoping for acceptance but more then half expecting a counter plan.

Diplomacy +10. With Eagle's Splendor +12. Bluff would be +2 and +4 respectively.

Volsh practically leapt from the saddle when they pulled up at Old Rue’s place. He’d been lagging behind a bit so others were already talking plans when he got there. Rather than talk plans he strode forward with a beaming smile. “Ahh! Rue! You have helped me so much, I would chase off a thousand grigs for you and your friend if I could! Come! I am Volsh for who you made the amulet, and I have brought you some things to help with your house and life as well!”

He walked back and started unloading all the various new and well made things he’d purchased for the old werebear.

“As to the grigs... could they be bribed or dealt with? We met a fey spirit that gave us a few of these undying flowers. Perhaps those would make good things to barter with the grigs?” Volsh pulled his own from his pack to show it to Old Rue. “Heh, or maybe if they’re good for day, maybe your woman would like them as a gift from you and we can deal with the grig is some other way.”

Lantamori brought up the rear on Cloud.

"Wasn't there just the one grig?" Lantamori asked the horse skeptically. Sir Aberlayne had the right idea forgoing this foray. It already sounded like it was going to be quite the fiasco.

After considering the problem, Haazheel says I've memorized some spells that could be helpful if persuasion fails to suffice. By the way, do any of you want to carry any of the alchemal items I've brought along?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:14, Sat 21 Dec 2019.

"One that we know of," Narthian says to Lantamori, his elven ears keen to her conversation with her horse. "There was a joker in my conclave who once played a joke on our Starwatcher by pretending to prank all of her friends. I think it was some sort of dare or bet or something. Anyway, the point being that some pranks need the aid of others."

Silent and watchful, Dante took the chance to dismount while he waited. There didn't seem to be much need for the lot of them here, but he'd had enough of the town for a bit. This wasn't likely anything he could help with, since the intention wasn't to kill the creatures. It had a faint potential to offer some amusement though, and he would welcome that.

"Good to hear from Aberlayne!  Aye, sommat to prank that little devil will be welcome indeed, and Stellana would be right happy with something to improve the health of her grove after, I'm certain sure!" Old Rue says, smiling as he goes to clasp Narthian's hand and gives Thunder a scratch.



As Volsh jumps off Eagle and starts to talk, Old Rue's wrinkled face becomes wreathed in smiles.  He comes forward to embrace Volsh and thump him on the back in a bear hug.  "'Twas for the future I did it, my friend!  You want to help yourself and your friends, and how could I not want to see that come to pass?  The more of us who are around helping, the better our chances are for all beast-folk."

Old Rue's eyes light up Volsh pulls out the fine foods and household luxuries, and he looks pleased as anything.  "Thank you for all of this!  'Tis a generous thing you've done, and you're a good judge of what I most needed!

"As for the grig and his pals, aye, they could be bribed, but I also don't trust them to keep coming back for more.  They might leave well enough alone... or they might not.  I'd rather use these for Stellana, or for winter."



"Ah lass, there's Stumpkin, he's the instigator.  And sometimes he gets his pals in on the action, when they're bored with whatever else they were doing that day.  If you can get rid of Stumpkin, likely the others won't come around again, but if you lock horns with him, he'll probably call his friends in as you're all a fresh source of fun," Old Rue says, shaking his head.

Farian takes a few long moments to think. "Hm. If I know anything about instigators of pranks, it's that they get less fun from someone who doesn't react. Maybe we hit Stumpkin with the one-two punch. If Stellana is willing, Pelor's grace could level out her emotions, so she would become neither too upset nor to giddy at Stumpkin's prank. Although the timing will be tricky. The blessing will not last long. The second part, though, is that we make a deal that if we can prank him, he'll find another target. Or, perhaps better yet, we hit him with many pranks with the promise of more to follow unless he moves on."

Haazheel speaks up. Maybe it would help me think if somebody were to lay out what you know of Stellana and her grove. I have the glimmering of an idea.

"Stellana will make up her own mind about the magic, but I don't think she would mind being able to be unruffled by the ruffian," Old Rue says to Farian.  When Haazheel suggests needing more knowledge, Old Rue nods enthusiastically.

