Trevor winces: "Do they still feel pain? Wait, you think it can survive? Wait, what does survival mean when you're dead already?! Makes no sense..." and his thoughts then move to Khors, and Khors's light, thinking that it shall stench the thirst of death itself, and leave it, well, 'dead dead.'
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"He was shouting his name all over the cavern," Allie explains to Methada after she withdraws the helm to observe the contraption better. "It seems to be his arcane focus. I fine one, as the things go. I focus on a huge powered set of armor, so I'm not one to complain."
She turns to Vrindel. "Honor to you, trollkin. I was right a right fragged hoop that he was going to get away, but you done ran the table on them. Wish I could've done it myself.
Of course it looks like we can't use the winch now, but that wouldn't have stopped me were I in your shoes, so I can't really gainsay it.
Also, methinks them stones might could-a summoned some reinforcements on the winch, so you also stopped that. 's a win, all considered.
Um, if we camp the night I can reconfigure some stuff so we can all get down safely.
Getting up? Well I can fix the rope, if we can get the end down there back up here."
After the gnome finishes cleaning the air, he returns to the group, specifically Methada. "Yes, we've faced one of the ghouls before. He was manning this tunnel for their organization. Tough bastards."
"Not mindless undead. That's why they could hear my curses. It was easier than trying to blast them." He says while looking at Allie.
Returning his gaze to Methada, he says telepathically, ::My specialty is the mind. Vashrin really loves you by the way. He shared some of your stories together, after I told him how we killed the hydra.::
"That makes sense." Methada said nodding as people went on to explain things to the new comer. "Organization? So there are more of those things further in?... Well we've got our work cut out for us that is for sure."
She jumped a bit when she heard a voice in her head that wasn't her own. "That... Wasn't what I expected." Methada said a loud as she looked to Ibrox. "I'm glad to hear that Vashrin says such... We've been together so long it doesn't surprise me." Methada smiled slightly. "Wait you all killed a hydra?" She asked surprised.
A quiet peace settles over the area as you catch your breath and discuss next steps. Occasionally the calm almost oppressive silence is disrupted by a loud boom or rumble from the depths, but whenever anyone looks over the edge and into the chasm, there is nothing to see but darkness and certainly no sign of counter attack from whatever might be lurking below.
It is as Allison starts to drop into a meditative rest and Ibrox and Methada discuss past monster slayings that the gnome's magically enhanced eyes suddenly grow large with surprise. He points a short finger toward the southern wall of the chamber. Moments later a large section of the wall begins to take on a ethereal swampy green glow. As the magical glow intensifies, it is possible to see the silhouette of a shadow shrouded forest. A moss covered cobblestone path winds through the dark and eerie wood seemingly coming to an end right where the path intersects the stone wall of the cavern.
With his short finger still pointing at the magic portal that just opened in the southern wall of the chamber, the gnome reacts, "Woah! You don't see that everyday. Reminds me of the path under the willow that led to the giant shrooman jailer of the dryad."
"Think it's an invitation. Who's ready to go first?"
"An invitation? From whom!? Is this real? Where is this place? And if we go there, will we able to return? This could be some kind of trap, no?"
Vrindel takes a moment to digest the new portal that has opened. He reaches for the memories of his ancestry to see if some pattern exists in the dilemma before them. It seems that the treat from below is neutralized for the moment without the rope elevator, unless there is another way up.
He looks with pride as Ibrox, Trevor, and even the Griffon rider seem to carefully consider their options. Months ago both of my remaining companions would have already jumped into the portal without thinking.
As he tries to notice anything in particular about the scene on the other side, his concentration is broken by Clankty Clank dashing forth and entering the portal.
The big Trollkin sighs.
Perception
Vrindel is the first to spot it. In the distance along the narrow path, still quite far away. Some kind of raccoon like creature but walking, rather running full out, on two legs with a tattered, flapping cloak stretched out behind it along with a ringed furry tail. Although no sound seems to pass through the shadowy portal, the creature appears to be yelling and waving frantically as it makes a straight line dash toward the portal. One small furry clawed hand holds a flamboyant feathered hap atop its head. The green and blue fabric slotted to accommodate two pointed ears that currently lie flat against the creatures skull as it races along.
