Balthus dismounts happily to be back on his feet again. With drawn bow and cold iron arrow close at hand, he inspected the glade.
A low growl issued from Slasher at his side.
In truth, the ranger was waiting for Anthuria to vow them with something to say about the area. It was indeed beautiful.
He continued to the entrance, lifted his hand, and smiled, pointing to the snare carefully placed.
"Well, looke here. It looks like they don't like visitors. Some sort of snare."
Back to his companions, So are we sure these fey killed the workers? Is there a chance that perhaps they got to the site afterwards? I'm not opposed to violence but I hate to kill the wrong person."
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Karvosian lord was never a lover of the woods, and instead valued architecture over scattered hamlets. He glade looked no different than others.
"So are we sure these fey killed the workers? Is there a chance that perhaps they got to the site afterwards? I'm not opposed to violence but I hate to kill the wrong person."
"They set up snares--and this bears their mark. I say guilty," he murmured, touching a stylized iron key. "Though I do not hesitate to declare that they have always been opposed to efforts such as ours. Even if they were not behind the murders, they will become persistent foes regardless."
"All the evidence points here," Jetta answers, her tone impassive. "The only other potential suspects are the scouts who found the bodies, but I have already ruled them out. They have no apparent motive, and I doubt they would go this far to frame a bunch of fey. Staging a bear attack, maybe. But the poisoned arrow, the footprints, and now this... place."
"Fey are nothing but trouble for civilised people," she concludes affirmingly, in grudging agreeance with Perry.
Anthuria inhales deeply, capturing the fragrance of every leaf and pine needle, every wildflower, each rock, and the rich, dark soil beneath their feet. With each breath, she finds something new to appreciate. She rests her head on the neck of her horse, stroking its supple coat. She closes her eyes, allowing the intermittent chatter of her companions to fade into the background.
Why are they whispering? she wonders groggily.
As the treeline breaks, sunlight floods the darkness behind her eyelids and she peers out, hand over brow.
What she sees takes her breath.
The venerable trees, as old as the ground from which they grow, seem to whisper the secret wisdom of forgotten ages. Their verdure seems to glow, creating an emerald ambiance that pulses with each beat of her heart. And below them, the roses. An ocean of crimson, ruby, and scarlet gems float along the ground, the gentle wind stirring their petals into rhythmic waves. She feels drunk from the beauty of it.
"I...I didn't know..." is all she manages to stammer as she dismounts clumsily from her steed.
"Yes, Balthus, your words ring true. Surely whoever created...this place could not be evil."
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"Yes, Balthus, your words ring true. Surely whoever created...this place could not be evil."
"Not evil, child, but chaos," the priest said, turning to the student. "Keep your wits about you."
"As nature gives, so nature takes away. But with a little skill, herblore, and order, it is possible to keep our gifts, and shift balance to our favor."
Amund remains silent during the jounrney, trying to stay focused on the task but he has never seen the world look like this it really is beautiful. And Balthus is an ass.
Remaining on his mount and mumbling, Down Ursa Keeping his silence about the guilt of the Fey, since it seems rather obvious, Amund does not join the conversation. Noticing Anthuria odd behavior Amund calls out to her, Anthuria are you alright?
The emerald aura continues to pulse in rhythm with her own. She can feel it behind her eyes now, as its intensity grows to an alarming level.
"Not evil, child, but chaos," the priest said, turning to the student. "Keep your wits about you."
"As nature gives, so nature takes away. But with a little skill, herblore, and order, it is possible to keep our gifts, and shift balance to our favor."
Anthuria whirls around, an uncharacteristically stern look upon her face.
"And what do you know about nature, my Lord? Look around you. These trees, the roses, the clouds above. We are surrounded by chaos, and no amount of prayer or sacrament could ever contain it. We do well enough to cower behind the fragile protection of our city walls, while the untamed wilds surround us. They advance relentlessly, threatening every day to overcome your so-called "order." We are captives, and the wilderness is our jailer."
She blinks. She places her hand on her neck.
"Forgive me, Lord Arizian. I fear I am not myself at the moment. I do beg pardon."
Anthuria whirls around, an uncharacteristically stern look upon her face.
"And what do you know about nature, my Lord? Look around you. These trees, the roses, the clouds above. We are surrounded by chaos, and no amount of prayer or sacrament could ever contain it. We do well enough to cower behind the fragile protection of our city walls, while the untamed wilds surround us. They advance relentlessly, threatening every day to overcome your so-called "order." We are captives, and the wilderness is our jailer."
She blinks. She places her hand on her neck.
"Forgive me, Lord Arizian. I fear I am not myself at the moment. I do beg pardon."
