Old Wolf is taken safely back to the ceiling.
Yeldrid reloads and fires the gun again, a slightly more grim expression on his face.
Rex gets to his feet and readies to slash at Old Wolf when he falls down again, pausing only to heal himself as best he can. The corgyn does not look well.
The attacks skid off of Old Wolf's hide, sending up sparks, as the creature gives a horrid laugh like magma bubbling. There is no humor in his eyes now, and nothing but hate as he lashes out at Isamu: For the moment, his only target.
Seeing Isamu sustain grievous injuries, Rex lets out a howl of anger. Spurred on by his love for his friends, the corgyn springs up to meet the monster as Old Wolf falls towards them—but Old Wolf twists out of the way to land on his feet. He grins as Rex is then in turn sent flying away. "There. the paladins can have on the ceiling together, and can
Now, only Yeldrid and Lily stand between him and his prey. The old fiend is badly injured, but as he starts towards them and Trin, his beady eyes glitter in almost mindless hunger.
"Part of me take it slow , Lily Shadow, so I can together who you really are. But ... who ? The way of the Writhing Wood . So I shall ."
Rex's eyes are wide as he helps Isamu up. "I can't reach him from up here!" the corgyn half-whispers, half-whimpers. "We've got to think of something!"
Isamu desperately tries to parry the claw.
He comes to (barely), when Rex heals him. Isamu hands the dagger over to Rex. "Throw it," he mumbles, still only half-conscious.
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Lily scampers around recovering her dagger, before looking up. Ichor streams from a massive hole in her side.
"The ways of the wood are many, wolf, enough that you'll never see them all. But if you're in such a hurry, why don't you go ahead and bring it."
Lily gestures at him mockingly, beckoning the beast to come at her. She readies an action to feint as he approaches, attempting to draw his attention away from Trin.
Rex holds the dagger—to him a shortsword—uncertainly, and readies to throw it.
Yeldrid, still determined, lines uo another shot.
And it's a crack of a shot too.
Old Wolf snarls as a bullet rakes across his shoulder. Smoke rises from him like an army of campfires over a great, dark hill.
The great fiend seems to swell in size, towering over the little spiderwoman, and charges, trying to flat-out ram her off the bridge, drive her back to reach his true target at last. Trin takes a step back, breath catching.
Behind him, unnoticed, Rex hits the floorboards of the bridge with a faint clunk.
"I FEED!" the fiend roars, as Lily struggles to hold him back. A roar releases from his mouth even as he speaks, as if multiple voices within him vie to be heard. "You are MEAT!
He cuts off, staring down at Lily with a look that is... almost puzzled.
The Old Wolf's neck seems to bend and stretch unnaturally to turn, to let him stare, mouth agape, at the dagger which has embedded itself between his shoulder blades.
The fiend staggers. "I. I do not ." His yellow eyes flicker. He coughs up bilious smoke. "You meat."
He collapses, twitching.
In the distance, the wolf howls are getting closer.
"Make sure... he stays down!" Isamu gasps out from the roof of the bridge. He starts cautiously crawling to the edge, curiously testing if going off the end of the bridge will send him sailing upwards or let him back down by sticking one hand out beyond the edge.
"Yeah... Good Thinking."
Lily grips her dagger uncertainly in both hands, trembling slightly---death was close this day. Moving over to the wolf's body, she takes careful aim, and ends the beast.
Lily Shadow cuts the beast's belly open.
There is a sound like a giant's wheezing, like a long, deafening dying breath. Fetid smoke explodes outward like cinders flying after a log has been thrown into a blaze. And before the party's eyes, the body... withers. The smoke blows away in a sudden breeze.
In a matter of moments, all that remains of Old Wolf is a tattered, ragged wolf skin—or something almost like wolf skin, but oily, crusty, and stained a deep crimson.
Trin draws their fur cloak closer around themselves as the wind begins to pick up.
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Isamu is quiet for a moment, shuddering at the sight. Once he's collected himself, he suggests, "Ah... someone should get... the donkey."
Yeldrid gives Isamu a thumbs up, and whistles towards Samson. "Come on, mate, no need to be stubborn now. You ain't gonna be a snack for the bloody Wolf."
He walks past the Old Wolf's skin, giving it a cautionary glance, smiles widely, and begins laughing as he goes to fetch his mule.
Samson blinks, shakes himself, and trots forward as if nothing has happened.
He is about halfway across the bridge when the party notices that a group is starting to assemble on the eastern side.
