Krogge nodded his head in agreement with Rrruh, "Going around behind the is the only way as I see it," He says, "we could take a scenic walk around and try to end up behind them."
"A path to ash?" Sweet Pea asks, "Like, the kind of tree? Or burnt stuff?"
"More like ruin, or so it sounded to me, but then I am no optimist" Randu answers Sweatpea, then he nods to Krogge and Rruh "As you two suggest."
You keep well away from the pool's grove and take a wide, sweeping arc as you circle around to avoid being detected by the figures that Sweet Pea spotted. Nevertheless, even the faintest crunch of dirt underfoot or rustle of leaves rankles your nerves, lest the sounds give away your presence.
Eventually, you place yourselves downwind from the site, protecting you from any hostile guardians that might scent you out.
+2 if we are waiting.
Krogge climbs up on a very low hanging limb of a tree, leaving his legs visibly hanging on either side, he sits with his bow ready for whatever might come.
Randu looks to theo thers to see if they want to wait, but it is clear he's getting antsy
He crept forward low to the ground dark shadows from the tree limbs from a distance no doubt. He waved slightly towards Randu motioning for him to approach as best he could. Rrruh would protect him as he closed with the pool while Krogge held overwatch with his bow and well Sweat Pea could fly so there was that.
Randu puts the cloak on, and moves towards his goal...
Oh please let this cloak work.
Rrruh and Randu creep forward, avoiding the few shafts of sunlight that filter down through the canopy. As they reach the edge of the grove, they find thickets to conceal their further approach. From there, they can better see the figures that Sweet Pea spotted from above.
Four of them are dressed no differently than the people you passed on the street back in Olfden. The three men and one woman could be mistaken for laborers, farmers, or any other common folk. Your foreknowledge of the site warns you otherwise, though.
The other two, however, are wreathed by threadbare robes and carrying the bearing of souls all too familiar with the deepest wilds. Besides werewolves, you've heard stories of secretive druid circles in the Arthfell, and your minds immediately characterize this man and woman as such.
The two druids perk up from their work - one reading over a tattered scroll, the other boiling grasses - and look towards the edge of the grove from which the party approached. They call their fellows' attention towards that direction and cautiously move to investigate.
Each of their steps is agonizingly slow, drawing ever closer to Randu and Rrruh - only to pass them entirely, leaving them where they hide among the thickets.
Instead, they approach Krogge's less favorable hiding spot. However, the lack of haste or alarm suggests they have not located him - yet.
Sweet Pea flits quietly from tree to tree over her friends' heads.
Two of the plainly dressed individuals carry light crossbows, kept at the ready though aimed towards the ground. One of the robed druids carries a shortspear that could easily be hurled.
However, the other druid stays his fellows' hands when he spots Sweet Pea darting among the treetops.
"Be at ease. We are blessed by a rare sight," he declares with a buck-toothed smile. "A Gathlain! I never thought the day would come when I would see one in person. Good day to you, dear green child."
Thus distracted by Sweet Pea, they move no closer to Krogge and fail to observe his legs dangling down from his perch. Thus, he is given a chance to pull himself up quietly and slip further from their potential view.
Behind the guards of the pool, Randu and Rrruh remain hidden among the thicket lining one edge of the glade. The shallow pool lies only about 8 yards from their hiding place. In the waning light of afternoon, dappling down past the parted treetops, the silver plates that form the pool's lip glint brightly.
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“Oh, hi!” she lands on a branch near the pool and waves at the druids, “I’m a Sweet Pea! What’s your names? I’m just kinda exploring. Someone told me there were werewolves in these woods! Have you seen any? They sound dangerous, so I was hoping to not bother them. How’s the water in your pool? It looks like a fun place for a swim!”
Krogge hears someone approaching but then hears Sweet Pea's call, WHAT IS SHE DOING??.... Hmm lets see how this goes. he thinks to himself while using the distraction as an opportunity to get a better vantage point higher up the tree.
Randu is so glad for the distraction, I need to remember what Sweatpea likes to eat. Make a GOOD meal for her. No doubt something sugary. Hell, I need to make a banquet for them all.
and he tries to take one of the silver plates as quietly possible and retreat.
The druid offers a hoarse laugh.
"Hello, Sweet Pea. I am Reynard," the lead druid replies. "I'm afraid you cannot swim in the pool. It is rather sacred to us. However, if you're looking for werewolves...well, you've found some right here. We protect the pool from outsiders. You see, we are trying to use it to become stronger, so we can fight off the men who cut down the trees."
