The invisible Vixen whispers, “Hope this ain’t too awkward a position for ye. And thanks for taking the enlarge potion so I don’t have to. After getting me o’ersized butt kicked by a tree, I figure I fight better as me dainty self.
“Oh, and clock’s ticking on yer Big Time, so forgive the following outburst:
she shouts at the water.
The party tromps through the marshy water that rings the shallow edges of the Tuskwater. It is no more than knee high for most of the party, except for the towering Lord Ahto, for whom it is merely ankle deep, and Wonky, who rides atop the hulked out Sprocket once she has laid out all of her spells.
Wonky espies the massive shell of the beast, tucked among some rocks in the pool where the turtle might have easily been missed as just another bumpy stone. There is a slight stirring of the silt as the large turtle rouses itself to greet its intruders.
Seeing the turtle's massive shell Harmond flares his cloak, spinning it in a dramatic fashion chanting arcane words. In the cloaks wake, there stands a small water elemental ready to do his bidding.
"Hello little fellow. That turtle over there is a problem. Can you help us stop it?" with that, the elemental zooms off to engage the turtle.
The elemental's watery fists merely splash against the massive turtle's rigid shell. However, as the cantankerous beast retaliates, its own jaws chomp harmlessly through the watery wisps at the elemental's side.
The invisible Vixen maintains her balance—
—and leaps off Ahto’s shoulder to strike!
She appears as she strikes, and looks about as intimidating as a girl can with two giants towering over her.
|
Wonky casts a spell!
Sprocket and the gnome continue to hang back. Wonky positions her ammunition in place in her now-gleaming stonebow and closes her eyes. When she opens them, strange dark streaks run across her face around her eyes, like tiger stripes. Her green eyes now possess a cat's-eye appearance.
Ahto's sword catches along the hooked, steely ridges along the side of the turtle's shell.
The blade bites into the shell but does not reach the beast's actual flesh.
With the added momentum gained from leaping from Ahto's shoulder, the Vixen's falling kick drives her heel into the turtle's broad head.
Using magic to best the armor-like shell, Eunomia releases a pair of magic missiles to wrack the beast with pain.
Unbeknownst to the party, over the course of Old Crackjaw's long, ornery life, the predatory turtle has developed a particular fondness for the taste of gnome flesh. Thus, it slips beneath the lake's surface and glides through the water to accost Wonky and Sprocket.
Of course, the party would never let such a frightening affront go unanswered.
“Hey! None o’ that s*!*!”
She then holds her action until Giant Ahto strikes—“Nice hit!”—and gives the beast a swift kick in the behind!
Slam, Pa: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (2) + 5 - 1 = 6
Damage: 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
-----------------------
"Miss Prong, watch out!"
Harmond sends his elemental to chase the turtle before pointing his wand at it and shooting off a bolt of acid.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The gauntlet of blows that the massive turtle swims through greatly weakens the beast. Another leaping, charging kick from the Vixen causes the turtle to reel, leaving it a prime target for Harmond's magic. The ray of acid burns through the turtle's weakened shell and eats through its vulnerable innards, slaying the nasty creature just before it can reach Wonky.
Old Crackjaw, a beast that many fishermen once considered indestructible, has been slain.
|
|
Wonky, dead-eye focused on Old Crackjaw, exhales slowly as the turtle sinks beneath the waves. She releases the tension on the trigger of her stonebow and looks up at the gathered group.
"A truly fearsome beast - respect should be given to the primal forces at play here." Wonky closes her eyes and whispers to herself spiritually.
“Well, I guess ye should lug the carcass while ye’ve the extra muscle. Damn shame we had to do that, but its taste for gnomes was so powerful, it tried to go after Wonky while under attack. Gotta put down a beast when its taste for blood endangers people, as Mother said.
“Ye all know by now Mother’s a Huntress. But expertise on nature ain’t hereditary.” She turns to the one person she thinks knows far more about animals than Mrs. Lane. “That normal, Wonky? Say I’m confronting thugs, and while two or three’re beating me, hitting me real hard to the extent me life’s on the line, it turns out they’ve enlisted the help of an animated glass o’ merlot. So I say, to hell with these wankers. I’ll get me a swig o’ that wine.
