The first essence, taken from the Ursikka, disappears into the buckler's surface and the wood--still bearing the look of healthy, living material even after so long--takes on a faint tinge of blue. Running his fingers across the change in color, Garidan is startled to discover that the wood has become cold to the touch in a way that is somehow separate and discernibly distinct from the ambient temperature itself. His trained eye, aided by his sister's inherited skill, tells him that the buckler is fortified by magic, but he's not quite certain what that change in the wood's temperature signifies (though he does note that the spot where his hand lingers hasn't warmed in the slightest).
Frowning, he shakes his head and concentrates as the second essence is absorbed. It requires only a moment of inspection to reveal what the buckler is now capable of, as the surface swiftly reforms until it resembles that of his breastplate, or more specifically, the smooth portions where a spell formula could be added. Curious to know if his hunch is correct, the swashbuckler runs his fingers across the wood and feels the faint tingle that he's come to associate with the activation of a spell from his armor. Still, it doesn't feel quite the same, and he wonders at what the possible difference could be.
But such mysteries are best investigated when there's time, for the party still has things to accomplish and requires sleep if they are to do them well (and Garidan is once again grateful for that brick of tea, whose properties are invaluable). After a final check of their equipment, and repacking his alchemy lab for travel, the last thing that Garidan does before crawling into his bedroll is use a bit of twine to carefully bind the griffon's feather to his armor, out of sight where it will be protected from the usual sorts of things his armor--and its wearer--is subjected to.
Truk'tosh listens carefully as she tells the Bone Mother's tale. He'd heard it dozens of times as a child but it remained one of his favorites.
After a long moment of reflection, he only nods. "You give me much to think about sister."
Following the direction that Niyut pointed, Verthag leads the group down the well trodden road. After two long marches, the orc pauses when Niyut indicates that the staff is due east when the road turns northeast. "Let's get some food before we enter the forest. More beasts will roam under the trees while they avoid the Nightblood's road." Verthag eats by himself, sitting with his back against a gnarled tree. The air is thick and heavy, filled with moisture and the sounds of birds in the distance. A peace settles over everyone as they eat.
As the next march progresses, the light of the stars dims as the canopy of trees grow slightly thicker. What little sky can be seen grows increasingly cloudy. The birds have stopped their chatter..." a long-silent voice echoes in Truk'tosh's head. A brisk wind sweeps through the forest.
As the others eat, Niyut sits, listens to the birds, and thinks. Life. There is so much life in the First Lands. Even with the Soulbleed gnawing at the Dreaming. Despite the darkness, life still thrives here. When we return to the lowlands we should discover a way to restore the life there as well. The world experienced darkness before, but there was no mass extinction. Something must be wrong.
The three casters exhale simultaneously. Seven hours had passed like a flash. They were both exhausted and energized to have seen the power of the Ether swell under their influence. Malthazir turns to look at the young wizard. Raektov sits quietly in the corner, scribbling notes in a journal. He looks up, "amazing..." he whispers.
”Keep your weapons close”, Truk’tosh warns in a low voice. ”Danger is near. The forest is too still.”
It’s been a long time since I heard your voice. Has something made you weaker?
Malz commands his devil ooze, and in an instant is gone.
The clouds part in a violent explosion of heat from a fiery orb. Niyut shields her eyes. As she pulls away her hands, the oracle sees a vast mud field piled with brittle bones and broken armor. The ground shakes and water trickles down a barrow mound, pooling in a coral white shield at its base. Just as the water brims the shield's edge, a tidal wave erupts lifting and tossing Niyut until she lands upon the firm earth. She opens her eyes to see a burnt forest, the sun baking the earth.
A withered hand lays a tiny child in a hole within the ashen ground. Its arms and legs strung like a marionette. It cries until covered with loose dirt. From the earth where the child was buried, a vine emerges and entangles Niyuts arms and wraps about her waist. Niyut struggles as the vine lifts her into the sky. Lightning streaks dance across the backdrop of night. Flashing all around her. Streaking past her naked form. She holds her arms across her face, palms exposed to protect herself from the storm. Sleet pounds the oracle. She begins to go numb from the cold and feels her soul lift from her body as she felt before in Bærwynnd's tower. Ice forms on her extremities. Frozen chains of energy lock her hands and feet in place. She cannot move. She cannot speak. She cannot summon the ether.
