"Sooooo, Orthrus go boom?"
For a moment, Gillian looks torn. The logical side of her brain kept warning that it would be a mistake, they'd draw too much attention to themselves and possibly worse. But the more emotive side found the lure of a big explosion incredibly tempting...it would be like her fire magic except on an even grander scale!
"It would make for a lovely explosion..." she nods, her eyes slightly glazed as if in a trance.
The explosion is astounding. Orthrus sets the reagents ticking just so, and it is as the party returns to Eviana's tent that the explosion erupts on the skyline. A flurry of elves rush forth from the tent, chatter erupting.
"Calistria, what is that?" a particularly nervous elf says to Aishe.
Aishe shrugs, "Hopefully that's the sound of drow dying. Orthrus destroyed the lab. I hope some drow were trying to set it back up at the time."
Yet he sounds more sure than he is, the explosion, and its size, surprised him - and frightened him a little. He starts to worry about all the alchemical arrows he carries and what might happen to them if they should break in his pack. He resolves to use them more quickly...
Orthrus capers about in obvious joy.
"Don't worry, I don't imagine it will spread beyond the building itself," Gillian adds as she finds a good spot to sit back and enjoy the glow from afar.
"Don't worry, I don't imagine it will spread beyond the building itself," Gillian adds as she finds a good spot to sit back and enjoy the glow from afar.
"I hope you're right." worries Aishe.
"Don't worry, I don't imagine it will spread beyond the building itself," Gillian adds as she finds a good spot to sit back and enjoy the glow from afar."I hope you're right." worries Aishe.
"Um...what are you doing? Is that some sort of interpretive dance?" Gillian asks as she notices Orthrus doing...something. "I'm surprised that you're not settling in to watch your handiwork."
"Uuuuh, going to get better view?"
Aishe looks at the far off cloud, "Boy I hope that dissipates before too long. We should, uh, avoid it if we can."
He looks around, "Say, where would a fellow find something to eat around here? Before we head back out on our next mission, we should get a bite."
"Ooh...fire usually doesn't burn green," Gillian blinks as the cloud settles in over the lab's former location. "I agree, we might uh...wish to give that area a wide berth for awhile."
Deciding that the best of the show has come to pass, Gillian stands and nods to Aishe at his mention of lunch. "Sounds like a good idea to me."
Nel watches the explosion with a look of concern before vanishing back into the tent. After a few moments she exits with a look of annoyance, clutching a piece of parchment in a fist. "Tamiro, I have some bad news. It seems like the elves are transferring me to a different unit." Balling up the letter, Nel chucks it against the tent, taking a few deep breaths. "I don't trust any of these elves as far as I can throw them. Will you follow me?"
At this proclamation, Gillian's eyes go wide with surprise. "Transferring? Wait, then what do the rest of us do? Are being reassigned as well?"
"No worry. Orthrus fix."
Aishe can't help but wonder how this effects his standing. After all, his goal is to be respected in Riddleport so he can enact change there. Seems a far flung thing now. Yet was he to turn his back on these elves, so clearly fighting a desperate campaign against evil?
Perhaps the elves have some pull in town. He nods to himself, for now that's enough. Evil must be fought and the chaos it brings beaten back everywhere.
"We'll do you proud. I hope our actions will reflect on your prior leadership. Though I worry... if we three are to go out alone, it would be good to have a little muscle with us. We've had to face some tough things out there..." he trails off uneasily.
"This is true," Gillian nods. "We can't simply return home as if none of this has happened but I agree that we need a little extra help if we're to continue out there," she gestures out at the city.
Wincing at Gillian's response, Nel turns the the other half elf. "I am not sure. They needed my linguistics experience in order to translate some of the drow pictograms found elsewere in the city." Unconciously straightening her missive, Nel sighs wearily.
"I'm sure that you will not let Riddleport down, Aishe. I have so much to explain, but not enough time to do it in." Flipping through her bags, she pulls out two journals. "Here, this may help. The large one is a copy of the two journals we handed over to the elves earlier. The second one, well that's my personal field journal." Handing the two books over to Aishe, Nel worries her bottom lip, weighing her words carefully. "It is my understanding that one of the other elves brought along some of their own friends to this battlefield, which will be covering the gap that Tamiro and I will leave. I'm sorry; I wanted to see this through with you, but it seems like Desna is calling me down a different path." Running a hand through her hair, Nel lets out a final weary sigh.
