Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. I do not wish to tarry Lord Arizian. Nor do I wish to not know what I am racing towards unprepared.
Dragons are big creatures and their presence would have surly be noticed. But no one in the vale has seen or even heard of one being here. So it may not be a dragon but something that resembles one. Looking back at Perry, I have heard of people being able to assume the body of a Dragon with magic.
Anthuria is unsure about Amund's seeming disinterest in the possibility of a dragon. "Well, they said it's big! And there's fire! It's burned the whole area above the fey court, apparently! And who cares if it's an actual dragon, a quasi-dragon, or a magician with paper wings. It's clearly destroying the forest!"
Sighing, Alright then lets go. He returns to getting his things ready.
Balthus was in agreement and quickly got his stuff ready and his horse saddled. He helped out others to gather their things so they could set out.
"So what looks like a dragon, breathes like a dragon but is not a dragon?"
Leading the horses from the mound where they and you had slept, everyone packs up hurriedly and mounts up, following one of Kassmak's rock-scale soldiers along the obscure, twisting path away from the village. The entire way, the smoke rises to your left, a grim waypoint that only grows larger in your view as you approach.
Arriving at the road, you are sent off with a taciturn nod and a few words of parting; Katsa recognizes them as a very old prayer of fortune in Draconic. Your escort turns back to his swamp home, and you turn for the Coldrun River Bridge - with the smoke still rising to your left, deep within the woods between the lake and the road.
Balthus stops his horse and stands on the stirrups. Although not as expert a rider as Amund, he has some familiarity with horses.
"We need to check this out, even if the so called dragon is not there. There must be some clue to tell what to do next."
He looked at his companions, "Speak up now if you have other ideas otherwise we're going to investigate."
tag?
Amund sits silently on his mount with his puppy happily sitting in his lap. Keeping to the back of the group and remaining silent as they travel.
"Yes, I agree the burn site is the best place to begin.". As she rides along with the others, Anthuria can't help but notice Amund's sour mood. She draws her horse up beside him and whispers. "Is everything alright? You seem especially troubled lately."
Lifting his eyes to glance at Anthuria with a confused expression. I am uncertain how to answer that. I am troubled by a few things though I did not intend to effect anyone else with them.
Ursa fidgets in his lap and keeps trying to jump onto the other horse. Letting go of the reins and wrapping both arms around the puppy. Keeping his voice low, I am very out of my element and while I know what I believe to be right I am uncertain if it is the right thing over all. Between the Dwarves, Lizardfolk, and the Fort I have no idea what to do. It seems no matter what people will suffer.
Looking around for a moment then offering Anthuria a small grin, Though it may be a childhood fear of Dragons. I had a very mean cousin.
Turning horses aside, you head into the woods between the Vale road and Mist Lake. For the first mile or two, the forest seems nearly untouched - a stark contrast to what unfolds as you get closer to the wicked fey court. As you draw within a mile or so of the former glade, the trees begin to show scars and the underbrush begins to disappear; soon, the entire wood is a smoking ruin, and mounts shy occasionally as their feet accidentally encounter still-hot coals.
One thing is certain - the roseblood sprites' court is without a doubt the epicenter of the disaster. For a couple hundred yards every direction, the glade is burned so thoroughly that not even a broken trunk or skeletal bush remains standing; the hedge circles at the surface have disappeared, the standing stones are scattered, and the opening of the tunnel leading downward is dug up and scarred with huge scratches. Whoever the assailants were, this place was the center of their ire.
Balthus dismounted and took a closer look, "Well, somebody wanted to wipe this off the face of the land. But why?"
He gingerly stepped over the still hot coals as he poked around to try and find some clue.
He turned to Anthuria, "Help me out here girl. We killed all the fey, correct? What did we leave here that was so offensive to a dragon?"
Jetta jumps off her horse alongside Balthus, venturing out to investigate what is left of the once pristine glade. She leaves her helm on the pommel of her saddle, in order to have the full use of her vision.
The Hellknight makes her way to the entrance belowground, doing her best not to disturb any potential clues. Noticing the marks around the entrance, she kneels to run her gauntleted fingers across the scrapes. With the experience of having examined multiple crime scenes, she gets back up and follows the signs of destruction from their nexus to the edge of the conflagration.
