A Gnoment in Time, Part 1

Log Info

• Title: A Gnoment in Time, Part 1
• Emitter: Whirlpool
• Characters: Dirk, Lyme, Paenitia, Ravenstongue, Skielstregar, Vaera, Zyla
• Place: Alexandros Wilderness, Felwood
• Time: Thursday, September 15, 2022, 10:19 PM
• Summary: The refugees are returning to their homes. Adventurers accompany them to ensure those homes are empty. They aren't, but with overwhelming force and careful tactics, sweeping the town from one side to the other, the adventurers dispatch all the wights. This done, they move onto their next task: Protecting Farland. He wants to infestigate the Felwood and see if the ley lines are laying right.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Dirk         4'11"    295 Lb     Mountain Dwarf    Male      A rugged old dwarf, dressed for the outdoors.
Lyme         7'2"     435 Lb     Orc               Butch     Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature
Paenitia     3'0"     34 Lb      Halfling          Female    A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery.
Ravenstongue 5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.
Skielstregar 7'2"     330 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      A brilliantly silver scale with fangs and empty eyes.
Vaera        7'0"     262 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A tall, dark red Makari with a metallic leg.
Zyla         7'5"     310 Lb     Giantborn         Female    Massive woman in simple clothing and robes.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  NPCs of Note  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Farland                          Gnome             Male      Associate of Griva, Resurrectionist, Wizard
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Otyugh I am stinky!

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Good news, everyhone!

With the wights stopped for the moment, there's still a lot of work to be done. Things that had to be set aside in the wake of all the dramatic invasions by undead. Right now, you're killing two birds with one stone: You're escorting some civilians out back to their village while Farland is having you take him further than said village for an unspecified 'job' that's investigatory in nature. Something to do with following a lead about a problem with local ley-line and the sea of mana.

In any event, that's where you're at right now. Escorting a caravan, with a well dressed gnomish wizard.

...the leys are flowing again! No? No. Lyme seems happy, trotting alongside a wagon, keeping an eye outwards while he casually keeps a respectful spacing between him and Farland. Clearly, he's traveled with him before.

Skielstregar is there. A well armed, armored, incredibly shiny silverscaled makari with a fancy medal and ribbon on his armor. He's not the brightest man, but something about a ley-line messing up means one should probably not use a ton of magic.

Hence why he is walking. Clank. Clank. Clank. He's keeping an eye out, but also idly picking at his shiny halberd.

Dirk rides along in one of the wagons. His thunderbelcher laid across his lap, and his little white-faced owl Lulu perched atop his shoulder. He glances left and right, idly cleaning the bowl of his pipe with his pocketknife. Farland is a new face to him, but a job's a job. "Suppose this magic stuff's goin' tae go right over my head," he says. "It usually does." Lulu fluffs her wings and hoo-hoo's softly. Dirk gives her a disgruntled look. "No, I don't think -you'll- get it neither," he grumbles.

In the air above the caravan, a Red Knight rides upon her Ivory Steed, a well armoured lucht siuil, with her banner flying, and the wide wingspan of Ramirez, the peacock-andalusian, casting a great shadow whenever they glide over.

They circle, advancing ahead, curving around to one side and banking to the back, overflying and then completing the half-orbit on the opposite, to repeat. It seems the great hippogryph is holding himself back, that he might fly much faster, and this curved patrol is the easiest way to keep up with the slower wagon.

At times, for she does not do it every overpass, Paenitia will call down, "I see little. I look again."

Zyla just wanders along with the caravan, watching around them. She smiles a bit. She doesn't mind walking but then she moves faster than most horses, if there was one big enough to carry her. She is glad to be out and about again, itching for to see the land around them once more.

Cor'lana has met Farland only in passing before, and the sorceress has come a very long way since that first Resurrectionist meeting that she went to purely because it was a free meal for Pothy. Her dark waves of hair are tied into a long braid, and she's dressed for adventure in sensible robes and boots.

Pothy is dressed in his feathers, of course, and he eats from Cor'lana's hand as they sit in the same wagon with Dirk. She smiles at him. "Even if it does go over your head," she says, "you'll at least have allies to back you up. I know things about magic, at least. And fey."

