Skorabor fails to learn anything from the cuts in the trees beyond that they make him feel unease. Determined and to the point, like slayers tend to be, he decides to face the situation head on and see what happens. He steps out of the brushwork and into the view of the elk. His eyes dart from side to side looking for other creatures hiding among the trees before they focus on the elk. He takes a step forward and lock eyes with the animal, bracing for what happens next.
Mandus hurriedly kneels and makes to whittle stakes according to Djack's commands - the boy was clearly on to something.
If Mandus had previously thought his travel companion shaken by what he was seeing, what happened next was enough to make him pause his whittling to stare at the elf. Despite the commanding tone of Djack, Gil quickly fumbled a stake from the pile and frantically whittled away like his life depended on it, seemingly not even realizing he was doing the bidding of a lesser being. No sooner was one stake ready than he had another in his hands, bark and splinters flying everywhere.
Skorabor: The cuts look deep, far deeper than you would expect from any sort of scraping or clawing. And the trees are covered in them, as if they'd endured this assault several times. As you pointed out, it makes you feel uneasy.
You step out of the brushwork, intending to address this elk head on, but you don't see it. You don't see it anywhere. You don't even hear the scraping anymore.
In fact, several things seem different. The path doesn't appear to be leading the same direction that it had previously. In one direction, southward, the trees bend and arch over the path like a natural tunnel. It's incredibly dark in that direction as the latticework of branches arching overhead cuts out all but a few pinpricks of sunlight that filter down in tight beams. The ground seems well tread in that direction, churned by either several passing feet or large powerful ones.
The other path, toward the north, is lighter. But objects dangle from the trees like windchimes, made from the skulls and bones of small animals. You think you can hear voices in that direction, but not like they're in communication because they come from several different directions. You are unable to make out any of the words. What the hell just happened?
What do you do?
All Others: You have gathered a small pile of living wood. The lumber here is easy to cut as the trees are relatively young still at the edge of the forest. What is your plan?
You can still hear the scraping from the path to the east, slowly building but quite a distance in. Skorabor must be checking it out.
And to the north, if you follow the creek, you're certain you could find the path that the villagers used in the past to reach the Oak Tree.
What do you do?
Mandus awaits instruction from Djack. He's big enough to know when someone else has a plan to follow.
Forming a ring around the stones... Cut your palms with a stake, drive the blooded stake into a fissure a wedge it deep then use it to split the stone.
If the Halfling can sing that Halfling song, I'll light the ring aflame.. Djack rests the torch so that it remains lit as he stows his sword and does exactly as he's instructed the others, except for the Halfling.
Skorabor’s eyes dart back and forth feverishly looking for the elk. Anticipating an attack at any moment his senses is on high alert with his axe ready strike. He jumps back and forth a few time determined to never keep his back faced somewhere for more than a few seconds. When nothing happens his attentive stance is replaced by dumbfoundedness staring up and down the path, while scratching his beard in thought. Eventually he moves back into the foliage from where he came and tries to backtrack to the ghost stone where he left his companions.
Horn is hesitant to participate. The song of the forest is for his people, the halflings, and the forest herself. Though at the moment is seems that perhaps it is the forest that needs his help.
Humming lightly, the rest of you wedge the stakes in wherever you can find a crack, some of which stick better than others. As Djack lights the tinder there is a loud whistling as the flame draws nearer the rock--like the sound of heated air escaping its vessel. The whistle crescendos to an almost earsplitting howl. Those that can see the shadowy silhouette of the innkeeper watch him dissipate like fog in the breeze, as the stone cracks further from the heat and crumbles to the ground.
As the echoing howls fade, you are alarmed by a snorting noise behind you. The elk-like creature that Skorabor had seen earlier stands at the edge of the clearing. It's shoulders raise to Djack's full height, from them emerges the skeletal head of an elk. The pale flesh that covers the rest of its body doesn't extend to its head, where hollow sockets glower at your group. Its antlers reveal years and years of growth, with charms and totems dangling from the branches of horn.
Likewise, you have the feeling of being watched, as small lights begin to fill the surrounding brush like lightning bugs. What do you do?
Skorabor: You're finding it worthless, pushing through the brush with out any idea of where you ought to be heading. The thorns claw at your clothing and the edges of your trimmed beard. Then you hear a horrible whistling howl. You aren't sure why, but you imagine it has something to do with the others, and for the moment it provides a heading. Though it seems further away than you would have expected. How have you ended up so far from where you started?
Should you follow the noise, how carefully do you do so?
Mandus glances over at Djack. "Impressive ritual, young one," he remarks quietly.
Standing smoothly, he addresses the elk. "Spirit-creature of the forest! From your collection of totems I recognize you as wise and powerful indeed. We come to these lands to offer service to its People, and to rid it of the Oakhearted's taint. Will you aid us, or thwart us? Speak quickly!" he finishes with a dramatic pointing gesture at the beast, fire flickering under his fingernails.
