Fey Ring

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Tenebrae - Tuesday, August 09, 2016, 7:47 AM



-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* H02: The Felwood *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The hills give way to trees, which grow black instead of green. The Felwood, once a part of the greater world, now stands apart from it. The trunks of its wood stand twisted in the way that trees will twist, yet somehow wrong, somehow off. Here, it's always cold, the weather just "something other" than what it should be.

Overhead, a continual storm brews. A blackened smear cuts the sky directly above the wood, a darkened rift that was never meant to be. Its creation is rumored as an unnatural thing, a crafting of the unnatural creatures that lie within these woods.

Now and then, the city sends out patrols to thin the creatures, and keep them from the main roads. However, travel here is dangerous, risky, and often painful.

On the road back from the Felwood, and coming out of the black trees, a lone figure rides a grey horse along the road through the heat haze. Slung across one shoulder is a huge black hare, mutated beyond easy recognition; across the other, a beautiful longbow. She cuts a strange sight this morning.

Mikilos whistles softly to himself, as he travels along the path of the Felwood. Even here, few things dare mess with a wizard. But his blade rests on his hip, in easy reach, just in case. Meeting up with the road near the end of the trees, he raises a hand in greeting, spying a rider. "Hail and well met! Well, pretty well met; I've had better, but a cold mug of ale when improve most meetings."

Iadoth sees the sil from a long, long way away, but she continues to approach nonetheless. "Good day," she says, in strangely accented sildanyari. "And that's a strange greeting. I have no ale for you today." A twitch of the knee, and the horse slows to a stop over a couple of steps. She tilts her head quizzically at the llyranesi. "What are you doing out here, Master Mage?"

Mikilos nods sadly. "And I've no ale either." He ponders a moment. "Could likely make some, but conjured food is seldom a good idea if you don't plan it out well before. Any way, I've been gathering reagents. These woods might not be the best for people, but it holds many an uncommon plant. What of yourself? hunting, or just find a meal by happenstance?"

The wild sil flicks her long plait idly, and pats the side of the horse; deftly, she swings down to the ground. "Hunting," Iadoth explains. "Sometimes, /they/---" She gestures towards the city. "---suggest hunters try to clear the Felwood a little. The Union say the same." Another tilt of the head. "What plant are you looking for?"

Mikilos nods. "I sometimes wonder if that makes things worse. Thin out the slow and foolish most easily caught, leaving the strongest, quickest, and sneakiest behind. Anyway, I wasn't seeking anything particular, just whatever I happened across. Found some blood root, few strands of death ivy, a black rose, and an old bluebird nest."

Iadoth nods, and leans towards the grey horse. She whispers a few words into its ears; the horse walks to the side of the road, folds both sets of legs forward, and lays on the long grass, braying. The sila looks at Mikilos carefully. "Those are strange ingredients," Iadoth says. "But perhaps I know some more you might like. Come with me?"

Mikilos quirks a brow, but shrugs, and nods. "i've no place special to be just now. Lead the way."

The sila sets off immediately, at pace, breaking through the dark thicket that springs up at the sides of the road into the Felwood. After a while she comes to a grove where mushrooms are growing in a circle. "A fae circle," she says. "The mushrooms, I am told, are extremely potent, but to cut them is to invite the wrath of the fae. The ooze, however, may be just as potent."

Mikilos frowns seriously, and approaches the circle with caution, circeling part way around a fair distance away before stepping closer, digging into a couple of pockets fora few pinches of poweder and a white rock of some sort. "Can't say as I'm too terribly concerned. Any fey that call the Felwood home are pretty wrathful to start with. Annoying them further makes little difference."

Iadoth shrugs. "That's a fair point," she says. "I don't know if they live here, or whether they just use it. I have heard some from the villages nearby sometimes come here to harvest the ooze as a drug. Some survive, some do not." She shrugs again, then crouches to examine the fungi. "They are pretty, are they not?"