Standing at the front of over a dozen gangles, head tilted to the side in silent observation, is the archer who escaped the previous skirmish—the one who got in a fistfight with Yeldrid before calling Yeldrid a garbage shooter and running away. She has her bow out, but hasn't nocked an arrow.
Isamu looks at the gangles, considers his own state, and decides not to draw attention to himself on the roof of the bridge.
Yeldrid grabs onto Samson's reins and gives the mule a solemn pat on the back before glancing over to the gangles. He stands silently regarding the group, much like the gangles regard them, before waving towards the one with the bow.
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Lily looks up to regard their new 'guests.' She whispers "Get Trin ready to go if they attack," before addressing the gangles across the bridge. "The Old Wolf is no more. Whatever he has promised you is gone, and your mission over. Return to your homes, and the peace and know that Lily Shadow is always here to guard the innocents of the forest."
Lily looks up to regard their new 'guests.' She whispers "Get Trin ready to go if they attack," before addressing the gangles across the bridge. "The Old Wolf is no more. Whatever he has promised you is gone, and your mission over. Return to your homes, and the peace and know that Lily Shadow is always here to guard the innocents of the forest."
The gangles exchange looks.
The archer clears her throat. "Old Wolf's control fell with him, and his promises gone sour. Go, then. Too many been killed or eaten for Hell's interest. For today, the orcs are tired of fighting. Take the soul and go. We would rather hunt for rich merchants' treasures than small screaming child anyways. We fight some other time, Lily Shadow."
The others nod in agreement.
Isamu continues quietly laying on the roof of the bridge, waiting for the gangles to leave before trying to get down.
The gangles are waiting for the party to leave, naturally!
The orcs depart, and Isamu is left to consider a way down.
The party hears a clicking sound from nearby. A plain songbird has perched atop the bridge, staring down at the party in contempt.
"You lived-lived-lived," the songbird says flatly.
"Yes, and unless you'd like us to start using you for target practice, I suggest you stop trying to sic demons on us," Isamu states, standing up unsteadily.
He draws his rapier and jabs it at the air, ready to flip over and try to land on his feet if the maneuver works.
Isamu feels a slightly confused humming sound, and his gravity reverses.
Isamu, too injured and exhausted to react in time, lands directly on his face.
He just lays there for a momemnt, before mumbling, "Ow."
The bird gives a short laugh. "Down-down-down you go. So now what?" It fixes its beady eyes on Trin as the aasimar goes to help Isamu up. "Win-win-win for you? Where are you even going?"
"I was rather thinking of taking up bird-hunting now," Isamu mutters.
Lily looks up from binding her wounds "Home, probably. Someone has to look to the townsfolk, and keep the gangles in line."
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The bird gives something like a snort and takes off with an angry warble. "Then see you soon, Shadow. We'll get you one of these days—a spider's only got so many legs with which to run-run-run."
Trin gives Isamu's much larger hand a squeeze. "Can we go?"
There is little Writhing Wood left to travel though, and the journey west is uneventful from here as the party reaches the plains. Gnarly trees give way to waves of brilliant green. The prairie spills out in all directions around the beaten dust road, spilling straight over the edge into a terrible cliff face. Jagged hills rise up around the cliff face.
Between all of this and the forest, though, lies an old, beaten ruin. Isamu checks his map.
"You're going to want to head to the ruins here. The ghost children are good sorts, and can offer, erm, succor and such. Directions, maybe.
Isamu smiles weakly at Trin. "Yes, let's keep moving."
He sighs slightly as they near the ruin. "I suppose that's our destination for now. Anyone know more about who we'll meet there?"
[ooc]They counted in the high 40s. I'm not sure who's been keeping track of them, but you definitely have some left.[oc]
"Not in particular, although they're said to be peaceful." Lily none-the-less maintains a watchful eye as they approach the ruins.
As the party approaches the ruins, Rex's head gives a jerk. "Do you smell that?" the little corgyn whispers. He looks around, puzzled. But the sun is setting on the prairie, and in the tall grasses, it's hard to see what exactly he's looking for.
"Hail, we come in peace. Might you know of the ghost children?" Lily greets the shadowy figures.
The little figures exchange looks as they rose out of hiding. They look like... people. Only smaller. Their feet are large, bare, and hairy. and most of them have prominent sideburns—some styled, some allowed to grow as wild as thorn thickets. They are dressed in practical leather and hide armors, and carry slings.
Their apparent leader, a bald man with dark sepia-brown skin and a pair of curved swords at his side, addresses the group. "Who are you? And why do you travel with an aasimar?"
