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”To think that a faerie dragon would take an interest in us!” Wonky wonders out loud with a not-subtle wink to Eunomia. ”I would have thought that something so clever would have nothing to do with boring travellers such as us!”
Wonky takes a concerned notice to Ahto’s rash.
”I do hope that you will allow me a chance to tend to your affliction when we have made camp for the night, Ahto,” Wonky mentions off-handedly as she draws, head-down, on her map. ”That rash looks uncomfortable and potentially infected.”
Eunomia grins at Wonky's speech and plays along. "It is indeed rare. Why, in Liberthane it is considered a sign of great luck to even catch a glimpse of such a majestic creature!"
Harmond stops for a moment in thought before speaking up.
"I... you know. I don't think those are actually bird's nest. Something seems... off about them. Can we wait for a second?"
Harmond pulls a small stuffed bird out of his bag and whispers to it.
"Wake up Laury, I need your help."
The stuffed bird comes to life quickly taking on the appearance of a slightly translucent raven.
"Can you fly up there to those nests and have a look? We could really use a birds eye view." He says with a smirk. "Come right back down and let us know what you see."
The newly animated familiar flies up to get a better look at the nests.
Eunomia yelps in a very undignified manner as she feels something slimy moving along her back. What is it get it off me get it off! With some contortions, (that are probably hilarious to any observers), she's eventually able to dislodge the slug. Panting, she stares at it for a second before dropping it to the ground.
Embarrassed, she looks around for any sign of the second prankster.
As she does so, she says in Sylvan.
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Wonky snaps her fingers with a bright expression on her face at Eunomia's words.
"Cén fáth go mbeadh, go ndéanfadh sé ciall iontach Sylvan a labhairt - smaoineamh iontach, Eunomia!"
The gnome then looks to the trees where Harmond has suggested.
"Ba mhaith linn a bheith ina gcairde, más féidir! Lig dúinn díbh féin a fheiceáil agus is féidir linn go léir oibriú le chéile. I mionn, ní chiallaíonn muid aon dochar duit, mar ghníomhaire an Chreidimh Ghlais!"
This is presumably the faerie dragon in question, and you can also feel the fey creature trying to reach out to Laury. Like a distant voice, you can dimly hear the Sylvan words echo in your own mind.
"No, no. Don't be scared. We're just having a spot of fun with the bigginses."
No reply comes to Eunomia and Wonky's Sylvan words, although you suspect it is not due to a lack of understanding. Perhaps the fey are simply having too much fun and are unwilling to end their games.
However, from your previous ponderings about the fey, you recall that such mischievous creatures respond well to bribes. Well, the fey actually prefer to think of them as "gifts," eschewing the ugly but accurate word "bribe." They are particularly fond of shiny bits of jewelry, alcohol, sugary food, and potions.
Once Addy learns how fey think, she looks toward the giggly-girly voice and says to her:
"Yer pranks certainly accomplished that, along with yer cheerful laughter. But unless ye communicate, I can't be sure I'm able to provide yer needs. And it's a shame, seeing how it'd be a dream come true to see ye and converse with ye.
"I'm not sure I've a proper gift for ye, but do ye find me attire fashionable? I made it meself. Me specialty's ladies' fashion, and I heard at least one lady voice. The question is whether me skill as a fashionista interests ye enough. For all I know, ye fly naked. But if I can suit yer tastes, I'm happy to suit ye up."
Harmond whispers softly, so that only the group can hear.
"Laury found it up in the trees. I think it just wants to play pranks on us. It seems rather harmless."
Addy's offer elicits an almost immediate response, as a tiny creature pops into view right before her eyes.
The fey being in front of Addy's eyes, hovering in the air upon fluttering insectile wings, appears to be a tiny elven woman with the body of a prickly-legged cricket. She's clapped her little hands together, clearly enthused by the promise of a custom outfit.
This sudden appearance, though, draws a rueful, more baritone voice from the branches above.
Addy gives the fey a pleasant smile, taking in the creature's form as she collects her thoughts, which are mostly:
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...!
Then in a professional tone, she says in Sylvan, <I guess ye do fly naked, and I don't blame ye. But if ye're interested, I believe I've the skill to fashionably adorn yer gorgeous body.
