Franka shrugs. "A threat? Friendly? Could be. Maybe even both at the same time... They're fae, and we don't really know much about how they think. And there's many different kinds, so that muddies the image. The best description I could give is to compare them to four-year-olds, except more intelligent. What's right and wrong for us, isn't necessarily the same for them. They could cause a lot of trouble, even without being malicious..."
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Audsley sniffs at the jug, curious about what it might have contained.
That said, he listens avidly and can't help but repress a shudder.
"I'm not quite comfortable with anybody walking around our camp at night without so much as a by-you-leave. We should definitely be more alert and tighten our watches moving forward. I'd hate to think what they could do with my potions if they decided to be... mischievous."
Audsley's sensitive nose and seasoned liver can smell out what must have been a sweet liquor, probably some sort of berry wine. There isn't an obvious vintage mark, so it's probably a peasant vintage. Franka, you recall a tale that fae take offers of gifts seriously; a poor gift can be considered a slight, yet a well received gift can be a quick way to earn favor.
There are other, darker tales of mortals doomed to the Æther in the thrall of some powerful fae when they partook of fae gifts or bargains without wisely settling on the terms of the arrangement.
Armed with the fore-knowledge that the fae are about, you continue on your mapping, dipping around to the Thorn river ford at the ex-bandit camp. It appears that a few lone individuals may have hastily stripped the camp of any remaining useful items and it appears abandoned by at least a weak.
Turning north again to map the other side of the Thorn river, around mid-day you hear a high pitched whistling sound, moving quickly along the tree-line, then another burst of movement from a different direction. There must be at least a half dozen sources of movement! Moments later, strange bobbing wisp-like lights hover ominously amidst a keening moan, like a banshee.
"GOooOoo AaaawAaaay!"
Emil pulls back on Flora's reins and pats the horse's shoulder soothingly. "You sure this is magic and not an actual ghost?" he asks, turning his head back to quickly gauge the other pack animal's response to such ... paranormal activity.
Franka springs to alertness at the noises all around them. Sitting on Heimdall, she looks from side to side, with a short spear close at hand.
It takes her only a moment to recognize the lights and wailing for what they really are: simple tricks of magic. She nods at Janna's observation, and tries to set Emil at ease. "Don't me alarmed, Emil. It's a web of illusion, designed to make us scared. There's no ghosts involved. Maybe fae..."
Looking around for signs of the actual creatures responsible, Franka tries to grab there attention. "Ho there. We're explorers traveling through. We mean no harm. If you're interested, we could talk. We may even have some gifts to offer, as a token of our goodwill. We might also have some good stories to share..."
She steers Heimdall close to Audsley and whispers to him. "Please tell me you managed to sneak some decent food into your saddlebags. If we're dealing with fae, that might put them in our favor. I'd rather not have to try and appease them with hardtack and salted beef..."
The ghostly apparition seems almost... dejected. "Awww, you're not even a little scared? I worked hard on making this ghost!" Its voice is suddenly much higher pitched. Another squeaky voice chimes in with, Gifts? Presents? Food? Show me what you have!" Er... or face the eternal consequences of the damned... Ooooo."
You can't visually track them, but there are two distinct (probably fae) creatures in the trees around you.
Franka realizes her mistake when she hears the disappointment in the unseen creature's voice. She tries to repair the damage to the fae's confidence. "Well, it was pretty convincing. Thing is, though, I'm quite familiar with magic, so I recognizes the spells. Emil here was pretty scared, though! He thought we were dealing with an actual ghost. Weren't you, Emil?"
Franka swings from the saddle and starts a hasty search through the pack horses' saddlebags. "Guys," she hisses, agitated. "We're looking for something fresh and sweet, I think. Honey, fresh fruit, brandy maybe. Anyone?" So close. We have to lure them out of the cover. We're actually talking to fae!
Túrante very slightly shakes her head in the negative.
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Especially as this is Audsley we're talking about. He probably didn't pass on fresh deserts ;)
Unless there's movement or something to react to, I'll move things along tonight.
Franka finds what she's looking for, with some help from Audsley. "Well, here we are," she says, letting her voice carry. "We have a jar of honey, some fresh berries and a jug of apple cider. How does that sound?"