"And snacks," Pothy adds.

"No, that's your thing, Pothy. Like, that's your /entire/ thing," Cor'lana says with a grin, and she kisses Pothy on his fluffy little head. His entire pale plumage puffs up--the equivalent of a blushing corvid.

Vaera is with the others on their journey, trotting away on the rather large swiftclaw they were mounted on. Thunderbelcher held in one hand to the side, while she held the reins with her other. "Well, this one hopes there is little to see. But one can never be too careful." Vaera warns.

One of the children is staring at Pothy. Talking bird! Talking bird! It's so cool.

The kid extends her hand and holds out a roll towards Pothy. Oh no. It has begun.

In the meantime, people are getting to ride along and the village is in sight. Old and quaint with traditionally colorful Alexandrian architecture, red and gold painted buildings with hipped roofs with ceramic tiles. It's up to you to clear the village first and see if there's anything in it. It's a few dozen buildings, so it won't take *extremely* long.

'Ruaaaaah!' Ramirez squawks. Snacks have been mentioned. The Order of the Alabastar Avians demands snacks. Formally.

"Ha ha! You do not eat before flying, my friend. It can cause the great distress." Paenitia laughs, leaning forward and petting her mount along his neck. "Look, the village is ahead."

The Red Knight calls down, "Do we have the plan for clearing? Should I look from the air for the broken in buildings, or we go with the houses crouched on the road, then spread out and in?"

Zyla cocks her head to the side a bit, "What are we expecting to find?" she asks as she looks at the others and then over towards the gnome. She glances towards the buildings in the distance once more.

Skielstregar shrugs. "Worry not, we have Ssshamansss here to help usss with sssuch thingsss."

He can't help but chuckle lightly at Pothy's antics as he travels astride Vaera and her swiftclaw companion. But, they draw closer to the village. A quick glance up at Paenitia to see if she spies anything ahead of them. "Thisss one hass an idea! Yess, look in the sssky, Warrior Paenitia, and we can break off into groupsss on the ground here to clear it!" he calls back. "If anything goes remissss, yell. Or shoot your weapon, we will hear it," he mentions to the gunslingers.

A glance back to Zyla. Dead eyes staring at her. "Lingering undeath, more than likely."

Lulu's head turns as that roll gets offered up to Pothy. She fluffs her feathers, then fans her wings out. FOOMP! She tilts forward, her eyes fixated upon that roll. Dirk boggles, turning and looking. With a dour frown, he reaches up and gives her breast-feathers a light poke. "Here now, Lulu, be polite. With an indignant hoot, the owl smooths her wings back down. She wings off of Dirk's shoulder and lands on the side of the wagon. Hop hop hop, she goes, over to the roll-offering child. "Hoo! Hoo hoo!" she hoots, headtilting to one side, then the other. "That's better," Dirk says with a firm nod. Hearing that the village is getting close he quickly taps the scrapings out of his pipe and tucks it into his breast pocket. He leans forward, reaching down to grip his thunderbelcher. Just in case.

Pothy raven-purrs appreciatively to the snacks. This is the treatment he deserves! The snacks he deserves, too! His tail wags up and down like a happy dog as he's offered tribute by children bearing rolls.

"Make sure to share with the other birds, too," Cor'lana says to both the child and to Pothy, looking a little sheepish, before she returns her attention to the environs outside of the wagon. Pothy might be distracted by carb-laden treats, but she is not. (After all, she has a wedding dress to fit into in a month.)

Zyla nods her head and glances around, she is considering the best way, but then they do have flyers and while she can probably move faster, better to save that for when it is needed.

"Getting a bird's eye view, and a knight's eye view at bird's eye view level is a good plan." Vaera nods. "Let us know if you find anything."

"It will be good to make sure some of the villages are clear, before more people return."

With aerial scouting, you're able to determine routes, swiftly ascertain that through streets are clear, and then move to clear each building in turn while avoiding any real risk of being surprised. It's only a good thing. It does take time, hours really, and that's just how it is. This is a thing that takes time. Building after building cleared, each one showing signs of the evacuation that had left it in such a lurch. People will be glad to return to their lives, but the truth is, they're gonna have a lot of messes to clean up.