"A smart idea, young man.  Come, come."  He waves them over and smooths out a patch of dirt before he draws a rough circle with a stick.  He draws a large tree on one side, a wiggly line of a watercourse opposite, larger trees on the perimeter, and various other vegetation throughout.

"Stellana's tree is here," he says, pointing to the large tree in the drawing.  "It's a sugar maple, a really nice one... ah, hmm, yes.  Beehive in the middle branches, which Stumpkin have been agitating as part of his pranks by stealing their honey or tossing things at them.  Flowers and berry bushes in the meadow, a couple of young trees, which he likes to pluck leaves or flowers or berries from and make messes.  Or uses them to lure in animals or other bees who get in fights with each other.  Trees with vines on them, which he likes to tangle and make it difficult for animals he lures in to get out, which makes them panic.  And the stream here, he likes to salt it with sharp pebbles so people hurt their feet wading.  Not badly, but enough to make them hop around.  Or he'll get some noxious-tasting fungus or something and make the water taste foul for all the trees, including Stellana.  She likes her grove in order, her areas neat and healthy, all visitors calm in in harmony.  He's making messes, encouraging everyone to fight, and just laughs and laughs when she tries to get him to stop."

So she's a druidess? Haazheel ask? (perhaps showing himself an inattentive listener).

"A dryad, rather than a druid, but some of her magic is similar.  She's caught Stumpkin a time or two with her ability to make plants tangle, and sent him to magical sleep once, but she couldn't get him to leave with her enchantment magic. She can talk to plants, walk between trees like they're doors in a house, and turn herself into a tree, aside from being might clever at hiding and knowing more about all the flora and fauna than I do!" Old Rue says with a fond smile.

Haazheel mulls over the information. I guess such doings are in his nature, but why is he staying here? Perhaps he wants attention...I"m guessing it's a he. I wondr if he's considered show business?

Old Rue snorts.  "I have no doubt the rascal would enjoy the attention, but there's nothing he likes more than seeing people get in a screaming tizzy because of what he's done, and most audiences won't stay where they're being tormented.  The problem is Stellana can't go too far from her tree, so she's a captive audience in this case."

"Do you know where Stumpkin lives?"

Dellas sits upon the back of his mule, listening to the chat as he thoughts on various pranks they could play "What is a Grig?" he asks innocently "Never heard of one before nor read about one in my studies." He slides off his saddle, plopping onto the soft earth a slight jingle from his pouches as he lands. "Fire and grease I could play. A few minor illusions perhaps. Maybe he just wants to play a game?"

I gather that killing him is not an option...come to think on it: If one's ears are stopped up, does the fiddle playing still cause the dance?

Dante listens to the conversation, wondering what Narthian and Haazheel are thinking of trying. "If you can catch him, perhaps with one of Haazheel's tanglefoot bags," he muses, "the grig could be relocated... but there would need to be a choicer target for it near to there, so it's more interesting to harass what's there than to return."

Looking up at Old Rue, Dante asks, "Is there anyone particularly troublesome in the region other than Stumpkin? Drop the grig near them, and leave them to annoy each other." Recalling their first job as a group, he suggests, "Something like a goblin camp?"

Haazheel exclaims Good idea!

Narthian's eyes light up. "There is a young bullette and a pack of shocker lizards a day or so from here," he offers. "Although maybe a more intelligent target for his pranks is preferred."

Lantamori dismounted and loosened Cloud's saddle.  This was going to take a while.

Old Rue shakes his head.  "I've tried to find it many times, but he's light on his feet and leaves few tracks.  I've tracked him by scent to a half-dozen temporary hideaways, but no matter how many I move, he keeps making more and coming back.  Methinks he doesn't have a permanent home, or else he climbs to the highest treetops to travel there.  As a bear, I'm too heavy to follow that scent, and as a man I know my limits for trying to climb where the branches are so thin."



