Purpose Creche watches the figure move through its message several times, each from a different angle. He quietly mimics its message, first in the old tongue, then in Common.
"Loyal citizens of the empire—fear not. The blot in the heavens is but a ruse by veiled foes to keep us distracted in this time of mounting chaos. Tend to your regular duties, and trust in the Ioun Imperative and your emperor to keep you safe. Do not fail us, and we shall not fail you."
Seemingly satisfied, he steps back from the circle, and the figure winks out of sight.
"First things first. I'm sorry, Joli, that I wasn't lenient. I was surprised. I defaulted to my normal reaction. I should have done as Cedar. Particularly because."
He then makes a rasping sound, like he's trying to clear a non-existent throat.
"Face the ghost to prove your age."
"Charge across its little stage."
"Longshanks come to interrupt."
"Ghosthater goblins, mess them up."
Another rasping sound. "I think approaching this image is some sort of rite of passage for the goblins. Scaring them could have been a simple matter as a result. Again, I am sorry."
When Silt lifts the clockwork spy, Purpose Creche moves to scrutinize it once more. "How old is this spy, I wonder."
The clockwork spy is consistent with ancient Azlanti technology, though such devices would typically have stopped working long ago.
Joli nods at Purpose' words. "They attacked, and you were right to defend. But perhaps we can all find less lethal options." He circulates among the goblins, checking them for a pulse. "Let's revive those we can and tell them, 'Do not attack us or our allies, and we'll leave you in peace.'"
If you worked quickly, stabilize saves all four of the goblins. The bleeding stops, and soon the loud sound of goblin snoring fills the formerly peaceful clearing.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Purpose Creche nods stiffly. "I will try. I don't know if it will work. But it's worth founding a settlement without recreating the violence that gave many of us a reason to come here in the first place. I'll talk to the goblins." He emits a series of screeching fricatives and growls, much louder and more shrill than his usual voice. "Like so."
He takes the clockwork spy from Sil'tchaak and holds it for the others to see. Its round body is pinched between the seamless curl of Purpose Creche's thumb and forefinger, its tiny legs working at the air.
"Several noteworthy developments." The fingers of his free hand unfurl like fiddlehead ferns as he lists his points.
"The animated figured mentioned a blot in the heavens. Earthfall. The extraplanetary missiles that devastated Golarion and caused The Age of Darkness."
"Veiled foes. The veiled masters. Aboleths. Conniving deep water creatures that plotted Azlant's downfall." The head twitches back and forth in a slight tipping motion. "I suppose they made the world what it is today."
"Ioun Imperative. Keep your emperor safe. These, I do not know." He gently shakes the clockwork spy. "But the figure's words, and this creation. All are incredibly old. The spy in particular would have long ago rusted and fallen to nothing." He freezes for a moment—Before Earthfall, were there newly made wyroods that did the same?—but resumes speaking. "Someone has maintained this device. Presumably, they have also set it to observe this clearing. Why? Do they have anything to do with the disappearances? Do the figure's words?"
He turns the still-scrabbling spy towards his face, and the red eye in its round body stares into his impassive eyeband. "More questions than answers. Again."
The dais and and its speaker refuse to give up any more secrets, and eventually, you make your way back to Talmandor's Bounty. Carver Hastings has pulled guard duty today, and he greets you warmly.
"Hello! How was the hunt? Did the little clockwork creature take you anywhere interesting?"
"Good afternoon, Carver. It was extremely interesting." He once again produces the contraption and holds it between thumb and forefinger. "It lead us to an ancient Azlanti illusion. You're a fellow historian. Does the Ioun Imperative mean anything to you? It means nothing to me."
"The Ioun Imperative? That's interesting. No, I haven't heard of such a thing. I'm sure you're familiar with ioun stones? Perhaps those are somehow connected."
As Cedar describes the image in more detail, Carver's eyes go wide. He asks you to detail the helm worn by the image, and he starts to mutter to himself.
"So it's all true then. Durvin Gest must have been here...Brackett will be so excited to hear this...Oh, um, yes, I suppose you should inform Perrell about this. I, uh, don't suppose you might give me a bit of a head start? I'm not officially here as a historian, and Perrell would probably not want me there, and I am paticularly interested in this image you've described."
"Durvin Gest. The famous Pathfinder. That's also extremely interesting. What makes you think he visited here?" Purpose Creche cocks his head to one side. "And though the image is certainly interesting, why is it particularly so to you? I know we share an enthusiasm for Azlanti history. Do you know more about this? Would you accompany me back to the site?"
