"If uncontrolled magic is causing the wood to animate, then finding a way to counter the magic seems the proper approach. Moreso than smashing the wood."
"It is not blocking our way. The next door is to the north."
Lanatir listens at the door to the north and, if he hears no danger, opens it.
As P.S. plays her harmonica the bench-person dances faster and faster. It's dancing reaches a fever pitch as a smiling, spectral face appears atop it's shoulders.
It stops for a moment before collapsing into a pile of benches. The leg of one of the benches falls off, rolling towards the party and stopping at Pumpkin's feet. Interestingly, ten nails are driven into it's side, a detail that wasn't present on any of the benches before.
Did you see that? Are we dealing with spooks?
"Interesting. We had not prepared to fight undead."
Lanatir tries to recall if there are undead that can possess and animate objects.
He similarly tries to recall if there are incorporeal outsiders that can do such things.
Lanatir recalls that while there are indeed creatures that can possess and animate objects, this didn’t match the description of any of them.
P.S. is silent as she stares at the nails, which protrude uncomfortably close to her boot.
“Whatever entity was animating the benches surely knows his sense of tempo was defiant.”
Finch didn’t get any sense of malice from the dancing bench. The smiling face, though odd without a doubt, seemed genuinely happy to have music to dance to.
Finch has a hunch, but thinking upon what she saw… she was completely wrong! She’s sure of it. Yes!
“Check that—he wasn’t taunting me at all. He was genuinely enjoying the tune.”
Now P.S. thinks to reload her weapon.
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“The damn shame of it’s that lives were taken. Much as I’d like to please this entity, forgive its ignorance… I ain’t got reason to think it’d do any good. Failure to stop the killer means more innocent deaths, and ‘he didn’t mean it’ don’t fly as an excuse.
“I don’t suppose you magical ladies and gents have some kind of magical means of, oh, I don’t know… distinguishing on ethereal puppeteer from another.”
She isn’t mocking magic. It fascinates her. Even when she tried to play the kobold salesman, she truly was delighted by the broom’s animation. She understands magic has limits, but has no idea what those are, or if a caster runs out of the magical equivalent of bullets, has a kind of gemstone to reload the magic… so many unasked questions!
“Might be wishful thinking that there are two or more smiley faces, and they ain’t all bad.”
No, my spells are either blast or defend for the most part.
She thinks
and happiness doesn't imply niceness. Let's be wary.
"Abadar our Guardian shall aid us should undead become an issue." Aakif says to reassure the group. "I would never have thought of playing music. Good idea, miss Finch."
Aakif follows after Lanatir, blessing him with [u]guidance[/u] as he opens the door.
Zyrel goes last, keeping his eye on the room until he can shut the door behind him.
"Is there perhaps some significance to the ten nails embedded in the dancing bench? The other benches didn't have them.
There could be some spirit tied to the nails..."
Lanatir will open the next door to the north.
Elsa, based on her robust knowledge of magical effects, is fairly certain that this was some sort of anomalous animated object. The face may have been a manifestation of whatever power was animated it, and it's collapse may have been caused by it, for lack of a better term, fulfilling it's purpose.
Lanatir opens the next door. A few workbenches sit in the northeastern corner of this room. The wood seems to have sprouted, branches laden with fruit growing off of them. Nothing else stands out here.
Zyrel chuckles when he sees the fruit and casually half asks, half explains "Do soldiers still call malingerers 'bench fruit'?"
Lanatir will cut off one of the fruits from the bench. He will use his Detect Poison SLA (Envoy, replaces Elven Magic). If there is no poison, he will take a bite of the fruit.
"The magic at work here seems not simply malevolent. A dancing bench? A fruit-bearing bench? It feels more... wondrous. More like the First World. But also the hostile wooden mannequin... maybe there is something about the tree this wood came from."
Were the mannequin, the dancing bench, and the fruit-bearing bench all of the same kind of wood?
The fruit isn’t poisonous. It’s crunchy with a pungent, piny flavor. Juniper, probably.
Of course all elves know a decent amount about trees...
The desk and benches are Garundi highlands juniper, common all the way from Katapesh to south of Geb. The mannequin is an interesting case, likely some sort of imported birch from Avistan where the trees grow commonly.
"Abadar our Guardian shall aid us should undead become an issue." Aakif says to reassure the group. "I would never have thought of playing music. Good idea, miss Finch."
