At the stag's words, Yrja raises her head, lest her lowered horns would be taken as challenge by the stag. She had seen stags before fight in the spring, although they were all of the non-talking variety, and all their fights started the same, with the opponents lowering their horns and pawing at the ground. She has a fleeting flicker of a thought on how a shift of circumstance can completely change the meaning of a gesture; what was meant as respect could be perceived as challenge or insult.
"I am, too, as he says" she replies, gesturing at Dezső.
Thinking back on the scene they encountered in the clearing, Yrja adds: "And they killed creatures of the forest and left their bodies on display." If the stag is a guardian of the forest, this should not leave him unmoved. "You have seen people pass through, was there a woman with them? How log ago? Have you seen where they went?"
She falls in her usual analytical mode, forgetting to be even polite as she fires off her questions, straining forward with impatience.
Chiquq takes a moment to get her word together, but does get back to her feet, brushing off a little snow.
"...it is as they say. A woman was taken against her will, we think. We wish to get her back. And stop this winter, for it is not part of the way this world should be right now. These southlands should be warm, right now-- not icy as my home. Can you tell us of what you saw, Spirit?"
The stag takes a halting step back, clearly a little intimidated by Yrja's tone--and Chiquq's isn't much better. "Ah," it begins, "y-yes. The ravens. A terrible deed. I have seen them. I did see people pass through. They were as you humans are, and there was a woman, and horses. You are here to rescue her?" his question ends on a hopeful note.
He turns to address Dezső. "I am a forest guardian of a place called The Circle; that is what we call it. It contains all of the beasts of this place, and those of the past. We are sometimes called by forces beyond our knowing to protect other wild places. I do not know what 'zombies' are, but clearly some great evil is afoot here, and I must investigate and perhaps call for more aid. I know nothing of magics that---raise the dead... " If an elk could look disgusted, it's the face it makes now..."...we only have druids who visit us, and death is part of life. But I do know of the fey, and I may be able to help you. Can you show me the weapons you have for them? I may be able to add to their power. Especially a blade, if you have it. And you, you are a spell caster? Like a druid" The elk fixes its large, liquid eyes on Yrja.
The elk's question startles Yrja and she falters for a moment trying to think of an answer. She had given much thought to the spells that Mahb had taught her, but it hadn't occurred to her to define herself as a "spell caster". It was just something she had learned, and until now she had assumed that anyone could learn it. Perhaps some people were better at learning it than others...? Being better than other people was a novel concept and Yrja turned it this way and that for a brief moment before setting it aside for later examination.
"Ah, um... yes? That is, I can cast spells? And I know herb and root and the ways of birds and animals. What are 'druids'? Do they cast spells too?" Another thought occurs to her. "Are there different kinds of spells? The ones I know can heal wounds, or make a person bigger, or protect them from harm... I also know a spell where I scream really loud, and another one where I can make thick mist, or touch something and freeze it... Although I didn't make this snow, it wasn't me! But it's a good spell to keep the food from spoiling in the summer... and to make ice lollies."
Imendri spent the morning as he did the entire night - sometimes humming strange asymmetrical tunes to himself, often responding with only nods or grunts. Upon packing up his belongings and helping saddle Ila back up with her burdens, he absentmindedly followed behind Chiquq, mumbling to himself in a mixture of common and Hallit with no shortage of made up words.
At the moment of meeting the White Stag, Imendri stays quiet and listens, no mumbling, no humming. His face is an odd mixture of curiosity and self-control.
...until his party continues to lose their minds and fail to offer what they think is correct respect to the spirit-animal. That's when a stifled laugh pops out - once for each speaker.
Still chuckling, but quietly, "Ice lollies is good".
Waiting for the stag to respond to Yrja, Imendri would follow with an answer for the question of armament. "Dis is a sword for killing a Feys. Eet's a cold iron sword. Yuu can sniff or somefing if yuu want."
"Excuse our confused manner and speech. We have been through a trying 24 hours and most of us are not used to this cold. I am glad it seems something has summoned you to protect these woods. We will continue to pursue our quarry. How many humans did you see pass before us? Did you see fey as well? And did the woman appear to be their captive?"
Dezső reaches into his coat and pulls forth the two cold iron sling pellets, holding them forth in an open palm but not approaching too close. "Imendri's sword is our main weapon against the fey, but I also have these sling bullets, and Chiquq has more." He gestures to the hunter.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The stag sniffs the sword, its mane ruffling though there is no wind... "Yes, I have seen this before, to threaten the fey. I can try to affect it..." The stag lowers its impressive antlers, turning them slightly toward Yrja and stretching one branch of the antlers toward the sword.
