What the hell?? Who the hell is this elf?! Why is she grabbing...did she just say missing Dark Elves? There are more? No no nononono.., there can’t be more! She tried to do something to me charm me or something, not today! I twist my arm around and break free of her grasp. I stare at her with a mix of shock and fear! This is why I hate other elves, but most of all my own kind.

Get you hands off me! Who are you? What other Dark Elves? What are they looking for? Who are they looking for?

You’re yelling.

I know I’m yelling! Some elf girls pops in out of nowhere and is getting all grabby with me and there are other Dark Elves around here!

I start backing away from her, she’s armed and calling for help. I have to run, to get away! I hate this place, I hate this world, I just want to go home.

You can’t do that, it’s gone.

I never take my eyes off the elf in front of me. But that cat...
I know what she’s doing, I’ve gone down that path before, it’s not good. She’s trying to refocus me, I love her but sometimes...

Stop it Drow! I know, I know.

My eyes stare hard at the elf girl as I slow slide my hand to my blade.

 I’m only going to ask one more time, what are the Dark Elves looking for? Who are they looking for?

Wisdom Save (with Advantage): 19 (18+1)
Acrobatics : 20 (14+6)

I was unprepared for how lithe this little Drow girl was. And she clearly was not acting as though she was a part of the group that had attacked us. That did not mean she was innocent though.

My voice lost some of its edge, recognizing the youth in the Drow's face. Who am I, you ask? I am not the one yelling at the top of my lungs while speaking with one's elder. What is your name, girl? I paused slightly to wait for her answer before continuing. My name is Althaea Sylvaranth. I am not from this realm. I have had but one encounter with your kind since my arrival here, and they were not looking for another Drow. So how do I know this is not some ruse to fool me into believing you are not with them? How can I trust that you will not stab me in the back no sooner than I turn it? I see you reaching for that blade.

This girl did not sound like she was yelling at me. I glanced at Erik, who had just jumped back through the window. No, I do not believe she is yelling at him, either. Is she yelling at the cat? Does she expect it to answer her? How long has she been on her own like this?

Insight: 18 (15+3)
This message was last edited by the player at 05:08, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

Another Drow here! It is strange to see one on the surface while the sun is still up. It does not seem to have been trying to sneak up on us, or if it was it is not very competent. Unless this Erik is somehow in league with it. Is this a plot to split our group or isolate a particular target! Stop it; there is no proof of that. Erik helped us against the undead so it is unlikely he wants to do us harm. No guarantee about that though.

I must have faith in my companions they can resolve matters with these strangers while I guard the hunters. That is why we are here; that is our first priority.

I hear Althaea call for Thorn and my brown hair hair loses its luster. This could end so badly! Must her restraint be tested again so soon! She has had so little time to grow. Even as the thoughts pass through my mind unspoken I am ashamed of them. I know so little of Thorn; it is unfair of me to judge her so harshly.

My thoughts begin to spiral out of control. No no no! I need to slow down. I need to be rational. I wish I could play my violin but we have already been attacked once and that large creature is still out there! I cannot match Althaea's skill; it is unlikely I would be able to soothe it if it comes back.

In...Out...In...And out. It helps but it is not enough. I quietly begin to hum my favourite hymn and I can hear the desperate edge to the music as I struggle with my own nature.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:34, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

Sand was still trying to figure out how Erik could be the black beast, when the man came back with a backpack that had seen much better days, and a little pack with some leaves coming out of it. Sand understood that he wanted to help the injured and was about to thank him when something he said caught his notice.

Erik says friend is up there?

He looked around and counted his companions. No they were all there… until suddenly Althaea was not anymore, using the same trick she had used with Sebastian… and the screaming started, another voice he didn’t recognize. Too big to quickly move up the ruins, he send Scamp to see what was happening. And to Erik he said.

Sand does not think that is Sand friend.

At Althaea's call, Thorn ceased her examination of the hunters' trail, drew her chakrams and darted immediately to the female's side. Upon finding her companion holding a shouting Drow captive, Thorn brutally suppressed her emotions and circled around the pair to examine the dark elf's tracks. After studying them for a moment, she turned back to Althaea: "She's not the fourth. Her feet are too big and she moves differently - like one accustomed to stealth. Ironically. But you should check her forearms regardless."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:36, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

After Thorn had confirmed what I had already suspected, I took another look at the young Drow, my gaze softening the longer I looked at her.

We are not going to hurt you, young one, so long as you do not try any funny business. Can you do me a favor and roll up your sleeves?

