Warren and Monty fly to the tower, and Warren returns to human form at the threshold with Stayven, backing him up. Warren begins to summon more eagles to aid him.
"Stayven, this may get dicey. Tegan, the tower!!"
”Oh, I’m sure it will!”
He takes a few seconds to pull some vials out of his hip pouch. First was a solution of coffee, sage, and wild tobacco, all mixed with a base alchemical primer. Not a bad taste, and the benefit of heightened senses and mental clarity was well worth it. Next was the worst one, a bitter sludgy mixture of tree bark intended to toughen his skin.
With that, he draws his handaxe as he tries to get a sense of what the voices might be saying.
Tegan guides her griffon along, holding the rear position at the lake. She pauses to lift her shield skyward and says a prayer in Abadar's name.
Lowering her arm, she encourages Griffon onward again, closer to the tower. "I'm not sure if we should enter without the others," she cautions Warren and Stayven. "But I'll follow your judgment. We can't allow something nefarious to spoil the fortune of the wealthy father."
The paladin racks her brain, trying to recall if this tower in particular had any religious ties at some point.
As Tegan tries to recall any religious ties, Stayven thinks on the history of the tower and any notable events that might lead this to being a place of power.
She pauses, thinking up either a defense or at least some final words.
"I would say that it's hardly treason since I never swore or signed any manner of oath to you," she says, perking up. "You wear that heavy key around your neck, so you know the importance of legalistics. Can you show me a document proclaiming me to be a citizen of your land? I just moved in and did what came naturally. Would you put a mouse on trial for eating food from your kitchen? What am I talking about? I know that you probably would.
"Ah, to Hell with it. Go ahead and get it over with. Just know that I was never a loyal citizen, so you're not executing a traitor. You're just killing some wench - granted, it's one who doesn't think your town deserves any preferential treatment compared to the countless others that have risen and died in the Stolen Lands across the generations."
The symbols and images on the worn stone walls are disconcerting, and worry that it may have originally been constructed for some regional or esoteric faith with unwholesome inclinations.
...
Regarding the tower itself, you've heard many stories that this island and tower are haunted, with locals referring to sightings of the "Candlemere lights." Of course, given the present situation, you can't really deduce much on this front.
The stones of the tower are certainly ancient; these ruins are far older than any others in the area and could even date from the Age of Destiny. Faint carvings of strange symbols are barely visible in some of the tower’s stone, but you can't immediately decipher the language or meaning.
Connecting this site to prior exploration and surveys, you suspect this site may have been constructed for ritual connected with Old Gods or other faiths with their origins beyond even Golarion.
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"Yes, you moved here, and by doing so made yourself subject to the laws of Tamlyn. It would have been the same if you had moved to Andoran, or Taldor, or Absalom. Whenever one resides within the borders of any nation, one is bound by its laws and likewise subject to the consequences of violating those laws. Your glib response offers no mitigation for your actions. Jocelyn Stroud, by your own words and deeds, I find you guilty of all charges levied against you, and sentence you to public execution."
Warren summons again and 4 celestial eagles appear in total.
With no better ideas, Stayven calls out in Sylvan, trying his best to be heard over the storm, "Hail and good day, fair ones! I seek to end this storm as peacefully as I can. Let us speak for a moment!"
"Shall I assemble the heralds to gather the crowd, Lord Ahto?" she asks with disappointment in her tone, as if sad there was such hatred within Jocelyn. Such a person wouldn't fit in no matter what nation she was a part of. Despite following a deity of community, this was as clear an enemy as could be to not only their country, but her faith.
Pelipe will fish the Souris out of her pocket and will hold it in her hand. In Sylvan, she will explain:
"You will need to provide testimony against Miss Stroud here. And if we do end up seeking out what is happening over the lake, you should not be put in danger. Remain in town until we return."
She will listen to the other advisors' reports of what is known about the island and what has been unfolding since they went after the menagerie owner. She will again give account that she did see the storm being held back by divine power and prayer.
