The woman gives Raquel an appraising glance. "Oh, so I do exist, after all. I was starting to wonder if the fabled Northern hospitality was just a myth." Her voice is languid, but cultivated - and amused, although perhaps at a joke only she can hear.
"Well-met, Raquel. I am Greta, of House Leroung. Ordinarily, I would add 'favoured of Asmodeus' on to that, but since I seem to have ended up in the back end of beyond..." she waves one hand dismissively. "I prefer not to lie - unlike your god, I might add. I could never follow someone as obviously duplicitous as the so-called Lucky Drunk."
A gleam of amusement flares in her eyes as she waits to see how Raquel reacts.
Raquel barks out a laugh. "You do realize the irony of that statement coming from a follower of the self-proclaimed Prince of Lies? Cayden Cailean's about the most honest god you'll find. He'll announce his intentions to punch you in the face while he's doing it." She winks and sits across from the woman. "I'll let you get in that first shot for free. The next one will cost you, though. So, Greta of House Leroung, you still haven't answered my first question. You're an awfully long way from Cheliax."
Greta smiles, archly. "I accept your terms." She taps two fingers on the bar, attracting Oleg's attention. "Two glasses, barkeep, and make sure they're clean." Oleg scowls, but does as he's instructed, before hastening away - although not before he gives Raquel an I-hope-you-know-what-you're-doing look.
Ignoring him completely, Greta turns her attention back to Raquel. Drawing a flask from her robes, she pours about an inch of amber-looking liquor into each glass. "This is Chelish brandy, the best you'll find. It is the product of experience and effort - much like any of the brewers' art. In other words, discipline and training - the same as is required to fight and win a duel of swordsmanship, or to pass the Test of the Starstone. You don't accomplish any of those things on dumb luck alone.” She gives a coy smile: “The Lord of Hell may trick you with a contract - the Lucky Drunk lies with every fibre of his being."
She hands Raquel one of the glasses. "A toast: Chance favours the prepared mind. As for what I'm doing here... I'm a Leroung. We are born to rule. I am simply seeking the place I'm supposed to be ruling."
For the first time, something approaching bitterness tints her voice. "My family tells me it is not to be found in Cheliax."
Raquel bristles a bit at Greta's insults towards her deity, but she raises her glass anyway and shoots back the brandy. "Smooth. But shall I propose a counter-toast? Preparation will only get you so far. No plan survives contact with the enemy-- or frenemy, as the case may be. When you're up Shit's Creek without a paddle, you'd better hope you know how to swim. In such cases, it's often better to act before you think, or else you're gonna sink-- and stink! So a toast: to bold action without consideration of consequences."
She drinks her second shot and grins at the Chelish woman. "I can sympathize with not being wanted by your family, though. We have that much in common at least. So, you would be a queen? There aren't a whole lot out of subjects out here to rule unless you like fairies and kobolds. I don't know if this is a good spot to seek after your aspirations of glory. But if you're looking to take a load off, I know a good hot spring I can recommend. And I can give you quite the amazing massage, if you're so inclined..."
Raquel's remarks are met with a genuine (if slightly condescending) smile. "You're cute. But there's nothing to rule out here. I'm on my way to Brevoy, and then down to the River Kingdoms. This is just somewhere to spend the night."
Seeing that Raquel has finished the glass of brandy, Greta pours out another, more generous shot. "This one needs paying for. So tell me more about you, Raquel, and this family that doesn't want you..."
Raquel grimaces and quickly downs the shot. "They were a bunch of tyrants who valued efficiency over compassion. You probably would have liked them. Let's just say we didn't see eye-to-eye, so I set out on my own. I changed my name, got a job at a brewery, found religion, made several mistakes--fun ones, though--and eventually found myself out here exploring the Stolen Lands on a national charter. My fellow adventurers are my family now, and I couldn't have asked for a better one."
She smiles at Greta and raises an eyebrow. "If you still want to get to know me even more, we could continue this conversation in my quarters? Since you plan on spending the night, there's no reason you need to spend it alone... Plus, I've got my personal stash of top-shelf alcohol there. Bet we can find something to give your brandy a run for its money."