"'Tis a fey creature, like Narthian was saying.  Bit like a man, bit like a cricket, but no bigger than a cat all in all.  Plays a fiddle to make you dance when you don't want to, sneakier at hiding and escaping than nine cats, with some magic spells they can do too.  Like to play jokes and pranks until someone's in a tizzy, then run away laughing," Old Rue says with a sigh.



"Stumpkin's a bother and a scoundrel, but he's done nothing to earn death.  Now stopping up your ears is no bad notion.  If it doesn't stop you wanting to dance entire, I bet it would make it a lot harder for you to think of starting!" Old Rue says.



"A clever notion, let me think...  I try to help out all I can in the woods, so things very close by are mostly calm.  No goblins that I know of..."



"That might be the very place!  We get jarmins, pixies, occasional wandering kobold going through that are seeking something from the bounty of that place.  Stumpkin might find that rich pickings, aye, and might meet his match there too!  The trick is getting him there.  Hope your tanglefoot bag holds, because he wouldn't be half mad if he escapes midway!"

Volsh had listened to the various ideas with a back and forth of his head but had little to offer in his own way.

"If we show up in her grove will the grig and his companions even show themselves or will they just wait for us to leave? Can he resist his need to prank while we're around? If so, we won't be able to catch him probably."

He looked at the casters, "are there magics that you have or can get access to that can trace or detect the creature if it's hidden?"

"Perhaps. We'll have to wait until tomorrow, and I'll need a pool of still water..." Narthian trails off as a thought forms. "Rue, is Stellana's tree near water?"

Old Rue taps his chin in thought.  "They might not show themselves, but they'll still try to prank you, likely, because you're new."



"Oh aye!  A stream runs on one side of her grove, it does."

Could a dam be built in a reasonable time?

Old Rue gestures to show the size and depth of the stream, perhaps six feet wide, and maybe three deep at its deepest, with moderately steep banks of dirt and tree roots.  "Likely, if you find enough good deadfall, you could make it in a day or so.  I'd recommend against chopping trees down near Stellana; she takes a mighty dim view of that."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:11, Sat 04 Jan 2020.

Hmm. Maybe building a dam will engage the grig's interest.

"Let's flesh that out a bit more," Narthian says to Haazheel. "But I know how we might find Stumpkin. We'll stop about a mile from Stellana's glade. Thunder and I will wander in - with me in wolf form. We'll sniff around at first (literally), then I can use the water to scry for the grig. If I can see and hear enough to know where he is in relation to the glade, I can come and get the rest of you. For your benefit, Haazheel, I suspect that our temporary camp should be upstream?"

Farian laughs a little. "And when you get us, we'll walk through the woods singing the old nursery rhyme - 'Where is Stumpkin? Where is Stumpkin?'" She sings the last (moderately well), then laughs a little more. "Sorry, that struck me as funny. I'll prepare a few protective spells to help us resist Stumpkin's magic. But also one that may bring him to us. Dellas, Haazheel, would either of you be able to counter the grig's magic? I could envelope him in Silence, but then we couldn't talk to him."

At least two: See Invisible and Glitterdust.

Stroking Prreet, Dante listened and waited for those who had some notion of what to do to sort out their plan.

The fighter shrugged
"Fighting magical shenanigans isn't exactly my forte, but let me know what I can do to help "

"The best that we can all do is not react if - or when - we get pranked. Although, both you and Volsh could help my diplomatic efforts with a well timed implication of force, if you take my meaning."

Bruenor chuckled ruefully
"I can handle that, my friend "

To attract the grig, we could hold a strange ceremony/ritual uttering the language of the mythical porcine Romans.

"Roamin' what?  Don't rightly know that story, lad," Old Rue says with a chuckle.  "But if it's something complicated and important-looking, aye, that'd attract his attention right off!  He'd be looking for papers to steal or diagrams to muss or candles to snuff out, or do something to make you mispronounce the words at the worst time; like make you sneeze or laugh."

"I think we have a rough plan, then. Let's get some rest and prepare ourselves."

