About a week has passed since our intrepid Pathfinders rescued Luvyire, the last remaining of a trio of celestial beings who had watched over the Glade of Silver Sparks, a monument deep within the Mushfens. During that time the various team members have been productive, gaining new skills or honing old ones, making purchases and preparations. They continue to hear evidence of Theodorus Ichonvarde’s discontent. The supernatural investigator originally hired by Maginmar’s Lord-mayor to investigate the disturbances and happenings at the more local monuments. The fickle politician had claimed the Pathfinder’s success as his own, while the investigator was left to sour and stew.
Now, the day before the full moon, the Pathfinders are invited by Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch to noontime lunch at Heidmarch Manor. They slowly assemble prior to their arrival, each aware of the symbol of a full moon atop their dominant hand, knowing it as the mark left by Ashava’s blessing, bestowed by the azata Luvyire when they agreed to take on the next phase of their current mission.
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Kitor prances in with a spring in every step, a double expresso mocha with shaved coffee beans on top.
"Hello team mates! I do hope you have had as nice a rest as I!"
You suspect her idea of resting is not what most would consider restful.
"I'm feeling lucky today. Just won a years supply of coffee at poker yesterday. I sure hope the mission is local."
Cheating is sooo much better than sheer luck, but that new clover thing sure helps. Fools didn't even check for magic, either!
sluuurrrp
Kit sets her cup down for a second, just a second, and a slinky body pops out from her backpack, as if waiting for just this moment, and snatches it up and downs the remnants.
"Aagh. Kane, you little weasel you!"
Kane, who is a mongoose and NOT a weasel looks affronted and poses with the back of his hand to his forehead and emits a long suffering sigh. A long melodramatic sigh.
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"Hello, Friend Kitoro!" Kahwen says with his trademark bow, one hand over his chest, the other held straight out from his shoulder, his whole torso bending at the waist until it's perpendicular to the ground.
He has dressed in his finery for this meeting, a distinctly nautical outfit that doesn't seem to match any navy and with even more gold braid and embroidery than one might expect on the gold and black cloth. It's capped off by a bicorne hat with one long, colorful plume and a much shorter, drabber feather stuck in the band.
The honors he won in their last mission hand from his breast as does a small talisman.
"I love coffee!" he declares.
When Kitoro came in, the tengu was studying the moon on his hand and even rubbing at it. He'd been careful not to touch it at first, worried it would come off somehow. Now, he seemed to be testing it to see just how durable it was.
He makes no attempt to penetrate Kitoro's disguise. Kitoro is Kitoro.
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"Aha! There you are Kane!" Matrialda pulls out a tiny sweater in black and gold yarn and begins tugging it over the mongoose's head. "We can't have you catching a cold now, can we?" she fusses, ignoring any sulking or complaints.
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Kane drops the empty cup and struggles against the unwanted sweater to no effect. It's tough when you are small and weak like that, unless you are willing to bite. Anyone except Grammamma and he would have, including Kit. As soon as he can he removes it and stuffs it in the backpack, then squiggles up against it making it into a nice comfy nest and sighs contentedly. figuring it will make a nice comfy nest.
"Hmph. I suppose it's better this way. I hate it when he gets into my puppet kit and uses that. Takes me a good half hour to put everything back where it belongs! Thanks?"
The Pathfinders exchange greetings, gifts, and gossip and then head toward Heidmarch Manor. One of the party seems to have been delayed but it doesn’t pay to be late to such an auspicious meeting.
When they arrive they are respectfully greeted by the staff and led through the grandeur to meet their hostess.
Sunlight streams through the dining hall’s windowpanes, illuminating the numerous dishes of food set on the table. Among the selection is a salad of fiddleheads, wild mushrooms, and herbs, a tray of grilled mackerel dressed with fen pepper, a plate of stuffed cabbage leaves, a bowl of maize porridge, and a tray of cheeses, nuts, and plums. A blue-skinned man with solid black eyes, pointed ears, and butterfly wings stands nearby. He casts a curious gaze at the display while Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch strides forward with a warm smile.