And then, in the blink of an eye, Imendri is holding a tiny cold iron sword about the size of a small pen-knife. Two more things happen almost simultaneously: a small winged fey, with cold-looking green and blue skin and wings like a dragonfly, suddenly appears on the mane of the stag, grinning triumphantly like a tiny crazed jockey, and the stag wheels its antlers in an attempt to gore Yrja.
However, the animal's aim is off, and the fey's grin fades slightly, his eyes darting over at the missed opportunity to squint with sneering criticism.
Round 1! FIGHT!
Chiquq/Ila
Dez
Elk
Fey
Imendri
Braegan
Yrja
He was using Invisibility, that rascal.
Blimey, that stag never moved its lips! Maybe it was a spell...
Shrink Item. It can be reversed by the spellcaster or by throwing the object on the ground.
One of those #@$%$% flying fey from the raven massacre is hiding in the trees far above the elk.
This little jerk is an atomie (and clearly vetr-taka.). Pompous flying jerks who like swordplay and have a host of spell like abilities. More info per +5 on the roll.
It's pretty clear everything the 'stag' said was a gigantic lie. Ha ha!
"TCHA!" Chiquq growls. "What trickery was this?"
She runs forward in thick snow, lifting the bow that she had previously lowered and taking a shot at the tiny spirit-- with a regular arrow, not the cold iron slingstone.
Her arrow goes very wide.
"Devil-woman! Get back from it! ILA! Take down the stag!"
Ila whuffles and barrels through the snow, past Dezso, getting into position just north of Yrja.
”The stag wasn’t speaking!” grunts Braegan, wracking his brain for what it could have been. ”An atomie … clearly vert-traka! A fan of swordplay and general arcane trickery!”
"We've been fools! Imendri! Drop the sword to the ground and it will get big again! I've read about that spell!"
Although it is difficult for Dezső to fire into combat, he has the sling bullets in his hand... Dezső tail's whips out from under his coat and suddenly his sling is in his hand (). He loads and fires a cold iron bullet at the fey, watching to see where it goes in case he misses.
"Yes, it is an atomie! Careful, it might shrink one of us too, not just the sword! And it might have a grieg friend nearby!" Yrja turns her attention to the grinning fey. "You currish clapper-clawed rabbit-sucker! How dare you, onion-eyed puttock that you are!" She has only a vague idea of what the words mean, but it was the kind of thing that Mahb said when she was angry, and Yrja is indeed very angry right now.
The stag wheels on Yrja, and flurries its sharp hooves and gleaming antlers at the witch. However, only one hoof lands on the girl, leaving a bloody weal. The elk snorts a steaming breath in the frigid air and its dark eyes roll to show crazed whites.
"'Excuse our confused manner and speech'," sneers the atomie in an imitation of Dezső, taking to the air in a bound and zipping high over the party, "'We are but fools, lost in the forest.'" He zooms towards Dezső, hovering above him on blurred dragonfly wings, and gestures with tiny pointed fingers. "This should take you down a peg--WHAT?!"
The atomie is apoplectic in frustration. Whatever he has attempted to do has completely no effect on the Ustalavian.
The atomie tried to use Reduce Person, and that doesn't work on tieflings as they are native outsiders. Ha!
Imendri, Braegan, Yrja!
With half the group already engaged with the stag and one of the damned fae finally in range, Braegan lets his frustration and anger fire up. An explosion of unnatural fire bursts from his hands—incinerating yet another pair of gloves—as he steps up under the atomie.
Yrja cries out in pain as a hoof connects painfully with her thigh. "Why don't you take a nap, you big oaf!" she snarls at the stag.
Startled, and now furious, Imendri drops the sword before Dezső finishes his sentence, flying into a mouth frothing fury at being betrayed.
[/ooc]+2 attack/damage, +2 hp[/ooc]
The elk shakes off the hex with another steaming snort.
The atomie hisses in fury as flames lick its frame, causing some damage, but it is nimble enough to be spared the full effects.
"Pathetic, you bumbling flame-dealer! You probably need help in the privy with those ashen claws of yours," he sneers from a safe height. "Oh, purple girl, are you 'like a druid'? Evidently far weaker than one. You play at being a witch, weakling," continues the atomie, his laugh not kindly in the least.
Chiquq and Dez are up, and Imendri can revise his action!