Owing to both his own natural guile and the protection granted by the fey cloak, the Shadow Pack guardians fail to notice Randu slip past them and creep towards the pool. He quietly slides his dagger from its sheathe and wedges the blade between two of the plates.
With nary a creak, groan, or pop, the halfling cook frees the silver plate from its moorings. There is no stone or metal behind the plate; it seems they are set into the living ground itself. Pocketing the prize, he escapes the open ground around the pool and returns to the cover afforded by the thickets and trees.
Randu tries to make distance and go to the meeting point they started from.
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“Oh, ok.” Sweet Pea replies dejectedly, but then recovers quickly, “You seem nice though. You can really turn into wolves? That’s neat! Can I see?” She bounces on her perch in anticipation.
The lead druid offers a proud smile then gestures to the robed woman beside him. She rolls her eyes but acquiesces to his command.
The female druid appears to double over at first, as though wracked by stomach pain. In truth, she bends down to all fours as her robe and clothing vanish, becoming replaced by a thick coating of fur. In but a few seconds, she now stands as a wolf, indistinguishable from a normal specimen, except perhaps for the glint of intellect still within her predatory eyes.
The lead druid then extends his palms out like a street magician inviting applause from his audience. The other pack members hazard their own smiles, quite taken with the gathlain visitor's innocence.
Meanwhile, the spectacle only serves as a further distraction, allowing Randu and Rrruh to fully escape notice as they withdraw from the grove and back into the forest.
Randu starts to do a headcount, who can he find of their good company?
Sweet Pea applauds enthusiastically. “That was the BEST THING EVER!”
“You said you were gonna fight some loggers, right?” she asks, suddenly thoughtful. “You know, I met some lumberjacks up in a place called Falcon’s Hollow a few days ago. They seemed ok, even if they cut down too many trees sometimes. I don’t know about your lumberjacks, but have you tried talking it out with them?”
The wolfen druid's ears pin back, the plainclothes werewolves wear scowls, and even the friendly lead druid loses some of the enthusiasm from his face when Sweet Pea mentions the lumberjacks of Falcon's Hollow.
"You shouldn't trust the lumberjacks, or any of the people of Falcon's Hollow," the lead druid cautions Sweet Pea, speaking like a father chastising a child. "They are dangerous. They hate people like use. And like you. They will hurt you. We tried talking with them long ago. It didn't work."
The other humanoids beside him shake their heads in disappointed agreement, but one of them angrily speaks up.
"They're aiming to kill us all, so we got to get them first!" he declares.
"That was probably that Kreed guy you talked to. He is a big meanie." Sweet Pea replies nervously, "But there's a new mayor now, and a bird guy, and they're much nicer! They definitely like to talk, and they're totally not out to kill anyone!"
The mention of Kreed elicits scowls from the werewolves. From Darkmoon Wood to the Arthfell, his wicked deeds are known. Thus, they seem very unconvinced by Sweet Pea's call for understanding.
As the party slips away from the grove, a mist begins to rise from the ground. The air grows cool and quiet, and a shade overtakes the forest around you.
As the mist rises up, he says "Easy my friends, just the Lady come to pick up what is hers. Let's be polite."
The chilled mist swirls like a river's current and enshrouds the party, leaving the trees to fade from view. A gray silhouette floats out of the mist. As her form coalesces, she becomes a pale skinned beauty with hair like moonlight.
"You have done well," she says to Randu, her voice echoing all around. With the grace of a willow branch moved by the wind, she extends her hand to accept the silver plate.
"I have good friends." Randu says, takes a deep breath, and hands it over "Now, lady, please. The knowledge you offered?"
Sweet Pea looks down upon all the darkening expressions. “Ummm... I should go.”
She hesitates a moment as if to say something more, but then bolts into the sky.
Sweet Pea's fey nature guides her through the gathering mist, keeping her from being separated from the rest of her bestest friends. She arrives soon after the appearance of the regal nymph.
"Thank you for joining us, dear child," Ambrosia says to the gathlain with a wan smile. "I don't see near enough of your kind visiting my court."
She abruptly stops speaking and pauses to cradle the silver plate that has been granted to her. The nymph stares into its shining surface as though she can see something that you cannot. After many moments, she turns and steps down a pale trail cutting through the mist - wordlessly beckoning you to follow.
The world beyond the mist fades into gray obscurity, and you can barely even pick out the mightiest of trees. As you follow Ambrosia's trail, the ground slopes downward in a way you do not recall. A soft, susurrus sound hangs upon the air.
