Dorial smiles as Chrystosm dances areound the graveyard with her.
It's been so long since I've done this!
Thinking now would be as good a time as any, she starts singing about the darkwood dust and how to properly strip the bark and place it in the forest. "A pact was broken not long ago. Return the wood to it's rightful place.."
Poor Old Bones has been stuffed in that sack for so long, I bet he'd like a dance and the graveyard is the perfect place!
Simon pulls out the sack of old bones, props the hands and head out of the bag, and begins dancing along with the rest of the group while hand in hand with the skeletal remains, doing his best to keep time with the thump of the bardiche.
This is sooo much easier than last time, maybe all I needed was a little practice, though it does seem my feet are moving more of their own accord?
"Look, friends, I think I've gained some rhythm!" Simon shows off his new dance moves, being careful to not display them on top of any graves, as he leads Old Bones in an awkward shuffle.
Seeing everyone engaged, Kast ramps ups the beat a bit quicker, seeking the crescendo of movement and sound that will surely entice Twig closer.
*tappitytappatappitytap-tap*
*tappitytappatappitytap-tap*
*tappitytappatappitytap-tap*
*tappitytappatappitytap-tap*
"Twig! We would speak with you! Come! Come talk to us!"
Kast bops his head to the beat and awaits Twig's assuredly dancing entrance.
The group sings and dances in the glade for what seems only a few minutes, when a lively fiddle weaves its way around the beat. This continues for another long moment as various nature sounds join in, accentuating the song.
"Welcome, humans, welcome too
all the halves that are with you.
Come to the glade to dance I see
Come to the glade to talk with me?"
The tiny grig sits above the largest stone in the cemetery.
Even to his newest friends, it's apparent that over the last few days a fundamental change has come over the slight herbalist. Where he soiled his britches and quaked in fear during their last visit to this graveyard at night, now the fear is absent and a strange giddiness nestles within him.
"Welcome friend, welcome Twig
we're here to dance a friendly jig.
Let us speak under sweet moonlight
to restore the pact and make it right."
Kast slows down the beat, trying to join the conversation.
"To gain moss and shroom, "
"We found no witch in her hut,"
"We slew worg and tatzlwyrm,
"And cured the plague, uhrm..." Kast struggles to finish the rhythm, "...Cricketbutt."
Chrystosm, intoxicated by Kast's sinful Varisian rhythms, thinks he's back in the opera house in Westcrown. He clutches Dorial to his chest, adopts the fruitiest actor's voice he can summon up, and speaks:
"They came, in the town's darkest hour,
To seek out a cure for blackscour
A pact will be made
Once again, with the aid
Of Falcon's Wood feys' finest flower"
He bows to Twig, forgets he's holding onto Dorial and trips over her, landing flat on his face in a muddy puddle and rather ruining the effect.
Dorial snickers as Chrystosm looks up from the muddy ground. She extends her and, offering to help him rise.
"Thou bravest Chrys,
Whose blade shan't go thud.
Let us finish our quest,
Rise up from the mud."
Nimeon sighs.
"And so we seek
With dancing feet
An answer clear
To banish fear."
Othoe considers the rhyming and has difficulty wrapping his head around the method of communication.
What can this creature tell us that we don't already know? The bark must be stripped and returned to the forest not burnt. I'm not sure why we're here. Still, maybe there's more to know.
"We need to know the answer
to just one question, please.
How do we process darkwood
to fend of the disease."
The creature hums, nearly ecstatic with he efforts of communication from the group,
'Breathe not the dust
of an old black tree
or it will root
inside of thee'
Rising up on his hind legs, he continues:
"Sink it beneath it's aged foe
the wat'ry waves or feel the woe
Shun the waste, or it will too
grow and grow inside of you."
Finally, he stops his dancing and his playing, saying simply
"Return it to your forest friends
and say the prayer to make amends
And once a life, bring also too
The pact, the bargain, one of you."
"Little Twig, what is the prayer
that we must sing into the air?
And the bargained life to follow
will they return to Falcon's Hollow?
Do we bring these things to you
or do the Fey have another venue?"
"Not to me, nor even near,
but into the Darkest Forest Dear.
The goddess queen could tell you more
if you bow on the forest floor"
Twigzystril grows more and more somber, and the music picks up again, a deep slow pull that seems too full for one so small.
"To the Hollow, return again
and warn them of their likely sin
hopefully the folk will hear
and pay heed to their future seer."
"But should they not, in word or deed
harken to the proffered seed
then trouble more than dust they'll find
we'll take the fruit and leave the rind."