“Ain’t that what just happened? The beast ignored us to target you.”
VV has a thought on why that could be, but if Wonky says that’s actually normal, the Vixen will just trust Wonky’s expertise.
|
|
Wonky looks at Vixen with a cocked eye.
"I do not know if this monstrous turtle had an overwhelming 'taste for gnomes', as you put it, Vixen, but it did appear to be coming for me and Sprocket. It could have had a 'taste for dogs'. Regardless of what it had an obsession with, it ran the gauntlet towards Sprocket and me, ultimately spelling its doom. I confess that I have not made a study of terrapins, but it would be fascinating to do so."
The sound of splashing water grows louder, but fortunately you see that it is merely Arven tromping his way through the shallows to reclaim his secret fishing spot. He alternates between whooping and hollering to celebrate your victory and hurling jeers at the dead turtle as Ahto begins to clean and dress the carcass.
While Ahto dresses the turtle Harmond keeps an eye on the surroundings, not having the stomach for the more gruesome aspects of butchery.
Eunomia barely has to raise her hands before the fight is over. "Good work, everyone!" She smiles at Arven. "I'm glad we were able to reclaim your favorite spot without too much difficulty. And we definitely won't tell anyone where it is."
She then joins Harmond in checking around the lake.
The Vixen isn’t very good with chopping felled beasts, despite what The Child has grown used to. She joins Harmond and Eunomia.
“Ye see something out there? Maybe a giant fish or something?”
As Sprocket ferries her across the shallow water, Wonky's eyes - quick as her mind - spot something half-buried in the mud along the pool's southern shore. It appears to be some sort of blue stone or gem, just big enough to fill the palm off her hand.
The Vixen says aloud, “Ooh, pretty!” And to herself, Don’t these things *ever* come in red?
The object proves to be a small blue-green gemstone, two or three inches in diameter. When removed from the pool's mucky bottom, while the mud sloughs away, the droplets of water move in strange eddies across the surface of the gem.
After a few minutes of study, you are able to identify this magic gem. This is an elemental gem - specifically one attuned to water.
When crushed or broken, such a gem will conjure forth a large water elemental that will obey the one who broke the gem.
|
Ahto stops his butchering, shakes some of the blood and skin from his hands, and walks over to see what Wonky has discovered.
"Is it an item of power?" Ahto wonders aloud, grasping his Key and calling upon Abadar's power. He focuses it upon the gem in Wonky's hands.
"It has power," he confirms, "although I am not certain as to that power's purpose."
"It's definitely magic, but I'm also not sure what kind." Eunomia studies the gem for a moment, then shakes her head. "Not anything I've run across to be sure. It's probably valuable though; almost all magic items are. Good job finding it, Wonky! That couldn't have been easy to spot a blue gem hiding in the water."
Harmond comes over and looks. "Let me see...
He pulls out a pair of spectacles and begins looking over the stone
After a few moments he takes the glasses off and puts them away.
"Its an elemental gem! If you crush it you can summon a water elemental to serve you for a short time."
Arven, having tromped through the muddy shallows to rejoin the party, whistles in amazement.
"That's quite some prize! And you rightly earned it, too. I'll be glad to have my fishing spot back. Them eels practically crawl all over each other to get at this pond. 'course, that's probably why that damned turtle liked it, too.
"But who's gonna be dining on who now?" he shouts tauntingly at the partially stripped turtle carcass. "Oh! Afore I forget!"
He pries an ivory ring from his knotted finger, grunting and snorting before finally getting it lose. He then holds it out as the promised payment.
"I found that in a pike's stomach. It's magic, too, you know? I found out by dumb luck. I was climbing back up one of them narrow trails leading up the cliffs back to Horace when I took a bad fall. I thought I was good as dead, but I found myself floating down all easy like, just like a feather. I hope it'll save your life, too. Not to say that I'm hoping you take a fall or nothing."