"There is one last thing that I was saving, but I want you to have." Removing a small silver charm braclet from her wrist with a single charm, Nel offers it to Gillian. "This was something I bought before we left Riddleport. Just call out my name, my full name, and I will be there." Patting Gillian on the shoulder, bids her fairwell to Aishe before standing before Orthrus.
"I really don't know what to say, but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. Be carfeul." Offering an awkward head nod to the masked man.
Through the slits in his false face, Orthrus eyes the journals as they pass between Nel and Aishe....
"I really don't know what to say, but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. Be carfeul." Offering an awkward head nod to the masked man.
"Huh? Uh, yeah. You too."
Aishe accepts the journals solemnly. "Perhaps you should keep your field journal, you know to add to it." He pauses, "I'm not much of a writer." he adds.
Either way, he accepts what he has been given and stores it carefully in his pack for future reference. "Be safe, and good luck!"
He spends the time between now and their next assignment leafing through the first journal.
Gillian's eyes widen with surprise as Nel gifts her with the small charm bracelet. Her expression softens a bit as she realizes what it is. "Thank you, Nel. I...hopefully will not to call on its power but I will carry it with me until we meet again," she says quietly as she slips it onto her own wrist. "Good luck to you both and stay safe."
______
During their downtime between tactical assignments, Gillian spends some time reading over Aishe's shoulder as well as making sure her own gear and supplies are in good order.
"I wonder who these newcomers are that'll be joining us?" she asks quietly when the three of them have a few moments of privacy. "Nel said they were friends of one of the elves, didn't she? Hopefully they'll be able to cover similar talents as Nel and Tamiro."
"Come, boss. Kwava said first thing, morning's light. Besides, what's her face kicked you right out of her tent as soon as you finished your monkey business."
A small fairy flutters into the tent, takes a look around, and plays a miniature flute to catch Gillian & company's attention.
"May I have your attention! I am pleased to introduce your new ally. Ever confident, ever knowledgeable (and quite handsome, might I say)... Richard Holysmith!" Another quick whistle on her flute and she hovers aside the flaps to the tent.
At least the flute sounds nice.
A blond human male steps through the flaps of the tent. His hair is a mess, his mithral chain shirt obviously needs adjustment. He also seems half awake, nowhere as alert as his companion. "Ugh. He rubs his face and stands alert.
He quickly adjusts his left sleeve.
"Thank you. My apologies, my name is Richard Holysmith. This is my assistant, Sherix. Usually I like grand entrances, but today we're in the middle of a war against the drow. I admit I'm no fighter. But I can know when my knowledge and infiltration aspects are required. We don't know what exactly the drow are up to. Even this elven encampment likes to keep secrets to themselves. I am to join you and assist you in any way I can."
As he speaks, he stands upright, fixes his voice and his diction becomes clear and easy to understand. Maybe he's a natural at this kind of stuff.
"Hrmph. Whimsy. Orthrus hate whimsy."
A bizarre-looking woman in spiked plate armor is escorted into the tent by two stern-looking elves.
The woman has skin like burnished copper and pupil-less eyes that look like gold. She has tusks at the corners of her mouth, much like an orc, but these too are gold. She has black wiry hair with a golden streak at her left temple. And one side of her face is a mass of burn scars. She smells of sulfur and woodsmoke. Overall the effect is not appealing at all, and she looks rather grim and forbidding.
She glares at the elves as they remove a small red ribbon that is wound around the hilt of the woman's large sword. One the ribbon is removed the elves nod to one another and to any elves in the tent, and they give the woman a stern look, before leaving the tent.
The woman rubs her wrists. She scowls at any elves that are present, but when she sees that there are non-elves here her expression softens. She almost smiles when she sees the mask worn by the witch doctor.
"So... which one of you's the boss? I'm Yazan."
Yazan pulls a shield from the gear on her back and begins strapping it to her left arm. The shield is deep blue and shows a yellow bonfire in the middle.
"What are we supposed to do? I hear there's a fight that we get a piece of. Do we have a plan?"
Inmediately behind the group that brought in the bizarre thing in plate armor, a armed and armored dwarf enters the tent.
He, too, shares the nod and look with the elves who escorted her, answering her when she spoke up:"You will fight when you are told to fight, Yazan.", looking to the others:"She is a prisoner they decided, for whatever reason, could be an asset - and I am no more happy about that than you probably are."
