"Nothing a little sleep won't cure!" Tynn calls across the chasm, hobbling up to Logan's side. The Borderguard can see dark bruises blotching his old dwarven skin, despite the elderly wizard's brave face.
"My study was interrupted, so you still have time to clean up," he adds. "After which we can worry about you getting across, yes?"
He looks up at Logan for agreement.
Wincing, thought not from pain, Tolsbaer says "I think it wiser to forego the bath with these beasts about. If I must forsake my vow another day to keep us all alive then I pray the Gods forgive me because I would rather live filthy than die clean." He eyes fly away to some distance place as the young dwarf contemplates his words. "I legitimately never thought I would say that..." Suddenly he bellows with laughter: booming like some mad bell through the wood.
Tynn stares across the ravine, nonplussed.
"Whatever you think is best. I still won't be ready to search for Bolgrith and Aladdin for one hour..." he turns and finds a place to sit closer to the edge of the drop. He looks up at Logan, and adds in a lower tone, "I'll stay closer so that you don't have to worry about us both, hm?"
After a sly glance of self-deprecation, he lowers his greasy head back into his enormous tome.
Logan nods, "I think it's wise to stay together. With Bolgrith and Aladdin both missing and giant frogs about, not to mention the rumored bandits, we can all keep each other safe easier. " he looks at the tome with respectful curiosity I will have to ask him more when the situation is more relaxed...
Tolsbaer's booming laughter echoes out through the trees. A moment later, the lonely toad down in the ravine answers with a low croak that seems rather put-out. She slowly ambles around the creek, not really paying those above very much attention. Tynn remains silent as he studies his book.
In about a half-hour, the large toad seems to be slowly wandering off, following the stream in a southerly direction.
No one answers Aladdin's calls. Even the birdsongs sound very distant and far-away.
With lights dancing to and fro, lighting the path ahead, the stormborn listens attentively and continues in the direction of the water. As luck would have it, the natural forest path seems to be going in the same direction. The path is certainly a boon to walk when the going had been so rough before, with the steep incline and slippery mud. This walkway is on level, firm ground without any mud, and the vibrant green grass that grows along the path is short and springy. Up ahead he sees two ancient elm trees on either side of the path. He notices that their bark has a faint silvery quality that glimmers by the reflection of his dancing lights. High overhead, thick branches from both elms intermingle, growing and wrapping themselves into a sort of archway over the path, laden the dark green leaves.
Beyond the two elm trees, the surge of moving water is unmistakable. Aladdin cannot see it from where he stands, but he thinks if he can get just a little bit further, he will be able to see the water. Looking around, he does not yet see any of his traveling companions, but then again, the fog is thick and hems his range of vision to only about one hundred feet or so.
Aladdin seeing the silvery bark, walks over and sniffs it. This is so pretty! I should take some with me, I'm sure I can find a use for it. Pulling out his dagger he starts working on pulling strips of bark off to carry in his pack.
OH! They must be silvery because there is TREASURE buried at their base! Aladdin realizes to himself as he starts digging into the ground with his spear and dagger. These elms should be watered too! I'm sure they'd like that
After doing so, Aladdin rechecks his gear to make sure he remembered to actually put his bag on this time, Tsk, tsk, can't forget this time and then heads between the elms to the water.
Rainwater from his spell quickly trickles down the tree trunk and softens the earth he digs. After awhile of scraping away the dirt under the tree, Aladdin finds nothing but thick brown roots and more dirt.
Beyond the elms, the underbrush is dense and uneven, matching the terrain when Aladdin first embarked into the woods with his companions. It seems that the pathway from before is gone. But he does not have to walk far to suddenly find a ledge in front of him. He stands atop a dark brown cliff drops about fifty feet into a narrow ravine. The base of the cliff is a bed of smooth round rocks, and at the center of the ravine is babbling brook. It seems the channel has echoed and amplified the sound of the running stream to make it sound much bigger than it is. Hear the birdsong and sounds of the forest sound closer, and yet still muffled. No obvious signs of his friends present themselves, but Aladdin has not closely looked around just yet.