"They're big," she calls to the group. "Whatever they are. From what I can tell, it looks like they're headed east..."
Furrowing her brow, Jetta sniffs at the lingering smell of smoke as she slowly starts to piece things together. "What was it that pixie told us? Something about monsters with big teeth and wings that come for fey ears. The sprites here seemed to have the same obsession, now that I think of it..."
Sliding out of the saddle and commanding both puppy and horse to stay put before moving to look about. Nodding in agreement with Jetta. Taking quick steps to reach Anthuria, You were able to ask the birds about what happened here would you be able to ask something if they saw where whatever creature did this went?
"What in the name of the gods..." Anthuria can only stare, speechless, at the devastation around them.
After a moment she finds her voice. "I...I've no idea," she stammers. "But I can try.." She clears her throat and wets her lips, trying to recapture the song she used earlier, trying to snare the attention of any nearby birds.
"Hello? Please, we want to help. Can you tell us where the fire-maker went? Where is it now?"
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Few birds answer Anthuria's call - it seems that, with all the roosts disappeared, not many have remained close by. But what few remain come to a conclusion Jetta had reached: the fire-makers took off to the east, where the sun was rising as the glade burned. None have any idea of what their destination may be there; one, a large raven, mentions seeing a large creature flying into "hidden man-rocks" once, but the notion is quickly dismissed by the others, who consider the very idea a fable though the raven continues to protest his firsthand knowledge.
"They don't know," she says, grief-stricken, "But one claims he saw a large creature flying into 'hidden man-rocks.' Beyond that, they say nothing. What could these hidden man-rocks be??"
Running his hand though his hair while pacing as they wait for an snwer from Anhuria and Perry. Hearing the saddened voice of the young mage his pacing stills. There are mines in the area right? Or maybe a old stone building? Not sure if there are any but there could be.
With few answers forthcoming in the desolation of the former fey grove, Percival sets to work, smoothing a space on the ashy forest floor and setting out a small makeshift altar. It may not be the space he is accustomed to when making his prayers...but there is certainly no lack of hot coals with which to light his incense.
Soon, the smoke from the incense joins the smoke still rising from the forest's ashes in a danse macabre, and Perry's offering of coin is stacked neatly, an island of order in a sea of chaos. He clears a space and sits, focusing on the altar before him. His divinatory skills could do little concerning what had been, but what remains to come is another matter entirely. Centering all his focus on his steady breathing, he distills his worries and cares into a single question for his Lord:
The creatures who destroyed this place - will their shadow darken our path?
Again the coins begin to pulse with light in time with his breaths, the light growing and growing as his prayers intensify. And again, as his focus comes to its zenith, the coins disappear to the First Vault, and insight is left in their place - but instead of a mere murmur in the priest's mind, the answer comes in a disembodied voice, clear for all assembled to hear as it rings out over the new clearing.
The servants fly to bow to their master's might, to explain why their travels bear no fruit. Servants' fear burned the empty chest - the master's wrath will burn the thieves who took the treasure within. New emerges and old perishes - who will be blamed but the upstarts, the recent pieces laid on an ancient board? They come...they come...
Balthus was 'iffy' about the entire divination exercise. He saw as something similar to what the Harrower did. Who knew what the future held in store? And who in their right mind would want to know anyways? Did knowing the future invalidate anything that he could do to change it? If so then why even try?
The philosophical questions were keeping Balthus preoccupied so he was really surprised when the voice started speaking.
He was not expecting this.
A bit more shaken than he would care to admit, he asked, "OK then. Well, I guess we know that someone is coming and blaming us for... something. Anyone got anything else out of this experience?"
Anthuria looks to the sky as the voice booms from above. Without intending to, she reaches for Amund's hand, grasping it tightly in her own.
"I don't know what it means, exactly, but if there is an emergent danger, we should return to Fort Thorn. We must warn them." A thought occurs to her. "But if this danger is seeking us, should we not divert its anger away from the Fort?" Her voice trembles in fear.