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Joli fidgets a bit as his new friends chat with Carver. "Er, ahem. Master Hastings? It’s good to see you again. I can see that being on land suits you. Um, I wonder. What do you hope to discover?"
Carver shifts uncomfortably at Purpose's response. "Uh, it's just a personal project, you see. Such an interesting man! Yes, I would love to accompany you back to the site."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Are you sure there's not more you can tell us, Master Hastings? You can speak plainly—we're here to help!" Joli's wide mouth turns up in a grin and he puffs his chest out impressively. His tricorn shifts down of its own accord to a more jaunty position.
Carver pauses for a moment, looking at the group carefully. ”Well, I’m supposed to be undercover, but I guess I can’t avoid needing help sooner or later. I’m actually here on a mission for the Pathfinder Society. Maybe you’ve heard of us? We’re trying to see if we can substantiate the claims that Durvin Gest and other early Pathfinders explored the Azlanti ruins out here. The company had their own historian, so I had to get a position as a soldier to make it onto the expedition. But you’ve already found tremendous evidence! That helm you describe: it sounds just like a Decemvirate helm!”
Purpose Creche considers Carver's body language and facial features as he asks, "Undercover? Why?"
|
Cedar shifts awkwardly.
”I don’t know much about the Pathfinders, to be honest. I mean, what’s a Decemvirate? I’m happy to take you to the site, but I don’t want you messing it up. Perrell’s my friend and she’ll want to see it too. I can already imagine how disappointed she’ll be if she finds out we took you there first.”
| 4 people marked this as a favorite. |
While the others talk to Carver, Silt wanders off into the colony. He goes to the smoke house and leaves with a bag of greasy old bones. He borrows a picnic basket from a little boy, and picks some raspberries on the edge of town. Finally, he disappears under the lovely boughs of Karl's home. Near the edge of the village, a hungover sailor napping in a hammock stirs as the click-claw echoes from the distant trees.
Training time, Karl.
Karl and Silt wind their way back the site of the recent goblin battle. Silt mutters to himself as he moves among the bushes, creating several batches of goodberries (probably a couple charges off the wand).
At the edge of the clearing, Silt gives Karl some bones to gnaw on, and lays out the picnic basket. Stay. He opens the basket and pulls out a handful of raspberries, hissing in distaste.
He casts enlarge self, then stomps up to the largest sleeping monkey goblin. He begins pushing goodberries into his mouth, carefully avoiding the sharper teeth. Juice drips along the cheeks like blood.
The goblin mutters in subconscious satisfaction — the strange sensation of actually being full an extremely pleasant thing for any goblin. Then his eyes flutter open and he yelps in surprise.
Yes… taste the horrible rass-berries. Know this, little one: even worse terrors than rass-berries wait in this place!
The goblin sneers, swallows its treat. He slowly reaches for a rock, thinking to bash in this fish-man's brains.
Just then, a mass of palps, mandibles, and claws comes charging out of the forest. The goblin turns, howls in sheer terror, scrambles to its feet, and sprints away. Its gibbering gradually fades away in the distance.
Silt stands. He lowers his hat over his eyes and crosses his arms. Unseen behind him, Karl pauses, twitching in hunger while the little goblin flees.
After several moments, Silt gently removes the little turtle from under his farmer's hat and looks her in the eyes. Sad you witnessed that. But these dangerous enemies; almost killed me. Now, never come back. That one will tell the village dark tales of rass-berries. The powerful folk who live here. Shost stories told by the wise, who sit by the fire on moonless nights.
A twig snaps and he spins around on his heels. Karl!
Silt digs in his bag and tosses another greasy bone at the ankheg. The bug snaps it out of the air and cracks in its mandibles.
Lucky. If that little goblin saw a such beautiful friend like Karl, his whole village would desire this land. The ankheg audibly slurps the marrow from the bone.Lucky… so fearful of me, he must not have been looking around. He shrugs. Now, head back.
Beofre departing, Silt hurls the leftover raspberries in the direction the goblin went. A powerful ward. A border.
They walk off together into the shadowy forest; a thrush sings.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Carver nods at Cedar's words. "I understand; you are loyal to your employer. I am loyal to mine as well. The Pathfinder Society seeks out knowledge, all over the world. We are led by a group called the Decemvirate. They wear powerful helms, just like what you described, that protect them from scrying, and probably do lots of other things, I'm not exactly at their level. I realize I must seem untrustworthy for keeping my motives a secret, but there's another group, called the Aspis Consortium. They have their own spies everywhere, and could have sent one along on this mission. I'd never forgive myself if there was proof! proof that Gest was here! and I let one of those snakes wreck it first. I understand if Perrell needs to be there too, but perhaps you could just say that I'm along for protection? I don't think it's safe to blow my cover yet."
|
|
Cedar scratches his chin, thinking.