Lyme takes his work seriously, checking houses, but also trying to close doors, clean up rotting food. It might take a little more time, but it's the least he can do.

Sister Paenitia and Ramirez provide the aerial guidance, flying back and forth, criss-crossing, swooping low to deliver messages, occasionally covering windows and doors with a knocked bow.

It is exhausting work, the hippogryph a nearly inexhaustible store of energy, but not limitless and nearing it. They come into land.

"Ole! I think we have sight them all. Is there the task left undone?" The little lucht asks cheerfully.

Skielstregar joins Lyme in checking housing, being the first one in and the last out out. It's slow, busy work. Especially lifting things out of the way to make sure nothing was hiding.

At the end, he was a little tired, but was glad that it went smoothly. "Thiss one thinksss note, Warrior Paenitita!" he calls back to her, stepping out of the last of the abodes.

Vaera is slow and methodical in her searching. Especially in case any of the villagers decided to trap what valuables they left behind to ward off would be looters, or any undead that came wandering by. It was a potential concern, which proved unnecessary, thankfully.

"Yes, the homes seem clear enough. The rest should be left to the villagers, to put together as they feel fit, I think." Vaera chuffs. "There is much work to be done to make this village home again."

Dirk takes point on exploring the basements and root cellars. He's a dwarf, so it's only a natural fit for him. Lulu he sends up to perch atop eaves, having her hop hop hop along windowsills and peer into windows. Once the search is done, he reconvenes with the others. "All's clear down below!" he booms, hefting his thunderbelcher over his shoulder.

Cor'lana is careful as well, taking point behind Skielstregar and Lyme as they search houses. Once that's done, however, she makes sure Pothy gets to be with the children so that they aren't too upset or anxious about the whole ordeal. She was once an anxious and easily upset child herself, after all.

Or at least, that's her intent, and she looks a little nervously at him to see if he's getting stuffed full of snacks.

From here it is a relatively simple matter: escort the villagers to their homes. If there are any wights left in town that you've missed, and there well could be, they'll no doubt slink out at the presence of 'food' before long. And it's a good thing that's the way to do it, too, given that's exactly what happens: a wight slinks out from under a house, and it is quickly dispatched. A wight climbs out of the well (that's a problem) and is quickly dispatched. With this many of you, and this much weaponry and people on their guard, they're not a real threat. They look 'fresh' enough to have been amongst the more recently turned. Travelers and refugees who didn't make it, no doubt.

Easy enouh to deal with, but a tragedy to be dealt with all the same.

The Red Knight is quick to assist, ready with lance and bow, charging in when possible and shooting from afar when not. It is a grim task, and one she undertakes with inscrutable emotions. Her ever grinning mask hiding all, and little is betrayed by her voice.

The wights were easy to deal with, this much is true. But it doesn't stop Skielstregar from going from slightly on guard to /nearly/ blasting all out in a ferocious fury, the gleaming halberd dripping with black ichor with each fell cleave in a splattering of ink.

The halberd bonks him on the side of the snout with the flat of it once he starts getting a /bit/ too much into it. Which snaps him out of his focus. "W.. wha- oh. Right. Erm. Sssorry."

CHK-BOOM! BOOM! "GAH! EAT LEAD, YE NASTY BASTARD!" Dirk is clearly dealing with a wight of his own. Seems that the root cellars weren't as clear as he'd thought, and the notion of missing one has his dander -right- up. Lulu hoots angrily, fluttering at her master's side as he puts his knowledge of undead hunting to good use, putting down one of the slavering deaders. "Och, there's got tae be a better way o' dealin' wi' these bloody things!" he grumbles as he racks his weapon's slide. "We cannae afford tae miss even one!"

Lyme's care almost gets him killed the first time -- spending too much time cleaning up an abandoned dining table, he misses the first scrape of leather boot on wood. The second, though, alerts him, and he turns in time to strike the wight down. Soon, his clean up includes the twice-dead, tossed out into the street.

