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Nothing else happens during your breaking of the camp, and Kent finds that the magic slowly dissipates over the next 5 minutes. You gather up your equipment and head out into the forest.
The rest of the day stays cool and cloudy and you get the feeling you are being watched..or maybe followed. A rattle of a bush, of a faint whisper of conversation keep you on edge all day. Finally as you begin looking for a place to camp for the night an odd sight opens up before you. On the ground you begin to see, very faintly at first, what looks like arrows. Arrows pointing in a specific direction. As you continue, the arrows become brighter. Up ahead you can see a glade which looks to be lit with hundreds of tiny balls of coloured light. If that is not weird enough, five small silky tents can be seen billowing in the night breeze. A fire is also lit and all looks like something out of a dream. The arrows end at a glowing sign on the ground that says:
Svetlana trotted her horse along with the party as they traveled on. Although her laughter over the night's events subsided, she never seemed to take the situation seriously. As the arrows began to appear her eyes lit up and a smile crossed her face. It looks like we may have found some natives!
The priestess moved her horse towards the front of the group and proceeded into the clearing near the "welcome" sign. Dismounting with a bow to each of the 4 directions she says. Greetings, your welcome for weary travelers is very much appreciated. It brightens my soul to see the cheeriness you have brought to this forest and are grateful for both the passage and hospitality. She thought to say more, but realized that she didn't really know if fey spoke common. Therefore, she waited on a reaction or reply before continuing.
Brigid tries to keep the scowl off her face. Throughout the day she remained as tense as her bow string, on edge and wary. The fact that their mysterious followers were completely unseen put them at a tremendous disadvantage. She disliked the feeling.
Coming to the clearing, she canted her head at the misspelled welcome sign. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the edges of the glade. Her eyes flicked towards Svetlana to watch her reaction, then Brigid finished her survey of the glade.
With a set look, she moves to the campfire and sits cross-legged, waiting.
Damen waved away Kent as he tried to smell the ranger's breath. At the mention of the fey he studied the sky and the environment around, and made a semi-circular gesture of warding with one hand. "The fey... for all that I have traveled widely in the woods, I've never actually seen one. Not that I knew, anyway," he added a moment later.
Climbing the tree that held their footwear captive, he recovered the boots and promptly put his on. Standing again he casually let his hand come to rest on the haft of his morningstar as Ulryk called out to the fey. First the kobolds, now this. "Just how many languages do you speak?" he said in low tones.
Later, as they rode, he was on edge, and even Svetlana's cheer couldn't penetrate his caution. He felt as he had, from time to time, when he had found something was hunting him instead of the reverse. He knew the fey from stories, and they were painted as nothing more than tricksters. But not all of their tricks were harmless.
"Into the lion's maw, I suppose," he muttered as they entered the clearing.
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You cautiously enter the campgrounds. As you watch, the arrows fade from view, but the other lights and the tents remain. The tents, you soon discover, are empty, and have seen better days. The are stained and worn, but still serviceable. You have also noticed a lack of insects and other animal noises. In the distance you can hear the sound of birds and such, but not within the circle of the camp.
You still have the feeling of being watched, but have not seen nor heard anything. You settle down for an uneasy meal.
Ulyrk ride close beside Damen offering a chuckle when his companion seemed surprised at the number of different languages he had been forced to master. While in these untamed lands he was a warrior, when he was growing up he was a noble son first. His father had not even graced him with a proper martial education like that of his elder brother.
"Fluently? Just the three, for what it is worth. I've not had much use of them in the past and I've studied a few others, but I only knew bits of those... how to say hello, a curse word here and there." He offered the words and a shrug of his armored shoulders.
"What do you know of the fey, if that is indeed that which follows and pranks us? Can we give them some sort of offering to appease them or must we endure the mischief they seem to want to play?"Ulryk then lowered his voice to a whisper. "I am not happy that then stole all my alcohol."
Damen shook his head to Ulryk's question, and when he spoke his voice was low. "Little. House Medvyed has our share of traditions and tales about them, but sorting fact from fiction...." He waved a hand as if banishing the thought.
"I'm afraid I'll be of no help in appeasing them. Or in getting your alcohol back," he added with a slight grin. "I know a few of the signs and the ways to resist their magics and their trickery, but I imagine Kent will remain our best ally for that." Again he made a warding sign with his hand, a semi-circle drawn in the air with the tips of his index and middle fingers, palm out, before turning the hand touching the fingers to his forehead between his eyes.