Balthus raised his head at Anthuria's little outbreak.
"Wow there, nature girl. Save your sermons for another time; we're on a different groove here."
He walked over to her, "You can make yourself a wreath of flowers and bathe nude under the moonlight some other time. OK? Concentrate on the task at hand or this will be your last excursion out to the wilds."
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"And what do you know about nature, my Lord? Look around you. These trees, the roses, the clouds above. We are surrounded by chaos, and no amount of prayer or sacrament could ever contain it. We do well enough to cower behind the fragile protection of our city walls, while the untamed wilds surround us. They advance relentlessly, threatening every day to overcome your so-called "order." We are captives, and the wilderness is our jailer."
She blinks. She places her hand on her neck.
"Forgive me, Lord Arizian. I fear I am not myself at the moment. I do beg pardon."
The lord blinked in surprise, but then nodded, saying quietly, with a look of genuine concern in his eyes, "You have it, of course. But I pray you, stay focused.
"Fair forms and fair words, the fey possess--" he added, looking across the glade, vigilant. "But do not let that fool you should we meet them: they would see all of humanity naked, afraid, alone, and shivering in dark, wet caves, and grin as wolves prowl and winds howl ere the kill. Believe me--I would know."He walked over to her, "You can make yourself a wreath of flowers and bathe nude under the moonlight some other time. OK? Concentrate on the task at hand or this will be your last excursion out to the wilds."
The priest gave a confused smile, and turned his eyes to the glade once more, before spurring his mount a bit forwards, moving up to Amund.
"For a bodyguard, you tend to wander a tad from whom you should guard," the priest said lightly, before turning serious. "Amund--have you fought fey or spell-slingers before? Do you know what to expect?"
Amunds eyes widen at Anthuria's speech Well that was odd and his mind wonders a little at Balthus's comment of bathing in the moonlight [ooc]Ah the mind, we will not mention the thought that happens there[ooc].
Noticing Lord Arizian come over to him with a reprimand and a question. My apologies my Lord. I did not wish to crowd you... with a deep sigh, No I have not had to contend with Fey before. If by spell-slingers you mean magic users than yes I have.
Jetta waits impatiently as the others converse, the prospect of imminent violence boiling in her blood. Once again she has to remind herself that her companions are not Hellknights, and that she cannot expect the same level of cohesion or commitment as she would from her comrades back at Citadel Vraid. She lets the group whisper amongst themselves for a while, as she calms and centers herself for the coming conflict.
"Hey!" she finally snaps. "Save the debates for when we are back at the fort, will you? We are here for a reason."
"Balthus, could you please scout ahead?" she asks the ranger, as much to move things foward as to divert his attention from Anthuria. Her strange behaviour worried Jetta, but they had to focus on the mission...
"Balthus, could you please scout ahead?" she asks the ranger, as much to move things foward as to divert his attention from Anthuria. Her strange behaviour worried Jetta, but they had to focus on the mission...
The ranger nodded but pointed to the snare again and related what he knew of the magical trap.
"What do you think? I could probably jump it but those in armor may not. I could trigger it by placing a large log or something but that may tip the fey off that we're here."
He squatted to flex his legs, put away his bow, and said, "I love a little exercise in the morning. What do you say?"
"Jump it if you can," says Jetta. "We'll be ready to trigger the trap and come to your aid if something goes wrong."
She looks around for a long, sturdy branch that could be used to set off the trap from a distance.
Balthus nodded his thanks to Lord Perry. With renewed confidence, he approached the sanre again.
Balthus took out his battle axe, braced himself, and chopped down on the snare.
Balthus put away his weapons, took a small run, and leaped across.
The swing of Balthus's axe shears through the entwining vines; with a strange, almost metallic twang and a flash of light, they snap and fade away, writhing as they disappear into nothingness.
You see Mairen's eyes flick toward the path; then, without warning, two creatures dart forward, appearing from the rosebushes on either side of the path. They raise their arms in front of them, which are wrapped in wickedly thorned vines forming an interesting variant on a spiked gauntlet or bracer.
Mairen reacts with the fluidity and precision that a life spent in the wilderness has imbued her with. Sweeping her battle-ax around, she moves forward to engage the enemy, crying out to the others, "Be on your guard!"
Mairen surges forward down the path, meeting the fey creatures and checking their movement with a mighty swing at the front-runner , connecting solidly, though the vines that make up his curious armor turn aside the worst of the damage.
One of the fey stops in his tracks and squares himself up for a blow; the other darts around her to try and harry her from behind, leaving himself open for a swing of her axe.