This last thing seems to make the little grig more sad than he can stand. The stars dim, the music fades, and he grows nearly transparent, until only his voice can be heard.
"The gift must come of his own accord
not trussed and bundled like a wooden cord.
Returned the first, we did this time
but heed the warning, heed the rhyme.
to err again, you can ill afford."
It takes a long moment before the heroes can each pull themselves from the fugue induced by the grig's song, but when they do shake free, they find the sun has reset itself, showing early morning rather than mid afternoon that one would expect.
Simon's belly grumbles with the call to breakfast after nearly a day without food. "Friends, let us find a morning feast at the Sitting Duck and discuss our path forward. And fear not for this 'gift' the Fey request, I told you all from first meeting that Falcon's Hollow was my home and I'd not abandon it or my neighbors, my loyalty still holds true and by my own accord, for the salvation of the Hollow, I'll be the 'gift' that the forest goddess seeks." Then with a sly smile, to lighten the situation, "I hope she likes nuts."
Kast nods to Simon, somewhat taken aback at the man's sanity and clarity of thought...up until the 'nuts' comment.
Maybe his sanity is tied to the town, and when he leaves it, it leaves him.
* * *
Kast will explain it as he sees it, offering a recap, to make sure everyone is on the same page.
"The way I might explain it: Long ago, the humans that came to the area made a pact for peace with the humans in the area, but it requires several things to stay active, right?"
Kast looks around to make sure people are listening.
"First thing is that the town is not supposed to over-harvest the forest. Chances are that they're failing at that."
Kast pauses.
"Secondly," Kast nods to Simon's volunteerism, "each human lifetime, they bring a willing supplicant to the queen of the fey. That person may or may not be brought back and changed along the way."
Kast holds up three fingers to emphasize his third point.
"The lost knowledge from this pact was that to safely harvest darkwood, the log must be stripped under water, the resulting scraps returned to the fey deep in the forest for safe disposal. I think that about covers it."
Kast looks around to see if anyone has any ideas about what to do next.
"Excellent synopsis. I think we need to get the village to come back to the agreement. For that to happen we need to get the village leadership to agree."
"How long has the village been doing the wrong thing? It can't have been long or the disease would have struck sooner. We should find out how things have changed and who made that decision."
"We think they're over-harvesting, but we know they're stripping the darkwood differently. I suggest we start there. Let's go to the Mill and see how they're stripping the wood, when they made the change, and who authorized it."
"...after some breakfast of course - or dinner. I seem to have lost track of time."
Dorial nods as Kast recaps what they have learned.
"Perhaps we should also think of a way to deal with the situation in the event that the town leadership does not see eye to eye with us. I'm sure I could convince a few rats to sabotage their machine."
Chrystosm frowns.
"H'mmm. I really don't want to see Simon parcelled up like a pudding and covered with puncture marks, though. Can't we get Kreed to come for a walk in the woods with us? He's the crux of the problem - if we could neutralise him in some way..."
"I think you're forgetting the willing part, Chrys. We can't force anybody to go."
As the party heads out from the glade, a light dusting of soft white snow drops from the sky, and a brisk chill fills the air. Looking back, the cemetery too is cloaked in a wintery coat, though only moments ago, it seemed Fall had barely begun its painting of the leaves. Now the leaves stand bare and a heavy frost glimmers upon the stones in the morning light. Ahead, the town is similarly draped, thin tendrils of smoke tying each home to the clouds above.
Winter in Falcon’s Hollow is a busy time. The lumber camps close, the fields lie fallow, and the town bustles with people, often with too little to do. Even this early in the morning, The Sitting Duck pours the sound of communion out into the frosty air.
Othoe shudders against the cold, At least this year I'll have somewhere warm to stay.
...wait. Wasn't it summer when we left? DAMN FEY. Taking months of my life! They're worse than slave masters...
He heads into the din of The Sitting Duck and tries to find a table large enough for the group to sit and plan. The pleasure of the crowd is infectious and he feels less hostile to the world.
If such a table is taken, he'll politely ask the revelers to find another space - and buy them a round for their trouble.
Othoe is feeling generous.... We have a plan.
Kast limps his way to the Sitting Duck, his bardiche now playing the role of walking stick. As he gets closer to the Sitting Duck, the sounds of merriment reach Kast's ears and lead to happy thoughts.
Looks like Fleur is moving again...it didn't take her long to recover.
Such thoughts ease his mind and steps a bit, as Kast finally realizes that he has done something good for the town and it takes a bit of a load of his leg.