Suddenly, she feels her brother's presence... Weapon's close... His voice is near. ...danger... She takes his strength. Be still... She looks inward, searching for peace. Silent and still she stretches out her hands and takes hold of the cold, cyrstal manacles. Their icy edge slices the tendons of her hands. Through blinding pain, she calls upon all of her strength and shatters the bonds. Ethereal energy erupts and disperses the clouds about her. Niyut looks down. The sun shines brightly upon the fertile earth below her. Rivers flow freely as life returns. Niyut smiles and feels at peace. Looking down, she sees a lifeless body laying in a field of blossoms.
The vision ends.
Truk’tosh is comforted by Morgrym’s return. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with another sharing his flesh but the dwarven spirit had become a companion in his own way.
Bizarre? Is the First Lands that alien to you? I’ve heard tales of the deep places the dwarves delve. Our home cannot be that exotic by comparison.
Some of the spirit blessed of Niyut has heard have been blessed with visions. That had never been her gift. Some said it is one that comes with age. Her gifts had always lay with seeing spirits and interacting with them. She had hoped her vision would contain some clue on how the lowlands could survive in the dark. But if it did, she did not recognize it. Upon first reflection it seems merely a jarring set of images connected to the Primal planes.
It frustrated her. It's not like she didn't know that the world had been knocked askew from its hinges.
But visions require interpretation. Interpretation for which she had not been trained. Not for the first time, Niyut misses her mother.
With Truk'tosh giving warning, Garidan sighs and readies himself for who knows what to come. Rapier in hand, he elects to wait and see what the threat is before making use of his more restricted assets, such as his armor's magic. Eyes shifting from one spot to the next in the growth around them, he addresses the half-orc. "Don't suppose you know what the danger could be? Animal, weather, or something else?"
Perception
+2 with familiar
Initiative
+8 with swashbuckler initiative
Domain power use.
The group moves in relative silence looking about the forest as they hustle down the road. Raektov looks at Malthazir and opens his mouth to speak, "Malthazir, I was hoping that you could..." Before he finishes his thought his eyes grow wide. As if by instinct he raises a hand and sends a glob of acid flying over the elf's head as he vanishes from sight.
Niyut flinches as the wizard casts a spell. She turns her head to see a towering plantof vines and barbs. Four stalks are horribly mobile, each ending in a set of green, toothy jaws. The jaws lurch forward snapping at her. Its sharp jaws clamp down on the oracle, cutting into her skin. Another head snaps at Truk'tosh but misses the druid. Yet, another mouth catches him by the leg. The fourth jaw grabs Verthag by the torso lifting him into the air.
"Release me," Niyut shouts.
When (if) it lets her go, she steps back and points the petrified wand at the plant, and channels the full force of its cold.
Niyut doesn't react to the plant's massive jaws latching on to her. Rather, she just poofs away. The real Niyut yells to her brother, commanding him to escape the flytrap's clutches. THe half-orc squirms violently but cannot escape. Frustrated, the oracle's snowball slams into the large carnivorous plant. Garidan shuffles forward. Snapping his wrist, a shard of his rapier launches at the plant and strikes one of its mouths.
To the north and northwest, two more plants reveal themselves and attack. The northern most flytrap snatches up Raektov. The wizard goes limp, his arms and legs dangling from the creatures mouth. Gruskorb looks up and ses the acidic bile drippping from the plant's jaws. The other chomps down upon the goat, ripping the animal in half and consuming it.
The giant flytrap engulfs Truk'tosh. The jaw's pressure begins to crush his bones and its acidic saliva burns his flesh
Another mouth lashes out at Niyut, snuffing out another illusory oracle. The last mouth tries to hit Garidan, but the swashbuckler is too quick. He parries the blow and ripostes with timely accuracy.
Verthag hollars as he too is crushed like Truk'tosh. Unable to use is falchion, he reaches to grab his antler-handled dagger. He tries to bring the weapon down into the flesh of the plant but the acid burns his hands and he drops the dagger. It tumbles to the ground below him.
"Raektov!" Malz grabs the young wizard's arm and barks a spell. "Ifni erekess oium!" In a moment the wizard is gone, and Malz and Raektov are both several hundred feet in the air.
"Iejir irisv!" The devil ooze begins on Raektov's wounds as the wind whips around them. Malz stares down hard as the ground gets closer.