Greta raises an eyebrow, archly, mirroring Raquel. "You're very free with your invitations. Be sure you can back them up. I am... exacting. In all areas of my life. Also-"
She reaches out with a hand and flicks her finger against Raquel's upper arm - not enough to bruise, but hard enough to sting. "- I make it clear when I'm unsatisfied. I accept your invitation on those terms."
Standing up, she makes a beckoning gesture. "Well, shall we?"
Raquel gasps at the sudden sting, then her features break out into a grin. "Sweet barleybrew," she says as she takes Greta's hand and leads her to her bedroom...
Greta has left a brief note, in red ink, underneath an iron pentacle of Asmodeus: I expect you to remember what I like for next time. And when you're ready to put aside childish concerns and accept that the world belongs to the disciplined and the efficient, He will be waiting -- G.
A few days later, Oleg returns from another of his resupply journeys - but this time, he's not alone: a tall, lean figure in the garb of a priest of Erastil clambers down from the back of the wagon, stretching as he does so. His cowl falls back from his face, revealing someone who looks far too young to be a priest; until you meet his gaze, which sees further through a brick wall than most. It is "Father" Jhod, the improbably youthful priest that Aivar met at the New Year ball.
"Ayup, my thanks to tha for the transport, friend Oleg. Let me help tha with the unloading." He picks up a smallish wooden chest, and almost drops it on his foot. "Erastil's Antlers! What's tha keeping in here?!"
Oleg scowls, and and hastily takes it off him, grunting a little at the weight. "Thanks, but I've got this, priest. Go and see my wife about board and lodging." He walks away, leaving Jhod looking bemused.
Raquel vaguely recognizes the Erastilian from the New Year's ball. She nudges Aivar. "Hey, looks like your friend is here."
That sound. The usage of words. Aivar chuckles when he hears that familiar voice, full of weirdness and what some might describe as yokelness, expressing itself. With big steps, he makes for the door and goes out to greet Jhod. "Jhod!" he calls out and when the priest turns to him, Aivar's smile is there to welcome him to Oleg's outpost. "What brings you here?! It's good to see you!"
Captain Garess is cautious when Aivar proposes the sparring session, but agrees to go ahead: "Oh well. It's about time for me to be shown up in front of my men by a youngster. I'll be challenged for my place soon enough, I shouldn't wonder. Might as well get used to it."
In the event, he turns out to be a highly skilled and cautious combatant: time and time again, what looks to be a certain strike by Aivar juuuust misses the wily veteran; while Garess' longsword seems to dart through the paladin's defences from almost impossible positions, before finally striking Aivar's weapon from his hands.
He hasn't even broken into a sweat as he picks up the glaive and hands it back to Aivar. "Never mind. You'll have my measure soon enough. If this was a real fight you'd have sliced me open with the first attack, I shouldn't wonder... But at least if I die in battle I'm safe from a decrepit old age."
He nods, wisely. "That's the secret, you see. You have to look on the bright side of things."
====================
Jhod gives the paladin a big grin as he recognises him: "Ay, but tha's still alive! 'Tis good to know there's owt here that's proof against tha might. As for what brings me here, tha may well ask, but tha'll think I'm daft: I've been having dreams of an old temple in t'deep woods." He makes a face. "I'm not one for owt that's mystical, but I'm sure my dreams are Erastil's doing and tha canst not say 'nay' to tha god, now can tha? So here I am."
Aivar grins as he reaches for his weapon and, by doing so, admits defeat. The last time this had happened to him, the act had been accompanied by wise words. Oh, he could still hear Yanos utter them. How was the one-armed swordlord doing nowadays? Still grinding young students into dust? Harsh lessons should never fail to point you in the right direction. Whether they bluntly state the obvious, are a sharp reminder of what you did wrong or sliced your efforts in two, the observant student will always learn from failure and defeat.
This time it isn't much different. "Ha. A man can dream, right? If anything, you could always open up a school for young aspiring duelists. Thank you. If the time comes where it is your sword and my glaive against a real foe, I'll be sure not to fail you."