<I've a job I can't shirk, o' course, so when I can commit to the job's me boss' call.> Addy gives Ahto a gist translation (unless someone else translates the Sylvan words), then goes on, <But here's me thinking on what'll suit ye—a top. Backless to accommodate yer wings, and since ye don't mind showing skin, let's reveal a bit o' cleavage and bare the midriff. Ye need light material, so as not to impede flight, which I've got...>
She opens her bag where sleepwear is stored. The light material is a silky gown and also some lingerie (that's never been worn, but came with a gift from a client). The silky material that Addy shows the fey come in shades of purple, pink and red.
Addy then tells how long it would take her to cut and stitch the tiny top, along with a flowing silk scarf.
Addy suspects there's more to the fey's less-than-subtle approach than a game and a gift, but then she always expects the Vixen needs to rescue someone. She holds the thought for now to see how the fey lass feels about the design. She also says, <Me name's Addy, by the way. How shall I address ye?>
The grig, as Wonky is readily able to identify the cricket-like fey woman, practically dives into the pile of clothes that Addy produces. At first she simply swims through the fabric, like a fish wriggling through water. She then emerges, spinning around with a small piece of lingerie as though it were a waltzing partner.
<"Oh! It's so light and soft!"> she squeals in Sylvan. She suddenly stops, mid-pirouette, and looks up at Addy. "My name is Tyg-Titter-Tut. You can just call me Tyg. Oh, and I can speak your bigginses language, too, if that helps," she explains in nasally, squeaking Common Taldane.
The faerie dragon soon floats down from his nest in the branches above and joins the impromptu gathering beside the banks of the Thorn River.
"Oh yeah! And that's Perlivash. Who was most definitely not winning!" Tyg declares.
However, Tyg seems disinterested in arguing further with her friend and neighbor. Instead, the grig perches upon Addy's shoulder to watch as she plots out ideas upon her sketchpad. Tyg offers little input other than curious chirrups and delighted squeals as Addy works her design magic.
Addy is completely unfazed by the comment or they way her sexy underwear is used as a swimming pool in mixed company. The look on her face practically suggests everything is going exactly as she expected or even wanted.
And now because her friend died horribly, Addy's dream of meeting a fey has come true. It's a lot of dots to connect—so many most people wouldn't bother to connect them at all. But Addy doesn't deny the truth—
These friends, meeting Ash, making a li'l outfit for this sweet Tyg. If Vikki were alive, there'd be no Vixen, and I'd just be ordinary...
—she simply suppresses the emotional geyser within... as usual.
"A pleasure and honor to meet ye, Tyg. Ye as well, Perlivash."
She loves the feel of the little cricketty legs on her skin. Glad I went with the bare shoulder design! The scarf can be cut in a matter of seconds, and stitched in a matter of minutes.
"I'll start with the scarf, since ye like the feel o' the fabric.
"Feel free to chat while I cut and stitch. It won't disturb me, though I will ask ye to kindly remain on me shoulder while I'm working me shears and needles." Showing Tyg the measuring tape, she adds, "Ye can sit on me knee when it's time to measure ye for the top."
Not ignoring Ahto's question, Addy says, "Shelyn's way's me key to winning o'er a lass who wishes to be fashionable. Any body shape can be beautiful. Clothing's merely an accessory to natural beauty. And to craft for winged fey... believe me, the privilege itself's all the payment I require."
Addy sure is speaking a mouthful about fashion to the one person in the crowd most likely to not give a damn about the topic. She's as aware of this likelihood as well as Ahto's likely aware that Addy is speaking in code:
#1. Addy truly finds these creatures endearing.
#2. She intends to make the outfit as promised, whether that means making it now (if DM call says the whole art/craft takes 1-4 hours) or later, with some sort of delivery arrangement.
#3. She suspects the creatures got their attention because they're in danger. "Can ye ask them if their homes and people're in danger, whether the threat is beast or human? If we're to make the world a better place, these lovely li'l people're among the innocents I'd gladly protect, even if they did knock me on me ass!"
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"Oh my mistletoe and ivy..." Wonky curses in a quite-un-Wonky way as the fey creatures pop into view. Assuming that their current forward progress is at a stand-still, she moves to try to introduce herself to the pseudo-dragon.