Ambrosia stops, and when you stand beside her, you find yourself upon the edge of a wide river whose far bank you cannot see - a river which definitely should not be in this stretch of the Arthfell. A boat slips silently down the river. As it comes into view, you find that it appears like a giant, silvery leaf the length of wagon. Its stem rises like a prow, and its curled sides form the gunwales.
"As per our bargain, this vessel will spirit you away to the halfway point of your journey, bringing you to the city of smoke and ash."
He had of course heard many stories of a nymph's beauty, read as many accounts of them as well...but here in the flesh staring at one he realized that he had not been prepared for the reality of it. His mouth was suddenly dry and the noise of his mouth opening and his tongue darting out over his lips searching for moisture seemed impossibly loud to the monk.
He found himself unable to speak even to thank the marvelous and beautiful creature for her aid. Aid he didnt even know was something that was forthcoming. He found himself settling into the boat quickly still glancing back torwards her in awe. If he had questions they were lost in awe as he stared at her.
When she arrived, Sweet Pea looked about to start talking excitedly, only to freeze upon seeing the nymph. She can only follow in wide eyed silence as the party is led through the woods. Looking at the nymph made her feel almost like she had downed another bottle of that Sour Red stuff(only in a good way), but she couldn’t look away.
"And knowledge of my brother's fate and cause you.. ah, forgive me but I thought you said something of him at the start of this?" Randu is not lost on her beauty, but hunger for justice for his brother rises even more.
"Your family and mine have each suffered injustice. Though separated by mortality, you and I are alike," the nymph says to Randu.
The rest of the party finds their eyes watering as they look at the pair, as the fey noble's magic distorts perception. Her height appears unchanged yet she simultaneously places a hand upon Randu's shoulder without bending her knee.
Her touch radiates through the halfling's body, setting him alight with pins and needles throughout his limbs.
"My fellow younger child, I don't know what I might do if my older sibling was gone. That is why I hope to see you succeed. My sister worries herself to death trying to bring balance with your mortal kin, but your mission may lift some of that burden from her."
Ambrosia steps away, perhaps suddenly realizing how long and how close she has stood beside Randu. When she does, though, she carries the enchanted cloak with her, having slipped it from the halfling's shoulders.
"As agreed, this was merely a loan," she explains, rolling up the cloak.
She heaves a sigh that bears no force yet could still knock a man from his feat.
"I remember the storm that took your brother. It was fed by magic. Perhaps that is what drew my attention to your plight and compelled me to send a messenger."
Sage coos in response, as though replying to a question.
"I actually thought to reincarnate Runo and send him in Sage's place. He declined the offer, though. Mayhaps he did not want to be bound by a decision fed by anger or despair? No matter. Now, you have the chance to ensure that none of your kin have to suffer like he suffered."
As the Cloak is taken, he nods "Of course, and thank you for the use of it, Kind lady."
He ponders the rest with focus "A magical storm? Kreed shouldn't have access to that, but maybe.. I.. mmm"
Then his brother refusing a reincarnation is mentioned, "Runo was always the better man," And he means it."Thank you for offering it to him, and for sending Sage on top of all my other thanks. I will not detain you from your own family matters and wish you luck. tis a shame to lose a sibling be it to death or trauma"
Then he looks over at his friends, "I am very grateful to each and everyone of you. So you lads up for a boat ride?"
Still drymouthed and in awe of the nymph, Rrruh couldnt answer... he could barely nod.
"While I must return the cloak to my sister's treasury, I do not plan to send you away empty handed."
While cradling the reclaimed cloak with one arm, she extends the other slender arm and opens her hand. Sitting there, as though waiting in her palm all along, are four rings woven from the regal nymph's own hair.
"My favor is not given lightly," she cautions. "Make wise use of its inspiration."
You descend the gentle riverbank and climb into the fey boat. Its sides are sturdy yet yielding, and it gracefully bears the party's weight. Without oars, paddles, or tiller, it slips along the water as though guided by its own will. Thus, you are ferried deeper into the fog, with Ambrosia and the forest fading from sight.
Krogge was extremely taken aback by the wood nymph, he was respectfully wary of the fey but this one radiated calmness and trusting feelings to Krogge. He remained Bashful throughout almost the entirely through the interaction, except when presented with the ring of hair. he braids into his own tangled hair while gasping for words of gratitude.
He takes a spot at the head of the boat, trying to see what lie ahead despite the mist. Once they are on their way, "Do ya think this will really get us all the way there?" he muses.