Svetlana had looked around hopefully after entering the clearing, but her smile slowly faded to almost disappointment as no fey materialized and the arrows vanished. Well, she said as she glanced around to her companions, as good as anywhere to make camp I suppose. Still looking a bit disheartened, the priestess went about setting up camp so the group could settle in for the night. With a sigh she added, at least there are no bugs, yes?
As time passed, Brigid's lips grew tighter and her entire body tensed. She waited for the rest of the group to gather around the fire, then she leaned forward and spoke. Ve appear to be the guests. But the hosts do not show?
She again looks around the glade, and takes note of the quiet. They told us 'velcome'. So let us eat, and leave a place -- and food -- for them here around the fire. If they do not appear, I for one vill not stay in this place. With that, she rummages through her pack and pulls out her rations.
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You sit and eat your meal. The feeling of being watch does not go away, but it feels more like curiosity than malice. As you finish and begin to clean up you suddenly hear what sounds like a 20 trumpet fanfare coming from just outside the camp. A few moments later a woman's voice, somewhat shrill and piping calls out.
"All kneel in the presence of his lordship, Baron Perlivash. Slayer of foes and maker of cakes; and his beautiful and graceful and awesome and ...owwww!! ok, ok...the lady Tyg-Titter Tut!"
With this last pronouncement, a bright light can be seen moving through the woods off to the right, growing bigger and bigger as it gets closer. The underbrush seems to move and bend out of the way, so a path is created. Finally the light reaches the clearing and within you see...
Baron Perlivash and Lady Tyg-Titter-Tut
Svetlana brightened instantly upon hearing the trumpets and stifled a giggle at the outlandish introduction. For the first time in a while, she said a word of thanks to Calistria for the stuffy nobility training she had received growing up. Many times before she was expected to put on an ingratiating face when she really wanted to simply laugh. She hoped the airs worked now.
As the creatures arrived in the open, the priestess again stopped her mouth from gaping. She had expected unusual, but this was rather beyond the pale. Still, she recovered quickly. Your Lordship, My Lady, a deep bow to each accompanied the words. You grace us with your presence. I can only assume we have you to thank for the hospitality here; quite the blessing to such humble travelers as ourselves. I am Svetlana, a priestess of Calistria. My companions are Ulryk of House Lebeda, Damen of House Medvyed, the archer Brigid, the bard Leorn and the wizard Kent. Here she offered a small, silent prayer that the last of these would not address the newcomers in any way, shape or form. How can we be of assistance to you on this fine eve?
Kents ghost sounds the sound of 8 strong men farting coming from the Grig
Brigid remained silently watchful as she ate, and continued feeling uneasy even though she detected no malice from her unseen observers. Disappointed that nothing approached them as the meal progressed, she had resolved to pack up and depart the glade with whomever she had been able to convince to go with her.
She started and began to reach for her bow as the fanfare began, but she stayed her hand as the tiny voice piped up and heralded the arrival of the strange creatures. Brigid's eyes grew wide as the fey revealed themselves. A look of wonder touched her face, and a note of appreciation as Svetlana again with her quick words began to speak to them.
That look then suddenly shifted to shock, then furious disgust as the repulsive sound echoed through the glade. Brigid's eyes sent green venom in Kent's direction and only fortunate distance between the two spared the crass wizard a hefty clout on the head.
Brigid again tensed and waited to see how the fey would react.
Worried that his horse and mule would grow skiddish should anything appear suddenly, the first thing the young warrior did was make sure they were tied securely to a nearby tree. He didn't want to have to chase after them.
With that done Ulryk sat beside Brigid and Damen when they settled down in the clearing that had been prepared for them. Though his alcohol was not present, he made do with a canteen of water, a loaf of bread and some cheese he had in his supplies.
It was not until the meal was nearly finished that he heard the sudden trumpet fanfare. Shifting from his seated position, he decided to honor the unusual request for the moment, placing one knee under him and assuming a position of half kneel, his other foot well placed on the ground to allow him to spring up into a combat position if called upon.
For now he remained silent. He was no oaf diplomatically, but he'd never dealt with creatures such as these before. Best to let Svetlana speak for the moment.