The dragon flies around behind the plants, unleashing a barrage of spikes to rip into them.
Shadows rush towards Niyut blurring her form.
Niyut stamps her foot when she sees Raektov snatched up. She had promised to keep the boy safe. Her freeing spell was much less useful when he is not conscious enough to take advantage of it. She has to trust that Malthazir can free the boy.
The Liber Sanguinem snaps open and flutters to a certain page. "Sit tibi habere vos manducare umbra vivit," she hisses in anger.
A dark mirror of the plant eating Raektov appears around it and begins draining its strength.
Unable to work a spell or bring his weapon to bear, Truk’tosh focuses his remaining strength on freeing himself from the hungry plant’s maw.
With a twist of his torso, he whips the armored tail portion of his cloakerhide armor around the plant’s base.
While his attacker is off-balance, Truk works to pry its maw open wide enough to squeeze free.
Garidan doesn't waste any time worrying about Raektov or mourning the unnamed goat's fate, as he sprints toward the largest of the plant-beasts, counting on his agility to get him past the snapping jaws while he stabs the rapier deep into the body before sharply changing direction and darting back out of reach. Not the safest course, he admits to himself, but hopefully he'll be distracting enough that the others--Truk'tosh in particular--can engage the thing with less risk. Once out easy range of the waving heads, Garidan lifts rapier and buckler and assumes a defensive stance, ready to punish the thing if it tries again to make a meal of him.
With the wizards disappearing together, the flytraps recoil to avoid Malthazir's pseudodragon's attack. One avoids most of the spikes, but the other takes the full impact. A curse comes from Niyut's lips as a shadow arises around the flytrap that had taken the young wizard. It writhes in pain as its own shadow drains its strength.
A mist arises around Gruskorb who uses the distraction to move south a short distance.
With a mighty roar, Truk'tosh rips free from the giant flytrap's mouth, landing solidly on the ground. The swashbuckler dodges, ducks, dips and dodges his way south, striking a nasty blow to the giant flytrap as he springs his attack.
The flytrap having lost Raektov bites at Niyut, dispatching another of her images. While the other snaps at Gruskorb but misses the rogue. The giant flytrap continues to crush Verthag while it attempts to capture the half-orc twins and Garidan. While the swashbuckler avoids the attack, Truk'tosh grappled by the flytrap's mouth. The oracle's luck runs out as the giant flytrap guesses right this time, snatching the real Niyut in its jaws.
Verthag, raging with adrenaline, rips free from the giant flytrap.
Niyut blinks as the fly trap barely misses her. I need more shadow images! She thinks as she weaves more shadows about her.
Niyut suspects that her brother will be unwilling to reincarnate her goat. So she mourns her hoofed friend and wants to do everything possible to prevent Tacal from dying. So, she walks deeper into the mist towards the goat eating, ox-menacing plant.
She has a curse for this fly trap as well.
She reads from her grimoire again: ""Sit tibi habere vos manducare umbra vivit."
"Nasir wielg, wiap!" Malz quickly barks out another two spells, making Raektov pause in the air and himself slowly float down.
Malz's dragon takes a mental cue from her master and moves in to attack the smaller flytrap that Niyut has not weakened.
Relying on his mobility, Garidan sprints in again to attack, his rapier once again plunging into the plant-beast's form. This time, however, his path leads him away from the bulk of the embattled party, with the unwholesomely large plant hopefully induced to follow the darting, stinging morsel in the desired direction. And, just as before, the moment that the swashbuckler is clear, he takes a defensive stance.
Truk'tosh continues to struggle with his leafy attacker. As he wrestles, his flesh transforms into living ice.
A telepathic voice insinuates itself in everyone's mind. The other two plants should be dead in less than a minute. Let's focus our attacks on the first plant that attacked, and avoid the others' reach until they lay down dead.
As the shadoes attach themselves to the smaller flytraps, their collective strength withers away. High above, Malthazir's spells stop the rapid descent of the wizards. Raketov's eyes blink and he awakes, looking around trying to determine where he is. Below, the psuedodragon's tail slices the felsh of the flytrap, but the poison has no effect.
Garidan springs forward again striking at the thick stalk of the giant flytrap. It's fibrous flesh begins to shred from the swashbuckler's attacks. Milky fluid begins to ooze from the creature. Truk'tosh twists and turns his body, squirming free of the plant and taking hold of it's giant mouth. Hearing Niyut's voice, Gruskorb slides up to the edge of the mist and snaps his whip at the giant flytrap.