Noticing what Perry is doing Amund remains still and watches with rapt attention. Eyes widening at the pulsing glow of the coins followed by a sharp intake of air when the coins vanish. Keeping that breath in and there is someone holding his hand so he matches their grasp.
Letting his eyes follow where Perry's went. She is holding my hand. Why is she holding my hand? A voice, a whisper of a memory, rises in his mind, She likes you dummy. Closing his eyes in an attempt to chase off ghosts. When he opens them Amund realizes what he is staring at and what Perry meant. That book.
So someone wants the book, we think. And they are the masters of what seems to be dragons. And said dragons are terrified of this person. If they did not find it here and they think we have it they might go to the Fort or the Lizardfolk after telling their master.
Jetta follows the divination ritual with her usual stoicism, being used to such methods of investigation. When the voice sounds out, however, even she is momentarily taken aback. The Hellknight instinctually lowers her head and makes a quick sign of supplication, moving her hand over her chest as if she were turning a key in a lock.
"This is valuable information," she says after the fact. "But let's not jump to conclusions. Obviously, the dragons—or whatever they are—had the sprites at their mercy. They could have had the book if they wanted. That's what was bothering me before. Dragons don't hoard ears, but that's what they they were taking. I thought it might've been just for intimidation, but what if they were being taken for a reason?"
She turns to look Anthuria. "The book might still be helpful, though. Does it say anything about magic involving fey ears?"
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Percival paused, before saying, "Let me remember...give me a moment."
"Ah, now the interlopers feign politeness, courtesy, when before it was only swords and spears...just as the others came with fire in their bellies, fire in their souls... Both to profit by the flesh of my kin, and yet they wonder at our meals..."
Percival begun to pace, and then said, "The fey-king said that the creatures with fire in their bellies profited by the flesh of his kin. It would stand to reason that the flesh in question (the one they profit from) are fey-ears, and the magic in the book would allow them to regenerate lost flesh to recover. That way, the book would not be the reason the creatures attacked--at least not the main reason."
"The book might still be helpful, though. Does it say anything about magic involving fey ears?"
Percival nodded, and turned to look to Anthuria as well.
With the fey glade giving little more in the way of answers, everyone re-mounts and begins the slog back through what forest remains between the forest's new scar and the road. The detour adds a few hours' ride to the return journey from the swamp, and by the time you arrive back at the fort, the day has gone from morning to noon to deep twilight. In the fading light, the guards at the gates call for you to identify yourselves, a touch more nervousness in their voices than when you left; when you announce yourselves, the gates fairly fly open, and as you enter, the whole fort is abuzz with concern over the morning's plume of smoke.
Sir Tolgrith finds you quickly, his hair rumpled and his usual breastplate exchanged for a hastily donned leather jerkin. When we saw the smoke this morning, we'd feared something had gone terribly wrong with the lizardfolk, or that you'd faced some trouble along your way, or that you'd be cut off - your return would have brought you past there, yes? What's happened? Do you know?
"The book?" Anthuria asks, uncertain. "The, the book is back at the Fort, tucked under my bed..." A picture of Fort Thorn beset by fire-breathing dragons comes to mind. She remembers her waking dream of the Fort buried in a tangle of giant thorns. "We must warn them!"
_______
Anthuria wastes no time with introductions, instead racing to her quarters, leaping to the ground and tearing at the folded blanket beneath her bed to reveal with fey king's tome. Clutching it to her chest she races back to find Lord Arizian.
"Here!" she pants. "Lord Arizian, if these dragons seek the book, shouldn't we transport it away from the Fort?"
With Anthuria taking off like a chicken without a head, the ranger had briefly explained to Sir Tolgrith how their meeting with the lizardfolk went and what they knew about the fires.
Anthuria wastes no time with introductions, instead racing to her quarters, leaping to the ground and tearing at the folded blanket beneath her bed to reveal with fey king's tome. Clutching it to her chest she races back to find Lord Arizian.
"Here!" she pants. "Lord Arizian, if these dragons seek the book, shouldn't we transport it away from the Fort?"
Something just didn't add up to Balthus.
"Now why would the dragons or their master want a book? What's so special about it and why didn't they take before hand?"
He shook his head, "No, there's something more to this than just a book. Think people!"
