Túrante places a hand on Kytes' shoulder and says, "No permanent harm done. It's true, children should not be treated so. Still, it raises the question of how the tool was broken. In remote outposts like these, gremlins and kobolds and other such creatures sneak in and cause mischief. Nevertheless... I will see if my magic, such as it is, is sufficient to repair the tool."
She turns to Liamae and says, "We are at liberty for the eve; is there more that I should know about, or are we now to pass the time in singing and dancing and telling stories?"
"It was the right thing to do, Kytes," Liamae says. "Bullies, even short ones, need to be cut down to size."
She smiles at Turante. "I think you know all the pertinent information, Your Highness. I would love to share a dance with you!"
Túrante says, "Then we'll have to find someone who can play music."
"Alas that our erstwhile bard ran away!" Liamae laments. "If Roger were here, he could provide us with a rousing tune. Perhaps somebody else in the trading post has some talent."
Emboldened by the wine, she takes Turante's hand and leads her in search of a musician.
Túrante accepts Liamae's hand and the pair skip off like the carefree elves that they are to try to find someone who can play a little music, since nothing serious requires their attention for the evening.
As everyone splits for the night, you decide to walk the perimeter, inspecting the palisade, perhaps get your bearings a bit. First, you notice a raised walkway follows the interior perimeter of the palisade, made accessible by ladders within towers at every corner, plus two flanking the front gate entrance. At this late evening hour, the front gates are still open, and you make your way outside the walls. You notice the entire post is built on a raised, flat-topped hill of excavated cobblestone and dirt, in order to lift it above the marshy floodplain of the river. The palisade walls themselves are darkwood poles felled from the surrounding forest, standing about fifteen feet, and are built upon a low wall, about three feet, of cobblestone. It is all well constructed, and you suddenly remember the dwarf shopkeep in Cassomir mentioning something about his clan being involved in building this place.
Heading out the front gates, you happen to first turn to your right, west, toward the river, and walk the outside perimeter in a clockwise direction. To the south and east the land is clear and marshy, to the north and east, the edge of the forest encroaches toward the river. As you round around the east side of the post, you notice another, smaller, flat-topped hill not fifty yards away from the walls. In the fading twilight, you can barely make out some stone markers on the small hilltop.
You traipse back to the lower quarters of the estate house, to find Yaloni sitting down to supper with Linus and the men from the boat. Asking about musical accompaniment, the boatdriver laughs heartily, "Aye, a song fer supper. Splendid ideer. I know just tha tune."
He sings an old sea chantey albeit off key, and he forgets some of the words, but it's, you know, ok. His two polemen, strapping young lads each, even offer to take your hands in dance, and even Yaloni and Linus join in the fun.
The markers on the hilltop to the east aroused his curiosity. Others may care about the coming darkness, but Kytes felt more at home in the twilight than anyone else. He whistles for Eir to join him, and motions for the majestic bird to recon the neighboring hilltop for foes or other obvious threats. While she flies, he makes his way that direction on foot, keeping his eyes peeled as he moves away from the palisade wall. He draws out his longsword as he moves to the east, just in case.
Despite the mediocre musical accompaniment, Liamae throws herself into the dance with wild, carefree abandon. She spins and leaps, silks swirling about her, dancing with each partner in turn. Once the shanty ends, the elf gives voice to her own melodious tune, a ballad from Kyonin about two star-crossed lovers meeting for the first time. Her capering changes to more sensual gyrations as she gives herself over to the emotions of the song. Her hips sway suggestively, and she runs her hands through her hair as she regards her audience through half-lidded eyes. She ends with a graceful bow.
Attai wonders whether the gremlins the group met on the boat are related to any activity happening at this outpost, or whether something else is responsible for the gnome's irascible outburst. Not one to miss an opportunity to peruse the strands of fate, Attai consults the Harrow:
This is the lawful good card of constitution. It represents an archon who dives aggressively and righteously into danger.
Hmm. A clarion call, perhaps sounding the horns of war? Or a mere warning of impending danger - the gnome was making an alarming din...
The sylph's mind whirs, cogitation amidst the serenity of watching a graceful and elegant dancer expressing the beauty and chaos, form and order and exultation through dance.
Finding himself a bit stifled being among all of his companions for so long, Iagon feels the need for a bit of quiet. He slips away after the incident with the decidedly unfriendly gnome, and walks the perimeter outside of the outpost, near to the trees. He makes sure to stay a long bowshot back from the forest's edge, but keeps a keen eye open for any interesting elements of this new environment.