As Allison steps through the portal, surprisingly the creature rushes past her and burst through the other side. Suddenly Allison's armored form is much further away standing in the middle of the shadow filled path under the dim purple sky.
"IIIIIIYYYYEEEEE!" The creatures fearful scream brakes into the relative quiet of the cavern as it bursts through the portal. Standing slightly shorter than Ibrox, the creatures wide brown eyes that shimmer with a golden glow immediately latch on to Methada as it barely breaks stride in its mad dash. Nearly tackling the shadow fey rider, it looks to her with pure panic in its eyes.
"You'vegottostopit!Closetheportal!Runforyourlivesit'srightbehindme!Ididn'td oanythingIpromise,IwasjustpassingtimeonmywaytoZobecktodeliveramessageformym istress.NowI'mgoingtobeeaten.Bytheshadesshadowwhydon'tyouclosethegate?!!!!" It's words tumble into the cavern and Methada like a rock slide with no chance for the shadow fae to insert herself for several confusing moments. Seeing the griffon riders confusion, it takes a moment to turn back and look through the portal. With a frightened squeak it turns back begging and pleading. "Please!Please!Please!Closethegate.Closeit.Closeit.Closeit.IpromiseI'llhelp you.Anythingwithinmypowersorabilitities.There'sanotherroadhere.Youjustneedt oclosethisandopentheother.Justdon'tletiteatme!IknowI'mjustalowlyservantands tewardofthegriffoncourtbutyou'vejustgottahelpme.Pllleeeaaassseee!"
Looking back within the portal to see what has the creature so obviously in a panic, there is little there except the distant armored form of the arcanist. That is until several of the trees lining the path begin to shake and shiver, their gray and indigo leaves falling to the ground. You all see Allison's armored head swivel toward the growing disturbance among the trees.
Swinging your head around, you see several of the trees shaking and shivering as it something very large, very strong, or perhaps both was winding its way along their bases causing each to rattle and shiver in the dim purple twilight of this place.
Not being one to run at the first sound of something fierce, you peer into the dim light. It takes a few heartbeats but then you see the first serpentine movements. An even deeper shadow among the shadows of the trees and wood. Black scaled claws with ivory tips emerge from between two shaking trees. Following the claws is a draconic head ewith silvery-eyes gleeming with a purple cast, its snapping jaws could easily engulf your armored frame in one snapping bite with its razor sharp teeth and a flickering red tongue. Spines rattle and run along the serpentine back past two more sets of muscled legs as it slithers through the wood. Its hard scaly hide rubbing bark from trees in a singular drive to reach the portal that sits directly behind you.
"What is going on here?! Is this raccoon talking? It sounds a bit like talking, yes?"
"I think he wants us to close some portal." Methada answered as she tried to understand what it was saying. The griffon rider placed a hand upon the raccoon creature's head. "Don't worry, we'll help you just, calm down and stay behind me." She told him softly trying to calm him down.
"Wait did you say steward of the griffon court?!" Methada asked with wide eyes when she finally made sense of all of his words.
"Ok, but why did the raccoon open the portal in the first place then? And how do we close a portal? I don't see any lever..."
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'This. Is. AWESOME!' Allie thinks as she's thrust through the magical wormhole. She had read a good deal of theory on these types of Gates, and had even seen one cast (but it turned out to only be an illusion because of course). So to actually travel through one was simply too much to resist.
A silly grin stretches unseen across her bright young face, and her eyes, peeled wide, swivel about, taking in the alien landscape and the distance traveled in so quick a span of time.
"Oh would that I might have a year to study this! The applications if this sort of thing could be commonly used...I could personally put all the sailing ships out of business!" Her mind reels at the ramifications and future applications such a thing might have.
'Tis only the shaking of the forest that breaks her out of her reverie.
He mind, now in full Curiosity mode, urges her body closer to the cause of the disturbance, when other, perhaps saner, persons might turn and run at fastest speed away and immediately.
'I want to say that's a young black dragon, but it slithers too much. And I don't think they populate forests. Perhaps a wyrm or wyvern of some kind?' is her first few thoughts.
Only later does her mind start to connect the two dots of interaction between dragon and portal.