The surprise of the bold move takes Mairen off-guard, and her axe swings over his head as he ducks behind her. Both of the creatures flanking her swing their thorned bracers, and at the end of the path, the third creature raises his bow; the arrow that streaks toward the intrepid paladin looks quite familiar.
None of the attacks, however, can penetrate the thick plates of Mairen's armor, and she shrugs off all their efforts with liquid grace.
Green 18/22, Pink 22/22, Yellow 22/22
The green throbbing gives way to a dull buzzing noise as Anthuria becomes vaguely aware that she has snapped at Lord Perry. Beside her, Balthus's mouth moves as if speaking, though no sound issues forth. Amund's voice floats through the air, distant and detached, asking if she is alright.
She is in the garden tending the roses, and Jetta's head grows out of the ground, like an obscene cabbage.
In a flash, everyone has moved, and Balthus is swinging his axe.
Anthuria thinks she screams at him to stop, but he's much too far away to hear her.
She is back at Fort Thorn, which is now overgrown with thorny vines. Something dark and menacing lurks among them.
In the grove, Mairen is arguing with a flock of sprites, who are bartering with her over the price of the horses.
The world is an ocean of green.
Sprites.
Sprites!
Anthuria is in the moment. Everything seems to move in slow motion, as in a terrible dream. She sees Mairen slowly swing, her blow narrowly missing the sprite as it tries to maneuver behind her. She struggles to open her mouth to speak.
"Help her!" she screams. "Don't you see what's happening? Someone help her! Balthus, Amund, please, you have to hurry. Hurry!"
Barking a command to Uras pointing his finger at Lord Arizian Ursa! Protect. Amund quickly dismounts heads over to help Mairen while Ursa runs over to Lord Arizian and circles him.
Balthus smiled at his increased speed and wiggled his way to the front line while he brought forth his battleaxe.
He swung his heavy weapon at the small fey. And the blade bit deep into the tiny skull.
, critical?
if critical then
Balthus's hit strikes true, and the creature crumples to the ground, clearly beyond any possibility of bouncing back to aid in the melee.
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Combat descended on the group, not a moment soon after he asked Amund about facing fey.
"The gods have good timing," the priest said sardonically, before moving forward past raising his symbol of Abadar's order, touching Amund's spear. "Sorry son, but I my church is the field of battle. Bring your mount to aid you."
Touch of Law for Amund. All rolls until the end of your next round can take 11.
Move with haste next to Merian and Amund.
While Perry and Anthuria aid their new allies, Balthus drops his foe at his feet, and Amund dismounts and sallies forward to join the fray. Mairen, in the thick of the melee, waits to give aid to her allies as necessary.
The fey creature in the path, seeing the menacing foes around him, tries to take a fluid tumble backwards, out of the way of the weapons swinging at him. He proves too quick for his assailants, and dodges quickly backwards, coming up several feet down the path and waving his hand in a curious gesture; the other mimics the wave. Mairen and Balthus both suddenly glance back and forth momentarily...
You feel a strange tug at the edge of your consciousness, and a voice begins to speak inside your mind, but one of Erastil's proverbs comes to mind. Trust your senses, and always they will guide you right. With one more shake of your head, the odd, creeping influence is gone.
A strange voice begins to whisper in your mind. Is this really worth it? Just turn around, go back to your wall... And what the voice says rings true - why, after all, should you be tromping through these woods? The others can handle it, and these kids should learn the value of solving their own problems, anyway...
The ranger shook his head at the fey creature at his feet, what was left of it.
He lowered his bloodied battleaxe and stepped away from the fray. Calling Slasher over to him, the ranger retreated past the entrance.
he barked at Amund on his way out, "Boy, get in there, will you. These little fey may help you cut your teeth in the wild."
Getting the feel for the new weapon, Mairen adjusts her grip on the long handle, grabbing it with both hands and widening her stance. She swings the ax from the hip, following through with each blow as if she were hewing wood.
"Balthus!" she cries out as her friend turns and leaves. Resisting the urge to curse, knowing it's not her friend's fault, she swings all the harder.
Jetta feels Anthuria's scream resonate through her body, the magic urging her to action. Acting on well-honed instinct, the Hellknight raises her shield and approaches one of the sprites, marching fowards with her halberd poised to strike from overhead. Seeing an opening in its defense, she lashes out, bringing the spear-head of the polearm down on the fey with supernaturally enhanced speed.
Shaking off the confusion of Balthus retreating like he did Amund rushes forward with the long-spear aimed at the little Fey creature.
And suddenly, the world is moving again.
Anthuria rubs her brow, trying to steady herself as the grove comes back into focus. Jetta and Amund have gone to aid Mairen against the rose pixies. Balthus, strangely, stands behind her.