Túrante's dancing is decidedly more casual, less sensual and less skillful; it seems she's more interested simply in dancing a jig for the fun of it - the exuberant joy that elves take in their leisure time shining through. She knows a few basic steps - enough to survive in court - but it's obviously not her focus.
She claps appreciatively for Liamae's dance, then at its conclusion says, "I don't even want to know where you learned that! All I learned was a few basic steps for ballroom and court occasions, and of course the usual jigs and japes for when it's a slow summer day in the woods."
Liamae bows graciously, then giggles at Turante's praise. "You'd be surprised what sort of things you pick up in and out of the courts of Taldor. Why, there's this one place in Oppara called the Courtesan's Club. It attracts quite the... eclectic clientele, and its performers are skilled in all sorts of interesting techniques."
Eir takes to the sky and serves as a lookout as you approach the small hill. You trudge through about forty feet of grassy marsh to reach the raised bit of land. When you arrive there, you realize it’s squarish in shape, and likely made of infill like the outpost proper. There are six small rounded boulders at the head of six small mounds. It doesn’t take long to realize this is a small graveyard, the stone markers being headstones. Closer inspection reveals what are possibly names chiseled into the stones, but it’s in an alphabet you don’t recognize. At your best guess, the graves are about a month old.
As you look about, Eir returns from her arial purview. She screeches and seems to have her attention focused on the edge of the woods. Through your emotional bond, you get a strong feeling from her, a sense of concern as well as a sense of duty and purpose. Following her attention, you can make out what looks like two fiery-red orbs glowing through the trees, moving in tandem in sudden spurts from tree to tree.
Seeking a bit of peace and solitude you make your way out the southern gate and skirt the outside of the palisade to the north, perhaps unaware that your teammate Kytes had done the same maybe about five minutes ahead of you. Instead of inspection, though, you are out here for some contemplation, perhaps a bit of exploration.
The landscape immediately around the trading post is a marshy field, but on the northside of the post, the forest encroaches to nearly 60 feet. Looking about, you find some yarrow and stinging nettle plants amongst the marsh grasses.
As you stare into the deeper forest beyond, getting lost in revery, suddenly a patch of plants at the forest’s edge light up in a soft green color as if luminescing from within.
Back within the compound walls, in the dining area in the servants quarters of the estate house, the atmosphere is more lively. As Attai tries to reconcile his latest Harrow reading with recent experiences, Liamae really puts on a show. The boatmen stare slack-jawed at her performance, even Linus is wide-eyed, up until Yaloni quickly covers his eyes with her hand.
”That was uh… really somethin’ miss,” the dwarf astonishingly admits.
”Sure was!” one of the pole-men agrees as he jabs his buddy with an elbow. They both erupt in laughter. The boat driver produces another bottle of wine and calls out for more.
"Linus I think it's about time ye go ta bed," Yaloni shoos the young boy off into the adjoining room.
As Eir sends a warning, Kytes spies the red-glowing orbs moving through the trees, and remembers Hans' warnings about will-o-the-wisp's in the woods. He follows the wise boatman's advice and doesn't look right at the flares, but instead makes a quick beeline back for the protective walls of the compound, trying to avoid detection by the wisps, if indeed that's what they are...
"I'm glad you liked it," Liamae says as she reaches for another glass of wine. "Good night, Linus!" she tells the boy as he's ushered off to bed.
The dwarf maid offers up a song next, which is met with a drunken ‘huzzah’ from the boat driver. Turning over a copper pot, Yaloni starts drumming it with a wooden spoon. In stereotypical dwarven fashion, she sings a song about her lost homeland, deep within the snow-covered peaks of a high granite mountain. The mountain halls being lost to hordes of undead rather than greedy dragons or bloodthirsty orcs distinguishes this tale from others, however.
The forlorn and horrid subject matter, plus the dwarven cadence, more attuned to toiling over a hot forge than, say, a spritely elven jig, is difficult to dance to. The two pole-men, intent on dancing with the elven maidens, still offer their hands, but the boat driver loses interest. He instead staggers over to Attai, curious about the deck of cards. “Wot’cher got there? I got me a bit o’ coin. Care ta gamble some?”
Kytes will wait for Iagon's safe return, if he spied him outside the walls as well. If he does not see his ally, he will head to where the others are dancing and playing and try to relate what he saw.