'Oh confound I might be trapped here!' she thinks...but the thought is not entirely sad. She held no great or fond memories of where she was, and to be in a new place meant none of the ties that had accompanied her could reach her.
Still, it would be, at least, inconvenient.
She starts to judge the distance. But then she wonders if the thing has seen her yet. And she needs this question answered.
The only way to answer that is to try to -not- be seen and see if it reacts.
She jazzes the chips and blends into the shadows, making her way back to the gate, but carefully.
The gnome approaches the magic portal with some degree of excitement and attempts to determine how to close it, if he wanted to. He wouldn't want to close it too fast leaving Allison on the other side...
"Whoa! Slow down! Who are you and what are you running from? If you expect our assistance you'll have to quit panicking enough to help us help you".
Sense Motive
Vrindel's big pointy ears then begin to twitch and face forward as the something this way comes.
"So we don't know how to close the portal".
"What?!" The creature cries hopelessly as it becomes clear Mathasa does not know how to close a gate linked to a shadow road. Taking a deep calming breath, followed by several more less deep, less calming breathes, he points to her small horns and shadow fey features. "You are one of the queen's people are you not? I thought all knew the basics of traveling the roads." He places his hands over his eyes and starts to shudder. "Oh just my luck to stumble across a Shadow Drake and then across the only shadow elf who doesn't know anything about closing gates. Really...why does all the awful stuff happen to me!" It laments before looking around at the cavern with its deep chasm, narrow ledge and collapsed tunnel. "Ohhh! Just perfect! You've also drawn me into a trap that'll make it easy for that old drake to catch me." It adds glaring at the griffon rider, perhaps just a little unfairly.
It is as the words Shadow and Drake register with Trevor, Vrindel, Ibrox and Methada that the aforementioned creature emerges into the view of the portal. Not all that far from Allison's retreating armored form another shape grows from the shadow-dark confines of the trees. Black scaled claws with ivory tips emerge from between two shaking black trunked maples. Following the claws is a draconic head with silvery-eyes gleaming with a purple cast and snapping jaws that could easily engulf any one of the group in one bone crushing bite. Pointed ivory spines and run along the serpentine back past two more sets of muscled legs and ends in a pointed, spiked tail that lashes and twitches back and forth. Its hard scaly hide rubs bark from trees as it raises it head in what appears to be a roar, although nothing but silence and the raving mutterings of the raccoon fey echo on this side of the portal.
"Well from my viewpoint we have three options... though I'm willing to consider others. One we run, and hope this creature can't make it along the narrow path around the edge: Two we try to use some illusion magic or something to make the hole look like it's solid, move to the other side, and hope the thing either plummets to it's death, or lives and makes life fun for the Ghouls; Three I can try to dispel the magic that holds the portal open".
He then turns to look at the oncoming Clankty Klank and the shadow drake chasing her.
"We'd better hurry".
The cheerful gnome's smile reduces a shade as he remembers his old master (may his name secure a place on the wheel of hell). "If we hit the shadow portal with enough energy, we should be able to close it. Assuming nothing is holding it open."
He holds up his hand to ready an Eldritch Blast, "let's hit it after Allison steps back. Or, if that Shadow Dragon passes her. Whichever comes first. Ready?"
"Unless Trevor, you want to be foolish enough to go after her and pull her back."
"CLOSE IT! CLOSE THE GATE! NOW!!!" offers Trevor, clearly about to lose his mind and not seeming to notice Alison stuck on the wrong side of the gate, his eyes locked with the drake while he draws his axe and hides behind his shield.
"What?! No I was raised by a human and a griffon!! Methada said with a shake of her head. "This is the first shadow portal I've ever seen!" She explained.
"What part of, I'm not letting it eat you did you not understand?!" Methada asked with an equally annoyed look.
Methada shouted loudly to the woman.
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'Ha! Yes! It worked!' Allie thinks, crouching silently amongst the gently swaying verdant scene. 'I bet I could stay here all day and it wouldn't notice me!'
Her head swivels, analyzing the tactical situation. As much as she'd like to stay here and open second front, the others are as like to run or set up a trap than actively fight such a beast, and that wouldn't be any fun at all.
Sighing deeply that she won't be able to dissect such a rare beast and pour over its freshly-stopped organs, she stands and gets ready to depart.