She takes a few cautious steps in the direction where she heard the voices, sets down the gifts and then steps back to her group. "All yours, if you'd like to have it. Could we entice you to show yourselves?"
"I was... Well... I just don't know any better." huffs Emil lamely patting Flora on the neck. "And I was looking forward to drinking that cider." he grumbles.
There is some conferring in sylvan
Do you think we should go to them? They could be tricksies!
But sweets! Cider! Honey! Come on Perlivash!
With an apparent agreement between the two, from the trees two tiny fae shimmer into being. One is a grig, with the top of an attractive nude woman and the body of a grasshopper. The other is a dragon with multi-hue wings of a butterfly. They continue to linger in the trees, though they hop from branch to branch excitedly. The grig chirps in common. "Show us the sweets!"
Both c hitter happily at the offered sweats. The faerie dragon seems a bit more shy, though the grig is boisterous as she swiftly devours her gifts; the imagery of piranhas or sharks are the closest thing you could relate that to. When done, both settle to the ground.
The grig chimes in. "Hey, you all are pretty swell for tall-folk! My friend here is Perlivash, and I'm Tyg-titter-tutt! You're not with those nasty tall-folk that have been tromping around the forest, are you?" Not waiting for a response (barely waiting a breath) the continues "We've had to scare several mean tall-folk away from our home. You're not going to tromp over our home?" OH! Be careful if you go to the North West. There are bunches of bear traps scattered around."
Franka hides a chuckle as she hears the fae converse in their native language. It seems prudent for now to hide the fact that she can understand them. She bids them forward when the grig speaks. "Yes, of course. I've put the gift out for you. It's safe."
As the fae appears, Franka smiles from ear to ear, unable to hide her glee at meeting these creatures of the Æther. she watches in fascination, trying to note as much about the grig and faerie dragon as she can. When she can finally get some words in, she tries to make it sound formal, but friendly. "Well met, Tig-Titter-Tut," she says, aiming to get the name right, "and you too, Pearlyvash. We are the er... 'adventurers in gold'. There's Janna, Emil, Audsley, Túrante, and I am Franka. We're not going to tromp all over your home, or course." She looks shocked. "Those were bandits. We've been working hard to rid these lands of them. If you could tell us where they are, we can take care of them. Even better, if you tell us whereabouts your home is, we could be sure to avoid it..." Their home? Could there be a village, or something? A grove maybe? The scholar finds herself with too many questions vying for attention, but doesn't want to scare the creatures off. She stays focused on the opening that the grig offered. "Bear traps, you say? That's nasty business. We wouldn't want to be caught in those. Or to have any of the forest animals caught on them. Say, that rings a bell. We heard something about a shrine around these parts, and with a bear guarding it. You two wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
The two fae exchange glances. Tyg-Titter-Tut shakes her head. "No offense, but I think we'd rather tell you where our home and steer you around it. We're not quite good enough friends yet to have tall-folk stomping around.
As for the bear-traps, they're nasty pieces of work. I don't think there will be any added, but if you wanted to dispose of those atrocities of iron, the forrest would be thankful."
Perlivash, who apparently is somewhat shy and hasn't said much, finally chimes in, so soft it's hard to hear, "The Shrine... I saw it once... to the south. I don't remember where, I was chasing sparrows. I didn't like the feel of the Æther there. It was all black and festering."
Franka looks a little disappointed, but she can't find fault in the fae's cautiousness. "We can surely look into those bear traps, if we come across that was. Our plan was to make our way through the forest, west and then southwest."
The fae dragon gives Franka the opening that she was waiting for, and she's not able to contain her questions and more. "The Æther. That's very interesting, that you should mention it. I'm quite interested in that realm, and I've studied quite a bit about it. My magic even allows me to touch it for brief moments. But I've never had the opportunity to actually talk with folk that have such an intimate connection to it. Would you tell me what it's like? Have you been there? Can you come and go as you please?" Once the questions start coming, there's no stopping her. "Is it true that the lands here hold a special link to the Æther? Like a place with lots of Shallows? Or is there more to it than that?"