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The colourful dragon is just about to speak, when a sound of a group of people passing wind all at once seems to emanate from the Grig. The dragon looks over to his shocked companion and says,
"Tut, Tut, Tut!! I told you not to eat all those moon radishes! now look what you did!" With that he launches into his prepared speech
"Welcome poor and miserable humans.."
"Umm Perlivash, that was not me! I think...", Tyg-Titter-Tut starts to say
"Susssh..your ruining it!!", the dragon growls back
"But Perlivash I think that one is a wiz...", Tyg tries to squeeze in, but is again interrupted.
"I'm not listening....errrmm..now where was I? Oh yes...miserable humans..." the dragon clears his throat and then opens his mouth to speak, but instead of words, bubbles shoot out in a stream! The tiny creature looks alarmed for a moment, then shoots an evil look at the little female grig.
"Well you would not listen..and ..and.."
The grig does not get a chance to finish as the dragon, his little butterfly-like wings blurring faster than those of a hummingbird, propels himself at the female fairy. Tyg-Titter-Tut blinks out of sight, and the battle is on!
For the next 10 minutes or so, the two creatures shoot around the glade; strange lights, sounds and smells following in their wake. It finally ends with the dragon pinning the grig to a branch 10 feet above your heads. She looks down and yells in a tiny piping voice..
"It was him! He did it! He ruined your speech!"
Her finger points directly at Kent.
Kent uses ghost sound to drowned out her accusation with another fart.
Then he casts dancing lights. 5 different colored balls appear in the air dancing around the two fey weaving complicated patterns.
Brigid realizes her mouth is hanging open, so she closes it and sets her jaw. She eyes the wizard with an expression that reveals that she is quite considering throwing him bodily into the middle of the glade for the faeries to do with him as they will.
Instead, she sits back and watches the scene unfold.
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The lights and sounds do not seem to phase the little dragon. He slowly glides towards Kent, a stern look on his face. Behind him you can hear the grig Tyg-Titter-Tut say, in a stage whisper, "Oooh, you're gonna get it now!!!"
Soon the dragon is nearly perched on Kents nose, staring him right in the eye.
"You started it. Pranks go both ways. I see no reason to let you bully us."
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The dragon makes no response to your accusation. The buzzing of its wings grows louder and louder, and in your vision the mover slowly towards you. Inch by agonizing inch its jaws open; they are lined with dozens of needle sharp teeth. He moves closer and closer, his mouth opening wider and wider, until, quick as lighting, his jaws slam shut...right on Kents nose. In a muffled voice you hear the dragon proclaim...
"GOT YOUR NOSE!!!"
Kent uses Prestidigitation. His nose tastes like shit. Literally.
"Are you sure you want it?"
Kent is remaining cool, but dam did that hurt.
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The dragon seems to take no notice of anything Kent has done, and continues to hold onto his nose. Meanwhile, the grig has moved forward, and clearing her throat, begins to speak.
"Errr. Now then. Welcome to our Kingdom mortals. We have been watching you and your freeing of the moon radish patch has pleased us greatly. My lord Perlivash wishes to offer you a boon, to show his gratitude. We know of your quest, and can help by giving you information about the surrounding lands, if you would like."
Back at the action with the little dragon and the wizard, a foul smell is now surrounding them.
"Had enough!" the dragon growls around his mouthful of nose.
"You are damaging me and causing me pain. Do you want me to return the favor?"
Svetlana had given up interacting for a time and sat back with Brigid watching the ridiculousness in which Kent had placed himself. She frankly wanted nothing to do with the man's actions. However, as the grig spoke up and addressed the group, Svetlana stepped to the side and responded to the creature. In doing so she purposefully ignored what was going on with Kent and the Faerie Dragon.
Thank you madame, for the welcome. As for the rest of our group, we want to express our gratitude and would humbly accept any information regarding the surrounding lands you can provide. Not all of us our as short-sighted when it comes to the benevolence of your kind.
"Ahem."Ulryk clears his voice as he cast a glance toward the confrontation between the unusual miniture dragon and Kent Unsaid. While he felt that Kent deserved the current reprisal, he was unwilling to let it go much farther then it already had. Kent was after all his companion and while these faeires were 'cute' and 'amusing' he was unwilling to view them in the same light - as of yet.
After getting fully to his feet, with purposeful strides he comes to Kent's side and in the Sylvan tongue speaks. "Mae'n bryd i chi a elwir yn tynnu i hyn. Gwneud cadoediad, felly efallai y byddwn yn torri bara ac yn yfed."
