Volcano's Land - Mercury Morn

Game Master Miner Cotren

Samen, you know the traditional greetings of the religious Eastern Tribes will serve well here - many oread phrases and polite rituals come from interactions with the Fey thousands of years ago. You give them a three-fingered wave that pays homage to the three aspects of Great Forest.

The tiny creatures respond in kind, then make a tinkling sound like laughter, and are gone.

--
Samen and Abnaki, about a minute later, you see why so many els were involve with basket-weaving and knot-tying: one such basket descends smoothly from the branches above. You wonder how many oreads must be up there to allow for such a quick response time.

The basket has but a single occupant - an oread ele wearing the wooden mask of the Weeping Willow Tribe. She points to the dead oreads in your cart; a few nearby branches gently envelope the bodies and place them in the basket. Another small gesture, and the branches return to their original positions. The ele turns to you, expression and body language unreadable beneath the blank wooden mask and thick robe of willow leaves.

"I am Tender Ulwazi. Do you have a petition for the Court of Three?"

Gabriel and Phon Vos, after several minutes of sipping water (or tense hidden surveillance), you see a shabby, smelly elen with a shaven head stumble up to your table. "Is this seat taken?"

Careful not to give anything away, Ozhna asks, "Who are you?"

The ele laughs, a friendly sound full of years of cigarette smoke. "Don't question a questioner, old friend. It's Leandra. In all seriousness though, if you need to be satisfied, ask away."

Ozhna goes back and forth with the inquisitor, asking details about missions, conversations, and the like. The sylph rogue nods. "Again, I'm as convinced as I can be. I think you are who you say you are, Leandra. Glad to see you survived the last few rites."

months

Abnaki bows deeply to the elemental. "Abbygailiwy. A lovely name for an enchanting creature. You must tell me how you became acquainted some time. I must confess I find the composite eleme most... relatable." He smiles at Abby before copying Samen's gesture.
Diplomancy check for first impressions with Abbygailiwy, attempting to flatter: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (15) + 15 = 30

"Greetings Tender. These oreads attempted to kill Wamblee of the tribe of Peace. We jumped to his aid. Although their actions were cowardly, and their motivation surely questionable, they deserve respect as fellow els, and so we have come to provide them with an appropriate final resting place."

Samen, feel free to stop me if you think that honesty is not the best policy here!

Samen adds, "In addition to our offering, while not strictly speaking a petition, I would request an audience with the elemental, directly. I would know his name, and I would know his stance on Moon, and other burgeoning elemental threats to our world. Frankly, from an elen standpoint, I would also like to know if he is one such existential threat."

I'm all about that honesty!

Abbygailiwy preens like a peacock over your attention, Abnaki. You've made a friend!

Abnaki and Samen

The Tender addresses Abnaki first. "Certainly, it is our solemn duty to do so. I thank you. Shared roots." She makes a few ritual gestures with her hands, clearly indicating respect to both of you.

Willow-leaf robe swishing, to Samen she says, "To the Elder itself?...
That is not within my power. I do not speak with Dziecko Powolnego Wzrostu myself. I can take you to our priests. The ones who talk to our gods and demigods. To the Court of Three. Yes?"

--------------

Gabriel and Phon Vos,

Leandra's face holds a trace of faded beauty, but clearly she has gone through difficult times recently -- it is dangerous to be an inquisitor in a city that has rejected the Inquisition. She is too thin, and the dark lines under her eyes speak of sleepless nights. In a tired voice, she performs a small incantation that scrambles your voices to eavesdroppers.

Without preamble, she says, "Listen, Ozhna. All the troubles started when the Blessed came and the Inquisition was displaced. They must be agents of Moon. We should focus our efforts on disrupting what Moon is doing, and that includes neutralizing or destroying any known assets of that malevolent god.

The short speech sounds rehearsed; likely these ideas are all that has gotten the frazzled inquisitor through the last several days.

Ozhna frowns, but manages to control his expression for the most part. "Right, I'm glad we're...on the same page about pooling our resources against Moon..." He looks over at Phon Vos for help; he was not expecting this topic of conversation at all.

Gabriel, I need one more perception check as you keep a lookout on the tavern at large

Abnaki resolves to talk to Samen about Abby more later, as well as talk to Abby herself.

Abnaki holds back his irritation at the shared roots comment behind his usual smile. While he was an oread, his father was an ifrit, and had instilled many of his values into his son. In his mind, it wasn't oreads looking out for oreads, but elen looking out for elen. Still, if that was what it took to get rid of all these corpses...