Not letting his guard down, he unwraps his heavy backpack and places it next to the entrance:"My name's Dvalin. I've been working with the Elves a good while now, turned out we had common enemies. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. But I can't tell the lot of them apart. Hairless faces, flat chests, I suppose they got tired of me mixing up their names and stuck me with you lot. And I'm to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't run off during the battle to cause more problems later.", he points at Yazan.
Then he points at Richard:"He thinks this is all fun and entertainment, but he's a decent enough fellow to have around, and the little fairy has proven to be useful, too. No idea why she sticks with him, but that's none of my business."
Offering his hand in greeting to each of old members of this group, he inquires:"So, that's us. Tell us about you lot, would you? Why are you fighting the good fight, and all that?"
Sherix glares at the man in the strange mask, but then switches her attention to Yazan. She gives Richard a look, but he merely smiles.
"Greetings, Yazan. I am Richard. I am also new to this group. Don't mind my assistant Sherix. She distrusts everyone at first, regardless of their lineage."
Aishe chuckles a little at the ensemble before considering what their side of the table looks like. He glances at Orthrus and decides to keep his humor to himself.
He holds out his hand to each of the newcomers, "I'm Aishe, welcome."
"Alas, we have no leader as of just a few hours ago. Nel, our old commander, was stationed elsewhere and we were told to expect some new recruits to the squad. That must be you, naturally." he grins.
"C'mon in and make your selves comfortable. We're just waiting on orders, which could come at any time now. Until then we might as well get to know each other."
Aishe Danior, a Chellish human, may wear loose fitting clothes, but they’re of fine homespun cotton and clean. Cleaner in fact than you'd expect - he must have magical aid. Though he sports a morning star and a dagger, it’s clear from the position on his belt and the number of quivers, that he favors a light crossbow nicely strung at his hip.
"I'm from Kintargo, in Cheliax, a long way away it feels, from here. I came to Riddleport to see what I could do to spread civilization and signed on with Nel and her company to build a reputation. Well, one thing lead to another, and here I am, mercenary for hire, working for the elves to battle their nemesis." he chuckles.
"Hell, I think this might even be a secret mission or something, so it won't even help my reputation! I must admit though, the elves are generous with their wealth, so I don't feel as though I'm sliding in my goals."
He seems perfectly at ease with the situation.
"Well met, Aishe. I am certain you will find fame and fortune here. As long I'm helping, of course!" Richard laughs before offering his gloved hand to shake. Sherix stays on Richard's shoulder but waves hello.
Hearing a familiar voice, Richard turns to see Dvalin. He slaps the man on the shoulder. "And here I thought I'd never team up with my favorite dwarf!" He grins. "Dvalin is an incredible warrior. I saw a tree fall on him once, right on his head and he didn't even flinch!"
It's... quite a tale. It was more like a twig than anything.
"Clearly, we'll defer to your command-it's only fair."
"Didn't end well for the tree! Splendid campfire that night, though!", Dvalin adds to Richards tale with a wide grin.
As their new teammates file in, one after the other, Gillian's eyebrow rises so high as to almost disappear into her hairline and she can't help but let slip a grimace as she takes in Yazan's appearance. However, her eyes widen with recognition as she studies the little being named as Sherix. "Oh! A lyrakien," she marvels, watching the azata flutter about. "I've read about them before but I've never met one personally."
She too offers her hand to each of the new arrivals, only hesitating for a moment before reaching Yazan. "And I'm Gillian, Gillian Flynn. Formerly of Magnimar. I originally traveled to Riddleport after hearing about the appearance of the Blot over the city...but sadly, due to delays I was unable to reach the city before the matter had, er, resolved itself, in a fashion," she explains. "It was just afterwards that I found work with Nel's company and then found myself here in Celwynvian."
At first glance, Gillian appears to be human - until she shifts slightly and her short dark hair falls away from an ear, revealing it to be slightly pointed. Her blue eyes regard the new arrivals with a mixture of calmness and curiosity but there's also a strange intensity about her that seems to be bubbling just beneath the surface.
Well, this bunch is sure to be livelier than Nel and Tamiro ever thought about being. But the woman and the dwarf look strong enough and the human at least seems to have the confidence to back up his words.
"Er...really? An entire tree?" Gillian asks, looking from Richard to Dvalin. "Now I have to know the rest of the story, from the beginning. Surviving something like that isn't exactly an everyday occurrence!"