Mikilos murmurs quietly, and tosses a pinch of dust into the air. It swirls for a moment, hovering, then slowly drifts to the ground. "Mmmm, and quiet poisonous. But not magical. This isn't a fey circle. Just a regular mushroom ring. A tree stood here years ago. I'd guess that mound over there it's what's left of the trunk. The nutirents of it's roots were left behind, and a mushroom fed upon then, then dropped it spores. The children grew up a short distance away, feeding upon the rich soil, and dropping spores of their own. Over time the patch spread outward, but the richness towards the center was used up, and no new mushrooms grew there. This leaves a ring of mushrooms, slowly spreading. Now, it's very true the fey use these rings in their own particular magics, and at times will grow their own rings for their own reasons. But, this specific one is perfectly mundane."

Iadoth looks at the ring, disappointed. "Well," she says. "That is interesting in itself. But it takes some colour out of the lore of the villages." She smiles glibly. "I won't tell them if you don't." After a moment, she looks at the ring again with some interest. "What is your opinion of the use of poison, Master Mage?"

Mikilos grins. "Oh, I've no intention of telling them. Few can tell the diffrence at a glance, and I'd not encourage any to disrupt a ring, thinking it non magic. I'm sure are plenty of true fey rings around, if one knows where to look." He bends down, takeing a few vials and metal pinchers out of his pack, carefully plucking a few of the mushrooms to place in the vials, attaching the tops firmly, all without directly touching the fungus. "I consider poison to be a tool. Like most tools, it can be used for good or ill. Given the nature of this specific tool, it ranges towards ill, but not always."

The sila stoops again, running the tip of an arrow around the soffit of the mushroom. Retrieving it, Iadoth sniffs suspiciously at the tip. "What does this poison do, Master Mage?"

Mikilos considers several moments. "Well, when seeped in alcohol and boiled down, in makes a very good reagent for a poisonous fog spell. On it's own in mundane use, I'm honestly not too sure. I know the spores aren't particularly deadly, though I'd suggest not breathing them. Touch is unrecomended, but a good wash should serve. But my readings are very firm to be cautious when cutting them, so I conjecture the toxin reacts poorly with blood." He sits back, thinking. "Those so poisoned experience a numbness in the limbs, a shortness of breath, headaches, and a lack of cordination. So I would guess it deadens the nerves of the body."

The huntress nods, very grimly. "That sounds terrible," Iadoth murmurs. "And useful." For a few moments she remains down by the poisonous mushroom, examining it carefully as if to try to elicit some additional information. Suddenly she stands. "Ever have use for belladonna?"

You say, "Can also be used to make an antidote for itself, as can most plants. Though such brews are better left to clerics. They tend to have a knack for such things." Carefully packing away the vials, the elf wipes down the tools with a small cloth before putting them away, finally tossing teh cloth into the air where it disapepars in a small flash of flame. "I've a small supply, but never hurts to have a fresh sample. Why, looking for an eye potion?"

"Not personally," Iadoth says, casually. She flicks her plait again. "But much grows in this wood, and the blasted nature of the area makes plants do strange things. It might be interesting to you. What is an 'eye potion'?"

Mikilos nods. "Are a few plants unique to the area. Most of them quite dangerous, a few actively carneverous." He grins. "Some of the nobel ladies used to use a watered down extract of belladona on their eyes to make them look wide and innocent. ((True fact)) It can also make for a potion to aid in vision in low light settings."

"Wide and ... innocent?" These facts don't seem to really register with Iadoth. "That second one may be more useful to me." She looks around the glade with renewed interested. "Why is this place like it is? It is so strange, and so dangerous, yet it isn't at all clear to me why."

Mikilos shrugs. "History. I don't know all the details, I'm not sure there's anyone left who does. But long ago very dark magics tainted the woods, and the foul magics linger. Of course, these attacts other dark things, which weave their own influence and prolong the effect. Perhaps even enhance it. Hard to say if any of the orginal magic lingers, or just the layers that came after. Are tales, of course, but which are true and which are conjecture I don't know for certain."

