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Ahto's eyes go wide at Wonky's impulsive decision. He take a moment to collect himself, and then says in a calm, measured tone. "Everyone please keep eyes on Miss Prong. Do not assume someone else in our party is doing so. Should it be necessary to restrain or resuscitate her, we should all be aware of it as soon as possible."
"I'm not sure I want to stay here...and I'm surprised she is willing to after this mushroom-filled fey picked her up!"
She grins at the thoughts in her head and the antics of the woman. When Wonky suggests they camp, Pelipe shrugs.
"I have no objection to that, but maybe a little way outside so we are not impugning upon Elenthe with our music or noise."
Pelipe watches as the little gnome plucks a mushroom and stuffs it in her mouth. Pelipe's face visibly changes to a look of horror. "Please...please...spit it out." she whispers so as to not offend their host who is infatuated with them. "Already you are going to be severely affected by what has come in contact with the skin in your mouth. You have minimal tolerance to it. It is like the yellowcap drug from Andoran but far more potent! You could die!" she forcefully whispers with worry.
She lifts a hand to her face and begins to calculate if there is anything she can do for the gnome if refuses? A purge? A steam bath? Anything that may relieve the physical torment and odd shock her brain is about to go into? If refused, she will seek Lord Ahto's sleeve in a begging manner to cling to as she frets. Clearly, she is worried. At his words, she affirms:
"Please...We must bind her while we can. There is no telling what this mushroom, infused with the power of this tree will do to her. She is going to experience severe hallucinations at the least...and a whole mushroom no less."
"Oh my stars, Wonky..." Katrine gives the gnome a disbelieving look. "Elenthe warned us for a reason! Why?!" Clearly, she hadn't encountered a gnome in Science Mode before this. She turns to the rest of the Tamlyn crew. "Is this normal for her?"
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“Yes.”
"They're amazing, Vixen Addison! Hey! Hey! Care to make a trade? If you can design a pair for me, I can give you an old pair of mine. They're so last season, but they're magical! I just need something to make a splash.
"You'd be surprised how cutthroat the social and fashion scene can be out here," Elenthe sighs with a dismissive, exasperated wave of her hand that sets her moss dress shivering. "Especially in spring when those stuck-up elk come strutting by with their new antlers."
Your first reaction is how unexpectedly sweet the mushroom tastes. Of course, this might just be a chemical "misfire" of your sense of taste rather than an inherent quality in the mushroom.
Your companions suddenly seem to be moving and speaking at approximately three-fifths of their normal speed. The sight strikes you as especially hilarious. What's more, as they speak, you can visualize their words in shades of blue and purple.
Looking past your companions, you can see strange beasts swinging through the trees at normal speed (compared to everything else around you, moving in slow motion). True to Elenthe's words, you are seeing some "wild things."
Nevertheless, the powerful bulwarks of your mind maintain a constant background awareness that what you see and hear are but visual and auditory hallucinations, and you never succumb to a fear that these are real.
Nevertheless, you are thankful that she only ate one mushroom. Given her fluency in alchemy and science, you suspect she has developed at least some tolerance for chemical influences. Her gnomish connection to the fey may also provide some protection.
She will likely experience some vivid hallucinations, followed perhaps by some nausea, but there should be no lasting damage.
"She only ate one. She'll be fine," Elenthe promises. "She may get a bit hungry later, though."
The Vixen replies, “I best find a place to work then.”
She removes her mask. And with that gesture, the Vixen sleeps…
…and the child awakens.
She sits busily with her sketch pad, eyes flitting from dryad to paper, pencil in constant motion.
After several minutes (or maybe an hour—easy to lose yourself when sketching!), she says, “Okay… I’ve your body shape to bear in mind, and your color. If ye like the Vermilion Vixen boots, I can’t make ’em magical like Edna could, but I can make ’em fit ye. A custom fitting session will be part o’ the process.”
She gives Elenthe a chance to study the sketch… it’s the Vixen’s current boots, but the dryad is drawn wearing them.
…then presents two alternatives.
“I call this design Verdant Visco. It combines yer connection to plant life to high society’s latest trends.”
The boots would likely be earthtone; great for dancing.
“Or, ye can divert from the trends and stand out with this retro gladiatrix look.”
This particular design is more like a sandal that straps all the way up the knee.
"Can I see, Vi- uh, Addison?" Katrine isn't exactly a fashionista, but she does enjoy the process of making leather goods, such as boots. And hey, she caught the personality switch and remembered to use the Vixen's other name! Progress!
Addy nods, smiling. She’s too focused to speak, but apparently loves an audience.