Anthuria wastes no time with introductions, instead racing to her quarters, leaping to the ground and tearing at the folded blanket beneath her bed to reveal with fey king's tome. Clutching it to her chest she races back to find Lord Arizian.
"Here!" she pants. "Lord Arizian, if these dragons seek the book, shouldn't we transport it away from the Fort?"
Something just didn't add up to Balthus.
"Now why would the dragons or their master want a book? What's so special about it and why didn't they take before hand?"
He shook his head, "No, there's something more to this than just a book. Think people!"
Jetta looks between Anthuria and Balthus, sighing exasperatedly.
"Yeah. That's what I said earlier," she says. "Or did the two of you breathe too much smoke and doze off?"
Turning to the sorceress, Jetta places a hand on her shoulder and lowers her voice to a more reassuring tone. "Anthuria, calm down. I need you to focus. You need to see if there are any hints in the book about what we might be facing. Anything about magic requiring fey body parts. I don't think the dragons are after the book, but they might be coming back for revenge, and we need to be prepared..."
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Anthuria looks wildly into Jetta's face, as though seeing her for the first time. "Right. Right." She holds the tome out in one hand, prestidigitating it to fly open and flip through its voluminous pages. "Let's see. Three-eyed jackals, shade-touched owlbears, carrion flies..."
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Sir Tolgrith finds you quickly, his hair rumpled and his usual breastplate exchanged for a hastily donned leather jerkin. When we saw the smoke this morning, we'd feared something had gone terribly wrong with the lizardfolk, or that you'd faced some trouble along your way, or that you'd be cut off - your return would have brought you past there, yes? What's happened? Do you know?
Percival's eyes followed Anthuria as she bolted to her room, and he said to Tolgrith, "The meeting with the lizardfolk went well. We left earlier than we wished to investigate the fire. Something razed the fey king's glade to the ground, and we're not sure what they want."
Anthuria wastes no time with introductions, instead racing to her quarters, leaping to the ground and tearing at the folded blanket beneath her bed to reveal with fey king's tome. Clutching it to her chest she races back to find Lord Arizian.
"Here! Lord Arizian, if these dragons seek the book, shouldn't we transport it away from the Fort?"
"Anthuria, calm down. I need you to focus. You need to see if there are any hints in the book about what we might be facing. Anything about magic requiring fey body parts. I don't think the dragons are after the book, but they might be coming back for revenge, and we need to be prepared..."
Percival nodded, and added, "Jetta is correct; what they want may not even be the book. We must check, however, if there is something they might reasonably want in there."
He then fell quiet, seemingly deep in thought.
That may be true. We do not know what it is they are after but the book seems the most likely. Some spell in it. And if it is they Fey they are after there is nothing that can be done about it.
At Jetta's comment about magic requiring fey body parts, and at Amund's offhand agreement, wheels begin to turn in Percival's mind. And at Anthuria's exclamation, the story begins to click into place. For she's found a section of the book's extensive introduction, written in old Taldane by the famed arcane scholar Talmenicius, that suddenly seems far too relevant.
...The resilience of the fey has long been a source of wonder and even jealousy to those not part of the fair folk. While most do not possess the true regenerative power of creatures such as trolls, it is true that the complex interweaving of magic and primordial First World energies inherent in the fey leaves them long-lived and quick to recover from non-mortal wounds. Because of this, folk legend and ancient necromatic arcane rituals placed great store in using the flesh of creatures of the First World as reagents in order to draw upon these energies. Perhaps the most prominent users of such rituals were the sorcerer-lords of ancient Thassilon; in their lust for power, they did not shy away from using such dark flesh magics to increase their arcane prowess or extend their already-long lifespans.
The particulars of such foul magics are best left at rest with the bones of the sorcerers who created them, but a few general principles can be extracted from modern research into arcane practices such as drow flesh-warping. The energies in the flesh were held to be at their most potent when taken from a living creature; the longevity-inducing properties were considered to decline quickly after a fey creature's death. Since none of these preparations ever proved to extend lifespan indefinitely except with repeated use, some particularly cruel spellcasters were known to keep creatures in chains and in magical stasis to ensure a steady supply, Others would demand offerings of flesh from local fey populations, some undertaking intimidation strategies while others installed themselves as supposed representatives of the cruel Eldest. The flesh of naturally evil or malicious fey was considered to be the most potent, as their drive and vigor would heighten the preparations' efficacy, though other fey creatures could be considered suitable if more frequent dosage was acceptable...