Djack hears reptilian's words, but his eyes are upon the Elk.
Just the little things one picks up reading, really. I wouldn't be any less of a man if I soiled my britches... In your eyes, I mean.. His blade less steady than his voice.
As Mandus and Djack exchanged words with each other, and in Mandus' case, the elk, Gil was slowly backing up behind them. His eyes rested on the hulking beast, his cutlass gliding silently from its scabbard and into a ready position, held in front of him. "Isnt it enough that I have to endure the company of you people on a daily basis?" He hissed through clenched teeth. "Nothing good ever came of meddling with spirits, my people know as much. Raising the useless dead to be of some use, sure, but spirits...Nothing but trouble."
Skorabor: You're finding it worthless, pushing through the brush with out any idea of where you ought to be heading. The thorns claw at your clothing and the edges of your trimmed beard. Then you hear a horrible whistling howl. You aren't sure why, but you imagine it has something to do with the others, and for the moment it provides a heading. Though it seems further away than you would have expected. How have you ended up so far from where you started?
Should you follow the noise, how carefully do you do so?
The silence of the forest unsettles the Skorabor more than anything else, so the horrible howl comes as somewhat of a relief to the slayer. A vast emptiness causes the dwarf more unease than a tangible threat. At least a threat was something to react to. He had no idea how to handle nothingness. Reinvigorated by something breaking through the vacuum Skorabor takes off towards the source of the sound, pushing the branches a side with little concern to clear his path.
The Elk-corpse tilts its head, pondering your words. The charms and bangles dangling from its antlers rattle and chime in the process. It seems confused... no, intrigued.
After a moment, it rights it head again as you all feel the chill in the morning air which suddenly smells stale and foul.
"Oakhearted? comes a feminine voice, silky with its lilting tones of amusement. Its not at all what you would picture an elk would sound like (and Horn, who has actually spoken with Elk knows the voice to be uncharacteristic) "Will I aid you? What is it, exactly that you intend to do, wielder of the dead?"
Skorabor: Please roll Defy Danger (Con) and describe how you charge through the brush. You no longer hear the howling, but you have your bearings and barring any unforeseen complications imagine you should arrive there shortly.
Mandus gestures behind him at his comrades. "We are here to preserve the natural order. I am Mandus, Priest of the Sun God Quetzalcoatl and stranger to these lands; but make no mistake! I recognize the taint that the one known as the Oak represents, and will bring her rogue necromancy to heel - to once again serve the living, as is proper."
The skink's tongue flickers out briefly, tasting the air as he pauses. "I have given you my name and my business, spirit. Will you give me yours?"
Keeping his head tilted forward in a head on charge Skorabor dashes through the woods with his axe in one hand and the other swatting at branches in his way. If one was searching for a illustration of the phrase “Rushing headlong into danger” one needn’t look further.
The decaying creature nods as it listens. You can tell that Horn is growing more and more uncomfortable as this conversation persists. This vision is clearly a mockery of the majestic creature it once was.
"So you have." replies the lilting voice. "You may call me Sage, and in many ways I am this forest. And my immediate business is finding out what manner of creatures would be destroying a ghost stone. Now, you asked if I would aid you, but I'm not sure how you would like me to do so?"
Skorabor: Branches and limbs lash at you like whips. The damage is superficial, but distracting. Ahead of you are strange flickering lights, like fireflies high in the brush. You can hear Mandus' voice building, following by another -- one that is both bitter and sweet.
Suddenly you crash into the clearing you left what seemed like perhaps a minute ago. Before you is the mighty stag you had seen at a distance, but from up close you can see the pale, almost luminescent skin that covers the gaunt body. You can see that any flesh has been removed from the hollow face, and you can see the charms and totems that dangle from the twisted rack.
It rears up, snorting and towering above you as you come sprawling toward it, with hooves twitching and threatening to crash down. What do you do?
Mandus gapes at the creature as it suddenly attacks Skorabor! "WAIT, SPIRIT!" he cries. "HE'S WITH US!"
Skorabor braces for an incomming attack, ready to meet force with force. He keeps his axe in a sure grip and flashes a fierce glower of teeth.
The rearing creature pedals it's large hooves as it snorts, but takes the moment to step back shakily so that it brings its weight down before the Dwarven Slayer rather than on top of him. The creature seems confused, disoriented for a moment before the calm comes as well as the silky voice.
It looks around itself for a moment, to see that it now stands beyond the edges of the thick underbrush--partially in the clearing where you emerged. The thick grass at its feet is already tangling and weaving upward slightly as though growing at a more accelerated pace. You imagine that at such a rate, the clearing would become as thick as the rest of the forest by the morning.
Skorabor can feel it twisting around him, slowly snaking up his sleeves and down into his boots.