"We're not in this alone. We have friends," Kast whispers a reminder to himself.
Kast will enter the Sitting Duck and see if Eli and Fleur need any help.
"Well, at least that cask of stout should be finished by now." Simon grins at the thought of his favorite beverage and heads into the Sitting Duck with the rest of his companions.
Mindful of Fey tendencies, Dorial remains quiet on their trek back to the Sitting Duck.
She quietly sits down next to Chrystosm, absentmindedly thinking on the dance in the graveyard.
I really hope the people of this town can change their ways. I would hate to take a more drastic approach, but what must be done must be done.
The room quiets as the group enters as first one table, then another looks up then down again as they check out the new comers. The young man behind the counter looks up as well, his dark brows furrowing for a moment as he takes in the group at the door. Suddenly, his meaty fist comes down on the bar and he bellows, ”” once, then again.
Not content to let the party come to him, he half climbs, half bounds over the bar and rushes forward. ”It’s the Heroes! It’s the Heroes, you fools, let them sit!!” A table is found and the light hubbub that had been the convivial murmur a moment ago sparks with urgency as the questions come fast and furious.
”Where have you been?”
”Did you find ‘em? Did you kill ‘em?”
”we heard you died!”
Mugs of hot cider are shoved into hands and large trenchers of hash are placed in front of each one of the prodigal heroes.
Finally, the young man shoos them off, pulling up a chair, turning it and straddling it backwards, resting his elbows on it as he fights for the words….
”I never did get to say thank you. For me, for Fleur. I never did…and if it weren’t for you….” He doesn’t go on, but it’s clear that he is very, very grateful.
Perception
Kast smiles at the young lad who seemingly has taken ownership of the bar and tries to disclaim most credit for Fleur's recovery.
"You're welcome, of course, but it really wasn't all our doing. If you hadn't protected her while we were gone, I don't think we would be nearly as happy right now. But you're welcome, for what that's worth," Kast sniffs, then drinks his offered drink.
"How are you feeling, Eli? Do you happen to remember what happened to you?"
* * *
Kast will look around the Duck and bask a bit in the happiness of the group, taking a moment to just enjoy the moment.
Soldiers return from war.
The young man blushes beneath his slightly green cheeks, bites his lip and then answers, "you mean at the tree? I uh, no, I don't uhm, remember much. I got better though." A smile lights his whole face as he pauses for a moment, but then continues. And Fleur is doing right fine too, though she thought maybe you all took off to somewhere more exciting, now that you saved the town and didn't have to worry about her no more."[/b]
"Don't listen to him. I knew you'd be back!" Fleur says with a laugh, wrapping Kast in a tight hug and kissing his cheek before going around the table to hug the others, though perhaps not nearly so long or so thoroughly.
"But we did wonder where you went. We looked all over for you. I even...once... went with Eli on one of his walkabouts, but I uh..." she laughs nervously, as she admits. "I fell asleep. Then got lost. It was...odd. I dreamed such odd things."
Perception
"Fleur...somethings different about you! Did you always have two eyes? Oh, You did? Oh, of course. Yeah..."
"W-what?" a near smile trembles on her mouth before disappearing in a confused frown. "y-yes, of course I've always had two eyes."
Turning in a swirl of skirts, she turns on her heel, hurrying from the room. "I...I have cu...customers to s..see!"
The slight herbalist seems more himself at the table in the Sitting Duck than he has since the party first walked out the doors several months ago. His expressions, mannerisms, are those of the shy, local man who's spent his whole life among these folks, and it's only a sunken wisdom behind his eyes that belies of any change.
Trying to answer all the questions at once, Simon addresses the crowd, "We had a meeting with the Fey. We found them yes, but we didn't kill them, just like they didn't kill young Eli here. We must, as a town, understand the cultural differences, surely we would have died if that was there intent, but they mean to live peacefully with us, if we'll only live peacefully with them."
Before any more questions can get squeezed in, Simon slips in a request for his favorite.
"Young Eli, could I trouble you for a mug of walnut ale, with a bit of the darkleaf topping it off please?"
Simon leans near Kast, quietly, "Hey buddy, Soldiers flirt, and you're blowing it with Fleur, quick, before she gets away, tell her that her eyes must just be twice as pretty as you remembered"
The townsfolk hang on Simon's every word, the ones in the front repeating them to the ones further out.
"The fey? We got no truck with the fey! They leave us alone and.... you don't mean THEY were responsible for that attack on Eli a few months back???? You don't say!"