Aladdin peers around. Hm... Is this close to the environment that I've lost my friends? If not, how steep is this cliff maybe I'll follow the water along it's course?
Bolgrith looks around at the base of the falls, the fine mist offering a little cooling spray from the strain of the hike. It's been at least an hour since he's seen his companions, the Priest estimates. The strange occluding nature of the fog around him feels strange, it had been a bright clear morning earlier.
Adjusting his grip on the magical staff of Honfongalas, he resigns himself to the hike up to the top of the cliff to find a better viewpoint, hopefully over the clouds.
Seeing it safe, Tolsbaer washes himself and his clothing in the creak. He dons fresh clothing and hangs his wet things from his pack to allow them to dry.
Finished, he calls up to Logan. "Any ideas how to get back to you without getting filthy?"
"You could walk along the edge a reasonable distance in either direction to find an easy crossing before trying anything..." Tynn glances from his tome to Tolsbaer's rope tied to the tree nearby, "...strenuous."
His gaze returns to his book. The wizard turns a page and continues his study.
Tolsbaer takes the stairs back to the top and starts walking.
Logan, containing his frustration at having to separate, cleans his falchion. Sighing, he pulls out the goblin arrow head he kept, walks over to a nearby tree and etches "Porkchop commands you to go to the Oldkeep". Smiling, he puts back the arrow head and moves back by Tynn. What's a little blasphemy among friends?
Tolsbaer wanders north. He goes as far as he feels comfortable leaving the group, and it is at that moment he sees a promising shape in the mist ahead. Pressing onward, he finds a fallen log over the ravine.
The tree fell many years ago, accumulating mushrooms, moss, and the slime of decay. Aside from slippery footing, the log appears to be solid enough to attempt a crossing.
-------
Bolgrith reaches the top of the edge from where the waterfall gushes over. From this high ground, he senses one who feels underestimated in power. The fog stretches out in the lowland below, the dwarf himself standing at the mid-trunk level of the lowland trees. Behind him, looking the river that supplies the waterfall, he can see a good deal further -the mist is not as thick here.
In fact, as luck would have it, the further he peers upriver, he thinks he can see the edge of the treeline and the beginning of a rocky scramble. Bolgrith remembers Tynn mentioning that the Oldkeep was beyond the forest, nestled into the stony mountainside. For now, up river toward the summit seems to be the way to go.
-------
Aladdin can't remember much about his location. Nor can he find any clue to point him toward his traveling companions. As he surveys the ravine, he sees that it is a sheer drop on either side -a dangerous fall, with no apparent places to climb down.
By his reckoning, the water should be traveling downhill, and the Oldkeep is uphill, beyond the treeline one the mountain. Just as he is about to turn to march uphill, something downriver catches his eye: a faint outline of a log crossing the river. A short moving shape seems to materialize out of the fog, and stop at the faded crossing.
Aladdin waves his lanterns toward the short moving shape to engulf it in light so he can see through the fog.
Aladdin watches as his floating lanterns fly circles around none other than Tolsbaer Stormcall, his traveling companion!
-------
Before the young noble dwarf makes a move toward the log across the ravine, he notices shadows cast by the underbrush all round him. Looking down, he sees light shining onto his garb, as though he was holding a lantern. He cannot see the source of light, but it moves. He quickly realizes there is more than one light, circling the area he stands. A strange phenomena, to witness the effects of a lantern or torch, but the source of the light itself is invisible.
Unsettled by the strange occurrence, Tolsbaer bolts across the log and does not stop running until he reaches Logan and Tynn. "Something MAGIC happened back there! I don't trust it!"
"HELLO STRANGE CREATURE. HAVE NO FEAR, FOR I COME IN THE NAME OF PORK CHOP"
In Tolsbaer's panic, he does not immediately notice a muffled voice following after him. It is not until after he quiets his mind for a moment does he hear, "...I COME IN THE NAME OF PORK CHOP!" but in a hollow sounding voice, like one calling down a long corridor or talking through a long pipe.