"Is mise Wonky Prong, Jr. Tuigim go dtugtar Perlivash ort; an bhfuil sé sin ceart? Táimid ag iniúchadh do foraoise álainn. Tá sé thar aon ionchas go mbeidh mé in ann comhrá a dhéanamh le duine den Chéad Domhan. Ba bhreá liom é a fheiceáil ar bhealach éigin. Le do thoil, inis dom, tá sé de chúram orainn arrachtaigh bréan a bhaint as na tailte seo. Faoi láthair, táimid ag fiach frog mór agus roinnt daoine laghairt ar nós iarthar an iarthair anseo. An bhféadfá aon rud a insint dúinn?"
Eunomia smiles at Tyg, finding the fae creature's delight to be contagious. However...There's no sense in only giving a gift to one of them. Maybe I have something Perlivash would like?
She reaches into her haversack and pulls out a bell net.
She offers the gift to the tiny dragon.
Perlivash listens intently to Wonky, clearly intrigued by, even taken with the gnome.
<"Yeah, we know all about those frogs,"> the faerie dragon speaks in raspy, baritone Sylvan. <"We try to keep away from them. They're too dumb to play games with, and if we get too close, they try to grab us with their tongues. Can you believe that? Like we were some common flies.">
The tiny dragon's long ears and horns perk up when Eunomia offers her gift. Perlivash swoops in and practically tackles the bell net, tearing his head through the mesh, and merging wearing it like a cloak. He flies a few loops in the air, chuckling as the bells chime out with his aerial maneuvers.
<"You know that'll give you away if you try to sneak about, right, you dummy?"> Tyg teases her dragon neighbor.
<"You're just envious that I got the musical gift and you didn't,"> Perlivash teases back, landing upon Eunomia's head - draping her face with the bell net like it was a veil.
The pair argues briefly about whose gift is better, but their fickle attention is quickly called back to Wonky's question. From their descriptions, you glean that the pond where the giant frogs congregate is due west of the Temple of the Elk, while a marshy ruin where the frog-man dwells is to the southwest of the temple.
"Of course, the real problem is those ugly, dirty bigginses," Tyg exclaims in Common, getting excited and attempting to look angry, but ultimately looking more amusing than indignant. "They cause all kinds of trouble, going around wearing those silver stag skulls. That woman with the two axes is the worst! Of course, come to think of it, we haven't seen them in a while. Maybe they left?" she wonders, her anger giving way to confusion.
Two things become clear: the bandits were a source of consternation for this pair of fey, and they are not aware that you have dealt with the bandits for good.
Harmond thinks to himself for a moment
"Hrmm. I should give them a gift as well.
He digs around in his bag for a moment, pulling out a stuffed rabbit, and then a rather large doll, no, it appears to be a full sized ventriloquist dummy, sitting them both on the ground along with various other sundries. He keeps on digging.
"No. I don't think I have anything suitable at all."
Harmond begins putting his stuff back in the bag.
As Addy finishes the tiny scarf, she says, "I've a feeling the Stag King and his men won't bother ye no more. They made the fatal mistake of attacking a post under our protection. They even brought a wyvern along."
Addy points out Wonky's wyvernhide apron, then adds, "Thanks to Wonky's clever planning, we kicked its butt. Literally in my case. Even me weapon o' choice is fashionable attire." Addy pats her boot.
"But for you, Tyg, this boot's a comfy leather seat. If ye'd like, ye can try the scarf on, then with yer permission, I'd like to take yer measurements for the crop-top."
Of the frog, Addy says, "The giant frog eats people our size too. Whoever he ate last'll be his last meal." As she looks adoringly at the friendly little winged woman, she adds, "I'm thankful the two o' ye managed to avoid it's tongue."
Guessing that they're going to be here a while, Eunomia makes herself comfortable leaning against a nearby tree.
<"I'm glad you like the bells, Perlivash. We'll take care of the frogs for you too, so you don't have to worry about their tongues.">
While Addy continues working, she quickly translates the Sylvan part of the conversation for Ahto.
The fey perk up when it becomes clear that you have defeated the bandits plaguing the region. Tyg eagerly - and in some ways, literally - dives into the proffered clothes and volunteers as Addy's model.
"The frogs are the size of casks," Perlivash says in raspy Common, still perched atop Eunomia's head. "They could probably swallow Wonky in one gulp. The rest of you would probably be meals over a couple of days."