Communicating verbally with Eir, the paladin says, "Don't worry, Eir. We will not forget what we saw out there. It is wiser to find those wisps of light when we are all together so we can defeat them more easily. It is not like of resolve that drives me to wait, but rather wise counsel. We shall have our day with them and make the forest here safe, mark my words!"
Despite the droll song, Liamae still smiles and takes the boatman's hands, leading him through a slow and deliberate waltz. She does her best to work with the rough material she's given.
Well met, Dr Creoux, I hope I haven't intruded upon your home. I fear I don't know this...Gris-gris, but I can imagine you're the best at...making...or acquiring it? Do you do much business with the larger folk in this area?
He keeps the conversation away from the topic of a love potion, as that route proves to be a bit disconcerting how close to his own feelings the little fellow had hit.
"I gamble not with coin, for life is too much of a gamble already, and the great gamble can be only thinly understood." he finishes by indicating the deck. Sensing that perhaps a Harrow reading may not be best served as an offering to the inebriated marine Attai instead offers to buy the man a drink.
"Save your hard earned coin. Let me serve you. What are you having?"
[ooc][Aha, the classic insult to a drunk!]
Túrante continues the dance as best she can with the uneven tempo, at one point nearly tripping as the cadence changes unexpectedly. This simply precipitates a wave of laughter and the comment, "My feet got out from under me!"
As the dancing continues, Kytes enters the circle, failing to suppress a smile at the sight of the frolic.
When the music stops next, he tells the others what he has seen on his short scouting expedition outside the walls. "The perimeter of the trading post seems mostly secure. There is a place where the forest encroaches on the walls that seems the most likely avenue for trouble to find us. While walking about, I spied what appeared to be some grave markers a short distance outside the walls, but they any words were written in a tongue I am not familiar with, perhaps someone with a greater aptitude at languages could take a look in the morning light. As I was returning, I saw two pulsating red balls, like will-o-the-wisp's it seemed sailing through the trees. Though I would've liked to take on those fell creatures, I thought it wiser to return and report. Perhaps Yaloni or Hans can tell us more?"
The boatdriver holds up a bottle of wine, "Already gots mine," he explains to Attai in a drunken slur, "But mayhaps I pour you a drink. You could lighten up a bit, stranger." He laughs and fills a nearby mug for the sylph.
Meanwhile, Liamae's dancing partner, although a little handsy at first now seems to be nodding off to Yaloni's song, leaning heavily against Liamae and dragging his feet a little to the waltz. He's been poling a boat upriver for four days straight, so you can hardly blame him.
Turante's partner is still spry enough to catch her as she unexpectedly trips. He laughs at her good natured sense of humor and tries to hold her a little more closely.
"Careful boys!" the boatdriver calls out from his seat next to Attai, "We got a early start in the morn'." It's possible he's the most intoxicated of the three, however.
When Yaloni brings her dwarven ballad to a close and Kytes chimes in with his report, the dwarven maid seems to grow even more sullen. "I can teel ye what's on them stones," she says mournfully, "Those're the graves of me kin, o' the Greycopper Clan, one o' the lost clans o' Saggorak. M'Lord Marquis Lambert hired us ta build this place, an' we done good work. On the day we placed the last stone an' raised the last timber, was the day they attacked, Uuhurn and his clan. Six of us died defendin' this place, includin' me brother. 'Tis why I stayed behind when the rest moved on." She sighs heavily and lays down her copperpot drum. "I believe I be callin' it a night." Succesfully dampening the mood, she shuffles off to bed.
Linus quickly darts away from the cracked open door where he had been secretly watching and jumps into his bed.
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Kytes frowns a little at Yaloni's story. He didn't mean to touch a nerve, but it does answer a question. Before she departs he says, "The construction of this outpost is without peer. You and your kinsmen did most excellent work. That they died defending the place honors them. We will see to it that their resting place is well-tended and pledge to defend this place as they would've. You have my solemn vow of that, madam dwarf."
Like with most things, Kytes is just a bit over the top, but honor and vows are important to him, and he does not take it lightly at all.
As the dancing comes to a close, Túrante bows to her partner and says, "Thank you for a good end to a long day." She smiles as she waves over Liamae.
"These folk are not so bad," she says. "I'm glad that we can take time for a bit of levity in addition to the important work to be done here."
