Troxell awakens with a start, "No, not the beeees!"
Shaking off his delirium, he looks around and begins to compose himself. "That creature nearly killed me with some natural ability. Obviously, he is not someone to be reasoned with. Although, if he's responsible..." The druid's stops midsentence as the loud band of Xerexis' gunshot echoes through the chamber, "Nevermind, perhaps the wisps will leave if he's responsible for the fear permeating the area."
"Oh, and Teena. Thank you."
The retort of Xerexis' firearm echoes in the chamber, but when the smoke clears only a small wound is revealed where the bullet struck the chained man. He groans, seemingly still alive.
Above, the wisps begin to stir, their lights flickering and strobing.
"Uh oh..." Mikmik says softly.
Myhm continues to struggle with a chain, but they are well made and do not yet break.
"Stop! Stop Lord Ent!" Mikmik pulls at Myhm in a futile effort. "You break him free he probably kill us! Or maybe bad lights do it!"
As the situation still appears somewhat dangerous, Troxell casts Cure Light Wounds upon himself and stands up.
"If that creature can kill simply with a look, obviously he's too dangerous to be allowed to live." He opines afterwards.
Angry that the chain isn't giving, Mhym's anger comes to surface.
(just need +1 more buff from Teena to make the save)
Myhm suddenly realizes that what he's doing is not his own idea, and might be very dangerous.
Teena does indeed cast the Protective spell on her friend.
"I'm not sure what just happened, but I think the best piece of advice would be for us to leave this room immediately. Obviously he is just a distraction to our goal. He seems well restrained for now."
"I believe it may be in our best interests to kill him, but I'm willing to try the brass panel in the room below if the rest of you object."
Myhm shakes off the miasma and quickly backs away. Having no urge to slay a chained man, he nods to Troxell then grabs the rope (and Mikmik) and repels down, pausing a moment on the second, then to the ground floor.
"Very well, let me heal some and we can try the plate." Troxell asks, as he pulls his Cure Light Wounds wand and uses it on himself.
As your group retreats from the upper chamber the Wisps begin to settle back into their resting places.
Teena will use her bloodline abilities and tun a Burning Hands spell into a Lightning based spell.
Teena bathes the panel and the wall around it with arcs of electricity. There is a hum, then thunk from below where Myhm and Mikmik notice the sealed door on the first level swing open.
Outside is a lush forest with swirls of mist among the undergrowth and motes of pollen floating in the open air, illuminated by light streaming down through heavy foliage.
Once she is informed about the success, Temna will climb down and peek out the door with the others. "What's it look like out there?"
Mhym calls up to the others, "The door is open down here, quick, come.
"Yes, let's leave this wretched tower." Troxell mutters with a grimace as he makes his way out.
Walking outside, the party finds themselves in a place very different from the island where Candlemere stands. Here, thick forest surrounds the tower on all sides and no sign of a lake can be seen beyond it. Strange bugs zip from flower to flower, their buzzing wings changing pitch almost like music. Overhead a pair of violet birds with long glowing tail feathers chase each other, their chirping songs sounding like laughter.
A cobblestone path sheltered by an archway of interwoven tree branches opens into the forest directly ahead.
"Well, now for something completely different..." Teena grumbles as she looks around at the completely different flora and fauna. "Anyone recognize anything?"
Xerexis does not recognize much, though many of the plants look similar to species he knows of.
Troxell also takes a few moments to survey the nature around him.
"If are in the First World as I suspect, assume everything is dangerous unless proven otherwise." He advises as he looks around.
"I see no immediate threats, but let's keep moving." Troxell moves to take point if there's no objections.
"I've heard of this first world, but I've never experienced anything like this before. Anything else we need to know about this place?"
Myhm looks about the strange forest. "Like a dream...", he says as he takes another look back at Candlemere Tower. "Myhm not see this forest before",, he wonders as the glowing birds circle overhead. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he squats down and feels the ground, sniffing at the air, looking behind.
Touching the road, Myhm finds it to be unusually cold, and short way into the forest it becomes even colder, producing a blanket of mist that chills the skin and obscures sight beyond twenty feet. The undergrowth stops right at the edge of the road and it is possible that the cold effect has prevented the strange plant life of this domain from encroaching on it. Though the mist can be waved away for brief glances of the cobblestone below, no traces of any tracks can be found there, even by Xerexis or Troxell or everyone working together.
With no other path apparent, you set off along the road. As you walk you observe life in abundance among the trees. Insects buzz and hop, unseen birds sing, and other small animals scamper and climb along the canopy, and occasionally a plant slithers by or opens a flower as if to watch your passing. At one point a light weaves through the trees in the distance, looking very much like a will-o'-wisp, but it quickly darts off out of sight and doesn't return. Few things are seen near the ground, but the undergrowth is so thick that only tiny creatures could navigate it unhindered. Above the sky is completely blocked by the thickness of the canopy, but from the amount of light streaming through it seems to be late afternoon.
About a half hour from the tower you hear giggles. Off to the side, sitting on a tree branch about ten feet up, are three tiny winged fey watching your group with bright eyes.
One is a minuscule man with green skin and a pair of dragonfly wings. The other two are lithe females with wispy, mothlike wings, long, thin ears, and a soft but noticeable glow about them. Spread out on the branch is a handkerchief with some grapes and nuts, and it seems like they might be having a picnic.
The male assumes a pose that would be intimidating from a large man and calls down to your group. "Hail, travelers! Who are you to walk the road of the marcach fuar."
The male fey is an atomie.
Atomies are resistant to weapons not made of cold iron.