Until she knows more, she will at least find a chair to sit in. Her skin seems paler due to the effort compiled this day, as well as chasing after the Souris to eventually find Jocelyn. It all has added on. Now if they were going to end up going to the island as well, she'd need to rest as much as possible. Despite this, she tries her best to hide her condition and sits with grace and poise.
Up until now, Katrine has just been glowering silently at the other changeling. If the hag had kept me instead of leaving me for my father to raise... that could have been me. Manipulated into loyalty and love toward a person incapable of returning it. "Good riddance. She's too far gone, won't even acknowledge that her precious hags are doing anything wrong. I just feel sorry for Vixen. She thought this traitorous piece of trash was a friend."
By now Jocelyn can most likely see Katrine's long pointed fingernails and mismatched eyes. Interesting that she hasn't said anything about it. Well, the prospect of one's execution is probably rather distracting.
However, a large number of flying beings - including the non-fey recent arrivals to Horace - were spotted braving the weather's wrath to fly towards the tower that sits at the eye of the storm.
"Get lost! You're disturbing our lady's dance! We're putting on a once-in-a-lifetime performance for the Nymph Queen, you rancid sacks of organs!"
The violent-tempered fey seems unmoved by even Stayven's polite introduction. Of course, the fact that the hot-blooded creature did not simply leap upon you may be proof of the surveyor's diplomatic acumen.
Warren casts a spell and he grows much stronger and heads inside with his eagles.
Stayven says something in a language Tegan doesn't understand.
The platinum-haired paladin looks away from the tower, "this place is ancient. Perhaps dating back to the old gods."
Tegan looks up towards the new noise source, then over to Stayven. She rests a hand on the top of her sheathed sword as if preparing for things to escalate.
Stayven nods towards Tegan as he says softly, "Be on guard. If this gets ugly, we'll have to fight our way out of here."
He grabs another vial from his belt, a shimmering blue liquid that tastes faintly of mint. As he drinks it, a faintly glimmering shield of magical force springs into being around him.
Following Warren he yells above the storm, "Do you see your Nymph Queen? She is not here to watch your performance! Her engagement party will mean nothing if Tamlyn is in ruins when she arrives."
He sighs, placing a hand on the handle of his trusty axe, "If you will not see reason, we will have to show you the error of your ways. I am sorry."
Pelipe would nod to the report. Not much has changed. She herself didn't see much out there. The mention of the island, however, concerns her.
"They flew there? As in...those new arrivals? I thought they were talking to the populace, trying to calm them down. Hmm. I wonder what drew them there?"
She internally whimpers as now they again could not rest, but would likely have to mount a rescue operation.
"I imagine there are boats on the shores of the lake somewhere that some of us could take to get there..."
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Hoot flies perfectly into the castle, taking the highest possible approach. These impudent and obstreperous fairy creatures were getting to be frustrating, but maybe it was some time to have some fun.
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Ahto turns to the Vixen and Ash. "Might I impose upon you to imprison Miss Stroud in one of the more secure rooms here, and stand watch until we return? I have a feeling things are not going well for our new guests down at the lake, and that matters may be coming to a head there."
He turns to the others and says, "Shall we, then?"
He checks his armor and weapons, as he waits for the Kavinkas to take Jocelyn into custody. Once everything and everyone is secure, he purposefully strides from the room, out of the palace, and towards the lake on the fastest conveyance available.
"Yes, and it's a damn good thing the Nymph Queen hasn't arrived yet!" the fey creature yells, continuing his tirade in Common. "We haven't gotten this storm to its peak, yet. If this was all we could muster as tribute to her, we'd be as ashamed as if we were...well, if we were you!"
A sour look crosses his face, then he proceeds along a different tack.
"Why do you care, anyway? We're just blowing down some buildings. It's not like you can't build more of them. That's what you single-lifespan meat puppets do, right?"
...
Meanwhile, the Kavinka councilors haul Jocelyn away to be locked up until her execution.