"They're real irritating," Tyg interrupts, raising her wings and tiny arms for Addy to take her measurements. "They make it hard to visit the elk-head statue or our friend, Horace. He's fun to prank and always a good sport about it, just like you bigginses."
"There's also a frog man a little more to the south," the faerie dragon continues to explain. "He keeps company with another big toad, but this one has big tusks. He doesn't speak much, at least not that we can understand. It is fun to watch him holler when we play a little joke upon him."
Satisfied with the measurements and her ability to craft at one-fifth or -sixth her usual scale, Addy says to Tyg, "Seeing how ye like visiting the elk temple, perhaps I can complete yer gift there tonight. If we deal with the frog threat, ye can fly there safely.
"Also, I fear if we delay the hunt too long, the frogs may claim another victim before we get to 'em."
She turns to Ahto and asks, "Ye think the frogman in the south controls the ones in the west? I want to make sure Tyg and Pervalish're safe as well."
As Perlivash offers a few more details about the "frog man," Wonky comes to the decided conclusion that the creature in question is a boggard.
Living in soggy, disease-ridden marshes, boggards are often isolated from other humanoids—a condition that breeds suspicion of foreign visitors, ideas, and technology. This marginalization has distilled their brutality to the point where the strongest members subjugate and often consume their weaker kin. At the top of the food chain stand the boggards' priest-kings (a term that applies to both male and female rulers)—tyrannical prophets who rule over their uneducated subjects.
A boggard's life begins in a spawning pool as one of roughly a dozen gelatinous eggs laid in a frothy clutch. After a month-long gestation, the tadpoles gnaw their way out of their eggs and spend the following 9 months feeding on anything they can find—including weak and unlucky siblings. During this time, the tadpoles grow stubby arms and legs that quickly elongate and strengthen enough for them to crawl out of the pools. This feat isn't enough to secure them a place in boggard society, since caretakers cull the weakest and any showing signs of deformities.
Boggards are extremely fertile, and their culture encourages them to reproduce as often as resources permit. Despite the large number of young, systemic cannibalism keeps the boggard population in check. Boggards embrace this practice as a way of weeding out the weak and empowering the strong, though the fact that even the youngest offspring engage in it suggests cannibalism is instinctive—an expression of the species' ravenous appetite.
In addition to being able to hold their breath for an extended period and possessing a preternatural ability to move through swampy undergrowth, they can use their sticky tongues as a lashing weapon. Lastly, the can issue a terrifying croak - far deeper and more disturbing than any normal frog's call - that has been known to strike fear in the hearts of even hardened warriors. They do not have any particular weaknesses, but their crafts tend to be primitive, and metal tools or weapons are quite rare in their communities.
.....
"We've never seen the frog-man and the other, big frogs together," Tyg says, briefly pausing to giggle as Addy accidentally tickles her cricket-like thorax. "He seems to only keep company with that tusked toad of his. It's an especially ugly thing, too - all pale and purple and slimy. It does seem loyal to him, though. Like a pet or something."
Perlivash also offers a digression about the temple.
"Oh, we don't go to that overgrown temple with the stag's head carved from the rock," he explains. "That cursed bear was reason enough to keep away. No, there's a statue - a different place - further west from the frog-man's lair. It's a man with an elk's head. It's always so nice and peaceful there, and the stone is usually cool, even in summer."
Harmond seems confused by what the Fey creatures are saying "So. There are two totally different and completely unrelated frog men? That seems highly improbable.
"I think there's only one frog man, who is unrelated to the giant frogs that we're hunting." Eunomia looks to Ahto for confirmation. "Is that correct?"
Although the faerie pair are not keen to go poking around the boggy pond where the giant frogs dwell, they offer to guide you towards the boggard's lair. Of course, they make clear their intent to keep a safe distance upon arrival.
For the time being, they invite you to make camp beneath their nests at the riverside, promising both no more pranks and that their home is a safe place. From this base camp, and with the help of these two locals, you quickly finish mapping this stretch of forest. Furthermore, through the night, they chat eagerly with Wonky - easily matching the rapid pace of her thoughts - and help her fill in her charts with details of the surrounding woods.
"There's not much to interest a biggins over there," Perlivash says, indicating the reaches of forest west and northwest of their home.