"I see one of you has already entered the forest." the voice observes. "You will not find it easy to navigate. Perhaps that is something I could help you with, if you're willing to help me as well. Unless there's something else you desire...?"
"Time is not on our side, spirit, since the Oakhearted knows of our presence and intent. Tell me what services you require in exchange for your guidance to her lair, and speak quickly!" Mandus tries to stand near Skorabor to defend him from further assault.
"Destroy more of these stones, as you have already done. Their presence blocks my influence, as you can see. Help to free me and I can help guide you through the forest."
The chimes hanging from its antlers rattle as another breeze sweeps through, with the same foul and stale scent. You can hear noise now from the tunnel as well, where you just emerged. It seems the hunter might be sealing it up, as he indicated he would.
As the human boy led the destruction of the stone, Horn watched him carefully. The human appears to know something, and seems to be of use. I will continue to keep an eye on him. Perhaps he has the potential to be a worthy ally.
As the elk-spirit appears and engages with the party, the wild halfling clenches his jaw in growing discomfort. If this 'Sage' speaks true -- if she the forest here -- then the forest as a whole is in a terrible state. If a forest is to have an avatar, it should be of the living, not the dead. Still...I need to discern if this Sage is in fact aligned in our quest to defeat the Oak. If she is-- Argh! How do I find myself yet again considering an alliance with the restless dead?! --but a wise predator does not get distracted by lesser prey while on the hunt. If she is to be trusted, I will work with her. But is she...?
In a careful, quiet voice, Horn addresses the elk spirit. "Sage, spirit-of-elk, answer these questions first for a servant of the First Forest. Are you aware of the one who calls herself the Oak? What is your relationship to her? And what is the influence you wish to have, that's blocked by these stones?"
Horn will listen to the spirit elk's words, but as much so will be watching her eyes and listening to her tone, looking to understand what the truth is behind her words.
Skorabor growls and is prepared to lock horns with the uncanny spirit but holds his action as Horn speaks up. He takes a step back content to study the situation but keeps the notion of a full fledged attack as a viable option.
Gil kept his guard up, unwilling to trust the creature on its word. "Why are we humoring this beast? It speaks like a woman and looks to be in as horrible a state as those wolves and wraiths yesterday." He sneered at the elk as it looked at him. "You ask me, this is just this fool Oak speaking through her puppet."
"A servant of the first-forest, you say?" replies the voice, feigning surprise at the news. "I know of the one you refer to, though as a point of contention it is only others that call her The Oak. It is because they use such a tree to communicate with her. And my relationship to her is identical to your own, though further progressed. I can see that many of you have already been marked, and before long shall serve her or perish I imagine. I too would like to be free of her, but can't do so with her stones that confine me. Give me the freedom to move beyond these stones, and I will lead you to the one you call The Oak. You will not fare well in the forest without guidance otherwise."
You fully believe that Sage is able to help you navigate the forest. While you may not know what Skorabor knows of the forest's tricky nature, you can discern the truth in that final sentence. You will be lost without something to guide you.
"And what, may I ask are you? You have the form of an elk, speak the language of the two-leggeds...and show the mark of necromancy on you. All of it together gives me no small amount of unease. If we are to consider joining forces then I'd like to understand more."
"So many questions, servant of the First Forest. I am the guardian of this forest, and rarely would I be seen or needed. But since the corruption that has taken over... this "Oak" as you call her, I am no longer in control of my woods. Would you prefer, perhaps, if I speak to you as an elk would rather than a tongue for all of you to understand?"
"I know that we are little more than strangers to each other even now, little brother," Mandus begins, addressing the halfling. "But for what it's worth, I intend to follow this spirit of the forest and see where it leads. I'm unfamiliar with these woods."
"How do we know to trust you?" Skorabor growls at the elk, its appearance doing nothing to instill trust in the dwarf.
"You ask a good question. And I in turn could ask the same. You speak of ending this blight but carry the same taint as it. But I would trust you because I see little other options currently, and you offer me hope for something better. It is my intention to offer you the same. If it makes you more comfortable, then remain skeptical and keep watch on me, as I will do the same of you."
How do we know that you are not the very darkness we fight... and the ghost stones aren't the only thing holding you in check?
And by destroying them, we do get closer to the Oak because it becomes manifest through you... And for the record, I bear no taint. I bear fire and steel.
"Let's relax with the fire and steel, for now," Mandus cautions, raising both hands in front of him, palms out, in a placating gesture. "I agree that accompanying this spirit holds risk, but this spirit came to us offering diplomacy."
He pauses, then grins at Skorabor. "Except when startled. But can we blame it? A slayer is terrifying to the likes of us and them alike." His smile fades.