“Thank you for joining us for luncheon, Pathfinders.” She gestures to the array on the table with a proud gleam in her eyes. “I thought we might chat over some quality Varisian cuisine. Please take a seat and help yourself to whatever you like, though I do recommend trying the mackerel—it’s freshly caught this morning.”
Settling into her seat, Venture-Captain Heidmarch pours herself a small glass of chilled white wine and reclines. “As you know several areas of the city were recently disrupted by necromantic activity. Your investigation allowed us to trace the attacks to a will-o’-wisp named Tulvhatha, who has taken control of a holy site of Ashava known as the Glade of Silver Sparks. From what we’ve already seen in the city, along with Luvyire’s account of what occurred at the glade, it’s clear this creature wields power that surpasses most others of her kind.” She flicks her gaze toward the blue-skinned man and inclines her head toward him. “Luvyire here has already provided Ashava’s blessing to transform you, who saved his life, into holy emissaries of the True Spark—something which can only be accomplished by the light of the full moon.”
Luvyire adds, “My thanks are deep and our need is great.”
The venture-captain pauses to sip her wine and idly runs a finger across the rim of the empty plate before her. “Tonight will be the full moon and with it the chance to seek out the will-o’-wisp Tulvhatha and end her destruction.”
Luvyire perks up from the assortment of food and glances longingly to the window before looking back. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to join you, Pathfinders. After recently being on the receiving end of Tulvhatha’s wrath, I fear I’m still too weak to make the journey. May Ashava watch over you and keep you safe.”
“I’m glad you’re finally seeing reason, Luvyire,” says the venture-captain. “You’ve already helped enough, and Magnimar is safer for it. As for you, Pathfinders, given the unique nature of the blessing Luvyire has bestowed upon you, you will need to exercise discretion. Your transformation will draw unnecessary alarm if witnessed by civilians. With this in mind, please be sure to be at the Mushfens by sunset. Take the time to prepare yourself for this evening however you need. Luvyire and I are here if you need our assistance. Remember, you have only this one night to discover the Glade of Silver Sparks and destroy Tulvhatha. Be quick, but be careful—you go against a formable foe.”
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kit places a small saucer to the side and spears some of the mackerel, dishing a bit of it onto the small plate and a more generous helping on her own. Kane makes another appearance with his own appropriately sized silverware and joins in the feast.
"Anyone know anything about these will o wisps? Wouldn't it be nice if we could just wear garlic or something and be safe! So they like music, or dancing. Dancing was inordinately useful here before. Who knew ghosts were so into it! Kane and I even learned a dance routine just in case though he just rides me for most of it."
Heidmarch answers, “Tulvhatha is a vicious will-o’-wisp possessing great supernatural strength beyond the capability of most of her kind. She’s likely taken control of the Glade of Silver Sparks to usurp its power and use it to her advantage. Beyond this, we know very little about her.”
After a brief pause, the Venture-Captain adds, “Though she has proven capable of wielding significant necromantic abilities, and her activity has caused the dead to become quite active, so it’s likely you will need to deal with such threats. There are also many fey in the Mushfens, of both avoidant and hostile natures, so you should be on guard for the latter. Beyond this, the Mushfens hold their own natural perils with terrain that is quite dangerous for those not accustomed to traversing it.”
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A sound of two different voices in the hallways sounds out, one quick and excited, the other much slower and calm. "OOOOHHHHH, Is that a FEMUR? I LOVE Femurs! They're sooo big and especially on large peopl-"
"Sasha, I told you we'Re running late and you're going to look at a bone? Ugh, we're moving and that's it!" After a moment, and some tromping sounds that occasionally stop as the high pitched excited voice complains about wanting to see the bone, the door to the room opens and a slightly frazzled Faliana steps into the room. "Sasha is in fine form today. He got excited to see a bug in the road. A BUG UGH! Sometimes he gets on my nerves. Apologies for being late." She reaches into her pack and pulls out a colorful set of plates and painted wooden utensils.
"This is a scrumptious looking feast! You spoil us everytime, Venture-Captain Hiedmarch, every time!" Part way through piling food on her plate, Fali pauses and says to no one in particular, "That's Mămăligă, a cornmeal porridge-like food. Delicious and cheap... I was going to eat some anyways, you don't need to be insistent. Remember our talk about 'please' and 'thank-you'? … I accept your apology."