The dwarf makes it across the trunk of the tree without a problem.
"Ten more minutes please," chides the old dwarf, not looking up from his tome. "If I must stop now I may as well start over!"
He does not move from his spot on the forest floor beside Logan, offering no help to the young noble dwarf. A page in his thick spellbook turns.
At the sound of the voice, Tolsbaer startles and runs to Logan's side, dropping his voice low and assuming a fighter's crouch. "There is something near." the dwarf whispers. "I heard a disembodied voice. I fear these woods may be haunted."
Logan draws his falchion, Of course, haunted woods and giant frogs. What next?
He looks at Tolsbaer "I don't think I've ever fought a ghost before" he looks back at the woods. At least it won't dull my blade?
Aladdin trudges out into the open "Hellllllllllllo?" He moves his lanterns into the shape of a question mark and floats it toward the fuzzy outlines
Surprise sounds in Logan’s voice as he calls out ”Aladdin? Is that you?”
"I don't see anyone..."
”Aye,” Logan says with some slight concern, ”but that’s his voice...”
Bolgrith takes some comfort from the new vantage point and hikes up his travelers pack to rest more comfortably on his shoulders. With only a pause to wonder at where his companions might have lost themselves, the Priest tightens his grip on Hongfongalas staff and begins trudging upriver towards the shale-line.
From the direction of the familiar voice, Tolsbaer and Logan see parts of the mist begin to glow. The light takes a vague shape, one that is tall with a bulge at the top. A dot separates itself below the bulge of faint light, until it forms ...a glowing question mark? The source of the light cannot be seen, only the illumination on the fog around it. The voice certainly resembles Aladdin's, if the stormborn was talking through a long tube or pipe.
The forest is otherwise silent, and the adventurers feel their voices carry far between the trees. A long ways off, a low sad croak echoes down the ravine. Tynn's quiet focus remains on the heavy book in his lap.
----------
The priest makes his way alone further up the mountain, having little success in finding an easy path through the thick underbrush. But his hardy dwarven feet make their way up the steep incline, and the staff relic aids his balance in this seeming endless and grueling task.
At length, Bolgrith the Faithful sees where the thinning forest gives way to a scramble of rock up ahead. The river washes widely over the broken up stone, running from further up the mountain. Once he is completely clear of the trees, he will be able to see further, or so he hopes. The mist around the mountain is thicker here, and cold air seems to beset the hiker as soon as his limbs stop moving. He spies an outcropping of rock above the stony scramble that might serve as a suitable vantage point, though the change to rocky terrain might prove just as difficult to traverse.
The dwarf is nearly out of the forest when he catches a noise behind him: the snapping of branches and splorching of mud underfoot. The sound is easy to mistake for his own footfalls, so he is unsure how long the feet have been nearby. They still sound a good deal off, too far to throw a spear or sling a stone, but now that he is paying attention it seems that the feet are following from behind him at a considerable distance.
Hearing the dubious sounds of company, Bolgrith tilts his head to listen, trying to pinpoint where the noise is coming from.
Figuring this as good a spot as any for a short rest, the cleric begins to look around for kindling to build a small campfire.
Bolgrith notices a halt in the footsteps as soon as he wanders to find kindling. By his guess, without looking, he estimates the footsteps to have stopped over one hundred feet away, no further than one hundred twenty-five feet away. The task of finding dry kindling in the damp, muddy forest floor is a difficult one, but the dwarf is able to scrounge up a decent amount of the least-wet sticks he could find.
The dwarf's persistence is what finally coaxes a small flame from the kindling. He has to continually fuss with it to ensure it keeps burning while also drying the next bit of wood. As he works, he does not hear the feet approach his place at the edge of the forest. The priest nevertheless feels eyes on him.