---
The paladin beams a frozen smile at Jhod, unable to do much more than that as his brain works at full force to decipher the man's mindboggling accent. "A temple you say? I don't want to interject myself into your path, but a while ago my companions and I stumbled upon a ... I'd say, a lost temple of Erastil? Deep into the wilds? And while I can't tell you whether the place was cursed or somehow, eh, usurped by another power? - we fought some sort of twisted divine guardian and, upon defeating it, I think we returned the place to its former purpose, a place to venerate Erastil."
He knows that telling Jhod all this might only fill him with more enthusiasm. The problem with that is that Aivar knows what journey Jhod would have to make. And the dangers that come with it. And he can't stand the idea of losing Jhod. But, what with their mission, there is no way he can offer the man to escort him. "I know I can't stop you from going there, and so I will share with all I know of this place. How to get there. What to avoid on the way there. But know this. These lands harbor many dangers and my heart wouldn't be able to endure the knowledge that me telling you this - how to get to the temple, leads you into harm's way. Sorry, but I really needed to say that, or else it would weigh me down like a lodestone in days to come. Please, if you must go there, go prepared and if possible, do not go alone?"
Jhod listens to the story, taking careful notes. "Sounds like tha's found the Temple of the Elk. 'Tis an old tale, almost a legend, well... more a cautionary tale, really. It's been told for over 500 years or more to all novices, as a warning." He sighs. "As tha knows, these lands used to belong to Taldor in the Ages of Conquest. As their empire came to nowt, the soldiers moved away and the lands fell to ruin, or worse, overrun wit' monsters, bandits and suchlike. Anyway, be that as it may, the tale goes that one priest fell into despair as his temple was t'only building left for miles around. He were desperate, and so he took a bear and sacrificed it on the altar - either a misguided appeal to Erastil, or a search for older, darker gods."
He shakes his head again. "'Twas folly, either way: Erastil heard and cursed the priest, turning him into the bear that he had slain."
"Anyway, seems that tha has ended t'curse and restored t'temple, for which my thanks. I'll send word back to my elders at New Stetven, I'm sure they'll want to reward tha for it. And I'll not go alone - I've a brain in my head! I'm sure I can pay a handful of these honest trappers for an escort."
Aivar's face contorts into a visage of dismay upon hearing the priest's descend into madness. Had they slain the tortured spirit of the man? If so, Aivar couldn't help but hope that Pharasma took pity on him. "What a horrible tale. When we entered the temple proper, there was a flash of light from which this horrible bear came roaring through. There was no time to discuss anything, use our weapons to keep him at bay and retreat. We slew the beast then and there, after which we had a peek inside the temple, but to our non-priestly eyes, there wasn't much there other than an ancient complex dedicated to Erastil.""
The paladin then answers what questions Jhod still has about the place, how to get there, and what not.
"And, reward you say? I won't say no, as we can use any and all monetary aid to fuel our endeavors, but it does feel like we're being rewarded for something that simply ... happened to us. Maybe it has something to do with one of my companions being a devout follower of Cayden. She just ... stumbles upon these things, it seems."
Having eavesdropped on the conversation, Raquel chooses that moment to bustle over to the paladin's side. "That's a perfect opportunity for introduction if I've ever heard one. Raquel Cailean, at your service, Father. Nice to meet you! Have a drink!" She offers Jhod a full mug of ale.
Upon their homecoming, Tristan first enjoys a hot bath and a nap on a soft bed - then joins the others in revelry, helping Raquel out in bartending (but mostly just getting in the way of her surprisingly deft-yet-drunken movements) and singing the night away, leading and accompanying in equal measure.
The next day he decides to write a letter to his parents, and one to Audrey. He had found himself to greatly enjoy the company of his traveling companions, but a part of him hungered for those who knew him best.
Dearest Audrey,
Into the wilds, we go! Your gifts - for which I, and we, thank you profusely - have already been of great use. The cold is bitter here. Perhaps I shared with you the time I was caught in a blizzard as a child, having sneaked from the house to visit a street-singer I was enchanted with and then being locked out. This chill is ten times what I felt then, and there was no kindly neighbor to take me in for the night.