Audsley listens intently, eyes wide, but makes no sound or movement out of fear of spooking away the little folk.
The fae dragon looks bashful, clearly not comfortable at being the center of attention as it kind of slinks down. Tyg-titter-tut notices the exchange, and covers for her friend. "Um, no offense, but we really shouldn't be blabbing about the Æther with a tall-folk like that. Maybe if we knew you better... but no."
She glances around. "So, I think that we've done enough to pay for the food, right? You can go now and leave our home in peace?"
Franka nods "Yes, we can ask no more of you. Although I hope we'll get the chance to meet again, maybe get to know each other better then. Take care." She gives an elaborate bow with as thanks.
"We will surely leave your home in peace. Although you haven't yet told us where it's not." She grins a big smile, to let the grig know that she is joking with the last part. Sort of...
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Emil nudges Flora closer to Janna and asks in a hushed voice: "What is Franka getting at? Could you clue me in please?"
Túrante whispers to Janna and Emil, "She's negotiating. The Fair Folk are a bit skittish about us. She is asking about some of the other hazards and interesting features nearby and trying to make sure we don't accidentally stumble across their homes."
With some help from your new fae friends, you finish the exploration of that area. There's a clear mile area that you didn't see the specifics of as they deftly wind you around, but you are able to get a good enough idea to finish your map for that area.
Moving south, you trudge through the Narlmarches some more. Partway through the day Franka recoils back while idly viewing with her Sight: waves of miasma and fetid bubbles roil from the Æther here. This clearly is a supernatural corruption similar to what the fae described earlier. More mundane, the trees in the area seem sick, not the healthy luster you've seen throughout the Narlmarches before.
Cautiously the party approaches what seems to be the source of the corruption, a circular set of pillars hidden back in the brush but visible to the keen senses of the group. As you near, however, a horrendous roar rings out through the woods from a large, angry beast.
Franka enjoys the time she manages to spend with the grig and faerie dragon. Hoping not to scare them off, she lets up o her questions. Instead, she studies them as they walk, trying to see the forest through their eyes. We'll just have to prove ourselves. Maybe we can visit them again. We know where they live, so we could come back this way.
--
Her good mood is suddenly soured when she senses the corruption ahead. "There's something wrong here," she warns the others. "I have no idea if it has crossed over into this world, but we have to assume it has. Be alert."
Following her on advice, Franka pulls out her spear, dismounts to lead Heimdall by the reigns and cautiously approaches forward. "It must be something about those pillars. This is not the temple that the Erastilian talked about, is it? Perlivash thought it was somewhere south of here..." Her thought process is interrupted by the savage roar.
"Yikes! That sounds dreadful. It's a grizzly, if I'm correct. Could this be the place after all? Túrante, do you think you could calm a creature like this?" In preparation of what may come, Franka reaches into the Aether and conjures a shimmering armor, just as she had demonstrated at the Outpost a few days earlier.
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"Not if it is under a curse, infected with a disease or somehow made malicious by some horrid means. This... unwholesome... place is likely a reflection of some kind of spiritual corruption. I expect you could even feel it in the AEther here, could you not? I think whatever might make a bear unhappy here would be unnatural. I could try to communicate with it, but I think it would be very dangerous and unlikely to succeed," the elf says quietly as she unlimbers her bow.
"Spiritual corruption... Curses... Ghostly sounds... Why do we make a point of visiting the nasty places?" laments Emil who nonetheless readies his lance. "Alright their Mr Evil Bear. Come on out, and let's talk. About our adventuring company's name; or on the topic of wearing gold: is it tacky or not?"
With an angry roar, a massive and misshapen shaggy brown bear lumbers out from the cave ahead, its eyes unfoccused and red, with a froth boiling from a yellow fanged jaw. It snarls as it ambles forward the party.
[ooc]Active Global Conditions: None.
Túrante's eyes narrow and her long ears flatten against her head. She draws back the bow and says, "This bear is under some horrid curse. I think we do it a favor to release it from agony."
She exhales and tracks the bear's motion before launching her arrow.
