As Luthor flees behind the others, the worg lets out a howl, this one with an almost mocking edge. Daen jerks free of his sleeping bag, popping up with his sword in hand, while Kaz struggles to get his equipment assembled.
The worg lunges forward, teeth snapping shut on the air where Daen's sword-arm would have been, had the half-elf not pulled it back just in time.
Rather glad the worg came for him and not any sleeping teammates, he maneuvers his sword back around to make a strike at the large beast. "You'll find your meal has sharp teeth too." He quips back at the worg as he slashes with his glowing blade.
Luthor suddenly seemed to perk up, rising from his crouched position and waving as the wolf. "Uhm, excuse me, Mr. wolf?" He called, garnering odd looks from everyone. "You wouldnt happen to be a worg by chance? I hear they speak the common tongue. I dont suppose you agree there is no need for violence?"
Laliytsa snaps awake at Luthor's cry. She tries to stand up but she's forgotten she's in a sleeping bag. All she does is get herself tangled up for a few seconds during which she growls out nonsense curse words. "Rassin sasafrassin bag ragin flaggin filibunkin UGH!"
Finally she escapes and stands up, glaring at the worg with her chest heaving. Her eyes narrow and she growls at the creature. "Worg. I know 'bout Worgs. I've killed 'em. Like as not this one's got a pack comin'."
Eyes locked onto the worg she grabs her axe off the ground. " Y don' bargain with worgs, y'kill em"
"Then they'll have to face our own pack!" Kazimir calls back to Laliytsa. "Do you see any more?" As he speaks, he moves up alongside Daen, clutching his axe and holy symbol in one hand, his shield gripped in the other.
"As the shepherd protects the flock, I too will protect my own. Erastil, guide my weapon, and if this beast holds evil in its heart, put it down through me." As he speaks this last, he swings his axe at the worg, the old weapon cutting easily through the air.
Daen's swing seems to connect, but the beast's hide is tough and gnarled, and the blade bounces off without doing any harm. The worg laughs, a harsh, guttural sound, and shoots Luthor a grin. "No need for violence? You will die last-" It's words end in a yelp, interrupted by Kazimir's axe crashing into it, guided by Erastil's hand. It responds with a show of teeth before leaping at Kaz, only to be stopped by his shield.
Daen steps to the side while the beast is occupied. It was looking as if this thing was pretty confident, but who's to say that things would go it's way? He spoke directly to the Worf, or whatever it was called. "You talk pretty for someone who has not shed blood yet." As the beast's hide was tougher than he expected, he compensated for his next attack.
Laliytsa circles around behind the worg. She moves in as Daen strikes, pinning the warg between them. Years spent hunting magic beasts serve her well; she's able to score a solid blow on the creature.
Kazimir's shield blocks the worg's assault with a satisfying thud, the impact sending a jolt of force up the farm boy's arm. "So am I to die first, Beast?" he asks, adjusting his stance to account for the assault. "Then by all means, try!" Unfortunately, he's over-adjusted for the swing; it goes wide, not even shearing a hair off the worg's head.
With all the talk of packs, Luthor suddenly felt awfully alone at the back, as everyone piled in to attack the worg. Taking a few nervous steps forward, he looked around frantically. "Do you see anything Rikka?"
Both Daen and Laliytsa connect solidly, opening cuts on the worg's side and back. Kaz's attack, however, is poorly aimed.
In response to Kazimir's question, the worg lets loose a gravelly-sounding howl, takes a step in between Laliytsa and Kazimir and digs its teeth viciously into his thigh, opening savage wounds. It snaps its head back and forth, trying to pull Kaz's legs out from under him, but the paladin is able to stay on his feet.
Laliytsa moves in concert with the Worg, working to keep it pinned. She takes another swing as it bites poor Kazimir.
Kazimir grits his teeth as the worg's jaws snap shut on his thigh, ribbons of pain shooting through his limb. "No worse than your average dog!" he laughs shakily, attempting to calm himself as he aims his axe at the exposed neck.
Daen moves in to strike as well, but nearly turns his foot on an uprooted radish and so his opportunity to strike was also awkward. He'd have to be more careful concerning his footing, his trainer would be quite upset had he just seen that.