Vix takes a look at the ring. “Oh, that does sound like fun! So ye… just put it on, and ye can leap off a rooftop or a cliff and make the landing?”
|
|
Ahto accepts the ring on behalf of the group, placing it in his pouch until the Council agrees upon its dispensation.
”Would you like a share of the turtle meat, Master Arven? It’s quite a load as it stands, and a magical ring is a generous price for this work. Consider it a small refund of a sort.”
"Why yes. Thank you!" Arven crows jovially when offered a share of the kill. "What'll you do with the shell? I reckon it could make a fine trophy, or even some manner of shield or armor."
A few minutes later, Arven broaches a different subject.
"I hear you're putting together some kind of winter festival. A lot of my fellows, friends and friendly rivals alike, are looking forward to it. I know I am. The cold months have always been a bitter time in this already bitter land. Just as much as the walls and roofs going up, this'll be a sure sign that things are getting better around here."
The Vixen replies on The Child’s behalf, “Yes, there’ll be a Crystalhue celebration. It’s gonna be…”
VV isn’t about to promise anything specific, but one this is certain:
“…like nothing any man, woman or fey’s ever seen! Guess I’ll be running security, but a part o’ me looks forward to just enjoying the show.”
|
|
"That is our hope: A stable, just, and prosperous nation," Ahto replies. "The Crystalhue celebration will be a compensatory recess from the labors that have moved so quickly towards that goal."
"As for the shell, I am sure Ms. Prong and some of our artisans will make good use of it." He hands Arven one of the spines. "Keep this as a momento of the beast, and show it whenever you tell the story of this day."
"Hmm, so many possibilities," he hums happily, examining the spine. "It would make a good necklace. Or maybe I could work it into a prow for my skiff?"
For now, the fisherman stows the prize in his worn, stained satchel.
"Just gotta hope nothing else decides to move in and wallow in my fishing spot. Fortunately, the Tuskwater's never been known for lake monsters - save for our late, shelled friend here - but you never know what will come crawling out of these lands."
If not during the battle then surely during the dissection, Wonky identifies "Old Crackjaw" as a hookjaw turtle: a much larger, much more aggressive relative of the alligator snapping turtle. Unsurprisingly, they tend to be apex predators in watery environments where they take up residence.
With the matter of the carnivorous turtle settled, Arven invites the party to reembark his skiff so he can sail you back to Horace.
"Gotta get you back safe and sound so you can finished putting that festival together." he announces jovially.
"Thank you Arven." Eunomia bows her head, a genuine gesture of respect. "I'd appreciate the ride back; I certainly don't want to have to swim across the lake!"
The last few days before Crystalhue bring a flurry of activity. Indeed, the population of Horace swells as visitors, hailing from the frontiers of the Stolen Lands or the hamlets of southern Rostland, arrive in anticipation of the festival. It soon becomes apparent that your friends and colleagues have done a bit of work advertising on your behalf.
At the trading post, Svetlana has spread word of the festival to traders and travelers passing along the South Rostland Road. Jhod Kavken spoke of it to his Erastilian parishioners who live on the fringes of Tamlyn. Paval send invites to some of his contacts in Restov. And of course, the fey have invited every friend, kin, and cousin they could find.
Long-lost friends even make an appearance. Not just the former indentures who earned their freedom, but none other than Kalima and Aurelius, Aris, and even Sams and his dear mother arrive to share a spot of winter cheer with the rulers of Tamlyn.
As the big event draws near, Addy looks over the program listing all the players and their roles in the performance.
She also has something else on her mind. She tries to get a moment alone with Eunomia.
The gathered fey performers have practiced vigorously, and their sound has improved to something pleasing to both fey and mortal ears. Tyg leads the group with her harp, an instrument she claims to have made herself from a curved branch and thylacine whiskers. She is accompanied by Snickerdoodle the pooka, who plays a fiddle, and the sprites Ainsel and Toughnut as singers.
They have also brought along homemade berry juice, which seems to be a greater point of pride for them than their musical abilities. Even though it was not fermented, the juice still smells quite strong.
