Túrante says to Ashilia (and the rest of the team), "It seems to me that it is polite to present oneself to the ruler of the realm while visiting from abroad."
Liamae nods in agreement. "I heartily concur, your highness! Let's go meet this dryad!"
Iagon doesn't share the enthusiasm, but follows those more well-versed in the lore of these folk. He falls in line to follow, the whole time wondering if the Marquis would approve.
"Inheritor protect my from the fickleness of elves and fey folk," mutters Kytes to himself, and even though it against his better judgement, he follows behind the elven pair, knowing that he is pledged to them as well as to his liege lord, the Marquis.
"Wait up for me," he calls his heavy armor slowing him down a bit as the others move ahead more spryly.
“Igor and Gregor” squeal with excitement and dash off into the trees. The forest here is dense, and the plantlike Fey prove hard to follow. But, every now and then, Turante catches sight of one darting between the trees up ahead.
It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been walking, it seems like slow going. The forest is full of life. The chattering of birds in the trees, the whirring and buzzing of insects, the croaking of frogs. Even once, a doe is spotted with her weeks old fawn, drinking from a pool collected between the roots of one of the dark oaks.
Eventually, you may notice the light filtering down from the trees takes on a golden shimmer, the air lighter, the little flowers among the forest floor more vibrant in color. A sweet melody seems to trickle through the air, teasing your ears before fading out and back again.
The gathlains pair suddenly stop at the edge of a large clearing, and turn back to alert the group.
“Shhh!”
“Wait here.”
“Don’t step any further.”
“We have arrived.”
“We will go ahead and announce ourselves.”
“And you.”
“Wait for our signal.”
“Don’t... move...”
They fly off and cross through the veil of vegetation ahead into the clearing beyond.
Iagon waits for the translation, then somewhat humbly keeps to himself, not wanting to cause any disruption in this strange ritual that may seem as an affront. He leans in to whisper to Ashilia.
We shouldn't worry about their music making us forgot who we are or anything like that, right?
Kytes is a rule-follower and remains in place, impatiently waiting to see what comes next.
"Oh, it's so lovely!" Liamae sighs. She spins lithely in the clearing, dancing to the distant music.
Attai watches Liamae with interest, waiting for a sign it is safe to move forward.
Liamae spins and twirls gracefully under the dense canopy, her silks billowing and flowing against her lithe form.
Ashilia watches a bit awestruck and then answers Iagon, “Uh, best keep your wits about you Iagon. I’ll do the same. I might worry about Liamae though...”
As Liamae dances across the forest floor, she suddenly runs into something. Something large and invisible. She stumbles and falls, and with a flickering light, there suddenly appears a magnificent toad, the size of a large boulder, brightly colored in shades of purple, pink, and blue, with butterfly-like wings spanning from its back. It blinks slowly at the group and emits a low bellowing croak, then, amazingly, speaks.
“M-o-o-o-rtals. You s-e-e-e-k, Lady Lil-a-a-a-cea? You bring g-i-i-i-fts?”
Liamae is surprised when she bumps into something. She falls onto her rump. She's about to say something cross when the glorious toad appears. "Wow!" she breathes.
When it speaks, she gathers herself up and bows before it.
Attai blinks, then composes himself as he hears the word Lilacea.
So. A flying toad. Of course...
Túrante tells the rest of the group, "I'm trying to be diplomatic and let them know that we are merely simple travelers, but we will show respect to the nobles of this land."
The giant talking toad returns Liamae’s bow with a nod of its head. Liamae may get the sense that this thing could swallow her whole, if it wanted to. It turns its head to Turante and fixes its bulging bright green eyes on her. It croaks out in Sylvan:
“Wine w-i-i-i-ll do.”
It holds out a three-toed hand out to her, in expectation of the gift.
Liamae continues to smile, belying her nervousness. She certainly isn't in the mood to be digested by a giant amphibian today! She eyes Turante, hoping the princess brought some wine with her.