"There is truth in all tales," Iadoth says. As if chiming in, when she moves to relieve a tired leg, a lyre at her hip chimes a slightly discordant chord. "Historical fact, as they say, is just a matter of which bard gets there first after the event."

Mikilos considers a few moments. "Well, perhaps not truth to -all- tales. Some of the ones told by Jibbom Von Steel are pure fancy and wine."

"I have heard tell of this 'Jibbom'," Iadoth says, with a wry smile. "From the stories, I had assumed him more demi-god than real man."

Mikilos laughs. "He certainly thinks himself such. I knew him when he arrived in Alexandros. He was a bit odd even then. But while nine of ten of his tale are naught but fancy, the remaining single truth is still quite impressive. He spends more time seeking his own glory than seeking a clean shirt, but though it all he seeks to do good and help others. I'm proud to call him friend."

"And how am I to tell if this is truth or fancy, Master Mage?" Iadoth's voice is deadpan, but she is smiling slightly.

Mikilos tries to frown seriously, but can't quite make it. "With Jibbom, it's rather hard to tell. More than a few adventures I'd swear were bardic fancy if I hadn't lived them myself."

"If you have known such a man, then your word becomes a part of his legend and mystique." The sila bends over and retrieves a plant from the floor. "A clover," Iadoth says, and hands it to the wizard. "The lucht claim that a four-leaved clover brings good fortune, but a gift from a friend brings its own rewards."

Mikilos grins. "I like to think he becomes a part of my legend, but I suppose it goes both ways." He smiles, accepting the offer, and tucks it into a small pocket near his heart. "Friends are their own gift, though at times can be a white elephant."

"A white elephant?" Iadoth marvels. "I am not familiar with this turn of phrase. What do pale pachyderms have to do with anything?" She twists her mouth a little, looking at her fern-covered shoes.

Mikilos chuckles. "I'm mildly impressed you know they're pachyderms. Few from this area do. Anyway, in some of the cultures where elephants are common, a white elephant is thought to be sacred. They are too special to be used in labor, but still must be well fed and cared for. To own one is very expensive. Of course, only the high king can truely 'own' such a holy animal, but he can 'gift' a nobel with the right to care for one... a great expense to the nobel with no real reward. A 'gift' that is more a punishment."

Iadoth nods as the term is explained. When it is finished, she looks taken aback. "And you say this after making a new acquaintance, Master Mage?" There is confusion, and perhaps a little ire in her voice. "I do not understand your meaning."

Mikilos smiles. "All friends are gifts. But some friends can be trying. They can be inconvient, rude, even dangerous at times. But in the end a true firend is worth all the effort. Of course, are those who merely pretend to be a friend, but better to let a few take advantage of your offers of friendship than to loose one who offers in truth."

"I am not looking to be inconvenient, Master Mage," Iadoth tells Mikilos. "It strikes me that your knowledge of herbs, and my knowledge of these woods and others, might be a good match. I could provide you with your 'reagents', and perhaps you could pass on some of your knowledge to me. But, if you would consider my offer of friendship to be hollow, then I will not be greatly offended." Brusquely, she stamps her feet, as a horse might.

Mikilos smiles, and shakes his head. "I don't mean to admonish, I mean to advise caution. I am perfectly willing to offer knowledge to any who care to listen, and quite content of company, with or without other exchange. But others, beyond you and I, might not be so well meaning. Espically in a place like the Felwood. Though come to think of it, I havn't seen many bandits around here of late. I think the spiders ate them."

Iadoth laughs, but with care, as if in salon. "We see few bandits here," she says. "There is almost nothing for them, except for people licking mushrooms and huntresses talking to mages."

Mikilos shrugs. "Those who become bandits are seldom known for making wise choices. And the Felwoods are a good palce for a bandit to hide. While it's not popular, it's quite easy to fade back into the woods, and the Guard dare not follow you. It's not even too dangerous, once you learn where the monsters live. Trouble is, of course, takes a while to learn, and the lessons are hard dealt. Plus, the monsters move."