Cor'lana stays in the back, offering magical spells to aid the real combatants in taking out the wights. Once it's all said and done, she claps her hands and breathes a little easier. "Good riddance," she says. "Everyone all right?"

Pothy sobs. "SNACKS," he laments over a bowl of rotted-out grapes that was incinerated in combat at one point.

His mistress stares at him for a moment. "Pothy, those were molding grapes. Not fermented grapes. You weren't going to get drunk off of those," she says with a sigh. "Come on, birdbrain."

It's thankfully not much of a combat, Dirk is right: missing even one is deadly. The locals are nervous enough, but this was expected and they were warned to expect that it might happen. With the last of the wights cleared out of their hiding place and a little time spent waiting to make sure, your job here will be done. Farland is glad to be on his way from the village, too.

Vaera is quick to leave her idleness when the wights make themself known, and quickly, they are dispatched. The red makari shakes her head. "I do not like this. I do not know if there are plans to leave guards here with them, and even so."

"A cleric will be needed to purify the well water, at the very least. I hope the city knows what they are doing, letting people out again."

Vaera looks over to Skielstregar once, looking a bit concerned. "You are alright? It's not like you to mishandle your polearm like that." Half concerned, half messing with the large makari.

Skielstregar blinks at Vaera. "Huh? Thiss one iss fine, they are very well at handling their pole."

A blink. "... Vaera!" His face frosts over.

"Farland. The town is clear. The sun is sail towards bed but he will not lie down for the few hours yet." Paenitia says, riding over to the gnome, remaining mounted and looking down at him.

"Do you wish the riding high? I have carried the gnome before." Ramirez adjusts his hind legs, talons scraping at the ground. The mask of the Red Knight turns towards the sky again, "If the thing you seek is not near, should we help the inn?"

A glance towards Lyme, one of the few who might remember that time in Veyshan. The exchange between the makari is sadly missed by the Sister, or discretely overlooked.

"... I'd rather keep my feet squarely planted on the ground. You should too, where we're going."

Farland nods in a westerly direction.

"The Felwood," he adds a moment later. Counterpart to the Mythwood, the Felwood is a magical and cursed wood. A place of evil, demons, corruption, and death. A place no one wants to go.

"For years now, magical interference has been building. Some of it, we attribute to Animus' death. Others, we attribute to the rogue wizard, Asumit, and his actions. He's done considerable harm to the local lines of magic. We've discovered some ... anomalies and we want to see if that goes so far as to disrupting larger scale magical effects like those of the Felwood."

Lyme grins at Paenitia. "Carry the gnome. What's one more demon?" You know nothing, Lyme Oruch. There's a pause as he seems to immediately regret his bravado. "Felwood, you say."

Dirk frowns dourly at the mention of the Felwood. He hawks and spits. "Gah. -That- bloody place. Well that's just dandy, innit?" Lulu fluffs her feathers with an angry hoot. She stoops over and coughs up an owl pellet. Seems she doesn't like the notion of going into the Felwood either. "Right. Demons, then? Think they hate silver. Or are they the ones who hate cold iron? I can never keep the hell-fuckers straight."

Cor'lana frowns a little as she listens to Farland. Then she looks to Dirk and says, "Cold iron is for fey. It's expressly banned from my home for a reason."

Then before she can answer any questions regarding that last line of thought, she looks to Farland. "I've heard a little about these magic anomalies. The Felwood, as much as I hate to say it, is probably worth investigating."

Pothy contemplates Lulu's owl pellet. Eventually, he decides... Not a snack. He has snack standards.

"You were hitting your face with your halberd, Skielstregar." The red makari chuckles, gesturing to the weapon. "If you had held it differently, it would have sliced right down your face, but such an action shouldn't have been made in the first place."

"I still do not know if the village is ready to be rebuilt, I don't like this. But so be it, I knew this job wasn't just about bringing refugees back to their homes." Vaera chuffs. "I will be honest. If there are fiends in the forest, then we are ill equipped for them. The lesser ones, silver may be all that is needed, but for any more formidable, weapons blessed by a cleric or forged with the enchantments of angels and other righteous beings are necessary."