She sits down and listens through the conversation, but occasionally her face goes completely slack, before tightening up in a way that makes her whole face look smaller, and starts to excitedly try EVERY dish on her plate or on the table.
In the squeaky voice, Sasha looks up and asks, "Wait, UNDEAD? Ohhhhh, I'd love to go help those misguided souls! When do we leave?"
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Kahwen bows to each person as they arrive and greets them by name, putting "Friend" before it each time.
As the sumptuous feast is put before him, he gets lots of food but then eats with obviously borrowed manners.
As mention is made of the transformation, he looks down at the back of his hand where the moon symbol shines at him with promise. And with the knowledge of what they will be fighting, he makes some mental notes about what to buy for the expedition when they get the chance.
He has no knowledge to add and only one question.
"What kind of bug was it?"
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"Not only do we get the treat of walking through the fens, we get to do it while battling feys, undead, and necromancers, oh my!"
Even if she had the money, she is not sure what else she would buy to deal with the dangers ahead of her. Then she has a thought.
"If any of you can do that air step spell thingie. Not sure, but I think it would allow you to run over a marsh."
"Anyone know of any other spells we could get that might help us deal with soggy ground or no ground at all?"
Will-o'-wisps are also known to have some immunity to magic and are thought to feed on fear. In fact, they have a reputation for luring travellers into dangerous situations and natural hazards.
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"...they resist some magics completely, you know, and delight in scaring the wits out of poor innocent travelers," Matrialda continues. "Cousin Geraldine swore they fed on the fear when she had to clean a nest out of her barn, but she also claimed she could talk to bees and that they wanted her to plant only purple flowers. I'm afraid age might have caught up to her." She tuts sadly and continues pushing her fish around her plate. "I don't suppose any of you young folks know any good tricks for being brave?"
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Kahwen listens to his Gamgam with rapt attention, his eyes open wide. "I don't know any magic. But we might run into ghosts, again. So, some of that special oil that makes you able to hit ghosts might be good. Also...aren't fey extra hurt by something? Maybe some of that other special oil that makes your weapon seem like that stuff that fey are extra hurt by would be good," he chimes in.
"I just remember my friends are counting on me and that they're always there for me and that there's nothing Pathfinders can't do!" he replies to her question about tricks for being brave.
The group quietly discuss amongst themselves what supplies they may need in preparation for their mission later that night. Luvyire gently interrupts them with further information.
”The Glade of Silver Sparks is... was a holy dancing field dedicated to Ashava. I maintained and guarded it with two of my dearest friends, who died protecting it. The site also held a sacred relic called the Soul Spark—a mystical orb that helped draw in wayward spirits so that we might lead them to their final resting places. I don’t know what has become of it or the glade now.
“The way to the glade is too difficult to reach without knowing the path, and Tulvhatha’s influence has transformed the nearby landscape, cloaking it in mist and shadows and distorting what few landmarks there are to be found out in the swamp. However, when the full moon’s light shines upon one blessed by Ashava’s grace, she will be able to see the path. In addition to this boon, the blessing will grant abilities quite advantageous to taking down a foe like Tulvhatha.
“While you will be taking on the form of a celestial werewolf, you will not actually be infected with the lycanthropic curse. You will retain your personality and control, and it will last only for the duration of tonight’s full moon. After tonight, the blessing ends and you will return to normal form.”
After a brief pause, Luvyire offers to teach the group a sacred Ashavan dance that could help soothe any restless spirits they may encounter.
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Faliana's eyes light up, in an ironically similar way that Sasha's eyes do, at the suggestion of learning a spirit soothing dance, much less one purported by an azata of the All Spark herself. "I'd love to learn that dance!" She seems to jitter with a level of excitable energy that she's never really displayed before, hearing about all of the Ashava adjacent things they are about to go rescue!
Luvyire spends some time teaching the dance to all who are willing students.
When the instruction is complete, the Venture-Captain provides some additional words of encouragement and sends the Pathfinders on their way to complete their preparations, reminding them to be discreet and to make sure they enter the Mushfens before moonrise.
The Pathfinders spend a few short hours gathering supplies, checking their equipment and making sure they are as ready as they can be for the task ahead. Some revel in a few more practice sessions of the newly learned dance convinced it will be important to perform it accurately.
