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After the combat Swift Wind takes out his wand and patches Drezi up, curling his face slightly when he sees the spell cast by Drezi on himself. "Take this Drezi, you should stay closer to the group, we may not know if you'll get stolen by some silent beast."
After the healing is finished, Swift Wind looks at the party and says, "It's time to see what is causing this mist." He gives a moment for everyone else to prepare themselves, and then heads towards where the mist is emanating.
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After the combat Swift Wind takes out his and and patches Drezi up, curling his face slightly when he sees the spell cast by Drezi on himself. "Take this Drezi, you should stay closer to the group, we may not know if you'll get stolen by some silent beast."
After the healing is finished, Swift Wind looks at the party and says, "It's time to see what is causing this mist." He gives a moment for everyone else to prepare themselves, and then heads towards where the mist is emanating.
It looks like I wasn't standing far enough away. Drezi draws a spiral on his heart "That sounds like a fantastic idea Swift! and thank you so much for the healing. I might need more magic on this thing later" He wiggles the stick between two fingers before putting it away then stands in thought for a moment before smiling huge as if stumbling across a cosmic epiphany.
Drezi takes his place, this time directly next to Jokhas. Looks to the masked priest, smiles, and draws two spirals and two butterflies over his heart. Then after staring at Jokhas for a few seconds, smiles even bigger and draws a semblence of a mask there as well.
"Thank you for the quick thought and the blessing. While the lady gods want me to stay far from the group, I believe yours wants me nearby. I will be near you from now on lest my distance bring doom to us all!"
Oggie, your detect magic reveals that there is some sort of magic from the bottom of the upper waterfall pool. It detects as powerful abjuration and conjuration.
Swift Wind walks into the upper pool, and quickly find that the water descends into depths. It seems quite deep, and you can't see the bottom from the edge.
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Swift Wind looks back to see if anyone is following him while he places his backpack on the ground. He sheathes his weapon and whistles to the Eagle. He looks at the Eagle for a moment, setting the bird down on top of his bag.
"I'm going down to investigate the mist. The pool is deep, so I understand if you don't wish to follow."
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After compelting his scan of the area Oggie joins Swift Wind and Asharii,
"Y'all best be careful if'n you are planning in goin' into that there pool."
He fishes through his pack and pulls out a grappling hook and rope.
"I am detecting strong abjuration and conjuration magic from it."
He gauges the depth of the pool with an expert eye and quickly ties a decent sized rock securely at a length that should just hit the bottom. He wedges the grappling hook into a convenient secure location kicking it securely into place.
"I'll drop this rock in and then you have a rope to climb out if it comes to that.""
Oggie nods and turns his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes,
"I'll be watchin' out for you from up here."
Oggie stands ready to pitch the rock into the pool his bow close at hand.
Swift Wind and Asharii take deep breaths and wade into the deep pool. The water is frigid and dark, but Asharii's natural resistances and the ranger's long training protect them both. First, the ranger spots a small chest at the bottom of the pool, a heavy iron lockbox that looks like it has been submerged for some time. However, it does not appear to be what the two are seeking, so they pick it up and continue searching. After a few more agonizingly slow seconds, Asharii points to the base of the waterfall. There is a small cave off the main pool, and mist bubbles out of it.
The two approach cautiously, their lungs bursting with the weight of the water. As they look into the small side cavern they see a collection of smooth dark stones, dozens of them, each the size of a large grapefruit. In the dark waters, they seem to gleam with a cold light. When the two start gathering the stones, they quickly realize that they aren't made of stone at all...rather they are crafted of cold iron.
After a few long anxious minutes, Asharii and Swift Wind break the surface of the pool to their awaiting compatriots. They use the ropes that Oggie threw down as a guide, hauling their finds up. Valorian looks at the lockbox with great interest, and slams it a few times with the butt of his axe to reveal a slew of forgotten treasures. The spellcasters in the party are much more interested in the wardstones, as most of them start immediately casting detect magic and concentrating.
Suddenly, the More observant party members pause in their activities. Out of the mists, Dozens of small figures rise from the shrubs lining the rim of the ravine. With a shout, each one quadruples in size and raises a wooden dart, poised to throw.
“Well done!” the familiar voice of Tenzekil Braybittle calls out, “but the wardstones will do you no good! The first army of Queen Rhoswen has already arrived. She will claim this forest, and you can do nothing about that. Now put the stones back, lay down your weapons, and perhaps we'll let you live!” The hum of thousands of bees punctuates his warning as a rising swarm fills the sky. Everywhere you look, more and more spriggans emerge from the bushes. It seems you are vastly outnumbered.
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"Have I mentioned that fey are despicable creatures?"