1. Temporary camp 1 mile upstream.
   
2. Wolves scout, locate Stumpkin, summon others.
   
3. Farian attempts diplomacy, backed by Bruenor and Volsh and Dellas.
   
4. Haazheel builds a damn without cutting trees.
   
5. Lantamori and Averdante get sneaky and improvise.

"I really don't have anything to protect you from the grig's magic, but a bit of grease where it walks is always good for laughs...." Dellas giggles as he speaks, his mind racing about creatures slipping and falling all over the place.

The fighter shrugged
"Would the thing get frustrated if we purposefully laughed AT it, rather than laughing at it's jokes?"

"Perhaps, Bruenor. But as Rue says, Stumpkin should appreciate a well played prank. So good natured laughter could help us. Dellas, have you studied the art of Counterspell? If the arcane form of Magical Dispersion is in your spell book, I believe it could be used to disrupt any trickery Stumpkin attempts as I speak with him. ... And be a pretty good trick."

Volsh just listened to the planning, "I'll do whatever is needful to help in this task. If that is just me growling at the grig, I can do that as well. If you need me to bash it on the head because it won't listen, or hold up some silly sign or design while Haazheel pretends to do a ritual...I can do that too..."

Or help build a d...m dam? Haazheel asks.

"Less talk, more riding," Lantamori said irritably, tightening up Cloud's saddle.  "Let's find a place to make the temporary camp and Narthian can get scouting."

The impatient elf vaulted into the saddle and started off with whomever was ready to go.

Dante had the sneaking suspicion that not even Nartian and Haazheel really knew what they were going to do to deal with the grig. More likely, the group would become entertainment for the fey creature. Gathering up Mask's reins, he checked her girth, then stepped back up into the saddle.

I suggest we first we visit the affected lady, asking her permission. I can cast Se Invisible to check whether the grig is about. Haazheel says this as he mounts up.

"I sent Stellana a message to expect all of you.  I'm going to go off a bit from her grove, then circle back around to meet her so you have a chance to look things over without me there.  Stumpkin doesn't like me much, but soon as I go to tend to my own duties, he's at Stellana again for whatever fun it gives him.  Good notion, seeing invisible things.  Wish I could do that!  I'll be there about an hour after you," Old Rue says.

With directions from Old Rue, you can travel the distance to Stellana's grove, pausing to make camp along the way as planned if you wish.  The woods here seem peaceful enough, with sounds of wind, birds, and small creatures about, the weather fine, if warm.

Stellana's grove is ringed with old, large trees in excellent health, her own tree evident by its impressive size and sinuous curves.  The center of the grove is moss, grass, fragrant herbs, and low berry bushes, along with the occasional mushroom.  A healthy stream runs alongside one side of the grove.

Haazheel looks around carefully with his spell of see invisibility.

Haazheel sits still, looking around and then up as if an absent-minded person seeking a lost memory, mumbling to himself.

Level: Brd 2, Knowledge 2, Sor/Wiz 2
Components: V, S, F/DF
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: 60 ft.
Area: Cone-shaped emanation
Duration: Concentration, up to 1 min./level (D)
Saving Throw: Will negates; see text
Spell Resistance: No

You detect surface thoughts. The amount of information revealed depends on how
long you study a particular area or subject.
1st Round

Presence or absence of thoughts (from conscious creatures with Intelligence scores of 1 or higher).
2nd Round

Number of thinking minds and the Intelligence score of each. If the highest Intelligence is 26 or higher (and at least 10 points higher than your own Intelligence score), you are stunned for 1 round and the spell ends. This spell does not let you determine the location of the thinking minds if you can’t see the creatures whose thoughts you are detecting.
3rd Round

Surface thoughts of any mind in the area. A target’s Will save prevents you from reading its thoughts, and you must cast detect thoughts again to have another chance. Creatures of animal intelligence (Int 1 or 2) have simple, instinctual thoughts that you can pick up.

Each round, you can turn to detect thoughts in a new area. The spell can penetrate barriers, but 1 foot of stone, 1 inch of common metal, a thin sheet of lead, or 3 feet of wood or dirt blocks it. ]

Haazheel points up at a spot on the tree. Master Stumpkin, I presume? We would like to parlay, to come to an agreeable arrangement.