Maybe it’s because Katrine is watching that Addy puts more effort into the third design. Her second one is a bore, she’ll admit. Following trends always is.
Her main concern is the little gnome. If she seems to be in control of herself to a degree, the mage will instead just keep an eye on her to make sure she is not wandering and will help out with the others.
Her attention will switch to the work Addison is doing. Pelipe will consult on the shoes of course. It does give her an eye just how to help out as well. She will find a suitable material for a frame and start making an angel wings plant dress that would go well with the boots with white moss as the inner padding liner. Coupled with a blackened vine shrug for cool evenings, she will look fabulous . Pelipe will at times even use magic in the crafting of said dress. When it is finished, it will be up to the wearer to discern whether she enjoys it or not.
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"Well that is simply fantastic." Wonky appears to be twiddling her fingers in mid-air, commenting to herself as she stares with a rapt expression at nothing in specific. She then barks a raucous and sharp laugh, and spurts out: "An excellent point, Ahto, but I was never sure that you were one for leiderhosen!"
She then begins dancing a furious jig with an intensely-serious look on her face, as if the jig had insulted her mother. Coming to an abrupt halt, Wonky turns to a spray of ferns and addresses them.
"My vaunted colleagues and well-met new acquaintances, I do not wish to alarm you, but someone smells of ham. I bring this up because the invisible basilisk feels a bit peckish, and wonders who has cured meat on their person. Murred keat?" Wonky shakes her head.
"The former. Of course, any and all of this, including the breath flowing in and out of my bagpipes, might be a side effect of that little blue mushroom sprouting in my stomach. Regardless or irregardless, if you choose to use the alternative non-existent Taldane word, we all must thank the trees for the wonderful symphony."
Wonky then directs her head straight up and moos as loud as she can, repeatedly, until she goes hoarse.
Addy draws a sketch of Ahto in leiderhosen.
“Uhh,” she gasps, cringing. “Pelipe, any chance ye can Prestidigitally erase that?”
Ye best hope so, YE DUMMY, the Vixen scolds, If that sketch falls in the wrong hands, it’ll be the end o’ Tamlyn!
"I can throw it in a snowbank and the paper will dissolve?" she asks with gritted teeth at the horror before her eyes. "Then just smoosh it around a bit. No more drawing. Or fire...yes, fire works. Prestidigitation will not erase text. I would need to acquire a different scroll for that."
Katrine goes over to her mule and digs a large hardened leather case out of Dusty's load, then brings it back over to where Addy and Pelipe are working. "Okay, I have a full kit of leatherworking tools here... oh my gods, what is that?" She peers down at Addy's sketchbook, eyes wide. Quickly she claps a clawed hand to her mouth, although it can't hide the muffled giggles or the way her shoulders are shaking.
“Burn? Uh… well… Wonky was tripping and I had me pencil, see?”
Addy hears herself in such a fluster and just laughs.
“Oh, this is gonna be fun! I definitely can’t pull this off without yer leather working tools and talent, Katrine. And Pelipe, that’s an amazing dress design! I’d be intimidated if I were still in the business!”
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Ahto has a lingering suspicious that the antics of his companions might be them having a laugh at his expense. However, he is also reasonably certain that the humor is good natured, and not intended to malign him or undermine his position. He decides to act as if he hasn't noticed, and when they move on to designing clothing for their host, he takes the time to engage her in the originally intended conversation.
"Lady Elenthe, are you aware of what became of the unicorn, Horace, several months ago?"
Addy’s oh-my-goodness eyes narrow. Her laughing stops. She stows her sketchbook…
For a brief moment, she is quiet.
For a brief moment, she is nobody.
A palm smothers the battlemask back onto its own face.
There’s an emerald glint in the eyeholes—the Vixen has awakened.
“Playtime’s over, ladies. I best be in on the conversation. I’ve left the murdered unicorn unavenged for far too long.”
Katrine's giggles abruptly stop. "Wait a minute, what? Who murdered a unicorn?" She scowls, obviously displeased.
“It’s like the soul just came out o’ his body. It lay there, bloodless. Beautiful.” The Vixen relives the discovery in net mind. She’s used to reliving traumatic moment.
Oh, VV, why?? the Child moans, and please don’t say—
“Yet, somehow we knew he wasn’t sleeping.”
—that.
“We’ve been trying to earn the fey's trust enough that they’ll talk. I don’t mean like they ain’t cooperating or that Horace wasn’t dear to ’em. They’re terrified.”
"Oh, my!" Elenthe exclaims at news of the unicorn's death. "That certainly explains why he's three months, two weeks, five days, and eleven hours late for our tea date. I guess I can finally dump out the tea now. It's probably grown cold by now."