Just as he thinks he will be able to leave the fire for a few minutes at a time, Bolgrith hears the steps begin anew, and draw closer. The underbrush stirs about one hundred feet away, and he is able to catch glimpses of grey fur, low to the forest floor. Whatever is stalking him, is not a man or dwarf. At last, a four legged creature emerges from the underbrush. Its back and shoulders covered in a thick, dappled grey coat, but before Bolgrith can call the creature a wolf, he notes the large hairless ears pointing out from an ugly hairless face -the exposed skin wrinkled and leathery. The face is vaguely reminiscent of a bat. Its beady eyes stare at Bolgrith, and its teardrop nostrils flare at the scent of a wood fire.
The mouth opens, but not as a mammal baring teeth. It resembles an unsettling smile, if a bat-face could smile. The creature does not break its empty gaze with the priest. A front paw lifts and tentatively steps forward, seemingly undecided between caution and curiosity. That is when Bolgrith notices the front paw is no paw at all: long, hairy, claw-tipped fingers look more like a man's hand than a wolf paw.
Bolgrith starts for half a second before prodding the the fire again with a blackened stick. He nods to the creature, not sure if he's read anything about so strange a being. Wracking his mind, he offers his own friendly if a little nonplussed smile to his guest.
"Hello there."
There are many amalgams of animals that fit into the category of magical beast, even though some of them do not possess any magical abilities. Bolgrith suspects this wolf-bat could possess some magical ability, but he is unsure.
If the creature's social habits followed that of the wolf, Bolgrith should expect to see the rest of its pack close in shortly for the kill. But the learned dwarf does not get that sense from the beast, rather, he suspects it to lead a solitary life. The eyes of the creature seem rather peculiar, seeming to process more information than would a dog, or even a crow or grey parrot; this strange creature seems to be more clever than the common wolf. This is not a creature known to the natural world, to Bolgrith's knowledge, and Bolgrith has a lot of knowledge.
The wolfish build of this creature tugs at his memory in his readings of extraplanar beasts, but exact details escape him at the moment. Except one: Goblins... this creature is associated with goblins in someway...
The wolf-bat stares at Bolgrith in silence after his greeting. Then with a chuff it trots a little closer, glancing at the river but otherwise keeping an interested gaze on the dwarf traveler. The eyes wander to Bolgrith's staff, his shield, and the weapons at his belt. It stops at about forty feet away, and again it meets the eyes of the priest. This time, there is no doubt that the creature is smiling at the dwarf, two rows of menacing sharp teeth. A squeamish feeling starts to well up inside Bolgrith.
Goblins...? Bolgrith thinks to himself before setting back on his haunches a little. He gestures to the fire and his pack on the ground beside him.
"Malg, ek fin nal gramleck."
Bolgrith remembers some lore about goblin hierarchy. In small groups, often the most vicious goblin takes the lead. However, many goblins are also intimidated into service by bugbears and hobgoblins, their masters usually clever enough to align their smaller kin to a common goal. But even rarer than bugbear warlords or hobgoblin kings are creatures known to goblins as "Ghost Dogs". These large canine beasts are not from the Material Plane, but will often use the Material Plane as hunting grounds. They hunt with a cunning above the average goblin, and with a savagery that both terrifies and awes the diminutive green raiders, especially since the "Ghost Dog" has a distinct taste for sentient, humanoid flesh. According to legend, they come from the Ethereal Plane, and those who are not goblins refer to such a creature as a barghest.
The smile on a face so different from a humanoid's, Bolgrith feels at a bit of a disadvantage. He felt that the smile was malicious. Or perhaps that is how a wolf-bat-ghost-dog normally smiles, for it is not a beautiful creature by any stretch of the imagination.
The hairy hands pad along the forest floor as the barghest approaches slowly, lifting its ugly bat-like snout to sniff at Bolgrith. The creature is about the same size as the dwarf, and the traveler notices its muscular build under the coat of dark fur. Stopping about fifteen feet away, the beast lowers its hind legs into a seated position. It's dark eyes regard the dwarf warily.
"Nokfel en dudul mal wikkurn bo," it replies in a raspy, growling voice. "...Stos."