When Lord Ahto and company quickly make their way down to the lakeside, they find Melianse and some other aquatic First Citizens waiting for you by the water. They offer to use their magic to expedite your crossing and provide some measure of protection against the storm.
Pelipe will nod patiently to Ahto at his directions. She will proceed to head to her horse in the stables, and when everyone is ready, she will then ride down to the shore. The rain of the storm drenches her hair and clothes and the closer they get, the more drenched she feels. At least she dressed warm before heading out. Her short hair sits upon her cheeks flatly. By the time they meet up with Melianse, Pelipe has lost even more of her color, and still looks patiently quiet. Her eyes are cast either to the ground or upward to look to the tower ahead.
There is a bit of life in her when she looks to the storm front being held back once more. "See how the prayers hold back the storm? So impressive..." she comments to Ahto and Katrine with a weary smile.
Thankfully, according to Melianse, they will have some protection from the storm and expedited crossing. It is good because by this time, Pelipe's lower jaw is shivering from the wetness and cold. It is at that time that she will confirm that there are indeed others who flew there to Candlemere. If she can, she will also inquire by description whether it was those who they had met just previously in town.
The magister is also curious what kind of transport they are going to use exactly and how this will all work, but she is open-minded to work with aquatic fey and will greet them before setting off. When they do get to the other side, she is wary of what can possibly be on this island.
Upon landing, she looks to the sand, the trees, and the terrain around them. She considers whether this is normally a sort of place where one can relax safely when there isn't a storm, or if there are possibly natural predators here.
”Our single lives are exactly why we build them! We don’t have an eternity to enjoy life like your kind, so our buildings serve as a legacy. Now please, stop your storm! The kingdom will mean nothing to your Queen if you level it. Imagine how angry she’d be then!”
Warren awaits the response of Staven's reasonable request. If the storm doesn't begin to die down, Warren flies with a lesser totem transformation and leads his flock to visit the creatures in the top of the tower, flying the distance with ease.
"I would stop this now."
Hoot telepathically communicates to all animals in the area.
Warren's flock perches in the nooks and crevices along the strange old walls, looking down upon the fey inside the ruined tower like a feathered jury. This adds a solemn emphasis to Stayven's plea.
The winged green boy stops his gesticulations stop, and the quiet, grim fey stops chanting. Only the fey woman at the center continues to dance. In her fluid motions, her expression is difficult to read, appearing somewhere around anger and bitterness.
As Melianse and the other watery fey spirit Lord Ahto and company rapidly across the dark waters, they feel the wind and rain slacken. The storm weakens as, unbeknownst to them, the ritual has been compromised.
"Awww..." the fey spokesman says, stomping his feet. Indeed, he looks on the verge of throwing a full-blown temper tantrum. "But we have to offer something to Queen Nyrissa! If she isn't satisfied, she'll feed us to her mandragoras! Or the black smilodons!"
He casts a predatory look towards Stayven, Warren, Tegan, and the birds.
"Say...how much blood do you folks have? We don't need all of it, just enough to fill one of those fondue fountains. You folk have those here, right?"
Hoot had had enough. He looks at Warren and makes a grasping gesture with his talons then......
Hoot swoops down at the fey spokesman. He attempts to grab him in his huge talons.
Warren laughs and speaks to the three others.
"You don't want to make the owl upset!! I think we can agree this is the end of tampering with the weather in this domain without permission from the king."
He speaks to the spokesman: "Hoot needs an offering for our king!! He will probably show mercy on you."
Stayven yells, "Not gonna happen, my blood's staying exactly where it started! Tegan, Warren, let's get these bastards!"
With that, he draws his axe!
The loud-mouthed fey utters one last squeak, coming from a strange place from somewhere between fear and anger, as the giant owl grasps him tightly in his talons. The fey's eyes dart rapidly between Hoot and Stayven's axe.
This is enough to finally stop the Dancing Lady, who ceases her graceful movements with the sudden finality of a stake driven into the grown. She affixes you with her piercing emerald eyes, with not a whit of mercy to be seen in their depths.