Regarding human performers, Miss Tremaine has brought along her troupe of courtesans ready to demonstrate their musical talents. The lone male of the group, Dariel, plays lute. Nell and Edwina (whom her colleagues call "Abbs") will perform as vocalists. Tomi, who gives her official name as Jalene, plays the Tian instrument known as a samisen. Lastly, Miss Tremaine herself will perform a dance with her colleague, Lenore, whom she's been teaching.
Addy looks over at all of her gorgeous performers. If they wanted costumes, those are all ready by now. Addy is wearing hers now—not her usual vermilion red, white and black.
She is wearing white, and her dress is like a body wrap. Her defined abs are exposed as well as her shoulders and much of her right breast. Addy wears a rainbow sash, a rainbow scarf, white fingerless gloves… and her dress flows down her legs in lacy layers. The right side is down past the knee while the left is bared almost from the hip.
And no stilettos. She’s barefoot! She does actually carry a weapon, however: her bow, and the feathers are dyed in seven different colors. (Oddly, red is the color repeated twice, not thrice.) All of her nails are painted the same colors as her arrows.
Her hair is dyed teal and gold, with the left side still natural red and, dangling past her right ear is a fuchsia braid. A wreath of colored feathers worn in her hair forms Shelyn’s symbol.
Addy speaks Sylvan and, if no translator is available for those who don’t speak Sylvan, she intermittently repeats her words in the common tongue.
<Ye’re all so incredibly gorgeous and talented! And what you’re doing for me goddess, and yeah—for this capital, for yerselves, for bringing fey and humanity together… I never could’ve dreamed this possible. And really, I didn’t make this possible. You did.
<I’m just lucky to’ve met the right friends.>
Addy is generous with hugs, including one for Dariel. A gentler touch is given to the tiniest of fey, who know by now that sitting on her shoulder, head, lap, hand… it’s all allowed. This is the first time Addy’s ever worn an outfit that makes diving into her cleavage possible. She’s pretty sure that won’t happen, but if it does, she’s mentally prepared to roll with what is probably considered innocent humor to a sprite.
Miss Tremaine is not innocent at all, and so once her speech is over, Addy asks if she can talk to Miss Tremaine alone.
|
|
"I hope that there is still room for one more performer!" Wonky announces, walking proudly into the tent where the performers have gathered. The gnome appears to be dressed in a smart-looking waistcoat dyed green, her hair done up in her signature messy bun. In front of her, the gnome pushes a metal contraption covered partially by a stained and shoddy-appearing sheet. Her eyes twinkle.
"Oh no, not me!" Wonky puts her fingers to her lips and whistles.
A rhythmic jingling noise prefaces the entrance of Sprocket into the throng of performers, looking more different than ever before. His bulky muscular form has been packaged into a shiny, green-and-gold-lined, leather-and-fabric costume fringed with dozens of smell bells. Over his eyes, the jolly-looking canine wears golden-tinted goggles. A plume of green feathers sprouts from a skullcap somehow affixed to his head, and a brilliant purple cape dangles from the rolls of muscle at his haunches, trailing lightly along the ground as he greets the well-wishers with a stiffly-wagging tail.
"We are so excited for all of your performances!" Wonky claps her hands, rolling up onto the balls of her feet.
For all the intolerance the Vixen seems to have of animals, it seems Addison adores them. “Oh! We’ll make this work—the most fashionable dog ever!
“And Wonky, will you still have your pyrotechnic display? I believe it’s scheduled, but I’m flexible… we could even have three sets instead of two, with a dog show after the fey, then fireworks after the humans, then a final set of fey and human performers.
“Oh… and if things appear tight, I can shorten my speech. Do the world a favor, right?”
Addison says this in good humor. And did she just actually pet the dog? Does she even care that there’s fur on her hem?
Addy has her schedule in hand, and in her other hand a pencil mere inches away.
—which she withdraws as soon as Wonky speaks.
“Oh! Awesome! Then I don’t need to change a thing!”