As he spoke his powerful arms crossed over his armored chest, partially obscuring the sigil on his tabbard. Looking over to the Grig he added in the common tongue. "How and what do you know about our quest?" He made no attempt to hide the suspicion that crept into his voice.
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The little dragon looks over to Ulryk and slowly removes his teeth from Kent's nose.
A bright smile flows across his features and he backs away from Kent and Ulryk.
"A tough guy eh!! I like that! So..what are you doing here?? Oh yes! Exploring!"
The little dragon settles on Kent's shoulder, wrapping its tail around his neck...gently.
Kent pets the dragon. "Glad to see we can get along."
At the piping introduction, Damen's eyes went wide with shock and, a careful observer might have noted, something not unlike barely-restrained glee. He mimicked Ulryk in taking a knee in deference, but as Kent set off the strange creatures into a frenzy of... whatever it was they were doing, he couldn't help himself and started to laugh.
The laughter continued and grew, until tears streamed down his reddened face, and only wound down shortly before the fey themselves turned their attention to Kent. He watched events unfold, still giggling from time to time and catching his breath. As things settled, he turned his attention to the little grig.
"Uh, my lady," he began, trying not to show his discomfort with something approaching formal diplomacy, "we'd be especially grateful if you knew of anything like a ruined temple we are seeking." He described such as they knew of it, but added nothing about why or for whom they sought the temple.
Brigid settled down and folded her arms, an easy expression touching her face. She had no desire to join in the fey's antics, but didn't want to disrupt the beginnings of diplomacy, however unconventional it might be.
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The dragon and grig look to one another at the mention of the temple.
"Oh, that one you seek", Perlivash mutters.
Tyg-Tutter-Tut moves over to stand beside Brigid. She lowers her grasshopper-like body to the ground, seeming suddenly tired.
"Oh we know of that old spirit, we do.", she says.
"He has been here almost as long as us. At first we tried to help him, more the fool us! There is no helping a creature god-cursed, and we could not give him what he wanted...a final release. How did you learn of the ruin? It has been hidden for centuries."
"Cleric has a vision tells a bunch of adventures to go look into it. Same old same old"
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"Indeed!", the little dragon intones. "But what might not be so 'same old, same old' is the story behind the creature. He is a tormented soul, cursed for straying from the gods path. Human's had just started to return to this land when it happened. Perhaps at the time it seemed just, after all the whole group of them turned to a darker path, but old dead-eye he blamed the leader, and while the others were slain, he cursed the high priest. Sad really. So a priest sent you..well, well...perhaps the horned one has relented."
Using his tail, Perlivash begins to draw in the air. At first you cannot decide what it is he is trying to depict, but then it comes to you. A map of the area, in quite fine detail.
"To the north of our location is an area full of traps. A..umm..crazed hunter set them all out..be careful. You have already discovered the radish patch to the west, and the bandits to the south-east. To the south-west is the ruin you seek. Anything else you would like to know?"
The Greenbelt
"What are those?" Kent points at the hunters traps "why were they put there and what is their exact positioning?"
After listening
Point at the ruined temple
"I'm guesting that is the place we are being sent to. Can you wise ones tell me about the place and surrounding area."
Ever the warrior, Brigid's mind strayed to the upcoming fight. "Gods-cursed" and "final release" stood out to her, telling her that they would be no quarter in the coming battle.
Vhat manner of creature is it? she asks evenly.
"You know of the bandits then?" Ulryk says with a hint of surprise in his voice, his eyebrows lifting to be obscured by the brim of his helmet.
"We have cleared out many of them and given them justice by our laws, but if you have more information regarding them we would hear it. Particularly anything you know about their leaders."
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The fairy dragon answers the wizards questions first.
"We do not know where all the traps are...he kept..err..keeps moving them around." He quickly looks over to the grig, who looks away.
"As to the old temple..well I have not been there for years. It was backed onto a steep cliff, carved in the likeness of old deadeye himself. There is a cave in the cliff face, and he lives in there."
He next turns to Brigid.
"He was cursed into the shape of a great bear, but not a healthy one. The stench of decay and corruption follow him always."
Finally the dragon turns to Ulryk and answers.
"Those stinky humans to the south? Well glad you dealt with them, but I do not know where they came from. Further south would be my guess. NOw come all, rest and relax, for tomorrow you will fight a great horror for the redemption of a god!"