The land is harsh. We have come across beasts and bandits both in our short time, but seen through all mostly unscathed. My companions are great in skill at arms and have other abilities besides. My own blade and bow contribute something to the overall melody, as well.
It will not be long ere our company begin our effort to map this portion of the Stolen Lands. I hope things are well with you, quiet when you need them be and full of whatever noises most please you at other times.
May the winter end early,
-Tristan
Audrey,
Had you been at the trading post upon our recent return, you would scarce have recognized me. We were two months in the wilds, keeping our maps, charting dangers (and yes, fighting them as well - I'd had a great deal of practice with the blade recently), and when I finally arrived back at even this poor excuse for civilization, my bathwater had to be changed twice before I was within bowshot of cleanliness. I had always before sought to be fastidious in my toilet, but I am finding there is a certain kind of charm in honest dirt.
I've seen things wonderful and awful out here, the stuff of a dozen full epics. Dragons the size of your palm, little blue monsters with daggers of stone, and crystal-clear springwaters as pure as an angel's tear. In truth, I never thought to witness the sorts of things I best loved to sing about. Perhaps fate has conspired to bring me face-to-face with my fancies.
In any event, I am well and the wild has not claimed me yet, nor any of us. I daresay we have even become friends, so you needn't worry too much about them murdering me in my sleep. If anything, we shall set upon one of the others soon, for her snoring makes for poor sleeping.
The Notably Not-Yet-Eaten-By-A-Bear,
-Tristan
Arianna pens two letters. The first she sends to her older sister Cecylia, and she expresses her own grief and then goes on to describing her own adventures. She closes it as such: "I will save them, Sissy. I'm still not sure how, but things are coming together, and I swear to you, our family will be together again."
The second she sends to her younger siblings, the twins Daniel and Clara. "If I have learned nothing else it is that there is trouble brewing on the horizon. Be brave and help each other. Do as House Lodovka asks of you, and do it well. Be indispensable as a laborer or household staff. Be essential at home that they dare not send you somewhere else."
She includes with each a letter of credit via the Church of Abadar for a sum of 100gp each, and a note in the twins' letter to use it for emergencies--medicine and the like.
Having spent the previous day in seclusion and reverie nearby the fort, Nariel returned to the Fort refreshed though still somber. Passing through the gates while leading Hrive, Nariel took note of all the activity. In particular, she observed Aivar and Raquel conversing with a Priest she didn't recognize in the courtyard. Waving in their direction, she made sure to let them know she had returned but did not approach. With a number of the men milling about, made flag some down and made inquiries of them, finding out that Aivar had just been bested by Father Jhod in a duel. All three appeared jovial and in good spirits. Nariel smiled lightly and thought to herself I should think that is a good sign.
Checking in on the others, she found them all quietly writing letters. Quietly, Nariel knocked on Arianna's door somewhat sheepishly "I am sorry to interrupt Arianna, I just wanted to let you know that I have returned safely." Glancing back towards the courtyard somewhat pensively, Nariel added "Can I ask, how was Raquel last night? I fear I may have upset her the day before last, though she admittedly appears her jovial self this morning."
"And, reward you say? I won't say no, as we can use any and all monetary aid to fuel our endeavors, but it does feel like we're being rewarded for something that simply ... happened to us. Maybe it has something to do with one of my companions being a devout follower of Cayden. She just ... stumbles upon these things, it seems."
Jhod's face creases into a smile. "Tha does thaself a discredit, friend. Tha didn't just happen to be there - tha chose to be there. And tha chose to engage wit' beast, not to flee. Tis the choices we make that decide us: our response to what happens, if you like. The reward is merited. Do not doubt thaself."
He smiles at Raquel, gratefully accepting the ale. My thanks, girl. Travel is thirsty work."
Dear Tristan
I'm glad to hear that you're still alive - be safe! And I forgive you for upsetting me at the ball, we were both obviously surprised to see one another after so long. Return safely! I look forward to more of your company -- A
"Yes, it's important to stay hydrated!" Raquel laughs.