The willow dryad listens intently to the description of the condition of Horace's body, occasionally tilting her head in idle curiosity. All the while, she puts away a stone tea set, painted green with moss and lichens. Rather than carefully tucking them away in some cupboard, she casually flings them into the bog at the foot of her tree.
"I don't know of anyone with the power to do something like that to a body," Elenthe responds. "I don't think even the Stroud Sisters could pull that off."
The Vixen reacts as if there is nothing rude at all about the reactions. This is because she doesn’t think the oddities are rude at all, or at least not intended to be.
“The Stroud Sisters. Ye care to tell me about ’em? I trust ye mean they ain’t suspects, but… the way ye said the name, I feel like they’re famous in certain circles. I may want to get to know ’em.”
It is strange that the conversation shifts so dramatically. To such a strange topic too. While she finishes her dressmaking, the mage listens to the others speak. She racks her brain to think of some magical effect that could do such a thing, and if it would be willingly done, or if it would more likely be done by force.
"Perhaps a parasitic soul spell, or a transfer spell was at play? Strange...Three months you say? I wonder if the body is destroyed? If not, perhaps a stasis spell or something of that kind could have been at work?" "Then again, maybe they didn't understand what they saw? Well...they do seem educated enough to understand what was before their eyes...no need to doubt that."
She is mostly muttering to herself in thought.
"Oh, the Strouds are so prescient about fashion! I only wish their visits weren't so rare."
Elenthe's description requires some piecing together, aided by your collective knowledge, but it leads you to a chilling conclusion. The Stroud Sisters are a trio of green hags - triplets, born from an ogre father. Their names are Elspeth, Mairghread, and Demelza, who acts as matriarch.
"They mostly keep to their home in the Ditches, except when they go 'a courtin' - looking for strapping men to expand their family. You better watch yourself, darling," Elenthe playfully cautions Ahto.
Melianse practically leaps forward to also question the dryad.
"Have they been out this way recently? How often do they travel eastward?" the nixie asks pointedly.
"Oh, they only make their migration about...I'd say every other mortal generation or so....Oh my! Is it that time again already? Has another would-be lord risen?" Elenthe asks excitedly, clapping her hands together.
“I think she means we’re predictable. Those with longer lifespans see the pattern of us humans. A predator can work the pattern to take advantage of his prey.”
VV’s tone does not reflect resentment toward longer-living races. But she states this as if it’s a fact, or a firmly held belief.
The Vixen wears a mask around her eyes, but her lips are also a mask. They tighten to show she’s an unfeeling living weapon of Milani.
But you noticed the way her lips curled. She’s in pain. Her attempt to hide this emotion is well-rehearsed.
And she said “his prey.”
Katrine stiffens as Elenthe mentions green hags, scowling. She absently reaches back to touch her compound bow. "They're hags. They exist to cause pain and suffering to others. Tamlyn is like a sapling tree right now; given time it will grow to be strong, but right now it's vulnerable. And green hags can make themselves look like anyone of roughly human size." Which is why Katrine has Issues, with a capital I. "Do you know if any of these hags spend time in the south? Say, in Cordelon?"
"Vixen does have a point.
"Oh...she's...she's troubled. In pain."
Now Pelipe's eyes follow VV for a bit before she asks the question, "Has anyone rode out to meet them in the past?"
The Vixen snaps her mind back into the present, her lips expressing sympathy (instead of nothing) as her focus turns to someone else’s problems.
“Ye seem to know much about green hags, Katrine. Fortunately, I happen to know much about fashion—and that seems to be the case for Pelipe.
“I’m sure vanity’ll be the sisters’ tell. I mean, a true fashionista’d rather be caught naked than caught dead in an outfit that don’t suit her…” The Vixen pauses. She looks down at her current outfit. She looks pissed. “…tastes,” she mutters through her teeth.
“This mithril pantsuit will be redesigned before the next moon. I’ll try not to die in it in the meantime.”
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Wonky has waded waist-deep into the bog and seems to be conducting a symphony from the swarming midges and mosquitoes humming around her. Sprocket and Doo-dad stand at the shore, whining in concern.
"Five thrice and a bag of rice will save your mice from the artifice of a coven of hags." It seems that she is still somewhat listening.
"Of course they care! Of course it matters!" Elenthe responds to Ahto, in a tone not dissimilar to reassuring a child.
"It's as dependable as the seasons," she states dreamily, waving her hand wistfully towards the boughs of her tree. "A new lord or lady always comes along, plants their roots, grows their crop...and then the Strouds migrate out from the Ditches to do the reaping."