"Uhm, guys, I think Rikka just heard more wolves. Maybe regular ones." Luthor said, still standing around and being large stunned into inaction by his fear. "I think its coming from that way, I.." He began, pointing south. But as the worgs teeth dug into Kazimir, he all but forgot his fear. "Kaz!" He shouted, diving towards the paladin, hand outstretched and glowing with a soothing soft light.
Letting loose another gravelly howl, the injured worg turns and runs, heading off toward the south. As it does, the other howls become audible to everyone, then fading away again.
Laliytsa takes a parting shot at the retreating worg. She misses.
[/dice]
The worg leaves, howling loudly to the wolves, and after a few minutes, things calm down again at the radish patch. Before long, everyone heads back to their tents, save Luthor, who finishes out his watch in peace and calm.
Neither Daen nor Kazimir see or hear anything out of the ordinary during their watches, though the hooting of an owl keeps Kazimir company, and clouds begin to obscure the stars and moon.
During her watch, Laliytsa hears a faint giggling sound from the middle of the radish patch. There's a sudden shushing sound, but by the time she can investigate, whatever made the sound is gone. However, there's a stack of empty bottles, food-wrappings, and wooden carvings of coins. Written in the dirt next to it is a message, "Perli says to 'give it back to the bigginses'.-T", and on top of the pile is the silver amulet in the shape of a stag that Laliytsa had given as an offering to the Fey.
By the time a gray dawn rises over the hills and trees nearby, a light rain is falling on the little patch, making pack-up somewhat more difficult. Fortunately, the wind doesn't seem to be blowing too hard, and there's enough shelter among the trees to stay dry.
Laliytsa picks up the fey's 'offerings', a small smile on her face. She tucks the items in her saddlebags for safe keeping. When she wakes the rest of the party she shares the discovery with them. "Anyone heard of a fey named Perli?"
An uneventful night was excellent for the half elf. He felt rested and even adventurous enough to take a bite or two of radish for breakfast. Feeling quite happy about forcing the Worg to flee, he answers Lali's question with a non-committal shrug. "I've not heard of any fey's names in particular. At least they're not acting maliciously toward us. I'll take it as a good sign. We've still got a lot of ground to cover today, we'd probably be best on our way."
Finishing a quick breakfast, saddling up the horses, and packing equipment takes a few hours, during which time the rain falls steadily. A few birds, either adventurous or hungry, flit back and forth across the clearing, but other than their occasional chirp and the sound of light rain on the pine needles, the Narlmarch is quiet, though the earthy smells seem to be crisper in the drizzle.
It's near noon when the sun finally pokes through, though it looks to be just a temporary respite. By this time, the Narlmarch has begun to give way to hills, some sharp and rocky, others rolling and grass-covered. Here and there, stands of trees continue to pop up, but the deep forest begins to turn to tall grasses, browned with winter. A dozen narrow game-trails shoot off in every direction, and an occasional stream makes its way through a narrow ravine, though even filled with the rainwater none pose a challenge to cross.
As the party approaches one of these narrow ravines, a sudden sound rips through the air. A strange mix of screech and growl, it echoes across the hills, followed almost as quickly by a hulking creature, feathered and furred in a motley pattern. Its beak curves down in an arc nearly a foot long, while at the end of a pair of stunted wings are two sets of claws, each several inches. Turning to look at the horses, the creature drops to all fours and rushes toward you.
Laliytsa knows this is some sort of magical beast but that's it. For the second time in two days she tries to leap out of the saddle and again she fails horribly. She catches herself before falls but it's a near thing.
Feet firmly on the ground now she pulls out her bow and moves away from the beast's path
For a moment, Kazimir considers chasing after the worg, but sense prevails. If it was retreating, it wasn't likely to return... He hopes. He doubts he can run far with a wounded leg, anyway; though Luthor's spell seemed to dull the worst of the wound, shrinking the bite to shallow punctures, the pain lingers in the muscle, almost as a warning.
He massages the limb periodically through his watch, listening to the sounds of the forest around him. By the time Laliytsa wakes him, the pain has ebbed further, and it doesn't appear infected, so he pays it no further mind.
"What is that?!" Kazimir exclaims in surprise, gripping Surefoot's reins tightly as the creature begins barrelling toward the party. Noting its hostility, he nudges his horse in the ribs, spurring him into action. As Surefoot charges toward the creature, he readies his lance, aiming it for the strange beast.