Stumpkin shimmers into view, a small, elven-like figure with grasshopper legs barely the size of a cat, wearing a coat made of leaves and a colorful hat.  He looks puzzled at Haazheel, then gets a wicked grin on his face.

Stellana's tree shifts slightly, and a graceful figure eases partway out of it, a woman made of bark, leaves, and mosses.  Her features are strong and angular, her "hair" long thin drooping branches, and she bears an expression of deep concern.

"More folk to see, more folk for me, more games to play, so let's play all day!" Stumpkin says in a sing-song.  He brings his fiddle out and begins to play.  While most of the group is able to resist the rollicking jig, some with ease, some only with a great effort of will, only Farian finds herself capering and prancing against her will, leaping and tapping in time to the music.

Back at their temporary camp, Lantamori wonders how those who went into the grove are fairing.

Still in his wolf shape, and skulking in the underbrush and trees near the stream, Narthian casts a spell. Slowly, the tree over Stumpkin leans over, vines or supple branches snake out into a loop around the grig's feet. Then it springs back, snaring the grig, hanging him upside down by his feet.

Natural Spell casting Snare. No saving throw. DC 23 Escape Artist or Strength to be free.

Bruenor, not wanting to see his friend Farian dancing to the fey's tune, tried to grab her and restrain her.
Granted, the fact that his friend the cleric was now a beautiful woman made things...awkward...but he was determined not to think about that.

OOC: 15:04, Today: Bruenor Sedricson rolled 18 using 1d20+9.  grapple.

Haazheel turns to Stellana. Lady, this grig has caused you grief and is not apt to mend his ways. What should be done to or with him?

Volsh nodded at the dryad as she emerged, "Stellana."

He chuckled when Farian began to dance to the fey's tunes, but then turned his best menacing face toward the grig, with a snarl that was almost a deep-chested growl. "Are your games worth your life Stumpkin?"

OOC: is the grig up in a tree still?

10:52, Today: Volsh son of Vor rolled 23 using 1d20+8.  Intimidate.

As hard as it is, Farian takes her own advice and tries to go along with the grig's joke. Both to earn the grig's respect, and to buy her teammates time. And despite her average coordination and agility, pulls of an acceptable performance.

Perform (?) (Or Bluff?): 06:24, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 16 using 1d20 ((16)). Charisma bonus is +2.

Unsure as to what he could do -- short of shooting the grig -- Dante hangs back and watches. He could try and shoot the fiddle out of the grig's hands... but it is a very small target, and missing could hit the grig itself. It's a risk best saved for necessity; at the moment, Farian isn't in actual danger, and seems to be handling the musical compulsion with grace.

Bruenor goes to tackle Farian, and finds himself swung into the measures of a dance as she uses the irresistible urge to frolic to make art out of it.  His own martial talents compensates enough that he moves gracefully and gets a good grip on Farian so at least she doesn't cavort into a tree or trip over a bush.

Stellana, responding to Haazheel's question about what should be done with him, whispers, "Please, he has taken the fruit of my grove, teased the animals, tormented the trees, and embarrassed me many times.  I wish him to leave and not return!"

As Volsh growls at Stumpkin, still up in a tree, his deep voice and dire threat seem to upset the grig.  He stomps his foot and pouts at Volsh.  "You are mean!  I'll be back for you!"  He flits off into the trees and vanishes again, a slight rustling signalling that he is moving away from the grove.

--

Back at the campsite, Lantamori finds the area peaceful as she finishes setting up.  She feels a moment of dizziness and confusion, and finds herself firing off her bow into the trees.  The feeling passes and she is back in control of herself, and hears nothing but the natural sounds of the forest...

Haazheel points. He's going that way. I think tanglefoot bags should be ready.

Remaining in his wolf shape, Narthian abandons his Snare spell. He and Thunder slink over to the tree Stumpkin was in and sniff around for his scent.

I'm assuming that Stumpkin stopped playing when he left.

"Well, I'm no worse for wear," Farian says, straightening her clothes with a wry smile. "Thanks for the dance, Bruenor! I think we can all agree that that could have gone better. But we have the advantage of knowing that he will be back. Now, let's make some plans, probably centered using Volsh as bait."