"Is everything alright?" Attai smiles through gritted teeth, eyes never leaving the giant toad and fingers clenching on his bow, his palms beginning to sweat.
True to her word, Túrante produces the bottle of fine wine that she had previously started but not finished, the vintage from her own elven kingdom.
The giant toad takes the bottle in hand, and it’s broad mouth slowly curls into a smile.
“Follow m-e-e-e.”
The toad flaps its broad and delicate wings, and, impossibly, it’s massive body lifts from the ground. It flies toward the fairy glen, announcing your arrival with a loud croak.
Entering into the glen you are almost bewildered by the sudden shift in sensory perception. All colors brighten in hue and seem to waver in the shimmering light. The transient whisper of music you heard before is now ever present and seems to emerge from the very air itself. A flowery perfume also pervades the glen, invocative of a primal sensuality.
In the center of the forest clearing stands a majestic oak, twice as big as any you have seen in the forest so far. It’s branches are filled with the song of many birds as they flutter about. At its base is a monolithic stone, about 8 feet tall and half as wide, covered in strange runes.
The two gathlains, Igor and Gregor, as you know them, stand near the stone, amid a small crowd of likewise little Fey creatures. They point you out as you enter into the glade; some of their audience flee and hide in the small grass, while others stare curiously in your direction.
Another crowd gathers around the giant toad where it lands. The toad shows off its recently scored bottle of wine. Everyone seems very impressed.
After a moment or two letting your senses adjust to the strange air of this environment, a few small and smaller flying creatures begin buzzing around the group in curious inspection. One or two even invite themselves into your belt pouches and begin helping themselves to anything shiny they may find.
Then, a murmuring begins to spread through the crowd of Fey creatures, and all stop what they are doing and turn their attention to the grand tree. They all bow and prostrate themselves as the surface of the mighty trunk begins to ripple. Slowly, a form appears. First, a slender leg steps forward, then a strikingly beautiful face emerges. Black eyes gaze around, and then her full body emerges from the tree as if stepping from a pool of water.
Ashilia gasps, then bows deeply, perhaps hoping you all do the same. The entire glen seems to fall breathlessly silent as the dryad steps lithely toward the group, lovingly caressing any of the smaller Fey with her fingertips as she passes by.
Iagon takes in all of the sights with an almost childish delight, all sense of showing his manliness gone in the sight of such natural wonder. For a moment, he wondered how his power affected such beauty and peace. My power does use wood, but do I destroy it? Am I selfish to use this ability to make myself worthy to the Marquis for my wages?
A bit troubled, he easily bows his head, then his body to follow the example of Ashilia. He fears to say anything, not wanting to offend this lady of the wood. Best to let the royalty speak to the royalty, I'd say.
Attai is likewise enchanted by the glade, and notices not as tiny hands attempt to pilfer, until he does notice a deft grasp on his Harrow deck. He catches the thief in time, inly for the mischievious fey to disappear before his eyes. His brow darkens, then the noise begins to quiet as the dryad or firest spirit appears.
He had thought Liamae beauty unmatched, but now he is truly smitten. He finds it difficult to tear his gaze away to bow, but manages an abrupt genuflection.
Túrante curtseys and inclines her head, then meets the dryad's gaze steadily. She folds her hands before herself and her head tilts slightly forward - waiting for the dryad to speak, a courtesy shown as a visitor, rather than speaking up first before spoken to.
Liamae curtsies deeply as well, enchanted by the beautiful dryad.
The dryad is achingly beautiful, making an aversion of the eyes almost necessary. Slender and elven in form, but flesh and skin composed of wood and bark, with leaves and flowers for a crown. Her eyes are large, deep, black pools. From her finger tips, and various other places on her body, sprout small twigs with leaves.