All the fey look ready to pounce; only the lingering effects of Stayven's rhetoric has yet stayed their hands.
Stayven lowers his weapon for a moment, "You do not have to do this. We do not have to do this. Our blood is our own, not to be spilled. Your blood does not need to be spilled either. Nyrissa has not yet arrived, so why conjure a storm for an audience of nobody? Help us to make the kingdom grander, so that your queen will be all the more impressed when she arrives."
It was eerie to see the storm stop as they approached. As she reached the shore, she looked up to the tower's height and to the island itself. If the others flew to this location, it would be likely that in the storm they headed for the top of the tower.
Assuming the others agreed, she would begin the trek up the shore and into the tower.
"Hopefully, there is a working staircase. I do not feel up to any intense heroics by leaping from one edge to the other. This tower must be ancient though..."
Steadily she will climb, feeling each step burning at her thighs and the effort in her ribs due to her wound. She will sleep soundly tonight. Beads of sweat fall down her cheeks, mixed with the last remnants of rain dripping from her hair. At least in the tower, and with the storm dying off, there is no more rain chilling her to the bone.
Katrine smirks at the other changeling and waves her claw-tipped fingers at her. "Oh, they know. And Lord Ahto made me his Marshal even so. Imagine that, being a valued employee rather than a disposable minion."
The ranger pulls an oilcloth poncho out of her pack and puts it on, hoping to keep her bowstring dry. The bow's magic will protect it to some degree, but a lifetime of caring for her weapons makes Katrine uncomfortable with leaving it to soak in the rain. "Thanks Melianse, and the rest of you as well. I'm not sure what's going on over there, but it doesn't look good."
Once they're in the boat and speeding across the storm-tossed lake, there's nothing else to do but wait. Katrine gives her companions a once-over. Ahto is as strong and stoic as ever, despite the rain and the long day. Pelipe, however... the mage has always been frail, and she's definitely looking worse for wear. Katrine leans over to speak to her in a low voice. "Is there anything I can do for you, Pelipe?"
Katrine, Ahto, and Pelipe rapidly beach their boats and hustle up the rain-slick, mossy shore to find a strange assemblage at the foot of the ruined tower.
Rather than a bloodbath, in the rays of sunlight breaching the parting clouds, they find a quartet of fey engaged in the final stages of negotiations with the newcomers they had met earlier.
Stayven Vernikas' almost supernatural rhetoric has turned the wicked fey away from their designs of bloodshed and destruction. Nevertheless, they remain very dead set on devising some way to impress Queen Nyrissa upon her arrival.
In particular, the lone female-presenting fey among them - appearing as an alluring, graceful elven woman with alabaster skin, golden hair, and emerald green eyes and wears a flowing white gown of archaic elven style, tied at the waist with a blood-red scarf - has gracefully strode over to look Stayven in the eye.
With a slight tilt of her head, her expression somewhere between acting coy and issuing a challenge, she demands to know what he means by "make the kingdom grander." Perhaps she simply wants to toy with Stayven, or perhaps she is sincerely fishing for suggestions.
Stayven gives a polite bow to the woman. In truth, he didn’t know exactly what the fey would consider grand, but does his best to suggest some outlets. Artwork, perhaps, enhancing Tamlyn’s beauty, or songs to lift the spirits of both fey and mortals.
After he does so, he turns to the newly arrived rulers and gives them an equal bow, ”Your graces, I see you made it. These fair folk have decided they wish to help make the kingdom grander. At your leisure, perhaps you could suggest a course of action as the nation’s sovereigns.”
"I'm fine...," she comments to Katrine with a soft but weary smile. "Or I will be fine. Thank you." she corrects herself and lifts her pants to keep mossy sand from going into the ends as they hasten up the shore.
When up to the top and closer to the tower, they see the others. It almost looks like a standoff to her, but things seem to be progressing toward discussion rather than bloodshed, though everyone seems ready for it.
She will take up a position behind Ahto and to the side. There, she will let him deal with things as she studies this positioned ritual placement.