'But first...a little something to remember me by. And to send it in hysterics of confusion.'
She takes out one of her ubiquitous wooden blocks and whispers to it for a moment. After turning the volume up to 11, she tosses it a couple feet to her side. That done, she turns and moves for the portal.
Behind her a raucous tumult of white noise explodes amongst the idyllic pasture, as if an ocean of water hovered close by, ready to descend upon the dry valley and crush all before it's wake.
Of course it's not the ocean, it just -sounds- like the ocean. Much like the way holding a shell up to your ear sounds like the ocean. Only the same noise can result from holding up your hand.
She found that out one hot, sandy day as she experimented on a young boy at the beach. His mom was confused why a girl was holding her hand up to her son's ear and asking him about it, but as long as the lad wasn't on fire or crying, she was content to not be bothered by it.
Eyes flash toward your retreating form and suddenly a chill runs through your body as the creature speaks to you.
"I SEE YOU MORTAL. ENCASED IN YOUR LITTLE METAL SHELL." It's voice rattles the air. Like nails scratching slate, underpinned with rumbling of a volcanic eruption. "YOU HAVE TRESPASSED UPON MY DOMAIN. I HAVE YOUR SCENT."
The deafening, ear splitting voice takes on an eerie cadence, one too well known by any practitioner of the arcane arts. The portal is only a few more steps away, but glancing back the creature is already well along in conjuring whatever magic that tooth filled maw wishes to unleash.
"BY DARK OF MOON AND MIDNIGHT SHADE, BLACKED ROSE UPON SARASTRA'S ALTAR LAID. FOR TRESPASS AND VIOLATION OF THIS DOMAIN. BY YOUR IRON COVERED FRAME AND TINKERS TRICKS DO I MARK YOU WITH THE HUNTERS CURSE. SEEK YOU I SHALL FOREVER MORE, KNOW YOU I SHALL UNTIL YOU STEP BEYOND DEATH'S DARK DOOR."
The final word echoes both inside and outside your mighty helm but little else of consequence seems to happen except you feel a slight pressure surrounding you for a moment, like stepping through a thick layer of mud. But then its gone and you dive for the portal where on the far side you see your companions. The gnomes hands all aglow with eldritch power, while Methada shouts something that doesn't pass through the magical barrier. Trevor axe ready but stepping back toward the narrow ledge and possible escape while Vrindel cautiously readies his own response to what may happen next.
"Oh dear! Oh my! Oh NO!" The raccoon fey's eyes grow wider and wider as it watches the drama unfold beyond the portal. Allison tosses a magic box or block of wood that seems to draw the creature aside for a few moments. The delay grants Allison a bit more time and space to reach the portal which she should now easily do before the pursuing beast can overtake her. But just before she crosses the portal's threshold, the mighty draconic beast's eye fill with power and it is clearly speaking words unheard on this side of the portal. Shivering and shaking the raccoon fey covers its eyes but peeks through its fingers to see a black shadow leap in a blink across the distance between drake and Allison. The shadow momentarily envelopes the armored figure and then simply dissolves into the metal. As she steps through the portal, everyone can easily the arcanist's armor covered in a thin layer of dark soot that still resonates with an eerie purple gray glow. "You've got to close it now." The fey says, although his voice droops and becomes forlorn and listless. "For what good it'll do."
"What happened! Did you see what I saw? Is that soot on Wraith's armour the dragon? What do we do? WHAT DO WE DO!?!" shouts Trevor as things seem to have moved suddenly far beyond the realm of his comfort.
He raises his axe, ready to strike hard at the soot on Wraith's armour, wondering if he should just push her back on the other side of the portal to make sure the horror clutching to her stays on the other side.
Running out of options, and ready to try anything, Vrindel calls upon the whispering advice of his ancestors, and attempts to dispel the magic holding the gate open.
Dispel Magic
Dispel Magic (Advantage from SpiritWhispers)
As soon as Clankity Clank emerges from the portal, the gnome looses his Void-powered Eldritch Blasts at the portal to trigger its closure with a stern "Ibrox" to punctuate each volley.
He hoped to catch the shadow dragon in the portal closure severing its head and maybe a claw. The imaginary scene of splattering blood and gore covering Allison broadened his smile.