"It is like thinning the monsters," Iadoth observes. "Only the strong survive. They are the difficult ones to deal with, I suppose. But many are doing the woods a good service too; they keep some of the monsters under check. As well as encouraging layfolk to stay away."

Mikilos nods. "It's a messy system, but it works most of the time. There comes the occasional group of bandits that raid too much, or the monster too bold and dangerous. Then comes the Guild to even things out. Or at least make a good try at it."

Un'eth has arrived.

"The Guild do little to help," Iadoth notes with an air of sadness. "Their stronger guildsmen see little benefit in culling the beasts; the weaker are insufficiently experienced to resolve issues. At best they are only superficially helping; at worst, they are doing nothing more than sending resources to the bandits, and as you say, ensuring only the fittest beasts survive."

Mikilos nods. "Is a little too much truth to that. But, is some wisdom to caution. Too many rampaging though the woods, hard to tell what might be stirred up. All sorts of troubles that might start unexpectedly. Though I do agree more should likely be done. Are those of us with experience who still play a part. Admit, I don't do so much monster hunting myself, but know the TerrorMaw and the Demon Chomper roam these woods on a regular basis."

Iadoth nods, then suddenly pauses, her ears twitching. She holds a finger to her lips momentarily, before retrieving the bow silently from her back. Very carefully, she nocks the poisoned arrow in the bow, and points it to a point in the nearby thicket.

Mikilos blinks, and holds still, glancing towards the thicket himself. The wizard seems more curious than concerned, but he also throws fireballs, so his sence of scale is likely skewed.

Ga'Elian has arrived.

Up in the sky, about the height of a castle's highest tower, a griffon in gorgeous silver armor is doing midair acrobatics, and drops his silver-clad rider clean out of the saddle. The thin humanoid plummets to the earth, but remarkably slowly, sufficiently slow, in fact, that he lands on his feet with no trouble at all. Already the flying beast is spiraling downward to come in for a landing, while the Sylv looks around and sees some familiar faces. He smiles and says, "Hello there. Well, magus, I guess that ring you made for me works." <sildanyari>

As he lands and begins to talk, a ferocious black and white creatures leaps from the thicket. On seeing the gathered humanoids, the badger darts away again into the undergrowth, but not before Iadoth has loosed an arrow in its general direction. It misses, of course.

Un'eth emerges from the twisted black trunks, only recently appearing despite the stark lack of green foliage. She carries no carcasses, no spear. The Felwood is not the place to hunt... for food.

Mikilos blinks, glancing to the new arrival, but his attention mostly towards the thicket. At least until the badger runs off. "Hmmm... they don't usually charge like that, do they?" Shrugging he turns back to Ga'Elian and raises a hand in greeting. "I should hope so. Would have been rather awkward if it hadn't. Espically as I havn't much by way of healing magics."

As the griffon lands nearby, Ga'Elian says, "I apologize for throwing off your aim, huntress. Is there more than the usual danger hereabouts?" He merely smiles in response to the wizard's remarks, then says, "Peace on your nest." to Un'eth.

"There is always more than the usual danger, Master Ettin-Slayer." Iadoth grumbles, and wanders away to where her arrow landed. As she pulls it from the mud, she looks at the tip; the viscous mushroom ooze that had coated it has been removed by the soil. She sighs, and walks back to where the mage is standing.

Mikilos considers a few moments. "We're pretty dangerous. Does that count?"

"The Fellwood harbors much more than usual dangers. It is not a place for the ignorant nor foolhardy." Uneth informs before greeting, "Peace on your nests."

Ga'Elian raises an eyebrow at Iadoth, but says with an amused smirk, "Of that, I am certain, lord. I was referring to whatever Iadoth was targetting," then to both Iadoth and Un'eth, "I am familiar with the Felwood, and it was of the Felwood's standard of danger that I spoke."