Elenthe turns sharply towards Katrine.
"Cordelon?" the dryad asks quizzically. "I don't know. I've never heard of the place. I suppose they might travel from the Ditches to Cordelon, especially if it's known for strong, virile men."
The dryad then spins about to face Pelipe.
"Well, if anyone's ever ridden out to meet them, they never came back to tell me about it. They'd find quite the welcoming party. The Strouds are very fertile and have built up a sizeable family. They have about a dozen brutish sons at their beck and call. They also have big ol' Brother Grunt! Birthing him must have been an ordeal."
"That actually sounds scary. I know she's trying to make it seem not so...but hags are generally not friendly, so I wonder if this is the mushrooms talking, she likely thinks this way about all life, or maybe my perceptions about hags are a bit generalized. I suppose I've never met them to say personally, but even she said that none have ever ridden out who have come back..."
Pelipe smiles and kindly nods to Elenthe. Part of her is worried that Ahto may wish to go there.
"So, Lord Ahto, are you in pursuit of the one who may have done this to ...was it Horace?" "and if so, are you so much so that it will take priority over the River Kingdoms?" she thinks as she tries to gauge his character.
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”Horace was a First Citizen, and he was murdered,” Ahto replies matter-of-factly. ”Justice must be served upon the guilty. I am also concerned about these hags’ proclivity for rape. If they find men willing to lie with them of their own accord, that is one matter, but to use magic to deceive or compel them into doing so is little different from holding a knife to their throats. They should be forewarned of the penalties for rape and murder in Tamlyn. Perhaps they will find such information instructive.”
The Vixen contemplates the season comment.
“Kingdoms rise and fall all the time, don’t they. We humans try building to last, but… ye’ve seen that play out o’er and o’er.
“Elenthe… did ye know Baron Orlack, or of him?” She’ll mention she’s wearing his armor, if it helps jog the memory. Else, she’d rather not talk about her state of dress.
Despite the seriousness of the conversation as well as VV's witnessed pain, throwing a monkey wrench into the mix is Wonky, whose comments force Pelipe to cover her mouth and smile with a hand. "Be serious! Oh, you cookey gnome. I'm glad she'll be okay," she thinks as she scrounges up some nuts and bits of scrap from her rations to give to the girl. Pelipe will not trust to give it to her yet, and instead, focuses on the conversation.
"That's admirable...I agree," she replies to Ahto. "He doesn't look at them from the eyes of justice from a human perspective. A human ruler normally upon hearing of hags in his land, would seek to wipe them out, not bring justice upon them and give them a chance. Even in this, he is in alignment with society, even with those most would consider monsters. I wonder what has led him to be so progressive?" Pelipe lightly nibbles the inside of her lip in thought while listening to Elenthe, but her eyes are focused loosely on Ahto.
The Vixen smiles at what she thinks she noticed, but says nothing of it.
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Ahto is glad the Pelipe seems to agree with his interpretation of Law. He has also noticed the signs that she may be becoming interested in him. This surprises him. He clearly did not expect someone a physically beautiful as Pelipe to find him attractive. He isn't sure how to proceed, if he should make some sort of overture, or just leave the situation as it is. He is out of his depth when it comes to relationships of this sort.
Ahto covers his mouth as if to cough, but merely clears his throat. He flushes just slightly, clears his throat again, then says "I believe we need to pay a visit to the Strouds before we continue with our original errand. Are there any objections to doing so?"
"Will the visit involve arrows? Blades? Spells, perhaps?" Katrine looks hopeful. And more than slightly bloodthirsty. "You should probably know, Ahto... and the rest of you..." She takes a deep breath. Clearly, this is difficult for her to talk about. "A green hag pretended to be my stepmother, returned early from a hunting trip. That's how she got him to sleep with her. Nine months later, Pa and Ma found me on their doorstep."
The ranger looks down, clawed fingers buried in her wolfdog's ruff. "So. Not only did the hag rape him, I've felt her calling to me off and on over the years. I know what will happen if I succumb, or if she finds and overpowers me. She'll turn me into another hag." Katrine's voice wavers. "That's why I have to find and kill her first. Maybe then I can have some peace."
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”We do not know if one of the Strouds is the hag who deceived your father. I understand your strong feelings on this matter, but there is no greater injustice than executing someone for a crime they did not commit. If, however, the Strouds and their spawn attack us, I have no qualms about slaying them in battle, and neither should any of you. If they behave with civility, we will question them about their interactions with Horace, issue our warnings, and depart peacefully and without bloodshed. We have worked too hard to win the trust of the First Citizens to ruin it with an unprovoked attack on ones their blood, however questionable their reputations.”