I hear the other one speak, Thorn I believe. I take a quick glance. Another elf, is this place crawling with elves? I keep my eyes on the high elf.

(Drow, keep you eyes on the little elf.)

She follows my request by moving from branch to branch until she has a good fix on the wood elf. Her purple eyes staring, waiting. I slowly move my hand away from my blade.

I guess I just have to trust you or the other elf or the tattooed guy or anyone else you have around here aren’t going to try to kill me. What choice do I have really?

I slowly unlatch my bracers from my forearms and let them fall to my feet. I hold up my hands toward each of them flicking my hands side to side. If I hadn’t had some skill at spell slinging I never would have done this, but luckily I have a few tricks up my now bare sleeves.

Well, satisfied?

The captive was focused entirely on Althaea. That was . . . odd. Unless she had someone else watching Thorn. She and Aisling surveyed the area. She'd tolerate no further surprises today.

She spotted it quickly: a cat watching her from a nearby tree. Still hidden beneath her hood, she angled her head away from the eyes of feline and dark elf alike, and in a voice so low only the stimfay perched on her shoulder could hear, instructed him to subtly observe the creature and attack at the first sign of hostility. Then she turned her attention back to the Drow. Her presence required an explanation.

Perception: 21
Aisling's Perception: 5, 11
This message was last edited by the player at 01:36, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

I could see her forearms were bare of the tattoo that signified the elite group of Drow that had attacked us. While I did not feel entirely comfortable around the young Drow, I did not feel threatened by her anymore.

Yes, thank you. You may put your bracers back on. Are you hungry? I am famished. Let us go sit and I shall make some tea.

I made my way through the window and back to the rest of our companions. I found a safe place to start a fire and started heating the water for tea. While I was waiting for the water to be ready, I pulled out my lute and played a jovial tune to settle everyone's nerves.

Now, how are we going to find Althidon and Elias? The Banshee was not strong enough to send them through to the Feywild without the help of a stronger Fey.

Performance: 17 (9+8)
Song of Rest: add 1d6 to first hit die rolled.
Healing: 6+3 (Hit die and song of rest)

So there was another Drow that crossed the path of the group. Althaea seemed to keep a close watch on the dark elf, with Thorn never too far in the shadows. A curious shadowy cat seemed to follow the drow and Scamp took an interest in it, trying to playfully pocking it, or catch its tail with it’s beak. As the other broke bread and rested, he decided to get Zantler’s spell book out, one of his hobbies, and tried to decipher some more runes, as his natural healing went to work and repaired the damaged wood fiber he was partially composed him. Clacker, as usual, was beside the construct.

Hit dice use, plus song of resting, total of 5, full HP.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:16, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

Erik cocked his head again when Sand told him the person out there was not a friend and then a lot happened at once. The very people he had brought his kit back for rushed out the window and around the wall and a bunch of yelling came from that way. The tatted man-beast went from his upright self satisfied position to a low crouch again as he turned to face the direction of the commotion. It was over rather quickly to be honest. So quick that Erik didn't have time to figure out what transpired between the lot of them before they were all coming back this way to rest and recuperate. He didn't move much from his space as he watched them settle in. There seemed to be an uneasy not quite trusting air about all of them some of it directed his way but for the most part they seemed to be watching the dark skinned one that he had seen.

When the fire started and the water was set he watched for a bit. His mind flashed back to a time years ago when he was so small that he had happily watched the flames of a comfortable fire while he was wrapped in the warmth of his father's arms. Erik seemed transfixed by the fire for a time as one finger traced along a tattoo on his arm, gently tracing the lines up to his neck and then to his cheek. His open hand paused there and his head leaned into it his eyes nearly shut. After a moment of self soothing and memory he blinked and looked around at everyone again, the sound of a lute seeming to stir him from his reverie.

Slowly he moved closer to the fire and those surrounding it and he carefully began to open his kit filled with natural herbs and salves. Over the course of the next few minutes he offered various soothing poultices that were already stored within the kit which spared them all from seeing the process he used to create said poultices without the usual mortar and pestle that one would use for such things.