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Dragons say that Midgard was created from iron, blood, air, water drawn from the great void by Veles and Khespotan. Giants believe the great ancestor, Aurgelmir, the first and greatest of their kind sprang up from the center of the void where rime met flame. Life sprang from his great body including the gods who eventually rebelled and slew the great bringer of life and formed Midgard from his fallen body. Others have other tales any of which may or may not be the truth of the worlds founding. Yet, one thing all seem to agree upon. Once there was nothing. A void filled with chaos and the elements of creation. Out of that chaos the world was born.
Under most circumstances and throughout most peoples lives the world remains a stable place with certain natural and known laws. A coin falls to the ground when dropped, water flows downhill, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Arcane and other magics often work in similar ways although through a variety of different rituals, foci, entities, or powers. No matter how a mortal gains the knowledge and ability to blast their foes from existence with a ball of fire once enacted that ball of fire stays within certain parameters as established by its caster.
And yet very occasionally, chaos rears its freakish head. Reestablishes in primal supremacy upon the world of laws and consistent rules. Once every so often chaos gives the world gas and forces a flatulent bit of stinking uncertainty upon Midgard's hapless residents. (It's worth noting at this point that some, most especially elves, blame this very type of chaotic burst for the creation of humans, but that is another argument for another time.)
So it is, that an oddity of confluences opens the door for yet another burst of chaos upon the worlds sad hide. Ibrox Redcap, a gnome no longer cursed by the great witch Baba Yaga but still under the fell curse of another, perhaps less benign witch, sends his eldritch blast streaking toward the portal to the shadow road. A portal temporarily created by a panicked fey seeking to escape becoming the days appetizer for a rather bad tempered and powerful shadow drake. A portal where moments earlier the Arcanist Allison Whiteangel seeking to explore the shadow side of the gateway discovered the existence of that very same shadow drake. In typical draconic fashion the drake considering itself much more powerful frankly just a little lazy determines to save the human for a later date. So, rather than incinerating the trespassing mortal immediately, the drake instead applies its own curse upon the fleeing arcanist. Four magics coming together. Fey, Draconic, Eldritch, and the arcane powers imbuing much of the young Allison's being. A dangerous mixture to be sure, but well within the tolerances put in place by the gods upon their creation. Unless of course that is the same moment that chaos slips upon the scene.
A young paladin stands next to an equally young shadow fae, who was unfortunately raised by humans and griffons, watch the events before them unfold with trepidation and perhaps rightly deserved growing unease. For it is at this moment that Vridel, trollkin, follower of a more cautious and peaceful path, steps forward. In one last ditch effort to close the portal and end the threat of the shadow drake, he slams his staff upon the ground calling forth the secret words and symbols to drive magical manifestations from the world of mortal men. It was truly unfortunate, and really no fault of his own, for who can predict the whims of chaos, that the staff happens to strike upon the very junction of ley lines that had created this original confluence of events to begin with. It is certainly not his fault that with a slight nudge from chaotic forces unfathomable by mortal minds, the combination of four different magics whirl together to empower the druid's dispelling enough that the three ley lines are immediately severed creating a backlash not seen since the days of the Great Mage Wars and the coming of the Dread Walkers.
Time, space, Midgard, for the briefest of moments all simply cease to exist. But soon enough emergency systems put into place long ago by whichever beings created the world kick in and put things right. Or at least mostly right. And since there was no sense of time or existence during those 'lost moments' no one is really the wiser as to how close chaos came to overwriting existence. Instead all that is felt by those nearby is cosmic level nausea, dizziness with accompanying pain followed by unexplained chills and that odd nervous fear one might get after waking up from a truly awful nightmare. And of course the complete and utter discontinuation of any and all magical powers, effects, abilities, links, or whatever within the nondescript cavern where the world was forced into such a powerful and unexpected reset of the basic structures of existence.
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"WHAT THE--" Wraith cries as the dragon does...something...to her suit just before she comes barrelling, tumbling, crashing out of the mystical portal.
"WHAT?" she yells as she hears shrieks of consternation coming from the paladin, but they lack focus and context, and she has no way of putting the words in their proper order.