The roses, they call to her. Their strange whispering continues incessently, though suddenly she understands their message.
She strides forward, behind Amund, then steps into the rose bushes. She can feel them writhing all around her. Raising her hand, she wills the vine to shoot out toward the pixie before Amund.
Mairen feels a wild energy swirl around and then into her, Anthuria's intensity suddenly bringing new vigor to her limbs. Buoyed by this sudden rush of adrenaline and focus, she moves forward carefully, resisting the urge to break into a foolish run, and enters the fray.
"Behind you," she calls out quietly to Jetta as she comes in close, and then timing her step she slips in ahead of the Hellknight, not rushing, not surprising anybody, but calmly and quietly getting into position.
The fey creature before her, she narrows her eyes, takes a measured breath, and then swings with both hands.
Jetta takes a powerful swing with her halberd, and it proves too much for the fey creature to handle. It drops to the ground before her, still living but clearly out of the fight.
Anthuria's vines lash out and catch the sprite around the feet; not expecting an attack from his own bushes, the sprite is dragged to the ground with a curse.
Seeing Jetta's foe fall, Mairen steps over him, next to the one Anthuria has just pulled to the ground. With practiced grace, Mairen swings at the creature, and the blow leaves him unmoving, though still drawing breath, on the ground.
No more creatures emerge at the moment, but now that you've drawn closer to the circle's center, you see why the creatures stood guard - between the stone monoliths standing sentinel, a set of stairs spirals down into the hill. The stones themselves are nearly 20 feet high and carved with a multitude of strange symbols that weep blood down the stones' faces, pooling at their bases.
"How unexpected," Anthuria remarks, completely disregarding the mayhem around her as her eyes lock onto the large, monolithic stones.
"These markings are older than anything I've ever seen. They speak of pain and death, of sacrifice, and of darkness. It's an altar to something...wicked."
She moves a finger, whispers, and her body glows briefly.
She continues to stand impassively within her thorny redoubt. Barely glancing down at the fallen sprites, she turns to Perry:
"Lord Arizian, perhaps we might rouse them for questioning?"
"These markings are older than anything I've ever seen. They speak of pain and death, of sacrifice, and of darkness. It's an altar to something...wicked."
Back to his old self, the ranger wiped his axe clean before returning it to its holster.
He raised both hands, palms up, looking at Amund, "Well? Did you get any?"
He then addressed Anthuria, "Are you sure about the symbols? How do you know about these things?"
Looking at the entrance and at Jetta, "It might be worth considering having our best armored fighters up front when we go down there..."
"These markings are older than anything I've ever seen. They speak of pain and death, of sacrifice, and of darkness. It's an altar to something...wicked."
Jetta squints at the monoliths, trying and failing to find any sense in the bloody scribbles. "Something? What something?"
"Lord Arizian, perhaps we might rouse them for questioning?"
"Fey lie as easily as they draw breath," Jetta mutters as she kneels to inspect the sprite she struck down. "It'll be a waste of time."
Looking at the entrance and at Jetta, "It might be worth considering having our best armored fighters up front when we go down there..."
The Hellknight nods evenly, ready for more challenging foes.
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No more creatures emerge at the moment, but now that you've drawn closer to the circle's center, you see why the creatures stood guard - between the stone monoliths standing sentinel, a set of stairs spirals down into the hill.
The stones themselves are nearly 20 feet high and carved with a multitude of strange symbols that weep blood down the stones' faces, pooling at their bases.
The priest moved up to the monoliths, a frown scarring his face.
"Lord Arizian, perhaps we might rouse them for questioning?""Fey lie as easily as they draw breath...
"It'll be a waste of time."
"We should afford time to be cautious," the priest said evenly, reaching for the fey.
Amund quietly moves to stand near Lord Arizian without answering Balthus. He does reach his hand down to scratch Ursa's head.
"We should afford time to be cautious," the priest said evenly, reaching for the fey.
Jetta frowns inside her helmet, silently placing an iron-shod boot on the sprite's chest to keep it from trying to escape.
Everyone moves further up the path, crowding around the fey - and around the monoliths. But as Perry closes the distance and stands next to the standing stones, you suddenly hear a crackling noise, and three of the gnarled trees surrounding the inside of the circle begin to pull free of the ground in which they're planted, lurching forward toward the group clustered at the path's entrance.
Balthus moved up the trail and entered the grove proper. With his axe put away and short bow again out, he moved past the others, barking orders all the way "C'mon Slasher, we need everyone now. Anthuria, keep away!"
He pulled his bow and a shaft flew towards one of the animated trees.