(+2 ranger's focus, +1 inspire courage)
Turante's arrow seems to barely glance off the beast's shaggy, unkept coat, not even drawing blood. The monstrous bear gives a roar of outrage, with an unnatural, almost human look of hatred gleaming in its eyes.
The bear's roar reverberates throughout the clearing, though strangely it makes no move towards the party.
[ooc]Active Global Conditions: None.
Franka heels Heimdall forward, as she studies the raging bear that acts so odd. "I'm not sure Túrante. It certainly doesn't have the look and behavior of a normal bear. Releasing it might be the right thing to do, but couldn't this be some kind of curse? Shouldn't we try to undo it? Could some manner of defilement of this temple have driven the creature insane?"
Franka dithers a moment over how to approach the problem. With the bear not acting aggressive yet, she decides to peer once more into the Æther, hopefully to get a clue as to what's wrong, and perhaps how to fix it.
Audsley stands at the back of the group, eyes wide, and thumbs off the cork from one of his potions which he quickly quaffs, pouring some of it down his chin in his haste to do so.
"Why's it not attacking? Do you think it's restrained in some way to guarding the temple?"
Emil nudges Flora onwards and quickly finds himself in the lead. Something's not right here.
"Franka? My instincts tell me to charge but my gut is telling me that a terrible idea. Why hasn't the bear charged you? Is this more fey stuff?" he asks with trepidation. Looking around, he shouts out: "Any fey playing tricks here?"
The elven ranger lowers her bow and looks puzzled. "I'm not entirely sure. Something unnatural is at work. But this is more Franka's area... something magical, perhaps."
Under Franka's augmented sight, the scene before her is visceral, colors more vibrant, as if the world before was just a dim reflection in a mirror. Around her she can see flickers of the temple as it once was: polished white stone pillars, a crystal clear lake, and an abundance of life and nature. The marred reality seeps through that image: a poisoned lake choked with algae and a defiled temple with pulsing purple / red tendrils that run throughout the ruins to the being at the center of the angry festering wound.
Where the bear once stood, you see a man, naked and gaunt. It's impossible to tell his age or origins under the density of solid gold chains that surround him, binding his arms and legs, running up to his neck to a cracked holy symbol of Erastil, that also serves as an anchor for the tendrils of decay. With each beat of the man's heart, a pulse of corruption travels into the clearing. Finally, around the brute's head is a dim fog of cobwebs appears to be making the man alternate between snarling rage, confused muttering, and self-flagelation.
Franka is momentarily distracted by the vibrancy of her surroundings, as always when she peers into the Æther. She furrows her brows, trying to make sense of the things she's seeing. "This was definitely once a marvelous temple to Erastil. I can see it! But it's all twisted and defiled now. The bear must once have been a man, a druid perhaps? He's chained to this place, somehow connected to the holy symbol around his neck. It's not fae, Emil. He hasn't attacked - yet - because he's confused, slung about between emotions."
She blinks a couple of times, trying to see the real world without the interference of the Æther. "Can you tell if he's still wearing the pendant around his neck? Could he be redeemed? Or is his presence and behavior the source of the corruption." Her voice blends frustration, and apology for not having the answer.
"I don't know," Franka says, exasperation staining her voice without her meaning to. "Can't we subdue it, somehow? So that we have more time to study the temple, and to find out what ails him..."
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Here goes nothing... With their approach settled, Franka tries to get a sense of whether the bear might be redeemable.
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Janna's arrow has as little impact as Turante's... which is also about the same amount of impact Franka's words seem to have on the bear.
Audsley takes the opportunity to imbibe one of his other potions, still at the back, still nervous and watching the proceedings with wide eyes.
"These chains - do they go to anything in specific? Is there a way we can perhaps cleanse this area?"
Then a thought occurs to him. "Perhaps that priest of Erastil back at Oleg's could give us insight?"
Túrante lowers her bow slowly, then she also lowers herself down to one knee. She slowly holds the bow out to one side, and raises her right hand with an open palm, then backs up a bit while hunkered down.
"Shhh," she says quietly, "If we're going to go back and ask around at Oleg's, do so cautiously. We've already come dangerously close to aggravating it."