"That, that is an owlbear!" Daen nearly shouted to the group. "It's very strong, so be careful." The half elf hopped off of his horse, but hesitated. If that thing got a hold of any of them, it could very easily be the end. At the same time, he was excited and optimistic today for some reason. He pulled his Bow though, there was no reason to get overzealous. Claws and beak, that thing could tear through his leathers like tissue. He spent a half second to light up his bow, faintly glowing blue that concentrated on the arrow as soon as he drew it back to his cheek.
Daen's blue-glowing arrow rips into the Owlbear, which, surprisingly, doesn't scream in pain or anything. At the same time, Kazimir's charge slams home, catching the creature square in the chest, but instead of the solid feeling of muscle and hide, Kaz feels nothing but air. The owlbear shimmers brilliantly and dissipates, revealing it to be nothing more than an illusion.
There's a high-pitched laughter, and two creatures take to the air. One, a tiny blue dragon with brilliant orange wings, flies directly down the ravine, while the other, a cross between a tiny woman's head, arms, and nude torso and a grasshopper or cricket, takes a few loop-the-loops before bowing to the paladin and laughing again. Finally, she follows the dragon thing, squeaking "Wait for meeeeee, Perliiiii!"
"Huh. So that's Perli." Laliytsa slowly lowers her bow. "Lady's a grig. That's good, grigs are good fey. Guess they were just playin' with us." She looks over at the rest of the group. "Wanna follow 'em?"
"What in the world...?" Kazimir's confusion shows plainly on his face as his lance drives through thin air, Surefoot whinnying in fear as the owlbear vanishes.
The sight of the two creatures only serves to confuse him further; when the strange cricket-woman bows to him, Kaz can only manage a stunned nod in response. As the two fly off, and Laliytsa offers her explanation, he shakes his head, wiping the expression from his face.
"Well, that was certainly strange," he mutters, shaking his head as he rides back to the group. "If you think following them is a good idea, then let's do so. I know little of the fair folk, but I trust your judgement."
Having been on the rougher end of much more sinister pranks in the midst of growing up, it was kind of nice to only have wasted an arrow. Daen got back on his horse. "And Perli seems to be a Fairy Dragon. They do love their pranks. They are much more interested in running away than fighting, or really hurting things. If we do follow them, we might run into another prank. It's hard to say."
The fey continue to fly, with the grig occasionally looping back to nearly within talking distance and making rude signs with her arms, but after a while, they grow tired of their games and fly off to the northwest, abandoning the party between two hills, one of which is cut sharply and filled with rounded stones, as if a river once flowed across this area. Despite your searching, you are unable to find either the fey or anything of real significance in this area, and before long, it's time to find a place to pitch tents.
Fortunately, by that time, the rain has stopped, leaving mud and sludge-filled places along the trail, but the summit of one of the nearby hills seems dry, tucked as it is beneath a large oak tree. On closer inspection, the site seems to have once been a structure of some sort. A few stone-and mud walls, no higher than your ankles, peek out from the much taller grasses, their insides filled with soil and grass.
As you're setting up camp, the howling begins.
It's immediately clear that it's not the worg from last night. The (WARNING, SOUND) howling is loud, but coming from perhaps a half-mile away. One wolf seems to be somewhere to the north, while a second is to the east of your hill. Despite the constant howling, there's no move to attack the tents or the fire. It carries on throughout Luthor's watch and well into Kaz's before finally petering out around midnight.
Hounded by the wolf-cries, which return during Laliytsa's watch, the party gets an early start. Though the howls continue until the sun completely crests the horizon, it seems the wolves are either harassing you or just doing whatever wolves do. Eventually, with Laliytsa guiding the way, the party reaches the border of the Narlmarch. After crossing a few streams, you arrive at a clearing that's all too familiar. The watchtowers stand, but the rest of the bandit camp has been cleared out, and the tents torched, and recently. The stench and haze of smoke is still thick in the air. Fortunately, the rain seems to have prevented the blaze from spreading beyond the tents, and with the bandits gone, a number of other creatures seem to have moved in. Birds flit from tree to tree, and just outside the camp, a deer and her fawn eye you cautiously before bounding off into the woods.
A haunting, yet beautiful, song drifts across the Thorn River camp, coming from the other side of the two huge logs that formed a sort of wall.