With that, he disappears, along with the grig.
"Well seems like we should set of camp here. Think we should be safe here, but I expect another pank so we had best put up watches anyway. Be fun if we could catch them red handed."'
Ulryk inspected the items, but said little more about the theft. He didn't understand the strange fey and did not try to. Much like the odd gnome that had intended to join them at the outset of this expedition, he found that the fey perceived and viewed things in a way much different than humanity. So long as they didn't cause too much mischief, in this instance Ulryk considered the beneficial information they provided to outweigh their minor thefts.
Preparing the camp, he combed the perimeter once, then set up his tent and began to make a fire. Turning to Damen and Brigid he spoke in a low voice. "Any chance of some fresh game for the fire this night? Something besides trail rations or oatmeal would be welcome."
"Well let's move on and clean up a gods mess"
Brigid leans back to Ulryk. I am not so sure our hosts vould approve of us hunting. Ve should take that up vhen the Bowman's task is done and his temple cleared. I vould hope that he blesses us vith a grand hunt.
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04 Gozran, 4707 A.R.
The night passes without any further mishap and you awake to a cool and cloudy day. All seems normal as you ready to leave; no fairy pranks greet you as you break camp and pack your gear. In fact it is a very somber mood the envelopes the glade, as if nature were holding its breath. The regular sounds and sights of the forest present themselves, however they seem somewhat muted and almost removed.
The map Perlivash drew you is still clear in your mind and while it take a better part of the day to travel through the thick forest, you finally arrive at your destination.
The thick tangle of brambles gives way into a large clearing in the woods, its border partially defined by ruined stone pillars. The western face of the clearing is dominated by a looming, upthrust ridge of rock, nearly 300 feet across and rising to a moss-topped height of 100 feet at the center. The side of this towering boulder facing the clearing has been carved in the likeness of an immense elk, its antlers drooping down from its weathered face to frame a 50-foot wide cave entrance. A flight of stone steps leads up to this cave entrance from the forest clearing—both the steps and elk face feel quite old and are thickly encrusted with layers of moss. A 50-foot-long oval pool sits in the middle of the clearing, its waters thick with algae.
Svetlana trotted her horse with the rest of the group until the entrance cave came into sight. The priestess had taken notice of the somber mood pervading the forest, and absent-mindedly pondered its cause. But no one good idea came to her. The enormous carving scattered other thoughts. Calistria be praised, that is beautiful! Growing up she had grown rather jaded on art work, but the scope and majesty of the carving was something else entirely. This would seem to be the place. Should we scout around the entrance first before proceeding in?
"Of Course"
Brigid's bow is strung and an arrow nocked. She dismounts slowly, keeping her attention trained on the mouth of the cave. She gives the pool a wide berth as she inspects the ground for tracks.
It was a sight to behold indeed. Both majestic and sad. This place might have been great once, but now it was desolute and forlorn. While not a priest, Ulryk was still a godfearing man and while it was rare for him to say a prayer to Old Deadeye, he respected the great hunter and sower of crops. His Halberd was out and he dismounted his seed. He kept both his animals back, near the top of the ridge, not wishing to get to close to the cave just yet. The faeries had said the cursed beast lived within the cave and while it likely was more than just an animal, he did not want his equines to startle and bolt.
"Let us not be foolhardy." He said in a hushed voice. "Our advantage is not in our physical strength, but our cunning and preparedness. Let us lay a trap for the beast or at the very least lure it out to its doom."
He gestured to the cavern entrance, then up to where the boulder rose high above it. "If we could sweep around, we might want to approach from the other end and take the high ground, where our bows will have the advantage. I have no traps in my gear, but those pillars could be a good defensive position. I have plenty of pots, bells, and the like to make noise once we are in position."
Ulryk did not like the idea of facing a bear up close. His great uncle had been in a hunting party that ran afoul of a normal bear and the tale went that three had died, his great uncle scarred and the beast was only driven off. His grandfather said that his brother never went hunting again.
"I'm not certain of your capabilities." He said to Svetlana, Leorn, and Kent. "But perhaps using that greasing spell outside the cave entrance first or before where our party waits. Enlarging me also would't hurt." He knew that both Kent and Leorn had known how to make the ground slick, but the offensive magics of the priestess were less well known to Ulryk.