Round 2 - Dyno Atomie and Wonder Elk
Chiquq/Ila
Dez
Elk
Atomie -1 HP
Imendri
Braegan
Yrja 5/8 HP
When the fey flies over to Dezső, the tiefling flinches in anticipation of an attack that never comes.
"You sure seem to be having a lot of fun, and being annoying seems to come naturally to you, but it will just make it all the more satisfying when we bring you down."
Lacking better immediate options, Dezső reloads the sling with the remaining cold iron bullet and fires through the snow at the jerky fey, again trying to track where it goes if it misses.
Dezső's tail grasps the now (even more) useless sling. He glances over his shoulder to make sure Yrja is not grievously wounded and takes a five foot step back in her direction.
Chiquq looses a second arrow at the atomie, in the snow. It's high enough that she doesn't have to worry about hitting anyone else, at least.
Ila lowers her head and bellows a challenge to the stag.
Dezső's cold iron bullet flies past the atomie, the precious projectile disappearing into the snow somwehere. Likewise, Chiquq's arrow fails to make its mark, seemingly lost in the snowy bright/gloom of morning.
Ila is much more successful. The young mammoth scores two hits on the stag, butting and goring the beast and leaving its flank bloodied. The elk bellows in pain but stands its ground. Its ears twitch as it hears some silent command, and the atomie zips over to Ila's side.
It stabs at Ila with a tiny rapier...
...and sticks the mammoth unexpectedly sharply.
The elk then falls on the mammoth, all hooves and antlers!
Only the antlers connect, stabbing deep into Ila's pelt.
"Stop that!" Yrja shouts at the fey, then opens her mouth wide in a silent scream. With her head straining forward, mouth wide open and hair swept back, she looks oddly like her bat friend.
"ILA!" Chiquq shouts as her friend is hurt.
The animal responds in kind, enraged at the pain and striking at what it sees as the obvious threat rather than the little pinprick creature.
Alas, Ila is too angry to be accurate.
Chiquq switches her bow to her off hand, draws the sword they found a little while ago, and swings hard at the tiny fey creature.
Imendri continues hyperventilating and swings down on the Elk again, spittle flying off his cheek as he does so.
Braegan follows the fae, trying to touch it with a flaming hand.
Imendri's rage-filled strike cuts the elk deep, breaking bones and severing muscles in the beast's mighty neck. It falls, spurting blood, clearly dying. The atomie issues a shocked gasp.
Braegan fails to connect with the atomie, who shrieks with rage, and then is caught by the silent scream of Yrja's spell.
The fey clutches its tender long ears, looks sick, and drops into the snow with a plop.
Chiquq's sword stab then leaves the tiny fey on the edge of death. It lays there, unable to do anything but breathe heavily, drops of blood on its lips. His eyes are glassy.
You can hear horrified whispering in the trees, and multiple lights appear in the snow covered underbrush.
[b]The atomie is at 0 HP and is Dazed this round. We'll continue in 'Combat Time', though.[/ooc]
Braegan looks down on the hateful atomie, fury plain on his young features. "Do we have rope to bind the fae? This is the first possible source of information we've had."
He looks up, scanning the area around them as he waits for some additional threat.
Dezső, whose hands are free at this point, leaps forward and grabs the fey with both hands. His tail drops the sling and pulls out a length of rope.
If he succeeds he declares, "Got you, you little jerk!"
The atomie hangs limply in the tiefling's hands like so much wilted celery. You see various lights in the bushes move quickly upward, then most of the lights wink out of sight.
You can see two fey speeding away, roughly in the direction of where you are headed. They are probably the fey you encountered before.
Dezső ties up the fey and raises it to eye level, still holding it in two hands. "Talk. You are defeated and your glowing companions have fled. Who took Lady Argentea, why did they take her, and where are they taking her? And what is behind this unnatural cold?"
The fey's eyes, now no longer dazed, focus somewhat blearily on Dezső. His tiny pupils narrow with hatred. He slowly opens his mouth to speak, then savages bites down on his own tongue.
Before you can see what damage the crazed fey has done to himself, he and the rope binding him vanish. Dezső can feel him struggling violently, trying to free himself.
Seeing that her comrades caught the miscreant fey, Yrja focuses on the wounded mammoth at her side. "Oh, poor Ila, look at how torn up you are... I wish there was something I could do for you, but I don't know if my herbs and spells would work." The tiefling pats the mammoth gently and turns to look at their prisoner. "Don't let it escape! It... ah! It turned invisible, didn't it?"
"Ni allwch ddianc, eich gorffennol erchyll!"