"The good blade strike true, the bane for the demon and the devil." Paenitia says, sitting back in her saddle. "The Cold Iron will lay low for the Demon and the Fae, and the Silver hate the devil most of all."

She laughs, "I have the spare arrows of each, and know nothing of the magic. You have bring the wrong Knight tonight again. The Knight of Spiders, she would help more."

Skielstregar makes a face. Well, that's hard to read on a sith-makar, but it's distinctly a 'I-don't-want-to-go-into-the-weird-fey-forests-again' expression. Is he getting his places mixed up? Probably. But it's still one weird forest for another.

A taloned foot skirts the ground, like a kid kicking a pebble. "... let'sss... get over there then once these folks are safe..." he murmbles out.

A glance to Vaera. "Yes, yesss, thisss one knowsss," he dismisses. "But thisss one can usually hit them hard enough where it isssn't a problem."

Lyme cracks his neck from side to side. "However it happens, it will." A look at Farland again, sullenly. F'ing demons. "Well, let's go, right?"

"Well, one can hope we don't meet too many demons. It's got plenty of other dangers beyond them, you know. Dark Fey, shapechangers, cursed trees, evil trees, worse trees..."

Apparently, Farland has an issue with evil trees.

In any event, he kicks his pony into a quicker trot and begins to lead the way west, through hills and rouher lands until you begin to reach the edge of a light forest. The sky is indeed beginning to darken.

"Okay! I will watch for the trees." Paenitia says cheerfully, guiding Ramirez in behind Farland's pony. They remain on the ground, as advised, the peacock-andalusian maintaining and odd gait of talon and hoof.

Cor'lana sighs a little at the mention of dark fey. "So long as it's not Her Majesty the Queen of Air and Darkness, I think we'll be okay," she murmurs, before she looks to the rest of her allies. "If we run into any dark fey, let me talk to them. I am... in a position to do diplomacy with fey."

"Grandfather's snacks," Pothy says, mimicking Cor'lana's voice. His blue eyes are shiny with recollection.

"I /wish/ we were getting Grandfather's snacks," Cor'lana says with a little snicker to Pothy, "but I doubt there are lemon-lavender shortbread cookies in our immediate future. They'll be at the wedding, though."

Pothy makes whimpering noises. That's a month away! He'll waste away to nothing before then! His noises are what follow Cor'lana's words as she goes to follow Farland.

"Yes, but it never hurts to be prepared." Vaera chuffs. "Well, let us be on our way, we will just have to be prepared as we can for any dangers. You are a welcome ally as always Paenitia, it is as Skielstregar says. The next best thing to blessed weapons is a strong arm and a decisive blow, both of which I am certain you are capable of." She adds to the knight.

The red makari hops back on her swiftclaw, and they trot off with the rest of the group.

Skielstregar groans. "At leassst thisss one isss good at chopping treessss," he sighs, hefting his halberd and following along with the others. A glance to Cor'lana. "... right. You deal with the Fey thingsss. Thisss one isss... not good with them."

Meaning: I don't like them, they're spooky.

Good news, everyone! It looks like, with the darkening skies and more, you're going to be camping out on the edge of the Felwood.

This can not possibly be any kind of disaster impending at all.

Farland casts a spell, of course. It's a Mage's Mansion. From a scroll, you see, helpfully provided.

"...straight from Mithrall merchandise. Why do they always put their names at the end of these things? The advertising is ridiculously useless."

A sigh. Still, a faint shimmering in the air appears as, this far out of the city, there are no wards to protect or inconvenience you. "Come, no one unpermitted can enter this place. We will be safe."

...and then he disappears into the shimmer.

Pothy and Snacks
<OOC> Skielstregar says, "POOR POTHY, HES SUFFERING"
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "He's the real victim here."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "He thought they were eyeballs."
<OOC> Skielstregar says, "forbidden snack"
<OOC> Dirk says, "Cursed snack."
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, ">_> My 5e warlock would give her raven familiar fish eyes as a snack."