She will then explain to Ahto what she's seeing, if anything. It all seems kind of...silly to her.
Hoot brought a fey gift for the court. Caught firmly in his talons, the owl brings the struggling spokesman to the middle of the assembly.
”Hoot!”
”Explain why you were going to destroy property and kill people.”
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"Our recent guests seem to have matters well in hand," Ahto remarks to Pelipe and Katrine. "Let us approach, but give them a free hand for the time being. They may demonstrate skills and abilities that would prove valuable in Tamlyn's service, should they choose to stay."
Ahto moves up the beach towards the tower at a measured pace, but stops short of intruding on the confrontation inside, for the moment.
It is clear that, on their own, these fey would not have been able to conjure a storm of such magnitude. This tower and its placement definitely magnified the power of their conjuration, but you aren't able to deduce exactly how or why.
”Explain why you were going to destroy property and kill people.”
You hear the same answer that has been parroted by so many of the fey that have descended upon Tamlyn of late: to impress and offer tribute to Queen Nyrissa.
In fact, in what is proving to be another consistent theme, the fey seem surprised and even frustrated that you don't understand the importance of impressing the Nymph Queen, just as you are frustrated by their inability to understand why such death and destruction is so problematic. There is a clear disconnect between what both sides would call "common sense."
Stayven had addressed them, in fine greeting. It seems that despite their race, they are indeed doing the task she and the others sent them out on--to calm the people of Horace. She would have waved to Stayven to continue their negotiations. Also, because Ahto ordered it.
Hazily she looks up at the ominous tower. Its magnifying power eludes her but is worthy of study. Surely this is why the fae are here.
"I think this tower is the source of the storms. It may be magnifying their ritual here. And as I suspected, was of fae origin," she whispers. "How do we continually face this?" she wonders. "I feel like it is a lack of communication among the fae. You welcome fae in your lands. They come in and think it's someone else's. Then seek to destroy it for that person. And the worst part is, I don't think it's malicious. That's hard to deal with. I wonder if a welcome center will be useful to us. A source of education that not only teaches fae about mortals, but about their own status and chance of death here on the material plane. It may make them feel thankful to have a place like your land when they learn how others feel about them here in this world. Maybe then, even the fae within your borders will respect and encourage other new fae to go to the center even before causing chaos like this..."
When there seems to be a continued detached understanding between the fae and mortals, she explains:
"You are spellcasters. I don't need to teach you the elemental principles of the Planes, I think. You just may not realize that here, you are not subject to the laws of your original plane of existence anymore; or at least are in a diminished capacity. As many others of your kind will attest, this realm is dangerous, it is full of death--permanent death--which means you will exist no longer. The memory of you will be gone, you will be no more, and will never come back. Up until this point, perhaps you thought this a mortal problem and that this didn't apply to you, but I'm here to attest to you that this isn't the case. You are here. You are subject to this plane's mortal coil. You will end." She lets those words hang for a moment before continuing. "Now, assume we switched roles. I was creating a storm for Queen Nyrissa and you were an innocent fae living up in Horace. Let's say you were an arcane librarian. All of a sudden, the storm wipes out your home and takes your life. You are no more. There is no rebuilding, no more enjoying your arcane studies. Nothing but eternal judgment and possibly punishment for your actions in life. That is the power looming over your head in this mortal realm. If you truly enjoyed your arcane studies, your books, your home, your life, and learning things about this mortal realm, would you not want me to stop creating a storm? I submit to you that that is why we are here, to ask you to stop. Failure to do so will be met with dire consequences of the mortal kind--which do apply to you."
"There are many ways to give a member of royalty honor and gratitude here on this realm, and this is not the way. Destroying a city, the land, the animals, the food...it only causes death, for mortals and fae-kin alike. Destroying a city means it is permanently destroyed here and wiped away like the nations of old, and thus the Nymph Queen will have no rulership if you continue. This will enrage her, regardless of her bloodthirsty mentality. You yourself testify that she is coming here to rule, right? Let's see...rulership of nothing is...not ruling. So what you are doing cannot possibly please her, in fact, the opposite. Please stop what you are doing."
