Nyym comes to an abrupt halt at the words of all clear. A confused look on his face. His mind registered an explosive device. But he did not hear an explosion. He causuosly followed Liesel-Marie back in the room. Seeing Colt holding said device makes Nyym even more confused. But he doesn't speak at this time as he is wondering if he had misread the situation or the Marshall has a twisted since of humor.
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Liesel-Marie puts Kyt down on the ground, makes hand motions as if smoothing imagined wrinkles in the woman's robes, and offers a muttered, "Sorry..." as the fatigue of her spent bloodrage washes over her. She turns to re-enter the room.
Suppressing the urge she had to laugh, Kyt allows Liesel-Marie to finish pressing the material of her clothes.
No need to apologize. I had no idea as to what was happening, so for all I know you were saving me from further injury.
She follows the Erutaki back into the chamber, continuing the conversation:
And to answer your question from before, while none of my strikes possessed killing intent, I was hardly playing with her. I just figured that we might try to get some information from her before you take her head. The elf shrugged helplessly. There is so little that we know and I have no wish to remain ignorant.
Nyym comes to an abrupt halt at the words of all clear. A confused look on his face. His mind registered an explosive device. But he did not hear an explosion. He cautiously followed Liesel-Marie back in the room. Seeing Colt holding said device makes Nyym even more confused. But he doesn't speak at this time as he is wondering if he had misread the situation or the Marshall has a twisted sense of humor.
Seeing the look on the half-drow's face, Colt can't help but smile.
You had the right idea on gettin' everyone to vamoose. Especially if I couldn't stop this here stinger from going 'boom.' The giant would've taken the brunt of the explosion had it still stayed upright, but I didn't count on it fallin' so soon. Looked to me like it still had plenty of fight left in it just before it went down.
Tsadok, in the meantime, had started conducting a search of the room. Something in here was actively trying to overwhelm his emotional center with crippling sadness and he wished to learn what it was. Casting his gaze about, the dhampir notes the geode on the table in the southeast alcove before his eyes eventually settle on the northwestern portion of the chamber. Though he couldn't see anything other than wall, Tsadok knows without question that the source of this feeling he was experiencing was there.
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Still catching her breath, Liesel-Marie nods at Kyt. "Ask, then. I'm fine speaking to her with my axe, but I can wait."
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Still catching her breath, Liesel-Marie nods at Kyt. "Ask, then. I'm fine speaking to her with my axe, but I can wait."
Thank you for this, the elf warrior-monk says, appreciative of her companion's trust, before turning her attention to the defeated and still unconscious hill giant chieftain.
Elsewhere, in the demiplane that is The Vault of Thorns, a meeting centuries in the making is taking place...
Silvermane and the will-o’-wisp guardian Mossmoon stand face-to-face on the wooden bridge above the massive greenhouse that connects the Petal Gate to the chamber where the druids of the Council of Thorns held their conclaves. Flanking the incorporeal on either side stood a tiny, vaguely humanoid creature that seemed to be made completely of bundles of gnarled sticks wound with thorny vines.
For the venerable elf, being within this place stirred memories within him that threatened to overwhelm his emotions. In contrast, the faintly glowing ball of light that is Mossmoon bobbed gently in the air, the nebulous image of a skull within betraying nothing of what it may be feeling.
*The meeting has taken place. I now speak to you on behalf of the Guardians. Only one of them believes as you do, which means the others need to be convinced regarding the string you've sent to stand as their Champions.*
Silvermane's hands move with a rapidness that only hinted at his anger. In response, the light of Mossmoon's body went from blue to yellow before speaking once again.
*A single unit of wolds have already been dispatched. There is nothing that can be done to stop this from happening. And it should be noted that I agree with the course of action taking place.*
Silvermane stares at the will-o’-wisp, his expression revealing his shock.
*If the string is what you claim, then they will pass this test. If they fail, then others will have to be found that are more capable.*
The tiny stickmen watch the exchange taking place. Having briefly traveled alongside Team Ruby when they came through, the two knew of the 'string' the glowing ball of light spoke of. They also knew that the old elf would not be able to warn them of what was coming. After all, that was the true purpose of this meeting.
But where the wrinkled one could not, they could. And so, after exchanging knowing glances with each other, the two step back and away from the conversation.
Silvermane sees this but gives no indication of what is happening. Especially when each of the tiny beings step off the side of the bridge and disappear in flashes of emerald light.
The stickmen make use of their gift of spontaneous movement through briars and thickets to navigate the border of the demiplane they are in to emerge from a bramble into a realm under which a sky of whirling stars and moons that change shape and texture as they track their way through the vibrant heavens. They ran, desperate to avoid attracting the notice of creatures more vivacious, more energetic, and more fecund than themselves.