"I hear that Brickasnurd still gives good coin for taxidermy nixies!"
Eli jumps to his feet, rushing to get his saviors whatever they might need, using the largest mug in the place to do so.
"No, no, the Fey did NOT try to kill anyone. In fact, they HELPED with the CURE for the plague, they care about us." Simon holds back his frustration, knowing that it was his own careless words that caused the misunderstanding.
Eli settles again, handing the mug to Simon. Drawing himself up, he speaks, and his voice seems to fill the room, though he speaks softly, "Simon's right. The Fey aren't bad....they're...beautiful." The last is said with a breathless sigh.
One foot taps, and his fingers twitch, tapping out a subtle rhythm.
Interesting. It seems the Fey have been quite busy.
"Folks, what Simon says is true. If it weren't for the Fey, we'd never have helped cure the plague."
More than that Othoe keeps to himself for now. He enjoys the food and drink, and even offers to pay more than once - assuming it's denied. No matter what, he enjoys himself and relaxes in the warmth of the bar, and the company.
We need to mention the darkwood. Should *I* mention the darkwood?
Chrystosm sidles up behind Simon and hisses in his ear, "Tell them about the darkwood and the blackscour! They won't believe me - not after those, ah, "magic" beans I tried to sell some farmers... a long time ago..."
He looks concerned and sits down, staring into his tankard with a furrowed brow.
Nimeon watches, feeling the burn in his ear as attention is brought his way. Looking at Eli and Fleur he notices the changes time has wrought, more on the former than the latter.
"Simon and Othoe have the right of it. The plague was caused by improper harvesting of the darkwood. The fey have set it right but we've a limited window to keep it that way, and things must change in order for the town to survive."
It takes a moment for Dorial to notice the differences, but then she snaps to. "Um, Eli, how many months were we gone? It only feels like hours for us, but obviously we've been gone longer than that."
The crowd mutters at talk of the darkwood harvesting, some calling it foolishness, but others reminding them of those that aren't with them anymore.
"pshaw! dark wood never killed no one cept at the merchant's table!"
"an' you know if it hadn't been for these fine folks an' Laurel, our little Grizelda would be so much fertilizer right now, so hush up and take heed, you ol' coot!"
"Daddy, what's a Fur Alizer? I don't wanna be no Fur Alizer! Daddy!"
Hearing the mutter and feeling the crowd tensing, Eli stands up, towering over Dorial by several inches now. He smiles a winning grin, saying "That puts me in the mood for a story. Why don't I tell you all about it. That is, if folks will find seats and put another log in the stove."
He begins the tale with "now you remember" and weaves it through the darkest times of the plague, through the groups own travails as he's pulled together from bits from Laurel and the other townsfolk.
"Now you tell me if I've got this wrong..." he says, then launches again into a heroic rip of their dangerous fight for the town's survival. He lingers over Kast's storming up the stairs and taking the sword from his hands, telling him it would be ok, that Fleur would live. And as if drawn by the mention of her name, the young barmaid settles a new round of mugs on the table by those that had been grumbling the most, then moves off a few feet to listen as well.
The young bard glosses over his kidnapping, mentioning it only to set up his rescue by this self same group. He tells how his saviors brought him back to tavern, and Fleur, now saved from the plague, tended his wounds and ran the place one handed. He vaguely touches on midnight wanderings out into the woods, and odd dreams of other worlds and times and a woman so beautiful, that just looking upon her could strike a man dumb for a month.
"2, Ma'am. You were gone for two." A dip of his head has a tumble of dark curls just falling into his eyes, and for a moment, and for a half-orc, he looks boyishly charming.
"Hey buddy, Soldiers flirt...."
Soldiers flirt?
Kast looks at Simon like he has no idea what the man is talking about.
What is he talking about?
"What are you talking about?" Kast says cluelessly.
* * *
Kast shakes his head.
I don't want to be Fur Alizer either.
That thought sits in his mind for a few happy moments before another one settles in....
TWO MONTHS!? WE WERE GONE TOO MONTHS?!
Kast looks at the rest of the party to confirm what they heard as well.
Chrystosm sits there looking slightly stunned, although the quantity of beer he's got outside of may have more to do with that. He rubs his face and chin.
"But... that's two months without shaving, washing, or eating - you name it. Where did it go, and why didn't we bloody well notice?! What the hell are we dealing with that can catapult us two months into the future without us having the faintest idea what was going on?"
He frowns deeply.