Even though these things helped a little they had little immediate impact and eventually he resorted to another method of assistance. It was a strange thing that happened, his working of magic was like nothing taught in arcane circles, perhaps some old old secret of nature. It began with a primal low gutteral sound as he withdrew what could only loosely be called a wand, something that looked like a gnarled root or a deformed bone of some animal, with it he touched one of the many tattoos on his body. The tattoo, small and descreet near his left wrist on the palm side, was of a small plant barely breaking soil. As his guttural chant called it forth the tattoo writhed and like a time lapse it began to grow, at first twining about his hand and then from each of his fingers the bush became a living thing and it bloomed and sprouted multiple small fruits growing in size until perfectly ripened berries appeared. One by one they fell into his palm and the branches of the tattoo bush withered away returning to its original form on his wrist. All of this in a matter of seconds. But the berries remained. Ten of them.

"Take. Eat, feel better." He offered them to any who would take them and demonstrated by eating one himself. "Feel full. Take take."

There are 9 good berries remaining, each can give you 1 health if you eat it and give you enough sustenance for 24 hours.
Erik seems ready and able to grow more if folks are still hurting.

Althaea and Thorn returned with a young Drow girl, it is hard to tell sometimes with Elves but I do not think she is even a full adult yet. Ha, still probably older than I. Relief floods through me that further violence was not necessary followed closely by shame at my lack of faith in my companions. One more thing I need to work on.

After settling the strange Drow Althaea starts a small fire, sets a small kettle to boil water, and takes out her lute coaxing out a jovial song that immediately improves the mood around the impromptu campfire. I would have chosen a different song but it is still pleasant and I let the music flow through me taking with it the last turmoil from my thoughts. I urge the remaining hunters to come out of the room and join us by the fire and try and get them to relax by asking questions about their travels and listening to their stories carefully directing the conversation away from their missing companions for now.

I am startled briefly when the strange Human produces berries from a tattoo on his wrist and offers them to everyone. I am quick to be the first one to take one, giving him a smile and a quick, "Thank you.". He has done us no harm but it is better that one of us test this offering first. I pop the berry into my mouth and slowly begin to chew. The flavour is strong and bitter on my tongue but not unpleasant and after a moment I swallow and find it strangely filling. After a moment of no ill effect I nod to the others around the fire, signalling that they are safe to eat.

I meet the man's eyes and nod my head, "Well met neighbour. Thank you for your help; I would have been sorely pressed without it. I hope that someday I can return the favour." I place my right hand on my chest before continuing, "I am Andraste Giltris. What do you wish to be called?"

Erik looked back into Andraste's eyes and replicated the nod and right hand placement on his own chest. "I am Erik.. Moor." In a very similar tone to hers but slower more testing of the phrase he also repeated the question and answered it, "You wish   to be  called? Friend." He nodded again and then turned to offer the berries to everyone else with his left arm outstretched.

The interspersing of animal sounds and grunts between his words had decreased somewhat but was still present. "You search for some ones. Saw tracks, maybe struggle maybe dragged... out near grove. Not a good place." It would seem he hadn't picked up on the subtleties of the warrior trying to redirect the conversation away from that topic.

She blinked once at Althaea's words, but unlike Thorn, the female had proven herself adept at social situations so she had earned a certain degree of latitude in conducting the interrogation.

While Thorn did not believe this Drow to be a member of Death's Quad, her own experiences had taught her never to underestimate anyone due to youth and something else about the whole situation bothered her. Why would an elite order so obviously mark their agents? Possibly as a means of identification and control - particularly if the organization spanned multiple cities - but it seemed more likely to her that the tattooed members provided cover for more lethal, unmarked operatives. With all this in mind, she waited for the dark elf to proceed her before joining the others at the fire.

She remained standing to better guard the Drow, keeping her weapons in hand but concealed under her cloak and her posture relaxed. Since Scamp fully occupied the feline's attention, she sent Aisling up to scout for any additional threats or unexpected individuals in the area.

When Erik offered food, Thorn paused. She did not recognize it, but the casting was familiar. Magic regenerated, so assenting to his offer would incur no appreciable debt. And would allow her to conserve her own spells and rations for a time of greater need. She accepted.

Unfortunately, the discussion focused on the missing hunters. Thorn confirmed the human's statement in hopes that settling the point would allow them to address the rather more pressing issue of what business these two strangers had in the ruins.

"Their tracks head northeast. Periodic drag marks. Intermittent signs of struggle. Enough of a trail to follow."

Aisling scouts the area.
Perception: 20, 5
Thorn recovers 15 hits points (1 Hit Die, Song of Rest and 1 Goodberry) and returns to full health.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:31, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

Erik came to see Sand, excited like a child, and showed him berries he had magically created, telling the construct to take one to heal. Had he been able to have any facial expression, Sand would have been sorry for the druid. Instead, he carefully replied, trying not to hurt the man’s feeling.