"Oh look, here's something!" Anthuria eyes the strange arcane runes adorning the edgework of the page, then reads eagerly, mouthing the words as she flies through the enigmatic text. "Necromantic rituals....ancient Thassilon...flesh magics...flesh of naturally evil or malicious fey..."
"Well it sounds like a faerie tale! But given what we've scene, it's nearly plausible. Oh! Get it? Faerie tale? Fey??"
When no one joins in the joke, she coughs and continues on a more serious tone.
"Well it seems as though these fire creatures were using the ears of the evil fey to fuel some sort of ritual to render them, well, immortal? Lord Arizian, what do you think?"
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"Well it sounds like a faerie tale! But given what we've scene, it's nearly plausible. Oh! Get it? Faerie tale? Fey??"
Percival blinked slowly.
"Well it seems as though these fire creatures were using the ears of the evil fey to fuel some sort of ritual to render them, well, immortal? Lord Arizian, what do you think?"
"They stole fey ears to use as reagents for the spell, necessitating that the fey themselves use a similar ritual to regenerate their own ears," he said. "That was at least eighteen days ago. Our mysterious enemy's last visit must have been at least then--or to be safer, twenty days ago. It was then did they take the fey flesh, probably in response to injury or as a bid for immortality."
Percival turned to Tolgrith and said, "Sir, we must warn you that we are anticipating impending danger in the coming few days in the form of fire-breathing lizards--it is safe to presume that they may be at least one dragon. Look to our defenses, and we will try to see what we can do, and if we can pinpoint the moment of engagement (if there is any)."
"Anthuria, can you study the ritual to divine more details?" He said, sitting down and scratching his goatee. He then paused, and his eyes widened.
"The rose king is not the only source of reagents in the Vale. There is Essiki and the other fey. They will definitely be the targets next."
"What's on your mind?"Percival turned to Jetta and asked, "...Who answered me?"
Jetta blinks at the priest, looking like she does not quite understand the question. "Abadar. Who else?"
"They stole fey ears to use as reagents for the spell, necessitating that the fey themselves use a similar ritual to regenerate their own ears," he said. "That was at least eighteen days ago. Our mysterious enemy's last visit must have been at least then--or to be safer, twenty days ago. It was then did they take the fey flesh, probably in response to injury or as a bid for immortality.""Necromantic rituals....ancient Thassilon...flesh magics...flesh of naturally evil or malicious fey..."
"Well it seems as though these fire creatures were using the ears of the evil fey to fuel some sort of ritual to render them, well, immortal? Lord Arizian, what do you think?"
"So..." says Jetta. "There's an evil wizard squatting in an abandoned ruin somewhere, and they're sending dragons to collect fey ears for some necromantic ritual?"
The Hellknight nods to herself, seemingly content with her hypothesis. "Seems simple enough. We'll find out where the wizard is hiding and we'll bring them to justice. But first, we'll need to see to the defenses of the fort. We need to be ready for those dragons... maybe we can even take one of them alive, and get it to point us to its master."
Balthus looked about, "So some kind of wizard that either wants to live forever or wants to raise an army of undead...."
He shook his head, "Typical. Why can't people just be happy with what they got?"
He looked at Jetta, "And how do you protect a fort from a dragon or more than one dragon."
"It can't done. Our best bet is to find this wizard and kill his dragons. On his turf. Or die trying. At least there, it's only us we're worried about and not protecting a fort full of people."
He shook his head, "Do you know how quickly this fort will go up in smoke?"
Not waiting for anyone to dissent, he continued, "So it's decided. Now, how do we find this wizard and his dragons?"
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Jetta blinks at the priest, looking like she does not quite understand the question. "Abadar. Who else?""What's on your mind?"Percival turned to Jetta and asked, "...Who answered me?"
Percival reluctantly nodded, and mused, "Who else indeed."