"I will join your fire and eat. ...Thanks."
The dwarven Priest nods maintaining eye contact before poking at the fire again. Satisfied that the flames won't burn out on their own, he begins rummaging in his pack for some of the trail rations. The food of dubious distinction, hardened against travel, shows itself still edible if a bit mildewy from the persistent damp.
He carefully separates the individual items into roughly equal portions, taking the salted beef and skewering it on the metal end of his boarding pike, brought all this distance from their original passage to the Sunderlands. Resting it over the flickering heat he sighs heavily before regarding his new companion yet again.
"Grel hakog mella. Mak felli eg fin mal." He gestures to the food heating over the fire. "Ek bah mek fimm, Barghest nik mille. Ikan mek thal nam te fevorr." He lets out a friendly chuckle. "Min fedna kammuk tel folorin." The cleric watches the being by the fire to gauge it's response.
Bolgrith's mind must continually push away the internal alarm, "Predator! Predator!" while sitting so close to creature that could eat him with ease. Right now, he senses that the barghest seems to notice Bolgrith's attempts to friendly, but is still unsure about this interaction. Still, something is keeping the beast from fleeing or feasting...
Remained seated with the fire between Bolgrith and itself and the river at its back, the barghest's nostrils flare at the smell of cooking meat. There is a long pause, as though it considers what the dwarf says. Its lips quietly form a snarl for second, until the beast shakes its head. A scraping voice says flatly: "Barg nofftal ee lolz. Glost so min durtt wold, koldin testud nu auk."
Sharp teeth expose a peevish smile, and coughing short breaths escape from between. After the fit dies down, the barghest sighs, still wearing an unsettling smile.
Bolgrith suspects that the barghest just made a joke, albeit a grisly one at the dwarf's expense. The coughing fit must be laughter!
"Suku kig nar weggin doosk neg gorst eti gimm. Juljeunum dek," the rough voice adds.
"You must be lost. If you were on the Material Plane, you would be in my belly."
-------
"Pull my share off the fire when hot enough to feel alive. Overcooked is disgusting."
------------------
Logan hefts the blade in his hands. He mumbles something about "nothing ventured..." and after a glance back to Tynn he steps toward the voice in the mist. He calls loudly across the log that bridges the gap. "WHO ARE YOU? SHOW YOURSELF! WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"
"It is I! Aladdin! Defender of the God Pork Chop! I am looking for my companions and I seem to have lost my way! Who are you?"
Aladdin waves his hand and the lanterns form into a crude attempt of a dot drawing of a pig.
Bolgrith gives a little grimacing chuckle at the jest while turning the pike over the flames. "Mekal bev."
Keeping a careful eye on the warming meat to not let it overcook, the Priest shifts on his seat a little in the cool air of the mountainside.
"Nekle bafnide sev nakl bef? Ik thi ne var hack lam." He asks with interest.
Tolsbaer's face is cold and annoyed. "Playing tricks? Now?" The city-dwarf throws up his hands and moves to Tynn.
Some of the cautious tension leaves the Barghest's arms and shoulders, relaxing its defenses slightly. It looks around the area Bolgrith chose to make camp -the edge of the forest, near the rushing river. Not far, the wood gives way to a rocky scramble that leads up to a precipice, a solid outcropping of stone. All around, the low clouds veil the mountain forest in slow rolling mist. "Fazzok nif gaul piktet rul?"
The talking canine pauses, considering something. The rough, scraping voice continues. "Gost yoturg fil nim nakl renistuv kal. Vin kav. Gim bront stul wineh bago?"
"Should I tell you where you are?"
"You are in the Ethereal Plane. My home. Why are you here?"
-----------
Logan chuckles to himself and rolls his eyes. "Logan Stonebit! I'm surprised you did not recognize our noble master dwarf, sorcerer! Come across the log! Is Bolgrith with you?"
He turns back to Tynn and Tolsbaer with a sigh of relief.