Aivar nods at Jhod as it becomes clear there's no dodging this reward. Nor is there any reason to do so. He lowers his head at the end of the nod, connecting chin to chest. Choice words from his pa echo through his mind as he realizes his mistake. False modesty will work on girls, but won't work on adults. Stop it, son, before you make a fool of yourself.
He bounces back up and offers Jhod a hand. "I accept the reward and Jhod, I really hope that we can banish these shadows of darkness that have made their way into these lands. Don't ask me to put it into words, but when you travel to the temple you'll see and feel what I'm talking about."
Sasha looks up when Narièl knocks. "You're back! We were starting to get worried." Before she responds, Sasha pauses to consider how much of the truth she should tell. Raquel's reaction might have been predictable, but it wouldn't have been the cleric's proudest moment, and Sasha didn't want Narièl to feel any more guilty than she already did.
"Last night was hard for her, but she went on a bender and spent the night sleeping it off next to me. Not in that way, either." She adds wryly. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's over it. My father would call her a spring storm. Her emotions come quickly and easily, but they're gone just as fast."
Listening intently to Sasha, the normally stoic elf appeared concerned. Gradually though, her expression returned to normal as Sasha wryly explained the events of the last few nights. Breathing a sigh of relief, Nariel responded "Oh, that is good to hear. I was not sure what to expect coming back, our last interaction did not end well." Smiling, Nariel appeared reflective "A spring storm? I like that, it is a good descriptive expression."
Leaning against the wall, Nariel looked up towards the ceiling lost in thought a moment "I will have to speak with Raquel, I do not want any hard or lingering feelings to persist." Glancing over at Sasha with a bewildered look, Nariel added "I will admit to you Sasha, I find human emotion to be difficult to navigate. Your kind is very passionate; it is both admirable, and frightening at times."
Pushing herself off from the wall, Nariel appeared resolved as she added "Thank-you for speaking with me Sasha, I appreciate it. I am going to start gathering our things, we should be off into the wild again soon."
When Raquel heads back to her quarters after chatting with Jhod, she hears activity from Nariel's room. The cleric instinctively reaches for her flask, but she sighs and lowers her hand instead of taking a swig.
She knocks on the elf's open door, but she remains in the hallway. "Hey. You, uh, you never made it back the other night. I was worried... I'm glad to see you're okay." Raquel scratches at her arm, and it looks like she wants to say more, but instead.she falls silent.
Busy in her room preparing her belongings for another journey, Nariel stood to attention as Raquel arrived. Noticing that she appeared pensive standing in the hall, Nariel smiled and waved her in. "Come in Raquel, no need to stand so in the hallway."
While continuing to pack her things, Nariel responded "Yes, I am well, but I owe you an apology Raquel, well to everyone really... it was not my intent to cause worry with my sudden absence." Peering up, Nariel paused a moment reflectively "Truthfully, I just needed some time to myself. That said, it was not the best reaction... running away like that seems childish in hindsight."
Looking over at Raquel with a rueful smile, Nariel continues "Listen, I hope that my reaction have not endangered our friendship Raquel." Taking a deep breath, Nariel considers her words "You and the others are the first real human friends I have made since leaving Kyonin. I had acquaintances at the Lebeda Court of course, but adventuring, combat and life or death situations has a tendency to bring folks together more closely in a way I had not expected." Pacing a little, Nariel's tone turns more sullen "That being said, I was always warned that caring to deeply for humans can lead to a melancholy over time, as we bid farewell over and over again to entire generations of people we care for." Glancing up somewhat abashedly "I know that way of living can make me appear distant or aloof at times... know that it is not my intent, but rather the way my people have learned to live among the all the races of Golarion."
Pausing a moment with a sigh, Nariel had a bemused look on her face "I am sorry, that must have sounded rather pretentious. How about we just get a drink with the others, and call it a day? We have a long journey ahead of us, might as well have some fun before we leave, no?"