"But while we dither here over matters of trust and risk, the taint that is corrupting you all is bringing you closer to the Oak's clutches anyway. I say - continue destroying these stones according to your clever ritual, Djack, and trust to Quetzalcoatl's sunlight to pierce these clouds overhead and light our path." He finishes his speech with a pious folding of his hands and a humble lowering of his head.
Skorabor continues to glower at the supposed spirit but releases some of the zeal from his posture. It was customary to rely on his fists when his words failed him but the situation was not as straight forward that he could opt for violence without complicating things. The slayer moves to the stone to oversee its destruction.
Gil remained where he had been throughout, stunned uncharacteristically silent by the creatures presence. "Freewilled undead, nothing but trouble, nothing but death. Someone taught me that once...someone." Suddenly having a hazy flash of his past, he dropped his guard, his sword arm hanging limp at his side.
"If that is what you fear," the silky voice replies, "then you must have been reckless in destroying the first? It is more likely that you recognized its taint. I ask you only to continue doing as you are doing. If you will, then take these..."
The stag lowers its head, a rather trusting gesture considering the circumstances, and begins to nudge some of the remains of the ghost-stone in your direction. For a moment, the stones glow as they are touched by the chiming antlers, then fade.
"These will help you find more of the stones," says the voice, as the stag raises its gruesome head once again. "listen to its hum, which will howl louder as you approach another stone. Furthermore, they wills serve as anchors in this twisting forest. You will not be swept away in it various paths while you hold it. But it must be held."
Mandus scoops up a stone and holds it up to the light to analyze it carefully. He narrows his eyes, then smiles. "This will serve nicely. We thank you, spirit, for this boon. Now we will fulfill our end of the bargain." After looking at his other companions, Mandus will turn to leave.
Skorabor watches the elk with suspicious eyes for a moment before picking up one of the rocks. "Will these have an effect on the Oak?"
Djack looks warily at the giant corpse-stag. I'll go along... for now. Anything goes wrong, and I'll hunt you down, whoever you are.
The feral halfling's frown only seems to deepen as he once again decides to make common cause with something that seems troublingly unnatural.
if it'll help me to take down my prey, before it can prey on us-- dammit, I guess I have to!
He lifts the offered debris to his ear, listening for the hum.
"Are you off then? How will we find you?"
Deciding that sufficient testing of the stones had been performed by the others, Gil walked up and tentatively picked one off the ground. He it in his hands a few times, making sure to look suitably unimpressed. He was slowly but surely regaining his composure.
"So eager you are Mandus, forging ahead up front of the pack. At this rate ill be rid of my dept to you before the day is done." He called after Mandus, as he sheathed his weapon and sauntered after him.
"I serve a higher power, Gil," Mandus calls over his shoulder, "and not one renowned for his patience!" the skinkfolk flashes a grin.
"What effect will these have on the oak?" the silky voice replies, echoing Skorabor's question. "None, I imagine. Think of them as anchors. This forest will try to shift all around you, moving you with it, but this will keep you rooted. The ghost stones create a web throughout my forest, and with one destroyed we can use that web to our own advantage. And as far as finding me should you need me, I suppose you can just call? Rest assured that I'll be watching."
At that, the decaying elk turns and begins to trot back into the dark foliage. As it does so, it passes beneath a beam of sunlight that pierces through the canopy above.
But in a moment the figure steps past the beam of light, and regains the familiar appearance, then disappears into the brush.
------------------
Should you push forward into the brush, the flickering lights you had seen earlier continue to move with you--flitting amongst the shadows like stalking eyes. You note the deep gouges in the trees that Skorabor had studied earlier, covering every climbing trunk. You can feel the forest trying to shift, like a ripples in a pond, but the landscape doesn't change
A few yards in, there is a clear fork in the subtle path. You may continue forward toward the heart of the forest. You notice large depressions in the tall grass in that direction, much larger even than those the mysterious elk would have left.
To the right breaks another path. This path descends somewhat downhill, and dark green moss covers the trees on one side. There is a musty scent carried on the cool wind from this direction, the scent of the deep earth found in tunnels and caves.
Inexplicably, you sense that either direction follows a strand of the web formed by these Ghost Stones.
What do you do?
Mandus holds the stone up to his hexed eye critically. "I seem to be getting a double positive from this fork in the road. Can anyone confirm?" As he speaks, his hexed eye glances about in all directions independently of his other eye
"Well both paths are equally valid according to the stones." Gil said with a shrug, looking down either path in turn. "But if this Oak possesses any wits at all, one or both are sure to carry us towards her minions. Ofcourse Im stating the obvious, but just to be safe I thought it best to enlighten you all."
He paced back and forth a few times, weighing the information. "I would take the straight path. It goes directly where we are headed, and it would seem something waits down that path which will satisfy the Dwarfs deathwish." He looked at Skorabor, one eyebrow raised in a haughty, expectant expression, clearly waiting for his reaction.