P.S. admits to Aakif, “I only got two devices I can use real well—my revolver, and my harmonica. So when one couldn’t do the trick, I gave the other a shot.”
She watches the elf deal with fruit and tree stuff and nature… all outta her wheelhouse.
“I mean… the benches were dancing. I wouldn’t play a tune for a bulletproof kill-bot, or nothing like that.”
"It is a mystery. But consider that all three objects have been of wood.
Perhaps these trees were tied to dryads or other fey spirits."
Lanatir shrugs. "I don't know. We should keep moving. If there are also constructs of stone or metal that are malfunctioning, then I might attribute it to the magic going awry, as we were originally told. But if we keep seeing unusual wooden constructs, then the origin of the wood becomes another possible cause.
Just a hunch."
Lanatir moves to the northern door and checks it for traps before opening.
"That is an interesting idea. This area is prone to wild magic at the best of times, and the factory was probably built somewhere compatible magic was available. If there is a shipment of wood with - as you say - an affinity..."
He sighs "we'll still have to stop them."
people have died.
Pumpkin nods at Elsa’s words. They are the only three words that matter in this situation. I didn’t tattoo roses and thorns all over my body because it looks good.
Though… it does.
Despite her thoughts, Pumpkin sees avenging victims as more than just a basic principle of Milani. It is the way of the west, and surely not limited to Alkenstar. What society can stand the test of time if the victims’ plight is second to the perpetrators?
She keeps these thoughts to herself, confident that what the elves learn will help the posse defeat the enemy.
Lanatir shakes his head at Elsa's words.
"Yes, Elsa, people have died.
That doesn't mean they were murdered.
If these are unintelligent constructs, they would best be de-activated or reprogrammed - one cannot make an unintelligent tool face justice.
If there is some intelligent animating spirit, then we should find a way to communicate with it.
Did any of the caravan workers escape with a story to tell?
If not, then how do we know what actually happened?
And if some did escape, do we believe them?
The deaths could have been an industrial accident, caused by improper manufacturing or by careless actions of the caravan. In which case the factory is to blame.
Or it could have been revenge on the part of intelligent constructs, if it was a dryad's tree that was felled.
It could have been self-defense on the part of the constructs, if they are truly alive or if the tree itself might still be partly alive, as seen by this fruit.
It could have been a tragic misunderstanding due to inability to communicate.
It could have been lashing out in pain, as the tree's spirit gained sentience only to find itself dismembered and silently howling in agony.
If could have been some evil force taking over the caravan members.
Or, yes, it could have been simple malice by a malevolent entity controlling the constructs, in which case retribution makes sense - although destroying the constructs might barely inconvenience the animating force."
He turns to Finch.
"You serve Milani, do you not? Is she not a goddess of freedom from oppression? Of revolutions against tyranny? If constructs gained sentience and sought to fight for their freedom, that they might no longer be mechanical slaves, how would you view their cause?"
"There are many explanations here that would make it a poor idea to take everything at face value. We don't know what is going on. Yadalia is trying to figure that out."
He addresses Yadalia.
"Yadalia, I will keep you safe, as was our assignment. I do not believe that 'destroy anything that moves' is necessarily the best way to do that. But, if that is what you wish us to do, I will do it. You are in charge here and I am not. I will follow your orders."
"If it attacks you, then make sure it doesn't cause any serious damange to yourselves or to me. Aside from that, minimize damage. I'll need actual examples if I'm to find out what's going on here. Based on what we've seen, wild magic seems like the best explanation so far."
Lanatir opens the door and sees a confusing sight. Metal lanterns are strewn around this room that would've once been a loading dock for transports. As the door opens they light themselves and hover together, turning into a spinning, swirling swarm of animated lanterns!
Lanatir was expecting something, and Aakif's watchful eyes noticed that something wasn't right either.
"So metal is affected as well. That scratches some of my theories, but not all."
Animated lanterns... hmmm...
Lanatir calls out in Sylvan.
He readies to attack if the lanterns attack the party.
The lanterns say nothing.
Elsa sniffs. Wow you talk a lot. Is that an elf thing? You can do what you want, but if something attacks me, it's firewood
Aakif takes a shot with his pepperbox to test the reflexes of the lanterns.
Lanatir slices through a swathe of lanterns, and Aakif manages to shatter a couple with his shot too.
They don't take too kindly to this, surging forward and buffeting Lanatir with their glowing bulk, slamming into him for 6 damage! As he tries to fight them, the flames inside them shine in his eyes, making it an ordeal to avoid them.