Late afternoon they head out of town toward the Mushfens, arriving late into twilight.
Moonlight streams through the forest’s thick canopy of dark branches. The chirps and gurgles of nocturnal critters echo in a soft, steady hum, interrupted only by the occasional snapping of a twig or low hoot of an owl. In the distance, fireflies flicker in the shadows. The scent of wet moss and dirt clings to the misty air. Several damp paths branch off, each leading deeper into the swampy woods.
As the full moon’s light washes over them, each of the team feel a series of odd sensations as they begin to transform. Ashava’s Blessing is at work. Most noticeable is the facial changes as the jaws or beak adapt to the new lupine influence, growing sharp teeth with which to rend and tear. Within moments each of them also begins to realise just how alive with sound the fens are and how many different scents surround them. It is momentarily overwhelming as they adjust to their transformation.
A stream of faint, shimmering motes of light appears, gleaming upon one of the paths that plunge deeper into the Mushfens.
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Kit, who is already part fox, goes with the flow and turns into a half Kitsune, half wolf. But since she retains her ability to disguise herself as human, the change is not apparent to the eye.
"Say, who wants to follow the lights into the marsh? I can't believe I'm saying that! Right up there on the stupid scale with buying a bridge in Absalom."
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Faliana tries to learn the dance as best she can, before she decides to go and finally get her armor magically enchanted.
She hunts down an armorer who follows the True Spark themselves, given this is the city to find such a thing. While there she finds that they have a special ritual and rune that can be applied to her breastplate to better channel spirits, and it even tends to work for spirits channeled like she does.
After meeting wup with everyone and heading towards the marshes, she shows off her newly magicked armor, smiling. "Now, hopefully something won't knock me unconscious immediately!"
She then starts to transform, allowing herself to go half way, her deep brown hair fluffing out of any exposed skin, the tatto on her face traced in a white pattern instead. Her jaw just forward into a half muzzle as her feet lift up in an almost digitigrade posture. With a small howl at the moon, she wolfishly grins at everyone else. "Shall we get moving?"
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But since she retains her ability to disguise herself as human, the change is not apparent to the eye.
Matrialda shakes her skirts to get them to sit correctly on her changing body, scowling as she feels a tail trying to poke out from her backside. She focuses on controlling the changes on her face, grateful that her clothing hides most everything else. Pointed ears covered in silvery fur peek out from beneath her hood are perhaps the most visible sign of change - at least until her tail starts wagging beneath her skirt.
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[ooc]I think you are right about that. In that case Kit becomes a little odd looking, part fox part wolf and very canine. She doesn't really worry too much about pathfinders noticing what race she is, they tend to be quite cosmopolitan. And anyone they meet out here is not going to care. It's just force of habit for her.
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Kahwen's transformation is even stranger than Kitoro's. His feathers don't go away but do change noticeably, becoming fluffier as the barbs go from being sleek and flat to projecting from the rachis at multiple angles.
Those furry feathers extend to a little over halfway down his beak and his nostrils shift to the end and a knobby pad of flesh forms around them. His beak becomes noticeably blunter and squarer and when he opens it, it is full of sharp teeth.
Just as strange is the fact that he now has external ears. They are relatively small but project straight up over his head from just above his eyes.
The furry feathers also extend down to the backs of his hands (and probably his feet, though they're in boots so you can't see them.)
He almost goes down on all fours, clearly fascinated by the transformation, but as his sword starts to absorb into his form, he stops it.
"My, Granny, what big ears you have!" he declares, when he sees Matrialda.
The words are labored and he reaches up into his beak, touching one of his canines and then jerking his finger away.
"Is this what having teeth is like? It's very strange."
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As moonlight washes over her and the transformation begins, Inghinn grimaces with pain. She rapidly reaches back, draws her sword from her back, and stabs the blade into the dirt, gripping the handle with all her strength. Thick, white fur begins to sprout from the backs of her hand and fingers as her nails lengthen into sharp claws. Her arms and legs swell with lupine power. Her ears lengthen in tall, pointed canine form and her eyes suddenly turn golden as she gains sight that can pierce through the darkness. Finally, her jaw distends forward as more white fur grows up to frame her face and her newly formed snout. Sharp fangs emerge from beneath her curled lips as she snarls with the last moments of her transformation.