He takes the ring and slips it on, "You are as generous as you are lovely, Ambrosia."
Once they are on their way, "Do ya think this will really get us all the way there?" he muses.
"I would think if not all the way, at least very close and it saves us travel time as few things do. Doesn't mean we should lower our guard." Randu says "But.. well, may it be an easier ride. My nerves are still jangled from that. Were wolf druids.. the mind boggles."
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Sweet Pea reaches for the gift with a trembling hand. Her fingers linger a moment longer than intended on the nymph’s palm, and the leafy girl turns bright red, mumbles something that sounds like “thnku”, then turns and runs for the boat, where she dives in and curls up in the bottom where she can’t be seen from the river bank.
———
Later, as the boat drifts down the river, and her friends discuss their situation, she remains curled up in the bottom of the boat, intently examining the ring on her finger. “She gave me a ring,” she mutters to herself, then finally looks up at the others, “does that mean we’re married?”
Randu laughs, he can't help but laugh, "I think she is not so easily tied down."
Time is difficult to track as you float through the fog. It's hard to even place when it begins to fade because the light remains dim. There comes a point, though, when you realize the soft, gray mist has been replaced by a sooty black smog that blots out the sky. You yet float upon a river, but there is no trace of the trees of the Arthfell around you. Stunted hills line the northern banks, while the southern banks are dominated by a soot-caked city.
Beneath the ashen sky sprawls Oregent: a filthy honeycomb of cramped cramped shacks and temporary hovels wedged between towering bell spires, stout foundries and glassworks, and derelict warehouses overrun with squatters.
You have little time to absorb the dirty city skyline, though, for you discover that your fey boat is rapidly dissolving like a sugar cube in a cup of tea.
"I believe there are ceremonies involved Sweet Pea, and someone has to ask about it first. I think she merely wanted to give you something nice to remember her by and rings are said to be said a symbol of other things, like eternal friendship as well."
He chuckled at the little fae. If he ever wrote stories about his travels and folks read it. . . they would no doubt love Sweet Pea for everything she was.
When the boat started to for lack of a better word, melt into the water he quickly cleared his throat.
"To land then."
He began doing whatever he could to make it to the shore before they had to swim.
"Thats not good..." Krogge says, trying to use his great club as an oar to take beach whats left of the boat.
Sweet Pea grabs the stem of the leaf and tries to drag the disintegrating boat ashore by flapping furiously.
Randu gasps "Oh my... well, we need to get to shore.. clearly." He helps, wishing he were stronger.
Your frantic efforts are not entirely in vain. Although the bottom of the boat fades away while still upon the river, thus depositing you into the brown-tinged water, you find yourselves in the shallows. Of course, this is little comfort, especially for Sweat Pea and Randu who still find themselves in over their heads, quite literally.
As you wade or swim towards the docks upon the shore, rippling waves begin to wash over you. This is peculiar since you are in a river rather than the sea. This phenomenon is soon scored by the chiming of innumerable bells rising up from the city.
As they ring, large and small, the buildings that host these bells - set beneath doors and arches or within steeples and spires - begin to shimmy and sway. On the nearby docks, porters clutch at barrels and boxes to keep them from toppling over, especially lest they fall into the river.
Sputtering, he is not too proud to latch onto a taller friend to make sure he is not swept away.
Krogge Grabs hold of Randu's waist and carries him upon his shoulders like a keg of mead to the shore before placing him down softly,"There ya're Randu, nice and safe and soon to be dry." he says with a toothy smile.
Once he notices the commotion he says,"what fresh hell is this..."
"Thanks, Krogge.." A bit of a cough and he reclaims his breath "And damned if I know."
The party, soaking but safe, sits upon a low jetty. Further downstream, a handful of skiffs and barges unload ore and timber on other docks under heavy guard. Only a handful of dockworkers stand near your dock.
Once the rumbling of the buildings, the rippling of the water, and the ringing of the bells subsides, they address your curiosity.
"You ain't from around here, that's for true," the weathered riverman scoffs. "It were a tremor, a quake. Sometimes they come once a month. Sometimes once a week. In the bad times, we get 'em daily. Just listen for the bells. If you hear them ring, don't be standing 'neath anything heavy."
Further conversation with the dockworkers reveals that you stand on the waterfront edge of the city's Old Quarter. Just to the east sits Oregent Base where a small army group is stationed, and further south - in the city's "guts," as the gray-haired salt describes it - are the Squats, where the largest share of residents dwell in cramped tenements built upon Consortium-owned land.