She becomes a bit more serious as Kytes returns and the impromptu festivities cease.
Liamae doesn't seem bothered by her partners hands roaming over her body. When Turante waves her over, the elf gives the boatman a kiss on the cheek before joining the princess.
"Indeed, all work and no play makes Liamae a dull girl," she says with a giggle.
Once Kytes arrives and kills the mood, she crosses her arms over her chest. "Hmm. Well, it is getting rather late. We'd probably ought to get some rest. Has anybody seen where Iagon got off to?"
Attai accepts a drink from the boatman, more out of politeness than anything. He sips it once and then holds it for a piece before, thankfully, the music ends as do the "festivities".
"My thanks." he intones by way of lightening up.
To Liamae he merely shakes his head.
"I admit I have lost him since the gnomish alarum..."
Liamae sighs. "We'd better go and look for him. There's not telling what trouble he might find himself in out in if he's out in the woods."
He gulps visibly, unsure of what he was dedicating himself to.
"Should we be worried about Iagon?" asks Túrante as the festivities conclude. "Is he usually gone away from the outpost like this?"
Attai looks from Turante to the others...
"Liamae, Kytes? You know him better than I..."
"I think we ought to try to find him."
"Does anyone know where he was headed?" Kytes is no expert in tracking or hunting, but will stop and look around the trading post for signs of the passage of their friend.
"I...admit to having lost track of him. Let us find him!"
Standing within the compound, Kytes quickly realizes that this area is well traversed, and it is difficult to distinguish one set of footprints in the dirt road from another. Stepping outside the compound walls, he retraces his own footsteps along the palisade and is able to discern another set of prints apart from his own. The group follows Kytes heading west around the walls. It is dark now, and the moon has yet to rise, meaning only Kytes and Attai can see well enough, although even their sight is limited.
Meanwhile, Iagon stumbles his way blindly through the marshy field back to the safety of the compound. Luckily, he is heading in the same direction as the rest of the group. Unluckily, he can't see worth a damn in this darkness, and the soft, uneven mud of the field makes the going tough. More than once, he missteps and falls to his hands and knees in the mud. On one of these occasions, as he's getting back to his feet, he hears a low growling sound. Quickly looking about, he sees a pair of red glowing eyes in the darkness.
"Kytes, you can see in the dark - we need a lantern or something if we're going to be wandering around in the brush at night."
Iagon halts in his tracks, suddenly very aware of the fact that he's alone in an unknown environment...in the dark. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Everyone knows for sure now that you're new...and now they know you're stupid too.
He puts his hands out in front on him, in a placating gesture. Whoa, boy, whoa there. I'm not an enemy...or food. I'll just head on my way and leave you be.
He gingerly takes a step back, silently readying his power as he does.
Mistaking the owner of the glowing eyes for some mere wild animal, Iagon might be a little unsettled when his gentle words are met with a guttural chuckle. The beast replies in a low growling voice, “You food cuz I sayz you food.”
Through the darkness, Iagon can hear the beast rush forward on four padded feet. As soon as he senses it’s approach, Iagon looses a torrent of woody plant matter at the creature, or at least in the direction of the creature. It doesn’t seem to slow the creature down any, but it is hampered by the sodden ground. It is able to reach Iagon but nothing more.
The rest of you hear some voices in the darkness, and are able to see, just in time, a blur of movement just on the edge of the elven dim light vision. Kytes and Attai are able to make out a bestial shape move through the marshy field toward a lone figure standing in the darkness.
Túrante chants a few arcane words as she advances toward Iagon's position, torch in hand.
Whistling shrilly, Kytes signals to Eir asking the eagle to scout the scene in front since Kytes has little hope of making it there quickly. After getting the aerial view of the battle covered, Kytes moves forward as quickly as his battle armor allows, ending up just slightly behind the torch-carrying elven woman.
Attai makes out the figures ahead, and his intuition tells him Iagon faces some four legged beast. The harrower surrounds himself with a field of wobbly energy, then rushes forward, calling out:
"Great beastie, are you craven? Canst thou resist me?"
in an attempt to draw its attention away from Iagon.
Standard Action: Cast stunning barrier
Move Action: Move 35 feet toward the confrontation...
Iagon stumbles backwards at the rush of the beast. He attempts to make it appear intentional - an attempt to make some space in lieu of a fearful retreat.
He focuses once again and lets fly with the natural weapons afforded to him by the undergrowth about him.