Sand cannot take berry. Sand cannot eat. Sand maker did not give ability to eat to Sand.

Hoping to be clear, he was saved when Thorn found some tracks of the missing hunters. He sent Scamp to follow the tracks, the bird protesting to be removed from his fun with the shadowy cat, as he prepared his bag. Looking at the druid’s backpack, tearing at the seams, he told the man.

Sand can fix bag. Sand likes fixing things.

He then moved out, ready to follow Thorn and the group, shield and spear in hand.

Scamp perception 8, 17
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

Wait, what? First she’s grabbing me and demanding things and now she wants to give me tea? This elf is strange. They’re all strange. I don’t know what the other is saying. I pick up bits of elvish but that’s it bits. I look over to Drow to get her thoughts but she’s busy dealing with the metal bird. It keep diving toward her, not in an “attacking” way, more in a “deciding what is she” way. It keeps trying to grab her tail, which is difficult because of her trailing mist. Finally it’s seems to be leaving.

(Are you okay? She invited me to tea, after she grabbed me!)

Now finally settling on Zail’s shoulder Drow eyes follow the Eladrin.

I don’t think I like that bird. I’m fine, but I do not enjoy being chased around. Anyway, you like tea. If she wanted to fight she would have with her friends.

(You’re right, on both.)

I start following the elf, slowly at first but soon I pick up my pace.

Wait, if you’re inviting me to eat with you I should at least be told about the other Dark Elves, are you hunting them?
This message was last edited by the player at 22:43, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

In reply to Erik Moor (msg # 88):

Friend? It seems I am meeting many people who wish to be my friend lately. I must be doing something right. "You may call me Giltris. We are indeed looking for two people; an elf male and a human male. You saw tracks near a grove? Can you tell us why the grove is a bad place?"

Her question surprised me but based on my response to seeing her, it was a logical response.

No, we are not hunting them, although I understand why you would think we were. They attacked us in the village these people are from. I said, pointing at the hunters, We defended ourselves and sealed the tunnel they had used to travel here from the Underdark. One got away and we had not seen that one so when I saw you, I thought you might have been that Drow. I did not want to take chances and get caught off guard.

By that time the water for the tea was ready and I poured everyone tea that wanted a cup.

Erik didn't understand fully why Sand would not take the berry but he didn't press the issue further. When the metal man offered to fix his bag, the one hanging in front of him Erik instinctively wrapped his arms around it protectively. Then slowly looked down at it and let go one arm at a time. The berries were spared being crushed either through luck or instinct as well. He didn't say anything but he did lift the bag from his shoulders and gently, very gently lowered to the ground near Sand. His eyes kept doing this weird thing where they would dart from the bag and back to Sand like he was trying to watch them both simultaneously.

Without ever moving his eyes except to bounce back and forth between his only belongings and the metal man he'd just met he slowly answered Giltris' questions. "Grove not bad place... Not a good place either. Not a place to be to mess with... How it is. Fey." There was a long series of pauses and near restarts of words mixed with his animal sounds and then another language, very clear and precise slipped from him in a string of beautiful words that sounded rote, something taught to him and memorized. Sylvan for those who were familiar with it.

Then he slipped back into stumbling over his common. "Disrespect to Fey, small changes here there no good. Will not disrespect again." It was followed by a sort of whimper as he cowered just a little lower while ever watching Sand and the bag.

I had not been paying much attention to the conversation between Sand and the Druid, whose name I learned was Erik. His speech patterns were similar to Sand's, broken, and sometimes hard to follow. Neither was able to fully voice what they were truly wanting to say. In the middle of the conversation, Erik's speech switched to the language of my homeland, and while the exact words he said weren't beautiful, the way he was able to speak it was. He was less constrained with his words.

I responded in Sylvan, It sounds like you had a run-in with one of my less kind brethren. I am sorry for your luck. It was probably not a pleasant experience.

In common so everyone could understand, I started to explain my experience with Faerie Circles. Under certain conditions, Faerie Circles can be used to link the material plane, the world we are in right now, with the Feywild. Not just any Fey can control a circle. They have to be far stronger than the Banshee was. The Fey are fickle and any disturbance can make them angry or irate. What qualifies as a disturbance varies to each individual Fey. Their rules are vague and individualized, but they all follow a certain set of principles. Fey cannot do anything to you unless you agree to it, you harm them, or break the basic rules of hospitality or politeness. While the Fey cannot lie, they have perfected the art of not lying and cannot be trusted. I repeat, should we encounter the Fey controlling the circle, do not trust anything it says.