______
"You will fight when you are told to fight, Yazan."
Though she is used to abuse at the hands of strangers, Yazan looks at Davlin with surprise.
"You sayin' you're the boss? I thought it would be an elf."
Yazan shrugs. She sits on a camp stool, draws her bastard sword, and begins polishing it. The sword has a symbol on the hilt similar to that on her shield.
"An' I'll fight, don't you worry. The elves say it's how I can pay my 'debts.' I'm sure they figure I'm expendable. Heh. I'll do what's required, but I mean to survive. I always do, somehow."
Yazan eyes Richard's "ally," and then Richard himself for a moment, and then shrugs.
"Alas, we have no leader as of just a few hours ago. Nel, our old commander, was stationed elsewhere and we were told to expect some new recruits to the squad. That must be you, naturally."
Yazan looks at Aishe for a moment, and then looks back at Dvalin. She shrugs, and goes back to polishing her sword.
"Looks like Dvalin here wants the job, seein' as he's already started givin' orders. I don't care who it is, as long as it's no fool."
She finishes polishing the sword, and examines the bright finish of the dark metal. She looks at it for a few moments, then puts the sword back in its sheath.
"Anyone want to tell me what this fight is about? I heard it's elves versus elves. Some kinda civil war?"
However, her eyes widen with recognition as she studies the little being named as Sherix. "Oh! A lyrakien," she marvels, watching the azata flutter about. "I've read about them before but I've never met one personally."
Sherix flutters close to Gillian. "Huh. Most people think I'm a fairy from the forest or something. It gets too confusing to talk about Elysium for most, so I just shrug and say, yeah, I'm a fairy."
"Anyone want to tell me what this fight is about? I heard it's elves versus elves. Some kinda civil war?"
"I've heard some stories about the drow. Skin black as the night. They live underground and worship an insane spider goddess. They have... breached the surface, I'm surmising." Richard grins, making it clear he knows more than he supposedly should. "Anything I missed?"
"Er...really? An entire tree?" Gillian asks, looking from Richard to Dvalin. "Now I have to know the rest of the story, from the beginning. Surviving something like that isn't exactly an everyday occurrence!"
"Now THAT is a tale. Remind Dvalin and I to tell you once we're done with these drow. Haha."
"I can only imagine," Gillian nods at Sherix. "But I would love to hear and learn more about Elysium. When we are in a good position to do so, of course. And as for the drow, there has also been evidence uncovered that they are planning to bring ruin to more than just surface elves," Gillian adds to Yazan. "In case you were wondering why this should concern you or any others that are not elven."
"Really? What kind of ruin? And why do they care about what happens on the surface if they live below it?"
"The Fertile Flame is a goddess of fire, but also of protection and freedom. It is she whom I serve. If what you say is true, she would want these drow stopped."
"Well, according to this ledger, and what many in Riddleport saw with their own eyes, the drow have the ability to call a star from the heavens - presumably to decimate some part of Golorian."
"I must admit, it's all beyond me, but there was an event in town, and I saw the crater with my own eyes on an island just outside Riddleport. This journal, and other information we found, seems to suggest the drow did it - it was not a naturally occurring phenomena."
"And so we are here, helping the elves against their drow enemies."
"As to why the drow want to do this I don't know. Some people just like to watch the world burn I guess." he shakes his head, having trouble believing a creature can be that evil.
We're quite a motley group. That Yazan could be trouble, but the other two seem OK. We shall see...
Richard and Sherix give each other a knowing look. "These drow caused the tidal wave?" Richard exclaims. "My family spent so much time and effort recovering... Now I see. That's how we found the drow sneaking around-"
Richard stops himself as Sherix clears her throat. He turns back to the party. "Some of my family lives in Riddleport. We were lucky, and survived with minimal injuries, but our neighbors weren't. I began investigating when I heard rumors of drow infiltration in Riddleport. That brought me here to verify their stories and offer assistance however I could."
"Aishe, I don't even think they've considered their actions. Your society and culture can warp your thoughts. I don't know if the drow are following orders of a few deranged individuals, or if they all believe the surface world should be destroyed. We'll stop them all, one way or another."