Atomies perceive themselves as larger than they actually are. Like pups standing up to a full-grown cur, atomies never back down from aggression, and take tremendous pride in defeating and humiliating foes larger than themselves. Atomies find great pleasure in shoring up the odds in a fight against larger foes.
They make use of their reduce person spell-like ability as an offensive measure, hoping to shock and humiliate humanoid opponents, giving them a chance to make a killing jab.
In lands thick with fey, atomies often serve as border sentries or bodyguards to nymphs, dryads, or other more powerful fey creatures. While atomies prove only passable in their ability to defend such creatures, other fey accept their fealty out of respect and perhaps with a bit of mirth as well. Atomies enjoy their time as honor guards, but often grow bored and leave their posts in search of adventure.
Atomies employ their invisibility spell-like ability to get in close and make sneak attacks before darting back out of reach.
These nimble creatures adore swordplay and practice with their blades endlessly. Atomies often travel their lands seeking adventure tinged with mischief. Sensitive to bullying and oppression, atomies revel in turning the tables on a cruel mayor or tormenting dishonorable mercenary bands. Atomies, enamored with tales of epic duels and the defeat of great evils, sometimes follow adventuring parties and eavesdrop on their nightly tales by the campfire. If a warrior in the group tends to boast of his swordplay, an atomie rarely resists the urge to humble him by sabotaging his equipment or invisibly reducing him and challenging him to a duel.
The female fey are sprites.
Sprites are resistant to weapons not made of cold iron.
Sprites gather in groups deep in forested lands, aligned to the cause of defending nature. Whole tribes of sprites deem themselves protectors of a certain person, place, or creature of importance in their lands, even if the being doesn't actually want or need protecting.
A sprite's body is naturally luminous, although the sprite can vary the color and intensity of its body as it wishes. Shortly after death, a sprite's body simply melts away to a twinkling vapor. Sprites are among the smallest of fey, standing just over 9 inches in height and rarely weighing more than 1 or 2 pounds.
Sprites are more primitive in many ways than most fey. They enjoy each other's company, but tend to be distrustful of other fey and assume any humanoids and any other creatures that they haven't expressly chosen to protect mean to do them ill. Even animals are generally regarded as dangerous. Much of this is due to sprites' diminutive size, which makes them popular targets for predators. As a result, a sprite's initial reaction to danger is typically to flee—it uses its spell-like abilities to delay or distract pursuers, and relies on its speed in flight and its size to allow it to escape in the end.
They also have a few natural spell-like abilities, and can knock foes unconscious with a color spray.
While sprites themselves are relatively uncultured and savage in nature, they do have a healthy curiosity for all things magical in nature. They are particularly drawn to sites of great but latent magical power, such as the ruins of ancient temples. This curiosity makes them unusually receptive to roles as familiars as well.
"Hail Sir! We are merely pilgrims looking for a human who may have passed through these parts recently. Once we find him, we plan on leaving as quick as we can." Troxell answers, attempting to be diplomatic.
Seeing that Troxell might have some knowledge of these tiny creatures, Teena held back and decided to let him handle the initial greetings.
Fey were, among other things to Myhm, annoying creatures in the same category as kobolds and goblins. He suddenly remembers that Mikmik wasn't so bad. Instead of hurling a rock at the lot of them, he decides to make himself as small as possible while Troxell speaks.
"A human in the Thrice-Tenth Kingdom is a rare thing." The little man says. "But you lot is rarer still. A giant, two half-humans, one pretty thing, and a lizard-dog too. A strange tale this is, or the beginning of a good joke." He looks to the females with a smirk and they giggle.
Whipping out a tiny sword he slashes a grape in half, it being about the size of a melon to him, and starts munching on it. "Might be I've seen another human. Was a big oaf runnin through the forest a while back, chased by a Jack'o'the'Night. Funniest thing I seen in ages! Zap! Zap!" The little man hops about, mimicking the reaction one might get from an electric shock to the backside and the females giggle.
"Probably find him at the bottom of a pit or strung up in a hangman's tree somewhere." One of the females smiles, as if either option would be a funny fate.
"Might be he made it to the Witchmarket." The other says offhand.
Troxell ignores the feys' insults and remains politely stoic, "Thank you for the information. Could you please direct us to the Witchmarket? We do not want to keep you from your business."
"I don't suppose you would be so kind as to give us directions to the witchmarket, would you please? We have business with that previous human."
big oaf, Myhm was certain of that very familiar title, being called it most of his life by lords and commoners. Nodding to Troxell and Teena, "It's Brue."
"Keep on in that direction until you hear bells, then look for a path. Might could take a couple hours. Might could take a couple days. Just don't leave the road until then."
"Thank you very much." Troxell bows slightly and begins to move down the road in the direction indicated.
Once out of hearing distance he relates what he knows about the type of fey they were speaking with.
"Fey are a capricious sort. It's best to remain polite to avoid any unnecessary problems." He adds afterwards.
"Should we trust them? They can certainly be ... capricious," Teena adds, parroting Troxell's words. "At least, I think I tend to believe we should stay on the road. Who knows what might be waiting for us out there in the strange forest?"
"Stupid big butterflies", Myhm just grumbles but looks back to make sure they're not following.
The tiny fey smile and wave you off, oddly helpful for such creatures. Though Troxell is suspicious, he senses nothing particularly deceptive from them, though one of the females giggles as if sharing a secret joke.
You continue along the cold road for a couple hours, passing more strange sights in the domain. A couple times you notice the movement of creatures in the forest, and at one point something large and furry shadows you for a half-hour, but eventually it loses interest and leaves you be.
PERCEPTION
The druid stops suddenly, "Do you hear that? It sounds like bells, but they are coming towards us. Perhaps we should look for a path now, I don't think we want to meet the source of those bells."