As the change finally comes to an end, her snarl turns into a resounding howl to the moon, and she raises her blade from the dirt and into the air.
With a few deep breaths, she cleans and sheathes her blade. "Are we ready to move on then? The hunt is on, my friends."
After the Pathfinders take a few minutes to adjust to their new hybrid forms, they set out to follow the shimmering path revealed to them. They find the terrain difficult unless they stick to the cleared trail but make their way past heavily wooded and swampy ground.
Not long into this process, a sharp breeze cuts through the night, rustling loudly through the trees and brambles. Shadowy figures emerge from the undergrowth. The husky voice of the tallest figure calls out, “Halt where you are, monsters!
“I knew there was darkness inside you, Pathfinders,” the man continues, his gaze a steely fire of determination and fury. “Does the rest of the Pathfinder Society even know what foul beasts walk among them, or do they know and harbour you nonetheless? Maybe it’s even worse than that, hmm? Perhaps this paltry cabal of you represents the true face of the entire organization. Be assured that I shall find out. But for now, I see the truth of your malignant nature, and the ruse ends here—along with your lives!”
The team recognize Inspector Theodorus Ichonvarde, the supernatural investigator previously hired by the mayor and bitter about the Pathfinders solving the mystery and gaining the recognition he believes is rightfully his. Ichonvarde is holding a composite longbow and is accompanied by three armed individuals, each with a longsword and heavy shield.
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Where others see a conflict or a problem, Kit sees oppotunity.
"INSPECTOR! How nice to see you here. We sure could use an ally. Or four. Don't like my new figure? Tsk, tsk. You have NO ide a how hard I worked to get this svelt figure! Battalions of ghosts you know."
*sigh*
"We should really talk. I know you drew the short end of the stick the last time we met, but I would truly love to correct that. How would you like to join us this time and take ALL the credit? How about it guys? They help us and we bow out when the time for lime-light comes?"
"Here. You can have this. I don't really want it and you deserve it more than I do. That is if you don't mind working with 'monsters'?"
Kit extends the certificate from the Mayor, not really bothered by the remark. Kitsune grow used to that sort of thing if they lead anything but insular lives.
Theodorus Ichonvarde's face takes on an almost purple hue as he begins to sputter and fume in response to Kit's words. Those who are close enough catch the occasional word or phrase of his muttered, almost growled, reply.
"...vile charms ... deceptive nature ... vile abominations ..."
"You revel in your unnatural being and now you draw on evil sources to pervert that even more!" the inspector replies to Kahwen.
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Kit, who stuck her neck out to make the offer is doubly surprised. First by the inspectors bigoted reply and then by the undermining efforts of the bird brained Kahwen.
One good undermining deserves another.
"Curse? Of course it is not a curse. This was provided as a blessing by Ashava. You know, the deity whose glade has been corrupted?"
She narrows her eyes and glares at Kahwen in challenge. She briefly considers changing back to herself to show it is not a curse, but, well, the thing is that her normal form would probably not inspire the kind of reaction she wants. So - NOT.
A moment of doubt passes across the face of at least one guard as the Pathfinders plead their case, but no trace remains after the inspector demands, "Kill the vile abominations!" and follows words with action.
Ichonvarde then looks at the Pathfinders declaring, "I pass judgement on you. Justice must be served." He then looses two arrows, the first toward Kawhen and the second toward Kitoro.
Kahwen experiences a searing pain as the silver arrow pierces deeply.
The second arrow narrowly misses Kit, exploding against a nearby tree, leaving a sticky mess where it hit that slowly hardens.
The guards move into positions as if to block the Pathfinders from reaching the inspector.
The one in the red cape seems to hesitate just a moment and their aim is off as they swing at Kahwen, missing.
The one in the green cape steps up to Kit with confidence and lands a solid blow, slashing into the transformed kitsune.
Finally, the blue caped figure steps in front of Inghinn while performing a mighty swing. While speed and accuracy are present and the blow is effective, it does not have the weight behind it the fighter was expecting.