"WAIT!" she howls as the druid looks like he's preparing some kinda ju-ju but she's just -sure- she could come up with something better if she could just think of a th--
"WHOA!" she whoops as suddenly a the great many of her carefully constructed jew-jas, be-bops, and constructions cry out in terror, then are suddenly silenced.
"WHA!" she wails as suddenly the deep thrumping, the low, constant powerful hum of the power armor she had worked on so long and so carefully and had kept her safe and protected all this long time suddenly just sort of...stops.
"Ummmm," she says, for lack of anything better to say as suddenly the weight of the armor that had been magically canceled out comes to settle upon her frail shoulders and, both surprised and unable to cope, and physically just not ready for this burden, she just sort of sinks to the ground.
Now collapsed into a large, shiny, and -heavy- metal cocoon, she finds herself confused.
"Um, a little help here? I...I can't get up. I think the dorsal hatches will pop open if we can just...."
She tries to move her bulky right arm, but has trouble so much as moving it from an idle, extended position.
If left to her own devices this might take awhile.
CON Save
Vrindel blinks and stares around in wonder at the results of his attempt to dispel the gate.
"Well that wasn't what I was expecting. Is everybody Okay"?
He looks around at the group, stifling a bit of laughter at Klankty-Klanks turtle like movements trying to stand.
Trevor fights the surging inside his stomach as he scans Wraith's armour. "Is it still on her? Did it get through?!" he asks the others, ready to strike.
When the Void-powered Eldritch Blasts closed the shadow pi]i]ortal, he blinked. In the instant of his eyes closed, the gnome stared into the Void. A tapestry of stars behind his Patron whose name shortened to Ibrox floating in front of him. Immense and dominant.
When his eyes opened, he stood in the cavern below the inn with the shadow portal closed. But he felt the explosion of magical backlash, which knocked him in the gut. He sunk to his knees in pain in triumph and disappointment. He finally had an audience with his Patron, who was pleased.
He watches the new girl struggle in her armor and smiles.
Methada tried to shield the fey with her body when the blast came, and as such to bore the full front of it.
She dropped down to one knee, and weakly nodded to Vrindel asked is everyone was okay, "That... Wasn't what I expected..." She honestly told him.
The fey's eyes grow wide and its cheeks suddenly puff out as it runs to the edge of the cavern a proceeds to cough up whatever it is that raccoon like fey eat for breakfast in the morning. Wiping the back of a furry hand across its mouth it let's out another startled yip as it looks down at its unclothed, furry body.
"Eeeep! What the?!" It exclaims. Hands darting down to cover what is already mostly covered by fur and a simple chain of leaves. The cloak that adorned its shoulders is now nothing more than a big patch of moss. Tunic has become spider web and more leaves. Short sword, nothing more than a pointy stick. The wide hat that sat atop its head is now little more than a woodpecker feather stuck through a coil of ivy.
With a wave of its hand, only one, since the other is currently engaged in covering himself, and speaking a series of words it what can only be its native tongue, the fey conjures...nothing. It tries again and once again, but nothing happens.
"By the Queen's backside. What just happened? You just needed to close the gate not disrupt the very fabric of nature and space itself." It says, its voice rising to a somewhat panicked pitch as it walks back over to Mathada and the rest of you. "I don't know how is possible but my magic doesn't seem to work anymore. Ermm...ummm...could anyone spare a blanket or cloak or something?"
It's eyes flick toward the struggling Allison, still trapped inside her completely inanimate armor. "Is your friend okay. She seems a bit stuck."
Trevor rolls his eyes, but nevertheless takes his pack off and throws a blanket at the talking raccoon, keeping his axe ready to strike.
"Let's not lose track of priorities, yes, I think I saw that dark drake turn to soot and cling to Wraith's. Anyone else saw that?!"
Wrapping the offered blanket about himself, the furry faced fey look at Allison's toppled form with a critical eye. Strolling over he swipes a finger along her armor, completely ignoring the fallen arcanist's protests and pleas in proper fae fashion. The short appendage comes away with a bit of the blackness. Taking a moment to examine the substance, he then pops his finger in his mouth sucking the soot off and then spitting it out onto the ground near Trevor's foot.