The two continue on, eventually hearing a distinctive sound ahead of them.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Like themselves, the wolds were traveling through the Feylands to reach their target, taking advantage of the erratic way time flowed in this place.
They needed to find a bloom, a breach connecting this realm to the one the twigmen wished to travel to before the wolds.
Both of them finally catch a glimpse of the advancing unit. There were six in total, all fashioned from wood and plates of stone inscribed with glowing yellow runes. Three of them resembled floating green glowing eyes that darted back and forth. The stickmen recognized the trio as wyrd, swift airborne hunter-killers the size of humans that were particularly adept at dealing with arcanists and the like. The rest of the unit (and the source of the booming footfalls) are humanoid in shape, and stood taller than the tallest of the group they were trying to reach. Of those three, two of them were watchers and they typically served in the capacity of guardian to the megalithic stone circles employed by the Council of Thorns. The third, which stood taller than the other two, was a warden. And while it served a function comparable to the guardians, the warden possessed more discretion in its duty as it was capable of undertaking patrols of the area it was designated to protect.
This unit represented the steps the Council had been willing to undertake to drive out the orc hordes before inevitably sacrificing themselves. And this was the last remnant of that war, stored here in the Feylands, called upon to act once more.
The stickmen were glad that the unit didn't contain a wrath, the pinnacle of wold construction. Only one had ever been created by the Council and its loss in the war against the orcs had deprived the druids of a powerful resource.
The march of the wolds had come to a stop as one of the wyrds darted ahead. It quickly returned, the runes adorning stone plates that framed its crystalline orb flashed rhythmically. Deciphering the pattern, the stickmen understood it had located a bloom that would take the unit where it needed to go.
The decision came quickly and the two acted upon it. One would serve to distract and delay while the other would run on to warn of what was coming. It wasn't long before the runner knew its companion had made contact with the unit when it heard the discharge of powerful energies, but it continued on, knowing that in all likelihood it will never see its companion again.
Back at Redlake Fort...
Kyt, her face twisted with concern, glances back briefly at Grenseldek. Once stirred from her unconscious state, the bitter hill giant proved surprisingly eager to converse with the elf warrior-monk.
Alright... here's what we now know. A mysterious storm giant warlord calling himself Volstus the Storm Tyrant has issued a call to the giants of western Avistan to gather at a secluded valley in the Mindspin Mountains and form an army to subjugate the smaller and weaker races of the continent. Here in Belkzen, Grenseldek, former chieftain of the combined tribe of giants, ogres, and orcs called the Twisted Hearts, heard the summons. However, she believed her place was not under the Storm Tyrant’s banner, but rather at his side as queen. Rather than rush to answer the Storm Tyrant’s call to war, Grenseldek instead attacked our home with the plan to amass a dowry from the wealth looted from her ancestor Uskroth’s tomb—long forgotten in the hill under Trunau—to win Volstus’s affections. Specifically, she sought half of a unique and spectacular geode that when combined with its other half (already in Grenseldek’s possession) would form a map that she believed pointed to a far greater trove: the hidden stone giant cathedral of Utgorheim, which is believed to be built around an artifact called the Maker's Forge. With the riches claimed from beneath Trunau and the promise of more to come, our naive Grenseldek believed the Storm Tyrant could not refuse her. Unfortunately for Grenseldek, her lofty aspirations came to nothing when her infiltration and subsequent assault on Trunau failed, thanks in no small part to us.
Kyt waits to see what the others have to say.
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Liesel-Marie looks among her companions, unsure what to make of this. We came to avenge Trunau. Does this knowledge change that?
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Liesel-Marie looks among her companions, unsure what to make of this. We came to avenge Trunau. Does this knowledge change that?
Colt speaks up. I don't rightly know what's going on here. But sounds to me like she wouldn't have attacked your home were it not for this Storm Tyrant. Not saying that absolves her for what she's done, but it seems to me that even if she hadn't attacked, you'd be dealing with something much worse. I mean, an army of giants?
Kyt looks to everyone. We were sent to both deal with the orcs and the chieftain. Now we're learning that the attack on our home was set into motion because she wanted to improve her standing with this Storm Tyrant, who's putting together an army to conquer the continent. Trunau is not prepared to deal with something of that magnitude and this is definitely above our paygrades. Halgra will need to know what is going on, that's for certain.
She then turns her attention back to Grenseldek. As for you, lives were lost and destruction was brought to our home. Therefore, with the authority given us by Halgra of the Blackened Blades, Chief Defender of Trunau, you are to die for your crimes.
Finish her quickly, Liesel-Marie. We've a long trek back to Trunau.