He gives Katrine a look that he hopes conveys sympathy for her anger. ”Do not despair, Katrine. The hag that wronged you and your family will be brought to justice. You will have my support in this matter.”
“Ye’ve me support as well, Katrine. Should we cross the hag that calls to ye, will ye know it’s her, despite her apparent ability to guise herself.”
In the form of her father’s wife. He didn’t know.
"Oh! That reminds me!" Elenthe exclaims. She attempts to bolt away, but Melianse grabs her by the arm and stops her. The nixie speaks to her in low, guarded whispers.
Melianse interrupts Elenthe, pushing two fingers against the dryad's lips.
"If our mortal friends know her name, it will bring them ruin. If I can confirm that she's not involved, I might be able to keep them safe."
Elenthe pulls herself away from Melianse, and looks back towards the party with a bubbly giggle.
"Let me go get those shoes for you, darling!" the dryad calls to the Vixen before bounding away to the twisted, exposed roots of a broad cypress tree. She begins fishing around among the roots before finally fishing out something wrapped in a moldering blanket.
In a flash, she is back beside the Vixen. Elenthe holds out the gift, a giddy smile upon her face. Unwrapping the dirt-caked blanket, you find a pair of boots made from a strange red leather.
"Horace picked these up for me many years ago. They're made from real pyrohydra hide!" she boasts. "They were the most stylish footwear in the Slough for many seasons, but alas, they've become too blasé. They can't compare to what you've been putting together!"
Pelipe will cross her arms about her as she holds the snack in one hand. The cold wintery wind blows her hair and she now must face the chilling potential that she could very well die at the hands of these hags. Will they see her as brave? Is she brave? The thoughts have torn away from all contemplation toward Ahto now toward her inner self. She hears Melianse speaking but repels the intention to listen in favor of sorting out her inner conflicts and fears.
In a moment's time, she will pipe up to Elenthe of all people. That is, when her sidebar conversation and retrieval of the boots are finished.
"Well...I hope we are going to be one of the few groups of people to ever go visiting and to return. Elenthe, do you by chance have any insight on how to get there safely? And...insight into a way that might make our potential hosts less keen to attack us at the onset?"
By the time the Vixen has her new boots laced up, Wonky is face down in the water.
“Oh, Wonky, why?” She dashes to the rescue, moving notably faster than usual. She helps Wonky up, and says something to her as a distraction. “Ye can’t drown to death and watch me acrobatic trick at the same time.”
Despite swampy ground, she performs an aerial—and her form is perfect!
When she lands it, the Vixen feels a lot better about the mithril pantsuit. She’ll still need to design a whole new look, but she’s more excited about it.
Katrine scowls for a moment, then lets out a long sigh. "Well, I see how you got your job, Ahto. Fair and just to a fault." She gives him a halfhearted smile. "I'll behave myself as long as the Strouds do, don't worry. And thank you for your support. I appreciate it."
Turning to the Vixen, all Katrine can do is shrug. "The only way I'll know if it's the hag who birthed me is if she calls to me. I'm thinking she probably will, though. The call... it makes you want to come." She grimaces. "So she'll probably try that in order to avoid a fight."
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Ahto nods. "We will not let you be taken. Any such compulsion will be viewed as an act of aggression, and will be dealt with severely."
He turns to the others. "I suggest we wait long enough for the worst of Miss Prong's hallucinations to pass. If the hags' witchcraft hinges on illusion and enthrallment, she will be more susceptible in her current state."
VV replies, “It’s for the best we stay a bit. I’ve gotta work to earn me new boots.”
He turns to the others. "I suggest we wait long enough for the worst of Miss Prong's hallucinations to pass. If the hags' witchcraft hinges on illusion and enthrallment, she will be more susceptible in her current state."
"Yes...and then feed her...," she replies with a delightful chuckle. At some point, for science purposes, she will still gather fragments of a blue mushroom to experiment with at some later date and she will make notes of what she is seeing from the moment of cutting to collection.
The good news is that Elenthe brags about the plethora of materials available in her grove. The bad news is that much of this includes the likes of willow branches, cat tail reeds, swamp moss, and scavenged bits of hide and leather from unusual creatures that have drowned in the swamp. Even if she offers older items from her wardrobe, ones made from actual cloth and fabrics, to be recycled into new designs, this still poses a unique challenge for the design-minded members of the party.
Meanwhile, Wonky's body proves to share at least some of her mind's resilience. The more vivid hallucinations wane in about two hours, and her words begin to make more sense. Nevertheless, the magister rides a "buzz" into night that does not truly fade until the party rises on the morrow.