The half-elf gets down from his horse to take a closer look at the torched site. It didn't make sense to torch tents when they could be sold or used in other places, perhaps there was a third party here. "This seems a bit odd to me. Do you think we could find out who did this?"
"Thats certainly a good question." Luthor said, cautiously walking around. Meanwhile, Rikka had scurried down to the ground, running between the tents to investigate.
"Still..." He added, craning his neck, clearly listening. "...Im more inclined to find out where that song is coming from. I mean the camp isnt going anywhere."
He began slowly walking in the direction of the song, Rikka meeting him halfway and returning to her perch.
"Be careful" Laliytsa follows after Luthor. "That singin'... I don't think it's human." She splits off from Luthor and heads toward the music from a different angle. Her body is low to the ground, her footsteps measured and careful. As she quietly moves she keeps an eye out for things that changed since the group was last there. Whoever burned the camp could have left some nasty surprises behind in case someone came back. She'd rather not walk into one.
At the fire-pit: Hungry
Near most of the tents: Stinky, curious, strange
At the most intact tent: shiny, curious, excited
Near the large downed logs: Stinky, smelly, earthy
High in a pine tree, half-hidden by the needles, is an old rusty bucket. It seems to be well-above where the music-playing sound is coming from. Behind the bucket, you fancy you can see just a touch of orange for a moment before it vanishes.
Approaching the source of the alternate singing and fiddle-laying, Luthor is the first to see a man, bare-chested in the brisk Pharast morning, with a beard down to his prodigious gut and a finely-made fiddle to his neck. As he sees Luthor, he stops playing long enough to gesture at him with the bow of his fiddle, a gesture that seems to say "come closer, friend."
The half elf looked a bit confused, trying to puzzle it all out. Did someone bury Kressle? What's with the wagon going north? Is their base of operations safe? "It's really hard to tell what's going on with these tracks. Are we dealing with more pranksters? What do you guys see..." And that's when he noticed that no one was paying attention to him. Was it enchantment? He cast detect magic and began looking around for any magical effects on his team.
"You've been here before?" Kazimir asks, noting the familiarity with which Daen and Laliytsa survey the ruined camp. Dismounting, he follows the half-elf, pausing here and there to poke at a tent with his lance, as if looking for (admittedly unexpected) signs of life.
Kaz's poking, for the most part, doesn't find anything. Most of the signs of life seem to be nearing a week old, and the fire damage is pretty extensive.
About to let Rikka distract him with her excited thoughts of shiny things, Luthor suddenly came into view of the dancing fellow. "Well, isnt this curiuos?!" He said, laughing loudly as he started bobbing his knees in tune to the fiddle. "I say good sir, what a wonderful display it is!" He called approaching the man whilst adding clapping. "Everyone, come see. Maybe this fellow can help us...I mean, apart from this catchy tune."
Oh his shoulder, Rikka looked slightly agitated, turning to look at the stranger, Luthor and the others in quick succession as if looking for guidance as to what to do.
Ah. He said to himself. To the others he said, specifically in response to Kaz, "Yes, this is where the bandit camp was that we depopulated. Other than the fires, there's nothing new here. What have you found over there? Not more bandits I hope. That music is making me feel uneasy." Daen carefully approached the source of the music. It seemed quite out of place out in the wilderness. Of course, with his limited experience, it was hard to say if it actually was or not.
Laliytsa watches the rest of the group approach the musician. She's pretty sure they can handle the man (if he turns out to be a threat) without her help. Seeing what exactly is in that tree seems like a better option. She attempts to climb it. It does not go well.
Laliytsa's attempts to climb the pine tree end quickly as a branch snaps off with her just a few feet off the ground, but her fall shakes the tree, dislodging a rusty old bucket.
As it falls, Luthor looks up in time to throw himself clear of the rain of little pinkish-red berries and juices. The musical man shimmers and fades, not unlike the owlbear, revealing a soaked, and very upset, grig. Crossing her arms over her unclothed chest, she screams up into the tree, her translucent wings flicking the sticky berry juice off as quickly as they can.
"You's an idjit, Perli! You was supposed to wait until tha bigginses were under tha treeeee! You always do things too early, like tha trapper-man!" She shakes her head rapidly, struggling to get little chunks of berry out of her long, silvery hair.