"Bah. Isn't anything to worry about. The old bastard's curse didn't stick. Likely because of whatever happened that killed all the magic." He says wiping his finger off on the corner of the blanket. "Mind you, I wouldn't travel the shadow roads around here anytime soon. Old Sootscales isn't one to give up easily once he's got your scent and feels wronged."
He turns and looks around at the cavern and it lonely, empty darkness. "Well, this is a rather dreary place. So I'll just deliver my message and be on my way."
He strides over to Methada and pulls a small scrollcase from a pouch that had dropped to the ground when his belt turned into a thin bit of bright yellow yarn. Holding the pouch under one arm he hands the scrollcase to Methada.
"I was told to deliver this to the shadow fae in the Caverns Under the Dryad Willow Upon the Morning Meadow. You seem to fit the bill, so here you go." He looks around again. "So now that that's taken care of, would someone be so kind to point me toward the way out"
"Message?" Methada asked before he came strolling right up to her and handed the scrollcase to the very confused shadow fae.
"Uha, well, uha... Yes I guess. Thank you." Methada said as she still looked confused. She pointed the way from which she and the others hand come before she set about opening the scrollcase to read this message.
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You pop open the seal and out drops a fine piece of rice paper. A note is indeed written upon it in an elegant, graceful hand. Written in Umbral is reads as follows.
My dear Niccela, I hope this letter finds you well and in a timely fashion. I wouldn't usually entrust such things to an Azeban, but Takamanni owes me a favor.
How go your negotiations with the Imperium? There are those in the court who are growing inquisitive as to the resources being sent to Ozku, including the Red Queen's ambassador. You must not tarry or delay your efforts, in fact proceed with all haste.
If you need more gold to buy off the filthy ghouls, just send word through the case. It should return to me using the words I shared that night of the dark moon upon the shores of Lake Tsimtussus.
Be warned, I think the queen has spies lurking in the north now and there are rumors among the kin that Baba Yaga or one of her kin is operating in the region as well. Although the old crone doesn't seem to be aware of the prize, so luck still holds us within her dark shade.
Be well and be safe. I look forward to your successful return and all that it will bring.
Your Loving Sister, Sorreminx
"Well I can honestly say this isn't for me." Methada said as she offered it to anyone else to read but she also explained the basic terms of it. "I wonder if this Niccela is down here as well."
The gnome drops to all fours and empties his stomach. The last wave of nausea had crashed over him making his head spin. After a few moments, he slowly takes out his waterskin, which he uses it to rinse out his mouth. Something had happened to his magic, so he figured that he would use the mundane way a bit until the cavern stopped turning around him.
He struggles to his feet and wobbles over to Methada. He politely asks to read the note. After reading to himself, he concludes aloud, "This letter is to Niccela who apparently is an envoy to the Imperium. That's the ghouls."
Then, he gaze turns to the raccoon, "And would your name be Takamanni? Evidently, an Azeban owes the sender, a shadow fey Sorreminx. Unfortunately for you, this is not Niccela, so the note is still technically undelivered, and you might need to decide the extent of that favor."
"Would this be The Shadow Court from which Niccela is an envoy? Or another Fey Court? Can you tell us more about this Sorreminx and Nicela? Who are they, besides Shadow Fey?"
"Do you know what Ozku is? Or who the ambassador to the Red Queen is? Maybe Allison knows?"
Turning to Allison and then to Trevor, the gnome frowns. "Trevor, please show some chivalry and help the lady up."
Trevor nods to Ibrox. The armour had been declared 'safe,' though by a racoon, but that was enough for him.
He puts his axe away and tries to figure out how to pry Wraith from her coffin: "Don't move. I'll see if I can get the latch to open..."
"So... the suit just shut down?" Methada asked. "From the blast we just had I mean." She said.
"Also Trevor I don't think she can move, that's the problem." Methada pointed out as she moved to help him get Allison out of the armor.
Trevor looks at Methada askance, then it dawns on him: "Thaaat's why she's listening to me! Makes more sense..." and he gives Wraith a big smile.
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Between the hefty paladin, the industrious shadow-fey, and the artificer's muffled but overly-complex instructions, it's found that there is a release mechanism on the back. Once it's released (with some difficulty for its not a much-used scenario) the front opens enough for the lithe Wraith to accept some assistance getting out.