She moves with an unerring, and unnerving, grace as she approaches the group. First, she reaches Turante, and with a gentle touch lifts her chin to meet her gaze with the elven princess. She gives Turante a familiar smile and moves on. Liamae gets a similar treatment, but the dryad seems curiously drawn to her silk gown, glasses, gloves, and other accessories. To Attai, she places her hand gently on his, where he is instinctly guarding his pouch of cards. Her touch is reassuring, and inviting. Where Kytes is presumably kneeling in her honor, she lovingly brushes a fingertip along Eir’s silky feathers before bidding the young paladin to rise with a touch. She playfully ruffles Ashilia’s hair, to which he helplessly giggles and blushes, then finally approaches Iagon.
She lowers herself to Iagon’s level and lifts his chin to meet his eyes. She spends a moment longer, turning the young man’s face this way and that, giving him a thorough inspection. “Interesting...” she murmurs in common, then gets him to stand, where she looks him over some more. Finally satisfied, she brushes a bit of dirt off his shoulder, flashes a smile at him, then turns back toward the tree.
By now, the other Fey creatures of the glen begin to gather round.
“Dreamers,” says the Dryad, turning to address the group, “I have been told of your arrival. A mutual friend informed me you were here.” She seems to wink in Iagon’s direction. “I am so happy that you have found your way to me,” she adds, coyly.
“I was told you would be hunting for a chaneque... is that right?”
Liamae shivers slightly as the dryad caresses her, eagerly showing off her ostentatious ornamentation for the fey's inspection.
The elf tries to recall what she knows about chaneques before answering.
Iagon attempts to keep his eyes cast down in respect, but under the intense inspection, all he can do is blush and try and keep the wonder from his eyes. His body heats up quickly, and as the dryad turns and walks back to the tree, he pulls back on his collar to let some needed air in to cool his suddenly sweaty torso.
At the mention of a mutual friend, he very nearly blurts out "who?", but then remembers his place and lets the others speak first.
Liamae thinks on the word, chaneque, then suddenly recalls this conversation from just a couple of days earlier.
"Ah, yes! I'm pretty sure a talking badger asked our friend here to slay one. Might you know where we could find one, oh gracious lady of the forest?"
Kytes immediately drops to a knee to honor the queen of the fey, a dryad, as she emerges. When she lifts him to his feet, he stands at attention, as his drilling instructed.
He listens to the discussion, but is unsure of the word that Lilacea uses. He recalls the discussion about the evil tree spirit and the talking badger.
"Milady," begins Kytes, treating the lady with as much respect as he can muster given her stunning beauty. "It would be a great honor to find and defeat such an evil foe in your name and with your leave. Let us be of service to you, queen of the woods."
Iagon nods quickly in agreement. At the mention of the badger, he looks up and blurts out in spite of himself. Doctor John Creoux? You know of him my...er, your, um...highness?
Attai merely watches, content to let events unfold, though he yearns to flip open his deck and pull a card...
“Your flattery is much appreciated, Chosen One,” Lilacea addresses Kytes, “but my mother is the Queen of this forest. My realm is this you see around you.”
“Yes, Doctor John is a friend of the realm. He travels far and brings news for my ears, and tales from distant lands. And, he loves to entertain us with song. I do appreciate his visits.”
“Now, to the east of my realm is a bog. Within the bog there is a cave, where the Black Mushrump grows. The Chaneque visit this cave often, to gather the Mushrump for their dark rituals. They also prey on my people, as Faerie skulls are another ingredient for their art. If you defeat the Chaneque, and drive them from this land, you too will be a friend of the realm, and enjoy my hospitality at your leisure.”
These Chaneque, can you tell us more about them? Is there a good way to fight them, or do they fear anything?
“The Chaneque are vile and evil Fey, corrupted by the disease which grows beyond the mountains. They appear from their cave in the dusk hour to hunt for Faerie skulls. If they find you mortals, they will trap your souls in the skulls treated by their dark art. Beware, Druid,” she shifts her gaze to Ashilia, “Two of your kind guard the cave, enslaved to the will of the Chaneque. They will defend it with their lives until you can crush their binding skulls and free their will.”