I took a drink of my tea and waited for the barrage of questions that was likely to come from this new information.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:19, Thu 13 Aug 2020.

Erik did not seem reassured when Sand told him he could repair his bag, but relented and while keeping an eye on his possessions, he started talking about the grove, being neither good or bad, before switching to another language with sororities very similar to elvish, but different enough that Sand didn’t understand it. But the construct focus was on the bag.

Sand needs to empty bag to fix.

Erik watched him like a hawk as the warforged emptied the content of the bag, careful of all the items in it, taking mental notes of what needed repairs… which amounted to pretty much everything. Erik did snatched up a scroll case and held it close to his chest. Sand cocked his head sideways, wondering what was on the scroll.

But the bag first. Mentally he called on the “tool bag” he had implanted in his thigh, the wood fibers coming alive and separating like tentacles, pushing tools to the surface of his “skin”. Selecting one, he took the bag in his hands and examined it as the remaining tools merged back in his leg. He touched the bag with the piece of bent metal and muttered in his non-existing beard for a minute, the teared leather of the bag coming back together and merging, creating a bond as good as new. A few minutes later the bag was repaired, without any traces of ever have been damaged. It did need a good wash to remove the encrusted grime and dust, but that was unfortunately out of the warforged powers.

Nodding, he presented the bag to Erik, before looking at his companions, still discussing with the dark elf and the hunters. Figuring he still had time, he took a leather jerkin in the pile and restarted the magic that made him so happy.

He could fix things.

If only he could fix his speech impairment!

Well I guess I cannot make them anymore comfortable, time to get a couple of answers. "We need to ask you a few questions before we decide what to do next." I say turning towards the four hunters.

"What happened before the spirit forced you to take shelter? Does anything stick out in your mind that might have angered it?

What can you tell us about the area? Do you know of any other dangers or things we should avoid?

If we choose to go looking for your companions do you have a safe place you can wait for us now that the spirits have been dealt with?

Most importantly, what do you want to happen next?"

With the information I had provided, Giltris took to asking the hunters a few questions. To ascertain what we should do going forward presumably. I took this opportunity to focus on one of the new arrivals, Zail.

What brings you here, Zail? This is a rather odd place for your kind to randomly appear. What are your motivations and goals? Do you think we would help or hinder this?

If a whip had cracked by his ear, Erik's expression could not have looked more terrified. He froze. Muscles along his leg tensed and twitched and his eyes expanded, they still never left Sand and his work but now there was something different in them. Save me...

After a few moments of frozen terror in his expression he finally moved, very quickly, very suddenly he ran to put Sand, the largest other creature around, between him and Althaea and stayed there while the rest of the group discussed what they would be doing next.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:14, Thu 13 Aug 2020.

Darcassan speaks up:  Sure, we'd be happy to help.  Thanks for coming and saving us, by the way.  We really weren't sure what we were going to do when we were cornered in here by the spirits.  The first afternoon we were here, we set up camp and still had light left, so we split up into 2 groups.  One went NE and the other NW.

We always try to move around in this forest mainly to ensure we are not clearing an entire area of food sources and to stay unpredictable for any monsters that might be in the area or following us.  We spread out about 2 miles or so in various directions from the church.  There was nothing really different about our methods.  A couple times the NE group had heard rustling in bushes that was something a little larger than we wanted to tangle with and so left before it could find us. Never saw what it was though.

We've talked about it a couple times and can't think of anything that would have angered it, I mean, we're doing the same thing we've been doing for over 3 months now.  No idea what we could have done.

Before he was taken, Elias had found a strange black vine growing in a couple spots that we hadn't seen before.  The vine was strong like metal and he cut a bit while doing it, but we have a sample of it to bring back to Thorin, in hopes he could identify it.  He would know better than we would.  The vine is dangerous, and just in the couple days we've been here, we've seen one of the vines in particular grow almost 3 feet.

Thinking about it, we've been seeing a lot of new and strange plants in this area, though more to the NE, and also sporadically in the forest.

Um, now that the spirits have been dealt with, which we thank you for, we would just wait here for your return.  I think at this point it makes the most sense if we all return together.  More safety in groups, don't you think?

Not really sure what you mean when you say what do we want to happen next?  If you are willing to help our friends, we would be most appreciative.  Elias is Elinoara's brother and she has been quite distraught since his capture.