"So..." says Jetta. "There's an evil wizard squatting in an abandoned ruin somewhere, and they're sending dragons to collect fey ears for some necromantic ritual?"
"So it's decided. Now, how do we find this wizard and his dragons?"
"A wizardly master seems oddly specific. Dragons are ancient and proud. A squatting wizard tending to several wounds is not the first thing that comes to mind," mused Percival, before turning to Balthus. "Balthus: can you fan out your scouts and camouflage them in the woods? I sense that the dragon might be arriving soon."
He then paused, thinking, and then said, "We'll need Oakbrow to warn the other fey about this."
Other question: Are we running with the damage-risks-falling-if-flying houserule? We're going to need it.
He looked at Jetta, "And how do you protect a fort from a dragon or more than one dragon."
"It can't done. Our best bet is to find this wizard and kill his dragons. On his turf. Or die trying. At least there, it's only us we're worried about and not protecting a fort full of people."'
He shook his head, "Do you know how quickly this fort will go up in smoke?"
The Hellknight answers Balthus while looking around her, already planning the defense in her head.
"We might not have a choice," she says. "The dragons could be headed here as we speak. That's what Abadar warned would happen. Without us, the fort truly stands no chance."
"A wizardly master seems oddly specific. Dragons are ancient and proud. A squatting wizard tending to several wounds is not the first thing that comes to mind," mused Percival.
Jetta shrugs. "My mentor is fond of saying that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. I find that's true more often than not."
"Besides, we don't even know if we are dealing with actual dragons," she adds. "There are wyverns, right? A wyvern is a kind of dragon. At least that's what the signifiers say. I've killed multiple wyverns, but I've never even seen a real dragon. What could possibly control such a powerful creature, not to mention multiple?"
He then paused, thinking, and then said, "We'll need Oakbrow to warn the other fey about this."
"Fine. Just as long as it doesn't lose us any troops," says Jetta. "The fort is a priority."
Keeping quiet for sometime lost in thought. Nodding in agreement with the others various points until Balthus starts up, No nothing is decided though we do not have much time to do so.
Scowling and crossing his arms while continuing We either need to pick between staying a defending this fort while waiting for the dragons. When ever they decide to come. Trying to get them prepared for it then going out and hoping that we find them before they get to the Fort. Not that we know how to find them currently so it would be a wild goose chase if we left now. Or we could try to convince them to leave while we deal with this issue. Assuming we could get them to leave by sun up that limits the amount of people we have to worry about here since the guards would have to go with them for protection. But if they are caught on the road I doubt it would go in their favor.
Running a hand though his hair, But we should send scouts to let. Oakbrow and the Lizardfolk know. We should be able to send out a small group to let them know. Alternatively one or two of us could go. Who ever is going to go will need to ride fast though.
Balthus thought and thought until his head was about to burst. Luckily, his thinking was as his speech. Straight and to the point.
"Scouts to warn us of the attack would give us very little time. I can fan them out with horns to warn us but I'm afraid the lead time we would get is minimal."
He turned to Jetta, "Your plan is to wet the fort until the dragon's come. Come now. You can think of something better to do. Your fire crews are a much better idea."
He looked at Amund, "Listen son. Our best bet of keeping the people of this fort alive is to find these dragons and kill them. You will not be able to defend a fort full of people against dragons. Ever wonder how hard a dragon hide is? They make high-quality armor out of that stuff."
He was already moving, "I'll get some of the scouts out with horns and hope that my archery lessons took hold. Let everyone else know to start praying and get ready to move out. We have to find them before they find us."
Jetta clamps a gauntleted hand on Balthus' shoulder before the ranger has a chance to storm off. "If we knew exactly where their nest is and when they'll be there, I'd agree with you. But we don't. So either we stay here and fight, or go out running into the woods without any clear lead and give them free rein on the fort."
She releases her grip and gives the old man a steely look. "I know you want to act, but these people are counting on us to protect them. My duty is here, and I'm not going anywhere."
"I think Jetta is right." Anthuria says apologetically to Balthus. "We don't know where to look to find these creatures, and in the meantime we waste our efficacy in battle should they attack in our absence. And the dragons aren't the only dangers in the wilderness. Who knows what danger we might encounter--owlbears, wolves--and we would stand to burn more of our limited resources fighting them off."