Bolgrith continues in the creatures native tongue while watching the fire lick at the trail rations. Satisfied, he removes the warmed meat and one of the skewers from where it rested over the flames and offers the stick to his strange companion. Leaving his own portion to cook a little longer.
Scratching at his beard with his free hand, the Priest of Irori try's to recall all he knows of the Ethereal Plane and travel between the realms of existence.
The scholarly dwarf recalls little of the transitive Ethereal Plane, other than powerful spellcasters using the plane to travel great distances across the Material Plane instantaneously. Doing so requires a lot of magical energy -more than Bolgrith can summon on his own. The Ethereal Plane overlays the Material Plane. Objects in the Ethereal Plane tend to be ghostly and insubstantial... however the ground on which Bolgrith sits seems firm enough. That is, until he stops to think about it, then a vague feeling of weightlessness threatens to lift him off of his seat. It takes a casual grasp of a nearby rock to anchor himself again. Now that he is settled again, the dwarf realizes the rushing river, the bark on the trees, the stony mountainside, the persistent and rolling fog, even the fur of the Barghest, all the colors vary in shades of grey. Even the light from his cookfire seems a bit muted. The colors on his garments are paler than he remembers. To his knowledge, this plane should not have any unexpected effects on his magical abilities.
The Barghest snatches up the meat from Bolgrith's offered hand and tucks into it immediately. Many short, sharp teeth tear away with gusto, although the dwarf thinks he catches a snarled "thanks" in Goblin in between desperate chomps. The four-legged companion's portion of meat is gone before the priest can fully turn over his share still cooking above the fire.
The Barghest sits back with a huff, hairy hands picking at morsels in his teeth in between words in the harsh language. His eyes wander during a pause, eventually staring at the river. Snapping his look back to Bolgrith with a burst of the goblin tongue, the canine's pointy teeth and empty black eyes leer an eerie smile.
"Not 'far', so to speak. Not in miles or leagues. Or in height..." the beast's dark eyes wander over the fire, the forest, and the river behind him, searching for some kind of example to use. He whips around with an unblinking gaze back on the dwarf.
"Have you ever killed a person?" he asks with an unsettling grin.
Excited to be reunited with his friends, Aladdin rushes across the log. "Bolgrith? No? Is he not with you? I've been lost with just my little cloud for a while, not another single soul. This dratted fog just popped up and I simply could not find my way!" Aladdin exclaimed as he slipped from the log and splashed down in the shallows. He hastily lifted his robe skirts and sloshed toward shore, hopping from one foot to another, attempting to keep his clothes as dry as possible.
"Shall we organize a search for him?" Aladdin asked, when he was finally safe on dry land.
Tolsbaer looks to Logan. "I hope you have some idea about finding Bolgrith. I am useless in the wilds."
As Aladdin hurries towards his friends, Tolsbaer and Logan notice something peculiar about Aladdin’s appearance. At first, it may have been the fog, but now with him stepping onto the log, he seems somewhat transparent. His leg falls through the log like a hand passing through a shaft of light. He falls to the bottom of the ravine, and though he moves to avoid getting his robes wet, his friends notice that the water does not splash when he lands in it. On his second attempt he is able to cross the log without incident, but Logan and Tolsbaer both see an insubstantial version of Aladdin. His voice still sounds like he speaks through a long tube. Likewise, now that the Stormborn is up close to his friends, they seem paler than he remembers, the colors of their tunics and cloaks are more faded, and their voices have a strange echo.
"No one is wholly useless, Master Stormcall," Tynn punctuates his interjection with a heavy thump of his thick tome. He grunts as he ambles to his feet. "One needs only three seconds of imagination, if one finds a block in the road." He glances over his glasses to the younger dwarf with a kindly smile and taps his temple with a knobby knuckled finger.
"Now!" the old dwarf announces, tucking his large book into his pack, "I have researched the proper incantation, and with a little luck, the location of our lost priest will be known to us very soon! I am going to walk along this ravine, which appears to run north to south, for the duration of the spell. By my estimation, Bolgrith has the sense to continue north, that is, uphill. This will be my best chance of finding him... Aha!" Tynn rises from his stooped position, holding up a forked twig he plucked from the forest floor.