"Yeah, in fact its kind of dangerous," Tyg adds. "There's this really mean biggins called Breeg. He leaves all sorts of hidden traps and doesn't care who gets caught. He'll even leave animals to suffer before coming back."
However, it has been a couple weeks since Breeg visited the trading post for any supplies. Locals have been speculating, without much concern, whether he's dead.
Addy nods at Tyg's words. "Me Huntress mother warned me o' men like him—in fact, I do recall her mentioning Breeg Orlivanch specifically. It's said he gets his kicks out o' people stumbling into his unmarked traps.
"The name came up at the post, actually. Some grumblings that his absence might mean he's dead. No one seemed broken up about the possibility."
Addy is relieved that mapping unexplored territory keeps others busy, allowing her to craft the doll-sized crop top guilt-free. She whispers to Tyg:
"Thank you for the advice. And for the offer to guide us; it'll be a lot easier to get around with someone who knows where they're going!"
Eunomia frowns at Addy's addition. "Come to think of it, even I've heard of Breeg. Some hunters trading in Mivon were complaining about him. Unmarked traps are a hazard to everyone. Whether he's dead or not, it might be a good idea to go through his normal hunting grounds, carefully, so we can clear out the traps."
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”Perhaps we should investigate Breeg’s condition,” Ahto suggests. ”If anything, he needs to be admonished about marking his traps and the consequences of injuring others through neglect or indifference. We can wait until morning, but if he is nearby, we may as well address him.”
He begins stripping of his armor and his shirt. ”I need to take care of this rash before it gets worse.”
As he removes his shirt, Ahto displays a myriad of old scars overlaid with newer ones from the battles fought over the last several weeks. The oldest bear the same coloration as the spiderweb scar on his cheek and jawline. An angry, red rash covers the backs of his hands, his arms, shoulders, and back.
”Miss Prong, I would be grateful for your assistance in applying the ointment, if you are not otherwise occupied.”
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"Boggards are dangerous but intelligent," Wonky claims suddenly, out of context of the conversation occurring around her. "There are some that wield the divine power of demonic gods..."
Wonky devolves into a drawn-out conversation about boggard culture as she aids Ahto in applying the unguent to his inflamed-appearing rash.
"Living in soggy, disease-ridden marshes, boggards are often isolated from other humanoids—a condition that breeds suspicion of foreign visitors, ideas, and technology. This marginalisation has distilled their brutality to the point where the strongest members subjugate and often consume their weaker kin. At the top of the food chain stand the priest-kings (a term that applies to both male and female rulers)—tyrannical prophets who rule over their uneducated subjects.
The life of a boggard begins in a spawning pool as one of roughly a dozen gelatinous eggs laid in a frothy clutch. After a month-long gestation, the tadpoles gnaw their way out of their eggs and spend the following 9 months feeding on anything they can find—including weak and unlucky siblings. During this time, the tadpoles grow stubby arms and legs that quickly elongate and strengthen enough for them to crawl out of the pools. This feat is not enough to secure them a place in boggard society, since caretakers cull the weakest and any showing signs of deformities.
Boggards are extremely fertile, and their culture encourages them to reproduce as often as resources permit. Despite the large number of young, systemic cannibalism keeps the boggard population in check. Boggards embrace this practice as a way of weeding out the weak and empowering the strong, though the fact that even the youngest offspring engage in it suggests cannibalism is instinctive—an expression of the ravenous appetite inborn within the species.
In addition to being able to hold their breath for an extended period and possessing a preternatural ability to move through swampy undergrowth, they can use their sticky tongues as a lashing weapon. Lastly, they can issue a terrifying croak - far deeper and more disturbing than any normal frog call - that has been known to strike fear in the hearts of even hardened warriors. They do not have any particular weaknesses, but their crafts tend to be primitive, and metal tools or weapons are quite rare in their communities."
After her deposition on boggards, Wonky looks around.
"What are we supping on this evening?"
Later in the night, just prior to heading to bed, Wonky produces the strange rune-stone as she lays in her pack. With either Tyg or Perlivash looking on, Wonky again tries to unlock the myriad secrets promised within it.
Alas, fatigue creeps upon her and the magical secrets allude her mind.