She turns to look out over the Fort. "An attempt to evacuate would also only open them up to being attacked on the road. I'm no soldier, but aren't we all better off taking up a defensive position here, inside the Fort?"
Sighing and glaring at Balthus, I was agreeing with you to send scouts to our allies then have them return here. And all I was doing was listing a few possible options and in no way was a deciding on one for everyone.
Glancing over at Anthuria, Yes we all are.
Turning back to Balthus without the glare this time, I am with Jetta on this one. We do not know where they are so we should wait.
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"We'll need the scouts for two reasons: we might get advanced notice (no matter how short), and if we successfully repel the attack, we have a lead to where the dragons (or wyverns) make their nest," Percival answered.
"And I must agree with Jetta in defense first. We fan out the scouts, send for Oakbrow and the fey, but we must otherwise prepare for our fort for the first encounter."
"We'll need the scouts for two reasons: we might get advanced notice (no matter how short), and if we successfully repel the attack, we have a lead to where the dragons (or wyverns) make their nest," Percival answered.
"And I must agree with Jetta in defense first. We fan out the scouts, send for Oakbrow and the fey, but we must otherwise prepare for our fort for the first encounter."
Balthus was like a trapped wolf, "Fine but don't expect much. I'll of course help out. I'm a pretty good shot and I'll get an extra quiver or two. I'll also get my scouts out and about."
He kicked dirt, "I still think our best bet is to find them so maybe Oakgrove and the fey can scour the forest, talk to the animals, and find out where these dragons seek shelter."
At the confirmation of dragons (or something dragon-like, at the very least), Tolgrith's face blanches; he's always been a sturdy soul, but it's clear dragons are a fair distance outside what he's had to deal with before. As plans begin to form, he holds up a hand, steeling his resolve. Wait. Let me gather my captains. Partik, Father Apar, maybe even Orrend and Bellar will want to be informed - they may not be much of a help with fighting, but they may be able to help coordinate the ground response to any fires.
Messengers go out, the fort's notables gather, and the planning commences. Lieutenant Sarina begins to draw up a search pattern for her scouts to follow, sending them out in pairs to spread out as quickly as possible and get the widest view of the sky they can; one of Amund's acquaintances from Korvosa, a weaponsmith from the Korvosan Guard called Henry Torrens, begins to rack his brain concerning the building of various siege weapons, trying to decide which will be easiest for the keep’s unskilled laborers to build. Partik, the keep's blacksmith, begins to grumble under his breath about the number of arrowheads that will need to be made, his words slightly slurred from drink; Orrend, with his eyes wide, begins to murmur to Father Apar about the buildings needing the most protection from fire.
And the very next morning, the preparations begin in deadly earnest. Messengers are sent to recall the laborers at the road’s far end, while the crew already at the fort begins to build siege weaponry under Soldier Torrens’ command. Balthus sends another message to Oakbrow via magically persuaded bird, and soon the guards spot Ama lumbering through the underbrush, the aged druid sitting astride. Dragons? he responds incredulously when he hears the tale. Is that what started that fire yesterday morning? I’ve never seen one for myself, but it’s true there’s large wings in the distance from time to time, and I’ll not discount the possibility of anything. I’ll keep close by the next little while - I’ve got incantations that can conjure big bursts of water, and I’m guessing that’s going to prove more than useful soon.I can also conjure creatures, if we need something to distract the beasts and keep them busy.
And I’ll send along your warning to the goodly fair folk as well - it’s kind of you to consider them. As the druid departs the fort’s walls, you hear him chanting in lilting, musical syllables. Soon, on the forest’s edge, he holds out his hand and a creature, too small to see from atop the wall, hops onto the outstretched palm, a high-pitched voice with the timbre of a violin joining the druid’s low bass. The details of the conversation are too low to make out, even for those who can understand the sylvan speech, but it seems to go well - the speck flies from Oakbrow’s hand into the thick woods, the musical hum following it into the distance. From his forming camp on the forest’s edge, Oakbrow gives a signal of affirmation; it seems he’s done what he can to set the fey rumor mill alight.