"People have their secrets. I can understand that. I won't blow your cover, don't worry. Heck, Perrell was a little anxious about the island last I talked to her. If I say you're coming along for added protection, she'll probably be more than satisfied with that."
Cedar turns to Joli and Purpose. "Shall we find Perrell and head back to the site?"
Toby listens, a little bored, until the Pathfinder Society is mentioned. "I've heard of them! Some agents passed through our village on the way to Sauerton a while back. They seemed tough...or, at least they did from the looks of them. Mom wouldn't let me go talk to them."
"Aspis Consortium. Do you have reason to believe their agents are amongst us?" Purpose Creche pauses a moment. "Regardless. I will keep your role a secret. And yes, let's find Perrell and return to the clearing."
Joli mimes sewing his broad mouth shut and offers his hand to the Pathfinder. "Thanks for your trust, Master Carver. As they said, we’ll aim to be worth of it."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
On the trail back, Silt pauses in a shaft of sunlight and blinks three times.
He raises a webbed hand. Hold. Creatures come.
He tilts his head, listening. They come on legs. They from colony. They be here soon.
He opens up the picnic basket, produces a piece of cloth and lays it on a bed of dirt. Out comes a jar of wet seaweed, a russet potato, and more old bones. He carefully places Llyu-Llyu on the cloth, where she joyfully nips her seaweed lunch. Karl gnaws a bone and then burrows undergound.
After swallowing the potato in one bite, Silt leans against a tree and tips the farmer's hat down over his face, enjoying the shade while he picks his teeth with a twig.
The steps are very close now, and he can hear voices.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"...heard of the Ioun Imperative. As I told Carver. Perrell, have you heard of such a thing? Maybe no one has. Maybe we are just scratching the surface." Purpose Creche walks through shadow-dappled underbrush. Nettles and thorns scrape against his coat and exposed limbs, but he does occasionally stop to hold them aside for others. "Maybe Azlant's core lies beneath our feet. One hand reaches up. We may take it and pull the past into the present. An entire civilization's secrets waiting under soil and wave."
He pauses. To become a progenitor so easily. No. "Unlikely. Earthfall and aboleth destroyed much. But pieces remain, as you will see. Sights and sounds. And." He cocks his head to the side. "Smells. What is that? Like the sea."
He steps forward into Sil'tchaak's picnic area, but doesn't seem notice the locathah under the tree. "Ah. Llyu-Llyu. I hope that you're enjoying your meal. It smells interesting. Is Silt here? I didn't realize you were returning so soon."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
*sniff sniff sniff*
"And where's Karl? I don't like being able to smell him around here but not see him anywhere..."
The historian lights up when the group tells her about the clearing, the dais, and the figure. "Amazing! An illusion, still functional after all this time! you, uh, didn't happen to mention this to Lyra yet, did you? Oh, good, good. Not that she wouldn't be interested, you see, but I think this clearly falls under my sphere of responsibility. Yes, let's do leave now."
She gathers mapmaking equipment, several books, parchment, and ink. "It is safe, yes? I mean, you've already been there and back?"
She thanks Purpose for keeping the path clear. She attempts to balance a notebook as she walks, sketching the path to the clearing. She notes a few varieties of local flora.
"Karl? Is that your...pet?" The last word comes haltingly, clearly dripping with disdain.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Llyu-Llyu waddles up to Purpose and climbs into his foot; Silt steps out from the shade of the tree trunk.
Returning to goblins' place? No need. Made safe from attack now, with rass-berry terror. They taste. They fear. Never come back.
Silt turns his head and looks at Perrell sideways. His nictitating membrane blinks. Pet? No. Never pet. Friend.
He produces a claw-shaped object from a belt pouch, bends over and holds it against the earth. A rapid series of clicks, akin to the noises sailors have heard sperm whales make, rattles around in the clearing.
Suddenly the picnic blanket rumples, and is sucked underground. Bones and potatoes and kelp spill forth from the basket, and out leaps Karl to feast on this new bounty.
Heel.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Shhhhhakkkkkaaaassssphk
The giant bug scuttles obediently to Silt's side (but not before grabbing as many old bones as it can). It slurps marrow and gazes intently at Perrell. Its eyes are pools of darkness, reflecting nothing, even in the sunbeam.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Purpose Creche takes a step sideways when Karl erupts from the ground, ending beneath a bough's shadow; as a result, his eyeband is a similar matte black.