Trying to figure out how fey think always gives Katrine a headache. She's tempted to speak up, but it looks like Ahto is using this as a chance to get a feel for the newcomers' abilities. "Good idea, Pelipe. Much of the conflict I've seen between fey and mortals boils down to them not understanding how the Material Plane works. Either physically or socially. Of course, there are some fey who understand quite well and enjoy causing pain, but a lot of them don't mean any true harm."
Stayven overhears the conversation of the Council and makes a note of it.
He calls to the fey again, ”Fair ones, I have a proposal. Help us make a place where your kin may learn to live alongside ours, and vice versa. I am certain that there is a middle ground that we can find together, but we cannot do so if we are at each other’s throats! Come to the shore, be among your people and keep the peace, and I will personally visit you all again to assuage your concerns and needs. Do we have an accord?”
The gathlain readily accepts your combined rhetoric, eager and curious about building a kingdom. He also looks spooked by Pelipe's thorough explanation of his mortality on this plane.
The grimstalker and quickling whisper among themselves, but eventually they agree to come to shore and "play nice."
Lastly, they all look to the Dancing Lady, who offers her own subdued acquiescence. Restraining her enthusiasm like a well-bred aristocrat, she contently resolves to lead a grand dance in the town square to impress the coming queen and celebrate her betrothal announcement.
The dark clouds are rapidly thinning overhead, and the triumphant sun casts Horace, across the lake, in a glorious new light.
Warren nods as Hoot sends him a telepathic message.
He says to the fey spokesman. ”Hoot is unhappy with the lack of respect the fey ones give to all avians in this area. This storm would kill small birds. But from now on know you were released as his prey on the pleasure of this kingdom. Your days of bullying the sylvan creatures is over. I don’t know if I translated this part correctly mr spokesman, but Hoot said always remember Who’s your daddy!@
”It is a temporary agreement it seems, at least.” she whispers to her companions. ”It will give the Father a chance to give thanks and rest too.”
She can’t express how grateful she feels to be part of this all. ”Imagine the good that dancer could do for Horace in protection of it should they come to care…” She sighs as she helps push the boat back out onto the waters to return to shore. She will ensure there is adequate transport for everyone there to return to the city, and once there she will seek to rest a bit.
Hoot is disappointed in the lack of defenses against this threat against the vulnerable town. The current general suffered from the two dimensional thinking all bipeds seemed to be under. A creature experienced in flight considered attack and defense as full dimensional problem, not on a flat map.
Warren had to translate: "Hoot wants to be in charge of any military force the kingdom levies. And it can't neglect the air as has been the case till now."
Stayven pinches the bridge of his nose at Hoot. The owl seemed to have no end of confidence in his abilites, much to the ever-humble Stayven's chagrin.
"Your Royal Excellencies, I find myself absolutely famished by this afternoon's events. I got turned into a swan. A swan! I just...I can't shake the lingering craving for, ugh, snails and pond-weed. I might humbly request we take our planned dinner a little earlier. I have a proposal I would wish to discuss in an official capacity."
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"I believe we can accommodate your request, good sir," Ahto replies with a nod. "After all, the unnatural storm caused by these fey dancers was a pressing matter you have effectively resolved for the time being. You all have done well, and I and the other members of the Council would like to know you better. Come, let us return to the palace."
The fey return to their own watercraft, a small keelboat that seems to be made of still-living wood, and joins your return across the lake to the cliffs lining the shores of Horace. Loud voices carry down as you beach your boats.
Upon ascending the winding path back up to town, you see tides of bodies traveling in opposite directions. Most of the recognizable faces of your citizens are fleeing westward en masse, clearly gripped by a panic. A smaller number of stranger faces, largely composed of the visiting fey - albeit with some First Citizens - are streaming eastward towards the fields between Horace and the Shrike River.
One clear exclamation can be heard among the fey: "She's here! She's here!"