"I appreciate everyone's patience while I studied my notes. Ah, Aladdin, I’m glad to see that you are mostly with us. Lost yourself in the Ethereal Plane it seems, hm? We shall have to sort that out later, just follow along as best you can. I strongly suggest we remain close together from this point forward. Logan, Aladdin, Master Stormcall: are we all ready to proceed?" Without waiting for an answer, the old wizard takes a hobbling gait a safe distance from the edge of the ravine, moving steadily northward. He holds up the twig and intones a long chant in a strange language unfamiliar to many. Aladdin the Azlanti recognizes some of the syllables as an archaic version of the Draconic tongue, but the exact meaning of the words are not plain to his ear.
Tynn is casting the spell Locate Object.
For his hour of research, the affair is over rather quickly. The chanting seemed to last about five minutes, after which the old dwarf stops and sighs heavily. He pauses silently, deep in thought. At last, he looks up to make sure the others are still with him and holds up the tiny twig once more. Tynn renews his incantation and strides onward, as best his old joints can manage in the underbrush.
Aladdin started at Tynn's words.
"I'm sorry what? Ethereal Plane?" Aladdin asked looking around him.
For perception check
"I am all too eager to proceed. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner we can return to civilization."
The extraplanar sommersaults that rendered his mind a little jumbled left behind a memory or two. The Ethereal Plane is a ghostly copy of the Material Plane, layered over top of the original. Objects are never solid and it takes a small act of will to not fall through the floor, which might explain Aladdin's fall through the log not moments ago!
Tynn marches onward, enunciating the archaic language of his magic spell. He holds up the forked twig ahead of him, slowly swinging his arm left to right, right to left. This goes on for a few minutes, until the observant catch a flickering glow from the twig held aloft!
Without skipping a beat in his incantation, Tynn unexpectedly steps in the direction his arm was pointing. He rotates his arm again, and walks a little further away from the ravine. The old, greasy dwarf appears to be following a clue.
Tolsbaer's idea of the forest was much more teeming and full of life. This forest seems awfully quiet, and any sound of wildlife is welcomed to ears piqued to hear it. Tolsbaer can hear the sound of himself and his companions carry through the trees. In truth, it might be a relief to the dwarf: to not hear the filthy beasts of the forest must mean they are not nearby.
In no time, his thoughts return to home. Clean, pristine, and with no expense spared for quality goods and furnishings. His daydream takes him to his morning exercises: the mild scraping sound of calloused feet on the smooth flagstone, the practiced rhythm of his breaths, and swish and snap of his flowing robes with every maneuver at full speed. The sounds are so clear in his memory, they tickle his ear. Did he really hear the soft flapping of cloth, this deep into the wilderness?
Of course not. Looking around, very little has changed. His companions trudge onward through the forest, following Tynn, who seems to deviate his course slightly away from the ravine. Tynn's gaze seems fixed on the glowing twig between his fingers -his spell must finally be working! Beyond the group, there is no cause for concern. The trees stand tall and indifferent, their branches still in the windless day. Broad, green leaves float downward in a swaying, meandering path to the ground.
Tolsbaer suddenly realizes that the season is late spring, and leaves shouldn't be falling from trees this time of year! One of the leaves swoops right past his head, and his eyes notice six antennae and a wide flat mouth sticking out where the leaf stem should be, and a nettle-thin stinger floating off the point of the leaf.
Tolsbaer realizes these are not normal leaves, but stinging creatures of some sort! To his horror, he sees that Tynn is heading right towards a whole flock of these flying, stinging leaves. The old wizard appears to be oblivious, fixated on the completion of his spell. A handful of the flying leaves swoop down, directly towards Tynn!
The Borderguard seems to have noticed about a dozen broad leaves drifting down from the tops of the tall trees. Logan looks up and squints, "Is there something up in those trees? Knocking free all of these big leaves?"