"Ah. A smart friend. Karl is quite useful, Perrell. He learns. He responds. He keeps the colony free of pests and waste. He is now only slightly terrifying."
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
His head cocks to one side as Joli listens to Karl's call. Jalaijatali sings to us through all things. It's my duty to learn her melodies. He puffs out his chest and begins singing in his deep baritone.
Without waiting to see his friends' reaction, he leaps onward towards the site, bounding up into the trees and hopping from trunk to trunk.
"Shakalakasaphk! Kaphasakalakash!
"Aah! Oh, it's only Karl. Don't sneak up on us like that, you jerk!"
Despite the alarm turned to anger, there is the beginnings of affection in Toby's voice.
Perrell's face twists into a grimace as Karl appears. "But..he's a wild animal! He's dangerous!" She jolts suddenly as Joli begins his song. Carver tries very hard not to laugh at his colleague's discomfort.
Silt happily nods. Very wild. Very dangerous.
He listens carefully to Joli’s song, and nods to himself as if making mental note. He grins. We go?
Perrell seems a little put off by Silt's cheerful response. "Yes, I suppose we had better go."
As you reach the clearing, Perrell's demeanor changes. She is excited and eager, and starts taking measurements to map out the area precisely and carefully writing down the words spoken by the illusory figure.
Carver watches the figure, in total awe of the sight of the ancient man in the Decemvirate helm.
|
|
Cedar’s eyes flash.
”Silt, what are you talking about? He’s not wild. You’ve been domesticating him, right? You’ve been teaching him how to behave, how to perform tricks. Don’t try to scare Perrell, she’s out here to research the site. We need to help her out.”
He turns to Perrell. ”Don’t be afraid. Let’s get to the site and you’ll be more comfortable.”
As they walk along Silt takes at Cedar aside. Would you like potato?
He pauses and fidgets with his hat. Karl is learning tricks. But Perrell was so excited to see something wild, dangerous. I thought to imp-ress, so she likes Karl.
As he begins exploring the site afresh, Joli hums the sound of Karl mixed with the other sounds of the island, punctuated by an occasional melodic croak. He pauses, saying, "Do you think there'll be buried treasure or such nearby?"
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Cedar smiles as he walks with Silt.
"Sure, I'll take some potato, thanks," he says, seeing the offer as a gesture of friendship. "Look, I understand you were trying to impress her. But Perrell, she's not like us. She doesn't like wild and dangerous. If she was "excited" about seeing Karl, it wasn't in a good way. She likes safe and peaceful. She likes history books and reading." Cedar picks some lint off his potato before taking a bite. "Maybe you should show her how safe and peaceful Karl can be? Show off the training you’ve done. That might help her relax around him."
"It could well be, Joli. Though I'm more curious what kind of stone this is. It is incongruous. It weathers the test of time." Purpose Creche tunes out the illusory figure's words, and the faint scent of ashes fill his non-existent nostrils as he bends down to investigate the strange pink stone. "Perrell, have you seen other formations like this one the island? Carver, do you think this bears any relation to ioun stones?"
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Silt intently watches Cedar eat the raw potato, interested in his reaction.
She also fear beauty? Who could see Karl, but not majesty? He pulls out a bone and considers, tapping it in a palm. Karl only knows follow. He will not stay still. He almost made the Goblins feel welcome.
He taps the bone a few more times. Fetch? There is much fleeing, running, and movement in that game… but games can be played later.
The click-clack sounds, and Cader smells acid near his back. The insect walks very closely, but obediently, behind the pair.
One day, I will ride Karl through the center of town. They will be surprised when he rears over the well, tall and proud. All then see how lovely he is. Undeniable.
Though he is absent from the conversation, Purpose Creche hears and considers Silt's words. He does not seem to understand how others see Karl. It is hard to see for one not used to seeing it. Perhaps I should speak with him. I know how hard it can be.
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
As Cedar listens and nods along to what Silt is saying, he begins to realize Silt has no idea how other people view Karl.
"Um, yeah..." Cedar says as he imagines villagers grabbing their children and running, screaming, from the town square as Karl, with Silt on his back, rises above the well. "About that..."
His thoughts are broken though as he steps on something squishy. Looking down at his feet he asks, "Are those raspberries? Why are there raspberries all over the place? Silt?!"
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Horrible, I know. But they will grow, and keep little goblins away..