~Fire or no? I'll stay a little drier now, but I'll be colder later on.~

The elf mulls it over for a moment, then scrabbles out of his shelter to find as much dry kindling and wood as can before the rains soaks it all.

Returning to his home for the night, he wipes the rain off his face, and quickly goes about lighting a small fire. He removes his pack and digs out some of his meagre rations. He then tucks it, along with his bow and quiver, as far back into the hollow as he can. His axe stay close at hand, just in case.

He stares out into the darkening vista as he munches on hard bread and soft cheese.

~What have I got myself into?~

Wist manages to get a small fire lit, it provides a little company, and something to occupy his attention while he waits for the weather.  The bread is starting to go stale, but the cheese has a pleasant bite to it.

The weather rages for what feels an eternity, though it is more like fifteen minutes, its seemed to pass as quickly as it came up.  The winds calm, though it it still raining, more than a drizzle, but less than a downpour.

He watches the water drip off the leaves, when he is certain he hears something in the quiet.  It's not elvish, but must have elvish roots because one or two words in ten sound familiar.  It sounds like voices in an argument, two, no three.  "Lorem ipsum dolor siht found one! consectetur adipiscing not one, look eiusmod teeth incididunt ut boots et dolore magna aliqua. Ut kill it ad minim veniam, nostrud not one ullamco laboris nisi ut boots ex ea commodo stomp. Duis aute irure fire in reprehenderit inj burn forest velit esse cillum get moving eu fugiat nulla Queen Excepteur. Sint occaecat cupidatat non do something, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit hurry id est laborum"
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:05, Sat 24 Oct 2020.

~Company of some sort...welcome or not is to be seen.~

Wist carefully, and as quietly as he can, extinguishes his small fire with handfuls of damp earth.

He then hooks his axe and quiver onto his belt, flips his pack onto his back and carries his bow. He moves slowly and carefully toward the voices. He tries to move from tree to tree, if possible, to maintain some cover.

As soon as he spots the creatures, or even their movement, he will try to  observe from cover. He will nock an arrow, but will not take an aggressive posture.

ooc: roll 1d20

The fire hisses for a moment before going silent and cold.  Wist packs up, and steps out into the rain.   The tone of the voices changes from argument to triumph, then back to arguing. "Nunc mattis Leaving enim ut tellus elementum sagittis scared vitae. Est ullamcorper eget Hurrah! nulla facilisi etiam dignissim boots stomped diam quis. Ultrices neque ornare aenean euismod. Ultrices dui help eget mi proin. Donec Queen Excepteur ti cidunt  guard arcu non sodales neque sodales in trouble big ut etiam. Eu"  Wist stands by a tree in the rain watching for something to happen.

As he listens the strange conversation, Wist suddenly realises, ~I'll be damned! They must be talking about me! So, whatever they are, they can see me!~

The elf thinks on that for a moment; they seemed to mention his fire, and then they cheered when he extinguished it. Perhaps some sort of forest sprites?

~Dare I take the chance and call out? What if I have it completely wrong? Then I'll run!~

"[Language unknown: Isiock! N po k prut.]" he calls out' hoping the creatures understand Elvish.

---

15:58, Today: Wist rolled 1 using 1d20.

Low is good, right? :-)

When Wist speaks, the voices stop, and other than the rain, it is silent.  Only for a moment before they pick back up again, even more fervently.  "Quis blandit turpis Quiet! cursus in hac Heard you habitasse platea dictumst quisque."  Wist follows along the best he can, his eyes darting from branch to branch, then stops.  A bit from where he was sheltering, facing the cleft, he sees a tiny branch, bent unnaturally, like something was pushing it over.  He stares at it intently.  Dolor morbi non Sees us arcu risus quis hide varius quam quisque.  The branch snaps back to place, but he doesn't see how.  The arguing pick up again after he speaks.  Non tellus orci ac auctor augue. You Nulla No you facilisi cras fermentum odio. Alright Enim blandit volutpat [Language unknown: Ardei naoer ourratrat si thncac errea naaiat henc ntivoume?]"

~They must be invisible, whatever they are! Oh! And they do speak Elvish!~

[Language unknown: "Manwillat! E ich e Ter Oreratthaoer...ecith korll. E, O motr waie osloth ul esplll, eauna tic U..." ]

His voice trails off as he quickly looks around his feet for confirmation.

[Language unknown: "Sapo ou Nt whiconone p anere beelecel. Te n strstiive wh ofwatrie micesa pa Houallreswilver, tin E earoreion estai waomio asmo ilore lence." ]

He pauses again, wondering how to proceed.

[Language unknown: "Ho urtr red fi witearartyinear ch chrom omeredtharom anio hosent?" ]

"Shush, you guys! Let me do the talking here."

The voice then increases in volume, into a clear, lilting countertenor.

"Assistance, yes? That means help! Yes! Yes, we could use your help!"

A small person, maybe a foot high, steps out where the big elf can finally see him. You can see he doesn't care much for the rain, as he holds a leaf over his head.

"Some big folk... not you, Wist Greenoak, but big like you... stole our berries! And stomped through our mushrooms, too! We need to get the berries back!"