With an air of one defeated by forces outside of her own country, Iadoth crosses the glade once more to where Ga'Elian and Mikilos are standing. To the former, she hands the spent arrow; to the latter, she kisses once on each cheek, and then walks away into the undergrowth.

Iadoth has left.

Un'eth might have asked the huntress about her current quarry, but the one in question departs for other tasks. She looks to the remaining two to ask, "What brings you to these defiled woods?"

Durrankar has arrived.

Ga'Elian looks at the arrow that Iadoth bestowed upon him before her sudden exit, then looks at Un'eth and says, "I like to keep a watch on the Felwood from time to time, just to keep tabs on the threats to the settlements, roads, and farms that are near to it. If I find any remarkable movement or change, I will report it to the Ygdrassil Union or the Explorers Guild. Some threats I may deal with upon finding them. For example, although the City has been fiend-infested of late, I would no more hesitate to confront them here than there."

"Good," Uneth snorts a breath. "The more who watch over Ea, the better. The city's attraction of vileness and strife does not affect only the city."

A silver swiftclaw thumps his way into Felwood, sniffing all around him before it ventures towards Un'eth, bumping her head with it's snout. The odd part of this swiftclaw is that it looks familiar.....but some of the coloration is different. There is some blue mixed in with the silver.

Ga'Elian says, "As long as I'm down here in the ground, I think I'll take a few moments to circle around and see what tracks may be close by. Excuse me." He takes his bow out of his quiver and sneaks into away into the trees.

GAME: Ga'Elian rolls stealth/natur+forest: aliased to Stealth+3+1+2: (15)+15+3+1+2: 36

Un'eth turns from Ga'Elian after the silver snout bumping, allowing the sil to perform his patrol. She returns the gesture, adding a pat on the swift's neck. "Welcome, cihuaa."

Durrankar shifts back to his normal form....and the marks remain. A light blue on his head, in a particular pattern on his head, and around his eyes. "Cihuaa. it is good to see you again....."

After a couple of minutes, the ranger re-emerges from the trees. He says, "Well, I see nothing unusual in the immediate vicinity, but it doesn't do to dwell too long in this place. Farewell." He then stows his bow, returns to his steed, and they launch forth again into the air, then fly away toward the north.

Ga'Elian has left.

Un'eth's claws slide up from Durrankar's neck to trace the cerulean lines on his face. "You are marked, cihuaa. By whom?" While the patterns differ, the color is quite similar to the whorls marked upon, or whtin, her own scales.

Durrankar doesn't move from Uneth's claws. "I do not know, Cihuaa. I awakened in another part of the forest with these marks upon me.....and a silver dragon standing over me. Before I could ask anything, the dragon took off."

Un'eth's head tilts as she studies him critically, claws now turning his head this way and that. "If this silver marks you as theirs, I must refute their claim."

Durrankar laughs. "I do not think they meant that far of a claim." he then thinks. "You do know that those of the blood try very hard to follow our ancestors....the dragons. You remember, when we went to Am'shere, many tribe said I had the scent of the ancestors?"

Un'eth dips her snout. "Yes, I recall this. The Blood is strong within you." There is a pause before her head tilts yet again. "Do you believe the silver was an ancestor?"

Durrankar says, "It is possible, Cihuaa. I imagine you're touching the marks upon my head." he then thumps his tail. "I'm not counting anything out anymore.""

"Good. I would not discount it. A great dragon, spirit or flesh, is a strong omen." One last trace of his marks with a claw before she pokes his scales lightly. "The silver could not choose a better shaman to share with."

Durrankar thumps his tail some more. "Thank you, Cihuaa. it is strange that it came around now, of all times." he then looks about. "We should leave here. Fel wood is not safe for anyone."

Un'eth dips her snouth in agreement. "Unexpected, not strange. Yes, we should go. There is litle prey here and I do not wish to join them at this moment."

Durrankar thumps his tail, bumps Uneth's head with his snout and walks his way out of the felwood with his cihuaa.