"Aye, their society is alien to us folks who consider ourselves more civilized. Not barbaric, they're a sophisticated bunch, but the values and opinions of their kind, warped is a perfect word to describe them - I've been with the elves for a good while now, and I know the enmity between their kinds is too strong to just be based on cultural differences. There's more to it, I'm certain, but they don't really talk more about it with non-elves than needed, it seems.", Dvalin interjects, "Doesn't matter, though, I got plenty personal reasons to hate them Drow." He seems to consider saying more for a moment, but then decides to remain silent, absent-mindedly tracing the Maker's mark of his armor.
A courier interrupts the gathering as he suddenly runs up.
"Eviana is in need of hands immediately. Please come with me."
He takes off to the large tent that serves as Eviana's command center. Like earlier, it is filled with the bustle of war. Messengers run too and fro, scouting groups return and depart, and pieces are moved on the map of the battlefield. As soon as the party enters, Eviana strides over to you.
"I would have a more complete introduction for your new squad members, but there is no time. This mission is simple—a group of elven scouts led by none other than Kaerishiel himself has gotten itself into a dreadful situation. Ashka, Kaerishel's pet, managed to escape and made it back to camp to alert me of the situation. A simple speak with animals spell shed light on the matter. Kaerishiel and his remaining men are pinned down in a ruined tower that the drow are preparing to destroy. Someone must make haste to the site to defeat the drow before they destroy the tower and all inside." Eviana surveys the group. "You are in the right place at the right time. Go quick, for I fear there are few minutes remaining."
When the runner calls them, Aishe grabs his pack and checks over his gear carefully, but swiftly. On their way over, he casts Prestidigitation, sprucing himself up a little and cleaning a bit of mud off the hem of his robe.
When Eviana gives them their orders, he nods and examines the map. "If we go this way," his finger traces a line through the battlefield, "We'll stay with our troops part of the way. If we get lucky, we won't get spotted by a patrol the rest of the way in. That sound OK to everyone? Anyone see a better route?"
He looks up from the map to the others.
When the group is ready to go, he rushes out the tent and starts hustling in the direction of the tower.
Eviana, in the flesh. If Richard had time he would try to learn more about her. Maybe more about the elven village days away from his hometown he barely paid attention to until now.
As he describes the mission though, the warm thoughts sweep from his mind. Elven allies in danger. No good. No need to mince words. "We'll stop those drow."
"Sounds like a good plan, Aishe. Once we're close enough, I can turn Sherix invisible so she can tell us how much danger is present. Does anyone have access to mage armor to place on Sherix? If not, I'll buy a wand."
The lyrakien stands up straight and alert.
"Kaerishiel is in trouble? Again? He's too reckless, I tell you. No time to waste, then, he still owes me a barrel of ale from last time - no way he's getting out of that debt by being killed!"
While Aishe examines the map, Dvalin mutters a few syllables in Dwarfish, then shakes his legs a bit as if to loosen muscle tension, before returning his attention to Aishe's finger:"Not having to fight off more drow on the way to the tower saves us time. So it's a good plan. I agree - lets be off!"
"The Fertile Flame?" Gillian asks curiously. "That's not a name I've heard for Sarenrae before." But before she can inquire further, they're summoned to another meeting with Eviana and she's forced to set her curiosity aside for the time being. Without thinking, she stands and hobbles after Aishe and Orthrus as quickly as she can manage.
After listening to the mission briefing, she nods. "That route seems the safest and most expedient that I can see," she agrees with Aishe. To Richard's inquiry, she shakes her head. "I know magic but I'm afraid that mine seems to stem from some other source. A spell like that is beyond me, though I might be able to activate a scroll or other object imbued with it."
______
When the messenger gives his orders, Yazan jumps up and secures her gear, before rushing off with the others.
"The Fertile Flame?" Gillian asks curiously. "That's not a name I've heard for Sarenrae before."
As the group runs for the command tent, Yazan tries to respond between breaths.
"Ha! No... you wouldn't have ... The... Fertile Flame... is Feronia. ... she is honored... by the Kellid tribes... to the northeast. ... But... Feronia is ... the mother of... Ragathiel... if that helps..." Yazan pants.
http://www.archivesofnethys.com/DeityDisplay.aspx?ItemName=Feronia
"If we go this way," his finger traces a line through the battlefield, "... If we get lucky, we won't get spotted by a patrol the rest of the way in...."
"Yah, fine. This armor is noisy though."
Yazan murmurs something and taps her knees with her fingers. Then she looks up, and dons an orcish battle mask. "Okay, ready?"