"This little one was in trouble, hunted by an ancient hunger within the woods. It is dead now, but we seek a safe haven for them." Lily responds, her many eyes carefully tracking the group as they approach.
His brow furrows. "I see. I am Nimba—I was chosen to lead this patrol to meet your band. What are your names?"
"I am Lily, Lily Shadow, and these are my companions; Trin, Isamu, Yeldrid, and Rex. We would be honored if you would introduce us to your people." Lily curtsies formally, standing and turning to point towards her companions as she introduces them.
The group had caught Isamu in the middle of sucking on one of the healing drops, which was part of why he'd remained quiet. Now that he was feeling a bit more himself, he gives a bow at Lily's introduction.
"Indeed. We might also ask if we could rest for a night somewhere safer. As you might be able to tell," he flashes a pained grin, "We've just been tangling with that ancient hunger, and it got a few bites before it went down."
Though the "ghost children" are plainly still wary of the party's weapons, they seem to be put at least somewhat at ease by Lily's and Isamu's respectful words—and perhaps by the name of Lily Shadow, whose name does occasionally filter out of the Writhing Wood. And Trin seems to be shivering in the breezy plains, huddling against Rex for wamrth, so they make a decision and usher the party back to the ruined town with little more delay.
The closer the party gets to the ruins, though, the less ruined they appear. A warm glow begins to pervade the world around them, and a sensation like a hearth's heat on chilly hands. The old brick walls shimmer and morph, and a soft crackling echoes all around. The buildings begin to look newer. More intact. Homier.
"Welcome to our humble little town," Nimba says, smiling. "We haven't got around to coming up with a name for it yet. The vote is pending."
The two groups are greeted by curious stares by little folk in the windows. Some even come outside of their houses to examine the newcomers more closely. The party is guided into a large sort of tavern or longhall, lit by a crackling fire to be cozy and comfortably. There, Trin is practically accosted with blankets and every hot drink and comforting meal the cook can spell to her mind. The young aasimar seems overwhelmed, and continues to cling to Rex as they uncertainly drink from a spiced egg-cream drink the cook insists will warm their up "quick as Styx." Rex gives it a careful sniff first, of course.
The rest of the party is greeted every bit as warmly, if perhaps a bit more cautiously. Nimba stays with them, but the other scouts seem to fade into the background as he leads them to one of the only tables large enough for Isamu and Yeldrid to sit at comfortable. It's actually a very nicely-carved table, set right next to the fire. "Our guest table," he explains. "Usually for merchants or honored visitors. Which I suppose you are, strangers!"
He hops up onto a high chair as the burly chef insists that the party help themselves. "We are almost to our harvest festival," she chirps, "and for now, food is plenty. It won't keep, so eat! Eat! It's rare enough I've access to bellies big enough to manage it, and waste breeds barghests. Eat!"
Whether the party eats or no, Nimba dines more conservatively, buttering his yams and occasionally sipping from his drink. He spends the afternoon quizzing the adventurers on the events of the Writhing Wood—everything from the wicked birds, which is disgustedly refers to as, "Mockingbirds, truly insufferable birds—" to the strange undead that claimed to be a spirit of the Wood itself, which he snorts at. But he listens in rapt attention as the party explains the trials with Old Wolf. The Tree of Souls is especially interesting to him.
"I am not an expert on spirits," he mutters. "And we haven't a proper sage since Old Mbina died. But the Tree of Souls... we have another name for it. We believe it is a prison for fiends. Maybe that is how 'Old Wolf' got free." He sips his drink. "It is good that he is dead, and that the child escaped. Every soul deserves a second chance to make it over the Styx. If even half of this is true, we owe you a great debt. I will schedule a vote on how to help we can further, if you plan to keep going.
"As for your original mission, to...track down Barlily's sage. Alma." He bites his lip. "That I can help you on now. We know what became of Alma.
"You see, just around a week ago, a giant came stomping over the plains. He was dressed very finely, and very cleanly—not his work clothes, I'd guess. And he had a most curiously-shaped cottage stuck to his foot." Nimba takes a heavy drought from his drink. "When you live in a house shaped like a shoe, you are asking for one of the Very Big Folk to make use of it, so I don't know what right Alma had to be swearing so viciously from up there. But she's alive, or was when the giant came.
"To be very honest, worried as I'd guess you are for Barlily's sage, we were more curious what got that giant in need of traveling boots. You see, just two days ago, a donkey whose merchant's shipments we have been dealing with for years turned up alone and unharnessed, his master nowhere to be seen.
"He explained to us that a few days ago, a very well-dressed old giantess in a terrible hurry had stomped on his cart and killed his merchant."