Harmond listens intently to Wonky's description of Boggards. Occasionally he will ask a clarifying question or chime in with conjecture on a point she makes. Its clear he is filing the information away for future use.
After everyone begins settling in for the night, Harmond pulls the stuffed raven from his pack and begins looking over it, inspecting it for any signs of wear and tear. Evidently finding something not quite up to his satisfaction he pulls out a needle and some thread and begins sewing a reinforcing thread into a wing joint. When he is done he lays down, holding the stuffed bird as he drifts off for the night.
"Which do we want to do first? Investigate Breeg or look into the giant frogs? I'd vote for the frogs myself, then perhaps circling by Breeg's area next time we're heading to Oleg's."
Addy seems lost in her own little fairyland as she stitches, measures, glances at the adorable creature before her, and works her fashion magic. But Eunomia's words do register, and as soon as Addy's finished a particularly difficult step, she carefully placed her needle alongside other tools and replies.
"Frogs. That's me vote as well."
She picks up her needle and thread and is blissfully back on-task.
Eunomia settles down for the night. She'll take a watch if one is set, but is confident that the fey creatures mean them no harm and so won't protest everyone getting a good night's sleep for once.
In the morning, she eats breakfast, saddles her horse, and prepares to head towards the frogs.
Once her work is done, Addy dons the silky sleeping gown (along with her bloomers to avoid sending mixed signals in mixed company). Knowing the fey likes the feel of her soft fabric, she invites Tyg to lie on her belly and chat a bit.
Addy is more than happy to share childhood memories of life before her parents struck it rich. With a barbarian dad and Huntress mum, the Lane family lived off the land. Addy would love to know what childhood is like for a grig, and did Tyg grow up in the presence of other winged fey? How did she meet Pervalish? Is it just the two of them living here?
Once it's time to sleep, Addy has the Vixen pray to Milani. She prays for the safety of the fey, the new recruits, Ahto and Wonky, Sams and his mother, Oleg and Svetlana, and of course Ash. The Vixen wants to go to her urgently, sensing danger. But it's all in her head. Ash is fine. The Child didn't grant me a power to sense danger from afar. I'm just worried's all—
—Addy is herself again. She prays to Shelyn, grateful that her art pleased a tiny winged fey. She's lovely! What a dream to serve such a dainty creature! Addy closes her eyes, daring herself to dream all night. There will be no tear-soaked pillow come dawn.
With the two fey as guides, you are able to quickly make your way through the dense forest. They even lead you to an easy crossing of the Thorn River, which presents the first obstacle in the day's travel. After a dozen and a half miles of hiking, you detect a sulfurous, rotten egg smell wafting out as the ground gross marshier and mossier.
"There's a pair of hot springs ahead," Perlivash explains. "If you can get over the smell, they're quite nice for a soak."
"Or they would be, if not for the frogs!" Tyg adds with a huff.
Edging closer through the marshy woods, you find the headwaters of the Skunk River. A large pond sits at the source of the river, flanked by the bubbling hotsprings that the fey spoke of. The thrumming sound of frogs echoes off the surrounding trees as you near, but the algae and lily pads upon the water's surface makes it hard to distinguish logs and rocks from the beasts you pursue.
Eunomia frowns, trying to pick out the shape of frogs in the pond. All she sees are logs and rocks. She whispers to the others, "I can't see anything. Do you know if the frogs are usually lurking here, or do they have other hunting grounds?"
"I don't see 'em, but I think I smell 'em. Do frogs eat hard boiled eggs?"
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"I think that those giant frogs would eat whatever was on offer," Wonky whispers, "including the person offering the eggs."
Sprocket lets out a low growl, its hackles raised. Wonky immediately massages the canine's head and shushes her companion. She then reaches into her bandolier and pulls out two vials, quaffing one, then the second extract, but spitting the second one back into the first vial. With a further practiced motion, the gnomes then procures three gold pieces from her belt pouch, concentrates for a moment, and opens her palm to reveal the gold pieces transformed into golden ammunition pellets. She unshoulders her highly-altered and souped-up stonebow, fits a pellet in place, and holds it while she pulls yet another vial from her bandolier.
She catches the eyes of some of the party members.
"I am almost prepared. I should be able to take out one of the giant amphibians with a single shot," she replies in response to the unasked question.