"It wasn't my fault, Tyg! I ent never pushed it too early, it was that clumsy bigins, shaking my tree around!" The orange color that Laliytsa thought she'd seen unfurls into a pair of large butterfly wings, and a faerie dragon descends, landing next to the cricket-woman. He begins to help her clean up, pulling berries from her hair. "Yum!"
The little fey woman smacks him on the snout, drawing a yelp and a hurt look, before turning to look up at the biginses. "You ent gonna be hurtin' us, is you? Was just a bit of fun!"
Hearing the shrill screams and yells, Kazimir hurries in the direction of the sounds, his poking around the campsite forgotten. "What happened here? Is everything al...right?" he trails off, seeing the two fey creatures from the previous day. As he looks sidelong at the bucket, and the spilled fruits, the pieces fall into place. "Well, well, well. You're quite the little pranksters, aren't you?" he chuckles with a slightly chiding tone, like an elder scolding a child, as he crouches and pulls a berry chunk gently out of the cricket-woman's hair. "No, we aren't going to hurt you. There's no harm done, you've just given this 'bigins' a fright!"
Daen made a bit of a sour face over the whole deal. It's funny until we run into something real and think it's another prank and get killed to a man. At least that's what he wanted to say. He crossed his arms and sighed. Maybe they could turn this around a little. "Well, you started some fires and burned the... It almost hurt to say it this way. ...biginses' stuff. Maybe we should burn some of your stuff too."
He really meant it as a joke, but it was pretty obvious that everyone was taking it wrong. "I'm joking." he said, completely flat in his tone, not terribly convincing either way.
Luthor looked sideways at nothing in particular after Daens affirmation that he was joking, clearly uncomfortable with how badly he had conveyed his meaning. "Yeeeah, well..." He started, looking the other way, his eyes falling on Rikka. "...Rikka thinks you should probably work on your jokes." At this, the mongoose straightened up with a surprised look, turning to face Luthor with he paws at her hips. Luthor simply smiled.
Eager to divert the attention someplace else, he turned to the two pranksters. "Fey as you are, I dont suppose this backfired prank will manage to register as a lesson?" He smiled broadly. "It was however a fun prank, especially how it turned out." He crouched down to get as close to eye level with the tiny creatures. Rikka scurried down, sniffing the pair and helping with the berries by licking cautiously. "Say, you wouldnt know your way around these parts would you? We are here to explore, and it would really help if you could give us some pointers. Where everything is, where theres danger, that sort of stuff." He reached down and wiped a finger-full of berry off the Grig. He tasted it with a delighted look, then winked. "Oh and maybe give the pranks a rest, atleast for a little bit."
With a look of realization he suddenly looked back at the others. "Oh and before I forget, Rikka thinks theres something interesting in one of the tents. We should probably look at that at some point."
"What? Nuh-uh, we didn't burn this junk." Tyg's eyes grow wide at Daen's threats. The grig buzzes her wings, still trying to get them to dry off. One of them sticks to the others, and she reaches back behind her to gently tug them apart.
The faerie dragon takes the opportunity to snatch another berry piece from her hair with his tiny jaws, gulping it down quickly before flying up to look Daen and Kazimir in the eye. "Nope, we ent never started a fire here. Never hurt these biginses, even if they deserved it. They did not take that trick well at all. No, they did not!"
"You needs to learn to joke more better, big-grumpy!" The grig sticks her thumb in her mouth, sucking some of the berry juice off, and then blows on it like a balloon. Her eyes bug out of her head, seeming to grow twice their normal size. "Seeeeeee? That's funny! Threatening to burn someone's nest down when they ent done nothing is not!"
"Where things are? Where danger is? Now, why'd you need that stuff? Wouldn't you rather it be a surprise? I mean, maybe you don't like surprises, how should we know? Those biginses that was living here, they sure didn't." The faerie dragon looks at Luthor and Rikka. "You haven't even given us any gifts! You can't ask the mighty...the might..." He flutters to the ground, rolling on the dirt and laughing for a minute before pulling himself together enough to continue. "You can't ask the mighty spirits of the Narlmarch for guidance without a gift!" His voice, while high, has just a hint of a rasp to it, while his laugh is almost as deep as the average man's.
The grig covers her chest as Luthor's gigantic finger wipes her back clean. "Hey, mister, I ent that kind of girl, and we just met!" She winks at him, laughing a high-pitched, melodic laugh. She rubs her legs together, producing a sound eerily similar to a violin.