Lanatir avoids becoming Dazzled...
He sighs and strikes back at the lanterns .
Just as well. I don't know if I have jokes sufficient to amuse the Lantern King.
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Pumpkin starts firing, mindful of friendly fire—
—which might be why she misses, but taking careful aim with her second shot—
Elsa tries to manoeuvre for lightning hands (electric burning hands) without frying any friendly
DC16 reflex for half
Aakif reloads, waiting for Lanatir to either destroy them, or to get hurt just a little more to make the healing worth it.
Zyrel steps through the door last, steps to the side, sighs, and looses an arrow. "It just seems so... inelegant." he complains. "As if we're missing something."
"If you can figure it out, by Abadar the almighty, let us know."
The party's focused strength easily smashes the lanterns, the few that survive the assault flailing ineffectively at the party before falling to the ground, whatever spark they had in them fading. One last lantern sits at the far end of the room, it's flame an odd purple glow.
A voice rings in the party's mind, "Who are you? Why are you here? Please, do not hurt me. What am I?"
Elsa stares
Welp, that's going on my list of weird things I have seen. A talking lantern. She shakes her head
She turns to Lanitir and says Well you wanted to talk to something. That's something. Knock yourself out
Yadalia gives a look at Elsa, "What in the nine Hells are you talking about?"
It seems the halfling is not particularly interested in solving this mystery...
Lanatir takes the opportunity for conversation, but having heard the voice in his mind, he simply thinks his reply.
My name is Lanatir. Of Kyonin and of the First World. I do not wish to hurt you. I tried to converse, but perhaps you did not understand. And then my comrades attacked.
We are here to protect the ones like us. The others walkers made of flesh. Some have died in here. I do not know what you are. What is your first memory?
"My flame was lit...some time ago. Or was it moments ago? My kin did not see the world as I did. Where I could know of what was beyond me, they could move, act upon what was beyond them. I cannot."
It pauses, ruminating upon what Lanatir had said, "Ones like you? I do not know what you speak of. You are the first of you I have seen. What are these names you speak of? Kyonin? Is this world not the only one?"
Elsa waves at Yadalla
Can't you hear it? Something is talking to us. That purple flame lantern. Telepathy. We might be able to sort this out.
Zyrel sighs "This one, at least, doesn't seem hostile. Elsa, Aakif, do you have something to ensure it is simply talking to our minds and not controlling them?"
"Lanatir. If it is not hostile, and does not have information, we need to keep moving." Zyrel looks around "Percieve, Evaluate, Act."
Well I don't have the urge to suddenly kill anyone, so no. It's just talking. If that changes I'll let you know
She grins, and then shrugs.
If this has nothing to do with what's happening, we should love on. But we should check first
P.S. is interested in talking. She asks the purple flame, “You’re the one I played music for, then? But you’ve… done no harm?”
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She reloads her piece, but the bullets are intended for whatever entity did the killing. She hopes to know who before pulling the trigger.
"I think does have information of value.
Something gave a modicum of intelligence and awareness to things in this factory.
Can wild magic create intelligence? Can it bestow a soul?
This lantern here seems to have abilities of perception and intelligence, but not of movement.
The other lanterns, the ones that formed a swarm, seem to have had movement but not perception or intelligence.
The lantern has not seen any other humanoids. It may not be able to directly shed light on what happened to the caravan. But even so, it seems part of the same spirit or animating force. Perhaps it can communicate with the other objects."
He thinks at the lantern. Will you accompany us? Will you allow one of us to carry you?
"I cannot carry the lantern while still keeping my sword ready. Nor can Zyrel. Aakif? Elsa? Miss Finch? Would any of you be willing, if the lantern agrees?"
He turns to Yadalia. "You do not hear it in your mind?"
The group "hears", with intent towards Pumpkin, "Music? What is that?"
The voice then turns to everyone, "Yes. I would come with. I should like to see what is beyond this."
Yadalia shakes her head, "I ain't hearin' a thing. Wild magic's an odd thing. There's so damn much that we just don't know. Some golems are known to spontaneously manifest intelligence when exposed to wild magic. This could be part of it."
Pumpkin answers the entity’s question with a short melody.
“That’s just a sample of what music is. Are you not the one I played for earlier then?”
She says to Lanatir, “I can carry the lantern, but if I need to reload my piece, I’ll need to set it down.”