"If you ask me, there's more to this than just a bunch of angry pixies. Eli, what do you mean when you say you dreamed of other times and worlds? How... real were these dreams?"
Chrystosm sits there looking slightly stunned, although the quantity of beer he's got outside of may have more to do with that. He rubs his face and chin.
"But... that's two months without shaving, washing, or eating - you name it. Where did it go, and why didn't we bloody well notice?! What the hell are we dealing with that can catapult us two months into the future without us having the faintest idea what was going on?"
He frowns deeply.
"If you ask me, there's more to this than just a bunch of angry pixies. Eli, what do you mean when you say you dreamed of other times and worlds? How... real were these dreams?"
For a moment, Eli's eyes take on a warm, haunted glow, and his breath comes out in a slight hum. "Real... so very real. Sometimes, I never wanted to wake up." A real tinge of regret fills his voice, but then he looks to Fleur and smiles. "But I've responsibilities here, Fleur, and the tavern. Besides, you can't live on milk and honey forever, can you?"
It makes no sense, for as surely as Chrystosm is rubbing his own sunset shadow on his face, his body, his mind, his entire being says that he has only aged a single night.
"Is said time passes differently in the Never Never, Chrys. While only a night passed for us it has been two months here. If Eli was traveling their for the last two months that would explain his sudden sprouting from a manling into a man. Thank your stars we were only gone for two months."
Kast tries to wrap his head around the time change, trying to explain how he would explain it to others and failing.
I wonder what Kreen will think of all this. Didn't he have expectations for us?
Kast takes another sip of his drink, slowing down lest the combination of alcohol and time distortions affect his mind. Kast's eyes flicker to Simon.
* * *
As the conversation sags and quiets down, Kast will try to draw in his team to talk.
"Well, that certainly changes things...or does it? What do we do next? Talk to Kreen? Or talk to the darkwood strippers? Or what? If we just lost two months we need to hurry."
"Our perspective has changed, but I don't think our plan has. We have nothing to say to Kreed, so I say let him be for now. Let us head to the mill and see how they're processing the wood, find out who changed the orders from the prior method, and when."
"But yes, I do think we need to hurry."
Two months? Why couldn't it have been the winter months? Huh? I like fall...
"Kreed has run this town for years, two months won't change his grip on Falcon's Hollow, and no change we effect will hold permanent with the process of gathering Darkwood unless we change, or end, the mentality of the man running the show."
Simon takes a long slow drink of ale.
"I don't know that we need to even see the mill to know that the bark is being burned and the wood is being stripped improperly. If we tell the town then it will cause unrest and Kreed will be angry. If we tell Kreed he may try to silence us to keep up his methods and profits. If we destroy the machines that strip the bark and the ovens that burn it then we'll hurt the town's economy and make people angry and they'll just build new machines and ovens."
Another long drink from the mug.
"The only humanity I've ever seen from Kreed was when his boy was threatened with the plague, emphasizing the threat to Kreed's own family may be our best approach to changing the mentality of the man that can change the fate of this town."
"Can we prove it to him? I mean, if we could show him that that's what made his son sick, he might listen. He's a nasty piece of work, for sure, but he's a practical man. Still, Simon, you know him better than the rest of us - do you think that could work?"
For the most part, the tavern folk have moved back to their own tables or off to face the rest of their day, leaving the group to talk. Occasionally someone will come poke their head in, then leave again, just having checked whatever story is being told out in the town. Clearly, the heroes' belated return will not be a surprise to anyone soon.
"Simon, you may well be right, but I don't know yet that we can lay all this down at Kreed's feet. You say he's been in charge for two years? It's just this year that the disease spread. Could be it took a while to build, but it seems just as likely that someone changed the rules this year - and that might not have been Kreed."
"I still say we take a detour to the Mill and gather our facts. I do agree we're going to need to confront Kreed at some point, but let's do it with all the knowledge we can muster first. There is much about harvesting Darkwood that I don't know. For example how much labor and cash is saved by harvesting this way as opposed to the other? Will it take a change in the structure of the Mill - or just procedure?"
"And who grabbed the boy? It might have been Kreed, but I don't think he'd have grabbed someone who could be used in his tree-cutting enterprise when he grew up. Seems more likely he'd have grabbed a little girl - or even someone who's already sick. Or maybe someone from the orphanage."
"I do agree that we need to be quiet about our thoughts and plans." He looks at the patrons of the bar, "Much quieter than we have been!"
"Being quiet isn't going to happen here. I suggest everybody take the evening to sort out the last two months and meet here in the morning to head to the mill."