Loudly, "Challenge us if you must Tenzekil fey-bound, but know that we shall never submit nor allow the evil magics of the stones to be restored. Call your abominations down upon us and the waters of this place shall run red with fey blood."
Valorian, growls menacingly, draws his axe and takes a defensive pose awaiting the actions of his companions, while Shanks crouches and prepares to pounce.
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"This is a mighty force. Focus your attacks on the leader." Swift Wind pauses a moment to look over the remainder of the Spriggans. "I'll try to hold them off long enough for the rest of you to complete your job. If we destroy the leader we might be able to get the rest of run away. Or, we could just run ourselves at that point."
With this statement Swift Wind readies his sword and shield, waiting for the onslaught of creatures to come.
The gnome’s threat hangs in the air, and seems to echo across the ravine, over the din of the roaring water. The eccentric group of Pathfinders, thrown together by fate, exchange glances. Their determination is clear for all to see.
Moving as one, they snap into combat formation, surrounding the heavy bag of wardstones. Valorian pulls out a pair of black-fletched arrows from his quiver, his face curling into a snarl. Shanks stands menacing at his side, not quite understanding the serious mood that has fallen over the group, but feeling the tension nonetheless. Asharii draws her scimitar and draws upon the power of speed to infuse the party. A manic grin slowly steals across her face, as the infernal blood in her veins stirs with the prospect of her fate. Oggie starts his chant of triumph, empowering the party with a sense of incredible heroism. He knew in his heart that no matter what, the glory of their story would never be diminished for all time. Swift Wind muttered a prayer, feeling the wind pressing against him as if his ancestors beckoned him onwards. He heard the singing of the wind as if his spirit flew above, carried on the wings of an Eagle. Jokhas began intone a prayer, the words of Razmir entwining and embracing the party. Behind his mask, his face grew calm and serene, for the young man already knew that he would have an honored place beside Razmir. Even Drezi ceased his nervous movements…his goddess was near. He flexed his wrists, and opened his soul to the power that he was always destined to wield.
The moment of silence, the calm before the storm, seemed to last an eternity. Finally, Tenzekil’s shrill voice rose again over the trees, “Fools, what are you waiting for…”
“Pathfinders!” A rich voice boomed over the gnome’s, almost shaking the trees with its power, “Kindness repaid, friends! Fight your way down here!” The heads of all present turn to the bottom of the ravine. Behind the ranks of dozens of Spriggans, a group of seven magnificent unicorns, led by Palombier, emerge from the trees.
Tenzekil’s voice turns into a scream of anger and anguish, and suddenly complete chaos breaks out. The spriggans are galvanized into action, charging the party with rage. Driven by a new goal, the Pathfinders also spring to life. Arrows zip into the ranks of charging spriggans, dropping them mid-run. Explosions of fire scorch the fell creatures and they crackle like campfires until run over by great balls of roiling water. All the while, the group bolts down the ravine, towards their escape. Swift Wind leads the way, spriggans literally flying off the path from blows from his klar. Jokhas rises into the air, cackling madly. Asharii dives into the ranks of the spriggans, dancing through their gnarly bodies like a living flame. Shanks, blood and sap drenching his coat, tears spriggans to shreds as he guarded the rear of the retreat. All the while, on the opposite side of the horde, Palmobier and his friends lowered their gleaming horns and tossed the creatures, screaming, out of their way.
Tenzekil’s screams cry out over the din of battle the entire time, getting higher and higher pitched all the while. But to no avail. The Pathfinders fought more fiercely than they even thought possible, shrugging off their wounds and bolstered by their spells and words of inspiration. Before long, only one final rank of spriggans stood between them and the unicorns, themselves covered in sap and blood. The Pathfinders again shared a grim look, and without even a second of respite, charged forward, calling their scriptures and warcries. “How dare you! You meddling fools! You will never get away with this! Queen Rhoswen will…” called the voice, now sounding more and more panicked.
With a final push, the party reached the ranks of the unicorns. In harmony, the unicorns all began to sing, a wonderful and heart-wrenching song that felt like ones heart was being called to a far away place. But as the did so, Valorian spotted a tiny bird flying above the ranks of the spriggans, fluttering madly, its mouth moving to the horrible screeching of the voice. One hand entwined in the mane of a unicorn, he drew an axe from his belt with the other and threw it. The axe sailed towards the bird, and struck it with a squawk. “Shut UP!” he called, as the breath was knocked out of his lungs. The entire party was whisked away, as if the unicorns’ song reached a point of such longing that reality itself could not stand it, and placed them, gently, in a forest clearing.
With a clear evening sky.
And it took a moment to notice that it was filled with a host of creatures: centaurs, wood elves, satyrs, sprites, and creatures yet more unidentifiable. And in the second after the Pathfinders arrived and caught their breath, the hordes of forest creatures all burst into cheers.