Raquel smiles as Nariel launches into her explanation. She places a caring hand on the elf's shoulder. "I think I understand now. Elves and humans... Our lifespans are just too incompatible. I should apologize too, for coming on so strongly and unloading my feelings without giving you a chance to process things. I didn't mean to burden you in any way.
"But you haven't jeopardized our friendship. Nothing you do could ever impact that. I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. I love you--just, you know, in a strictly platonic way."
The cleric stretches up on her tiptoes to kiss the elf on the cheek. "So yes, let's go get that drink! One last hurrah in Cayden's name before our next adventure begins!"
EARLY SUMMER, 4719
It is a very different scene that greets you when the gates open for your departure from the Trading Post, from the one that faced you even just a few weeks ago. Even though you have risen early (despite complaints from the usual suspects) the sun has beaten you to it, shining golden in the sky as it seems to surface from over the mountains to the East. As you ride on, the air buzzes with insects, and crickets jump in uncountable numbers from out of the path of your horses' hooves. Butterflies dance in the air, winging around brightly-coloured meadow flowers, while kestrels and falcons swoop on the wind, riding the thermals generated by warm air rising off the Kameland hills.
It gets hot surprisingly fast. Thankfully, with a cleric in attendance your need for water is not a problem.
Your exploration of the Southeastern portion of the map passes without incident. Your sole real discovery is of a vast series of cascading waterfalls where the Shrike river tumbles down from the mountains and into the plains. These falls are the reason that no river traffic can pass along the Shrike: instead, all cargo boats have to make their way through the more sedate Sellen river to the West, passing through Pitax as they do so.
The spray thrown up in the breeze generates a myriad myriad of waterfalls, and shrikes and ospreys, their wings beating furiously, seem to almost mine the falls for their supper of trout, tench, perch and even the occasional salmon...
Tristan flicks a drop of sweat from his brow. "The memory of our winter arrival is hard to believe, now," he says as he takes a swallow from his waterskin. Mapping the waterfalls is pleasant - the blast of spray that often fills the air takes the worst of the heat away, and the birds of prey wheeling through their hunt make for fine watching.
"Who's got the map right now? We're near to done with the task, no? I know it's only been a few months, but somehow this already feels like the only life I've ever known, and the rest just a fleeting dream."
Aivar is captivated by the natural beauty of the scenery. In this moment the great outdoors feels like music for the paladin's soul. "You're correct, Tristan. Not much remains to be explored if my memory serves me right and hey, I know we're on a mission, my friends, but I am of the opinion that we ought to camp here for a day. Fishing, swimming, letting our feet get some much-needed rest. Perhaps we can put together a make-shift feast what with the abundant fish and find out who of us is the worst singer."
He grins and throws a glance at their loyal companions. "And I'm sure our horses wouldn't mind a breather either. We might regret it come winter if we don't take these rare opportunities to do something soul-soothing."
Raquel happily hands out water and wine to slake the party's thirst. She enjoys the warm weather, the sunshine being much preferable to the biting cold of winter.
She laughs when Aivar mentions the singing contest. "I won't be the worst this time. I've been practicing!" Indeed, the cleric has filled the early morning hours since departing with boisterous songs in praise of Cayden Cailean, making doubt of her devotion to the deity. "This seems a fine place to take a break. Let us enjoy the bounties of nature before we continue or task."
Riding up alongside Tristan, Nariel glances over with a light smile "The heat I am better acclimated to. Though it can be punishing, at least I will not faint at an inopportune moment." Though she made light of her passing out in the extreme cold of only months ago, it was clear she was still embarrassed by the incident.
Hoping of her horse, she gladly accepts the water from Raquel. Taking a light sip, Nariel glances around their surroundings with a nod "I concur, this is good a place as any to rest ourselves." Looking over at Arianna with an inquiring look, Nariel adds "Let me know if you need any help with the map Arianna."
Moving on a day or so later, you travel West along the bottom of the territory you have been assigned to map. This means, by and large, following the Shrike river as it runs, ever-rapidly, into the hills and merges with the slower-moving Thorn river. The resulting river (still the Shrike) then flows Southwest, into the hills and out of sight.