“If you are asking for my advice, keep your distance, don’t let them see you. Keep your eyes on the trees, they will attack from above.”
“Uh, excuse me, your, uh, grace, but is that what I think it is?” Ashilia interrupts and points to the large rune covered boulder sitting in the shade of the giant oak.
“Yes, Druid, it is a Node Stone, placed by your kind to harness the Ley Line here. If you can attune to it, it should help you in your task.”
"Thank you for your advice, my lady," Liamae says with a grateful bow. "With your permission, and the leave of my party members, I would like to try to attune to the node stone."
The elf spends a few hours in silent concentration, the effort causing sweat to bead across her body. At the end, she sighs and shakes her head. "It's no good. I just couldn't quite find the right frequency to resonate with it. The magic is too far removed from my own."
Attai listens with his characteristic intensity, then nods silently and unobtrusively draws a Harrow card...
Whatever the deeper meaning, the symbolism is clear and positive, and aligns with Attai’s own worldview and outlook.
Given the opportunity to commune with the node stone, Attai sits and meditates, holding the card drawn face up on his likewise palm up hand....
but the Sylph’s beliefs do not derive further from the deck itself and he gains not even a modicum of new power.
Túrante curtsies elegantly, then says, "By your leave, then, lady, might we take the pleasures of your enchanting forest bower for a short time before we move on? It seems that we are set on the path of dealing with these troublesome chaneques."
Kytes listens to Lilicea's description of the Chanque and their ways with growing determination. "Enslaving the souls of those less fortuntate and slaying faeries to do it! This is an abomination that we shall certainly stop. What of this Black Mushrump? Should we destroy it to further stymie their efforts?"
He waits for any more information from the fey princess then adds, [b]"When we return from this mission, I would hear more of this illness coming from over the mountains. The centaurs spoke of it as well, and it sounds like that malevolence is at the root of the problems in the Wood. Ultimately, our quest will be to stop that force, but we can speak of it, if you will, when we have dealt with the Chaneque.
Lilacea slightly bows to Turante, and with a sweeping movement of her arm, replies, “My home is yours, for the time being.”
To Kytes she replies, “The cave runs deep. What lies beyond the the mushrump patches and the Chaneque lairs I do not know, but the spores which renew the mushrumps drift up from below at midnight. If you wish to destroy the mushrumps, you must venture further and find their source.”
Lilacea places her hand on Kyte’s breast, “I see your heart is good, Chosen One. Kill the chaneque and return to me. We will talk then.”
Ashilia joins Liamae and Attai at the Node Stone. After a couple of hours pass, he stands up groggily, having fallen asleep.
In the mean time, Lilacea melds back into the giant oak and the Fey go about their business, which really isn’t much business at all. If any of them begin to act serious, it’s because they are playing at busy-ness. It is like watching children play house.
When the time is ready, the group departs.
Attai considers the terrain, and tries to work out a good location for a cave that is not too close to this fey heartland, yet also not too far away from a useful hunting ground.
Kytes sends Eir to flight with the attendant task of spotting the cave mouth where the Chaneque are said to frequent. The sharp-eyed hawk has little trouble spotting said cave, but trying to communicate direction to her master is where Eir struggles.
Kytes coaxes her to show the party the correct path, using all of his skill and experience working with the raptor.
Túrante has a deep knowledge of the forest that comes from her many years spent in such terrain. It is the place of her home, after all. Even as the forest gives way to bog she is able to clearly determine the kinds of places that might be home to a chaneque - or other creatures; she stops occasionally to point out a particular songbird or a wild raspberry bush before pushing on into the unknown parts.
Liamae tries to keep her eyes and ears open for danger, but she is distracted by all the pretty things Turante points out.
Kytes is not at all trained in the ways of the forest or the wilderness in general. All his training is in the service of Iomedae and her martial wishes, so he listens and learns as much as he can from Turante's lessons. Most of it goes over his head however.