He stops and thinks for a second, then adds, "Linis. I am called Linis, Wist Greenoak."

Putting away his bow and arrow, Wist says,

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Linis.

If you, and your friends, can lead me to these other big people, perhaps I can convince them to return your berries.

If you don't know where they are, then perhaps we should start at your berry patch and I will do my best to follow their tracks."

~It might not be an adventure from the legends, but helping out these little folk will be better than huddling under a tree feeling sorry for myself!~ the elf thinks to himself as he follows his new guide.

"Well, uh... we don't know which way they went." He glares at someone the elf can't see.

Then the elf's words hit home. "The berry patch? Yes! We should start there! Of course! This way!" The little person starts off, wincing a bit each time he gets hit by a particularly large raindrop.

An acorn smacks into the back of Linis' head, knocking his leaf loose. Feugiat nibh sed secret pulvinar proin  The voices begin chittering away furiously.  gravida. in trouble bigger Non arcu risus quis varius quam quisque id diam vel. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur big folk adipiscing elit. Morbi tempus not going iaculis urna id. Praesent semper feugiat nibh sed pulvinar proin

The argument goes on for some time before Linis shushes everyone.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:20, Tue 27 Oct 2020.

~Obviously Linis' companions aren't in agreement!~

[Language unknown: "Ast pr u ei witdi I whi i any o ome. O p ntereanti n laiv onom p St atiat, masa po und p rat atel ai whintiprothaing, il Ec eipr plera ul eifoai problereswil mi asanat o Inmackwend."]

Wist waits to see what the response is.

Linis tells the other voices something unintelligible, then looks back up at the elf.

"Wist Greenoak, do you swear to keep our berry patch a secret?"

Wist smiles at the little creature, as an adult might to a child, making their berry patch to be of great value.

[Language unknown: "Ev ent n il, Artartwit. M hepeac hi ast eeos os  U, dire ur sa es sa m ckla, und K vorta whiac ieesse rut atilre an day espobe ingareoun pr erhome!"]

Satisfied, they start through the woods, this way and that, and after fits of feverish arguing, and backtracking they make their way.  The rain stops, and the evening sun is low in the sky.  It will be dark in a few hours.

They come to the patch, if indeed it could be called a patch.  A cluster of shrubs protected by a large stone, and in the center of the patch a bush that looks different.  The leaves are slightly rounder, and the berries a slightly different shade of green. "Here..."  It has a large section torn off, and if hacked with an axe.

"...and over there." Linis points a dozen paces away.  There is a fallen log, rotting, with bright mushrooms growing in the damp shade of its trunk.  It looks as if someone or several someones sat on the log, and their feet smashed the ground underfoot.

Wist will carefully look over the ground around the berry bush and the mushrooms, looking for tracks leading away from the little garden.

[Language unknown: "O ilto ughan ti rom whi utouul somcomshe ncesomare ek eveuresti, Nailec?"]

"Well... you see... we didn't actually see who did it. But the berries are special. The Queen can have them made into special healing berries! I don't know how, though."

"We," again shooting the glare at somebody Wist Greenoak can't see, "got into an argument. We missed the whole thing. Oh, the Queen will be so angry with us! We must get the berries back!"

"Well, let's see if we can find in which direction they went."

---

Any tracks?

Wist looks around, there wasn't any sign of subtlety.  Even with the rain, there is a pretty clear path of mudprints and broken branches.

Linis' companions collect their supplies and between the trio of them, they collect four pyskberries, and six pyskshroom cakes.  There is even a squirrel with a small riding harness.

They start out moving a bit slow as they move deeper into the forest.

Both of you roll 1d20.

19:17, Today: Linis rolled 14 using 1d20.  DM asked for a roll.

Wist follows the trail into the woods.

---

17:18, Today: Wist rolled 16 using 1d20.

The going is slow, as the mud begins to cake on Wist's boots.  Linis riding squirrel has less trouble, barely leaving prints in the mud.   They say owls are silent hunters, bringing death to the unwary mouse.  Tonight is no different, but it is the squirrel that is the target.

A large gray owl swoops out of the darkening sky, its wings nearly noiseless.  The squirrel doesn't see it coming, as it flashes by a few feet in front of the elf.   Linis is knocked clear and goes tumbling unceremoniously onto the ground.  The squirrel is in the clutches of the noctornal raptor, quickly winging away.




OOC: You are not surprised and may act, but the fate of the squirrel may be set.

The die roller really liked the owl.

"No! Not my squirrel! Come... back...." The pysk gets to his feet watching the owl fly away with his squirrel.

Wist is startled by the silent attack by the raptor.

He whirls as the bird flies way with Linis' tiny mount, and looses an arrow.

---

19:46, Today: Wist rolled 16 using 1d20+2.  arrow
19:47, Today: Wist rolled 2 using 1d8.  damage

Arrow hits AC 3 for 2 points damage

The owl is hit by Wist's arrow, it tumbles a bit in the air, drops the squirrel, and recovers its flight path, disappearing into the growing darkness.