"Gratitude," she mutters, crawling out of the suit as best she can.
Standing and frowning at the thing she makes a few arcane passes over it, then frowns deeper at the result, or lack thereof.
"More than that, Methada. It didn't just shut down, it completely forgot its a magically-animated artifact of protection and death. Somehow it thinks it's a normal suit of armor. Sheeyah!"
Furthering the experiment, she takes out one of her ubiquitous wooden blocks. She treats it alternatingly like a magical toy, or an orange being squeezed for freshness. Finally she gives up, glances at Trevor with a measured look, then THRUSTS her hands out in some kind of arcane gesture...but to no effect.
"Well, it looks like..whatever...happened...it turned off not just my suit's magic, but all of the magic.
We better get back to town to see if this will wear off. We can report our findings and re-group.
I -think- I can get it mobile enough so at least we can walk back to town.
Everyone okay with that?"
With the last sentences she glances at Trevor in an evaluating way, like a lady at the butcher sizing up a well-done steak. Is that a look promising pleasures to satiate desires both subtle and gross?
"Hm... I mean... I'm not sure... Why go back now? We came here for a reason, nay? And that reason still stands br- Well, not breathing, yes, just below us. Magic or no, the threat remains and we would do well to investigate and eradicate, as the saying goes..."
He pauses and adds: "Am I the only one thinking we should proceed and fight those ghouls?"
The gnome (still looking a bit green) looks to Trevor and Allison and replies wearily, "Well, I feel horrible. So, I'm not going anywhere fast. I would suggest we return to the willow and recover a bit."
"I don't think we should head to town immediately, because 1) those ghouls might have called for reinforcements who could come up here and threaten the dryad again and 2) this raccoon's delivery to the shadow fey was to this cavern. Maybe he missed the timing a bit."
Looking at Allison, "Don't you want to know more about who is negotiating with the ghouls AND has an envoy in your queen's court?"
The fey turns and looks at Ibrox. "Weeeeellll." He begins, drawing the word out and gesturing at his furry frame. He peers at each other humanoid standing in the dark cavern. "I do appear to be the only Azeban here. And it does seem that I did some kind of favor for whoever sent the message." He shrugs, not committing to anything really. "It's not my fault if I was given only partial information. The missive was delivered to the shadow fae in the cavern where the gate opened up. That was what I was asked to do. She even looks like Lady Minx's family. Same eyes, same chin, same shifty expression." He dusts his hands together and nods at Methada. "Favor completed. Task done. Scales balanced. Etcetera, etcetera."
"So if you don't mind, I'd like to be on my way before these ghouls you keep mentioning...and this place reeks of by the way...show up and try to drag me off to the food pits. Or Dark Queen forbid, that old drake sniffs a way through from the shadow realm."
He starts to tip his hat, remembers that the jaunty feathered hat is nothing more than moss and a feather, shrugs again and starts to tiptoe across the narrow ledge.
"Good luck with that whole ghoul thing."
Does she look shifty? ... Well, may be a little bit... Don't know... Her eyes...
"Shifty?!" Methada asked obviously insulted. Every time... few saw past her race.
"And where do you think you are going?" Methada asked as she crossed her arms. "I believe you owe those here a debt. They closed the gate, as you requested and your promised to to help up. A promise made, a promise kept." She stated.
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Ibrox's question seems to be worthy of an answer, so Allie taps her chin in ulfish thought, pondering it.
"Beseems that it might be dis-information. The timing of his arrival seems a liiiiitle too perfect. I mean, as soon as we dispatch the ghouls, he shows up? Might be a trap.
Also, I'm not sure how we'll find out more about the intended target, if we did just intercept a secret missive. Maybe the authorities in the town could do more with this information?
Still, I'm fine with maneuvering back just to the surface-tree. Keep an eye on anything bubbling up from the pit. Although," she spares a look down the hole, "I don't think they'll be coming up anytime soon. Greyskins are known for marching in a straight line. Climbing or flying usually takes something unusual, like a ghost, or a wight, or a...something else like that?
But yeah, if our shifty fey can find the other shifty fey, then that seems like a thing worth doing.
But we should get back to the surface soon, because without mojo we're just fish in a bucket."