The smaller flytraps turn their attention on new targets. One bites out at Truk'tosh but its teeth fail to penetrate the half-orcs armor. The other bites off the head of Malthazir's draconic ally. It's body falls to the group before disappearing.
Raektov reaches into his knapsack. Finding a small flask he drinks the contents quickly. His wounds vanish slightly after imbiding the strange liquid. The giant flytrap bites out at Garidan twice but he nimbly avoids the mouths. Likewise, Gruskorb is able to avoid being hit by the massive plant. Truk'tosh grips the mouth with all of his strength, trying to keep hold of the plant. At the last moment, it slips from his grip and once again captures the druid.
Verthag, now free from the giant flytrap roars and charges the giant flytrap. The creature, using its reach advantage, takes the opportunity to try to bite the orc, but fails miserably, entangling itself with other vegetation. Verthag chops at the plant with his falchion, carving a large section away from it's stem.
Finding his tactics effective, the swashbuckler sees no reason not to continue using them, and he darts yet again to strike hard before slipping out of reach once more. However, with this blow, he takes the time to twist the blade within the wound a bit before hauling the stained steel free of the vegetative bulk; the creature is looking quite battered now, and Garidan feels that the risk of diverting his attention from his defense is worth the possibility of finishing the plant-beast off swiftly.
Niyut dissolves into wisps of shadow. She collapses into herself at odd angles before unfolding further to the south.
She points her wand at the plant again, punishing it with ice. However, Niyut doesn't unleash the wand's full power. She trusts that the others will be able to finish the abomination off.
Torenz moves up to Raektov, trying to avoid the plants.
"You are flying above the battle, if you can help do so, but do not get too close with your injuries." He hisses into the young wizard's ear.
Malz intensely stares at the plant creatures. "Vutha di Evard!" The area beneath the smaller ones begins bubbling with a fetid black pool, then a field of rubbery black tentacles erupts forth, whipping around violently and grasping the two giant plants!
"Taivern!" Malz says, quickly barking out a second spell. His allies begin to move more quickly.
Garidan rushes past the plant's defenses striking another serious blow. Opaque fluid drips down the flytrap's stem, coating it with a stick sap as the creature writhes in frustration at the swashbuckler's quick movements. As the two smaller flytraps continue to feel the draining effects of Niyut's spell, the oracle transports herself south and then fires a burst of snow from her gnarled wand. The giant flytrap freezes then explodes in shattering of ice. A brightly glowing essence floats above the icy flora.
Out of the ground, rubbery black tentacles emerge, entangling the other flytraps in its grip. Moments later, the elf's voice calls out and everyone's muscles twitch with alacrity.
Raektov looks down at the ground below and then back into the general direction of the invisible Torenz. "Don't worry, I'm not moving from here!" The young wizard leans back and continues to float downward.
Gruskorb slips over to Tacal and slowly leads the oxen southward away from the flytraps.
Niyut inhales drawing the brightly glowing essence to herself.
She then promptly sits on the ground and begins to meditate. Sending her spirit out of her body. Her projected shadow flows beneath the earth to finish draining the plants.
Stay back from the plants they will be dead soon and we don't want anyone tangled in Malthazir's spell.
Trusting the telepathic advice from his twin, Truk'tosh retreats from the battle.
Truk'tosh retreats from the two living flytraps who break free from the black tentacles momentarily and move to follow Truk'tosh. While Niyut feasts upon the giant flytrap's essence, the smaller two lose more strength as the mystical shadows drain their vitality.
Niyut sends out her spirit body.
The black tentacles continue to do unspeakable things to whoever is too close to them.
Malz quickly casts another spell. "Vehafor reskafar!"
Niyut thinks that Malthazir is being quite profligate in spending his spells. These plants were already dead. They simply had not laid down and died. However, the conjurer, has made it clear that he believes that his magic is so great that he simply doesn't run out of spells. For her part, Niyut remembers the battles beneath Mötùrrim and more recently the siege. At some point, everyone runs out of spells.
As the pit opens underneath on of the flytraps, the plant reaches out trying to grab anything to prevent its fall, but inevitably it tumbles into the deep pit. The black tentacles attempt to grapple the other flytrap but the plant's strength is too much for the tentacles and it manages to avoid capture.