At the confluence of the Thorn and the Shrike you find that a continuous eddying of the waters has created a barrier of stone and silt - a natural and permanent fording point.
Moving further West , you find yourselves in a long, thin valley between two low hills. The ground here and all around is drier, and the vegetation is scrubbier, more gorse-like, lots of prickly fang-like thorns that make your travel more difficult. Still, it is rather beautiful, though: in the early morning, the dew-dipped spiderwebs that drape the bushes gleam in the warm sunshine, before the dew evaporates and the heat begins to build again... Mornings and evenings are still cool, and the nights can be chilly; but when the sun is directly overhead, you get some idea of how much hotter the days are going to get soon.
"Ooh, fangberries!" Raquel says with delight as she points out the spiky bushes. "They're ripe and tart and delicious, though hard to gather. Any volunteers?"
Where the Thorn river merges with the Shrike, Arianna looks over her notes and thinks for a long few minutes on it. "Hm." She makes a note of the observation in her journal and returns to her work.
When they come to the fangberry patch, Arianna checks out the vines. "What could possibly go wrong?" she says.
Arianna quickly notes that the berries lie at the heart of each of the individual thorn thickets. Harvesting is going to be slow and delicate work, to avoid death by laceration of a thousand fangberry thorns.
Realizing the others won't really know how to harvest the berries, Raquel wades into the bushes to gather some herself.
"Ow. Ow. Ouch."
After a bit, she emerges with two armfuls of the juicy berries, and a few scrapes and cuts. "This should be good for now. We can always come back for more later."
Raquel is emerging from the depths of the thicket when something bites her - and not in a good way. Gathering the berries has obviously disturbed the denizens of the thicket: a mass of scuttling, coin-sized spiders swarms from the branches and engulfs her!
The cleric manages to resist the distracting effect of having the arachnids crawling all over her, but the poison is more insidious, and she feels herself weakening...
Raquel 16 hit points, Weakened (-2 Str based rolls)
Raquel shrieks as the spiders swarm over her. She races out of the thicket, dropping the berries once she is clear and batting at the bugs. "Eek! They're in my hair!"
Once clear, she tries to administer first aid to her poisoned wounds,
Raquel's system (fortified by her ironclad liver/faith) manages to resist the further effects of the poison, leaving her feeling weak but no worse than that.
Eyes widening and mouth agape in horror at the sight of so many spiders, Nariel shook away her instinct to scream and instead reached for her belt pouch. "Hang on Raquel!"
"And to think I almost tried my hand at picking the berries. Score another mark for indolence!" Tristan says as spiders swarm about Raquel. Taking gloves from his belt, he uses them to swat some of the pests away from the cleric, taking care not to let any get on him.
Raquel winces as Tristan swats a spider off of her bum. "I have to say, when I imagined you spanking me, Tristan, this isn't exactly what I had in mind!"
"You probably would have preferred booze to venom as well, but we can't always have things our way," Tristan quips back, noting Raquel's sluggish movements.
try again
The carpet of spiders seems to writhe for a moment as Raquel stumbles clear - and then it splits, forming two dense, inchoate masses with their own eerie sense of purpose. One of these engulfs Aivar, who discovers that the horror of having things crawling around inside his armour is something that cannot be easily described - but the paladin's hardy nature and the blessing of his goddess keeps him from the worst of the harm.
The other mass makes a beeline (spider-line?) for Nariel; whether this is nothing more than random predation behaviour, or whether the arachnids somehow sensed the build up of arcane power, is mystery. The elf's frail form does not endure this well: wracked by poison, riddled with spider-bites and the sensation of the hairs on the spiders breaking off in her skin.
On the plus side, her spell has at least worked: the air beside Nariel shimmers and takes on the guise of life...
Aivar 31 hit points
Nariel 15 hit points, Weakened (-2 Str based rolls), Nauseated
Raquel 16 hit points, Weakened (-2 Str based rolls)
Unable to do much to harm the spiders, Raquel settles for healing the party.
"Use those vials of alchemist fire," barks Aivar at his companions. He somehow manages to maintain his composure and starts grabbing what spiders he can, crushing them in his iron fists.