"If my companion wishes to meet the Court of Three, I shall accompany him. Perhaps we can swap tales so that I may have more variety in the stories that I tell around the campfire, during these long dark days."

perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

Gabriel keeps an eye out taking mental notes...Gabriel himself is no friend to any inquisitor. but regardless he maintains his calm veneer rather than lashing out immediately

Abnaki, a small cloud of daisy-petal butterflies burst out of hiding under leaves and twigs, coming from all over the canopy of stretching branches overhead. Flitting about your head in a playful manner, a hundred tiny voices in Sedime clamor for stories, stories, stories!

You are fairly certain these are minor Fey creatures of some kind.

I couldn't find your languages, but with +0 to Intelligence I'm guessing that means you have the normal Common and either Oread or Ifrit. if that's true, they are just yammering excitedly, but you get the gist of their request.

Ozhna frowns, but manages to control his expression for the most part. "Right, I'm glad we're...on the same page about pooling our resources against Moon..." He looks over at Phon Vos for help; he was not expecting this topic of conversation at all.

This seems a little bit forward...

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (9) + 14 = 23

Phon trusted her instincts as she listened to the inquisitor.

"And how do we know they are the agents and not yourself?" She was brazen in her statement, but it was mostly a flat question -2 Cha. "What certainty do you have that it must be them? I do not disagree that this cursed god is a threat, but with what I have seen I have no desire to blindly throw my lot in with anyone."

Taking a drink of the ice water, Phon feels rejuvenated but ultimately shrugs and places her hand on the table idly, "There are threats abound, but unless I can have some proof..." She looks at Osna as her fingers thrum on it, You know why I must be so vigilant.

Samen, well versed in all sorts of languages, translates for Abnaki. "It seems collecting knowledge is high on this list of Wooden aspects and they've got you pegged as a story teller, my friend. Careful, though. Tell too many too well and they'll make you a prophet. Remind me some time and I'll tell you about the time a tree tried to steal my soul in exchange for forbidden knowledge up north in Branch."

Samen turns back to their hostess and bows in assent. "So be it. If the elemental has gotten so big he's developed his own bureaucracy, there is no hope in fighting against it."

Samen's remark about soul-stealing is an uncharitable interpretation of events, but basically true, for the record.

Abnaki, I am curious how you will react to these creatures, then I'll move on with the scene.[/b]

Abnaki laughs. "Well, I'm unsure what good my soul would do for anyone, but I'll be careful with it. Perhaps if you want a private audience with the Three, or they demand it, I will spend some time with these delightful little creatures, and tell them some tales that my mother told me, and a couple more besides! Although," Abnaki says looking at the Fey, a little bit chagrinned, "I cannot speak your language. Can you speak the Oread tongue?"

If there's anything Samen does well, it's cast things in an uncharitable light :D.

---

Phon Vos, Ozhna nods. "Well said, Phon Vos. We're not going to start murdering high-ranking members of the Council and apparent heroes of the city on your say-so. Where's the proof?" Nervous and a bit fidgety, Ozhna waggles his fingers and makes the ice cubes in his drink skate upon the water's surface like misshapen little ballerinas. He catches himself doing this, and stops.

Gabriel and Phon Vos, you can tell that the inquisitor is becoming desperate. "I have an artifact. In the right hands, it can be used to bring the dead back to life." She looks at Osna and Phon Vos in turn. "Surely you have someone you'd like back from the cruel clutch of the gods?"

Phon Vos, as far as you can tell the inquisitor has been telling the truth thus far

---

Abnaki, they indicate that they do not speak Oread, but they understand it. Oread is fine - they clamor for stories!

Gabriel will subtlety touch Phon and Ozhna, signalling or trying to. That its time to go.

"The only thing better than a captive audience is a willing one! Do stop me if you've heard this one before, but perhaps the story of The Grey Father and the Dead Witch becoming one is a nice classic place to start?"

Gabriel, Ozhna feels the touch on his shoulder and knows the signal, having worked with the shadowdancer before. He stands up abruptly. Thinking furiously, he says, "Well, you've still given us no proof. And now fanciful tales of bringing back the dead. I've, ah, heard that story one too many times in my pile of copperstore paperbacks at home, boss. Come back with more evidence of any of your claims and we'll talk more. Use that same sylph kid as our go-between, he seems smart enough to take a silver and be quiet."

In a whirl, Ozhna is out the door, making sure Phon Vos is following. He holds the door open ostensibly for the warpriest, but also gives time for Gabriel to skulk through.

---

A few streets away, after he is sure they are not being followed, Ozhna whispers, "What? Was there an attack coming?" He is clearly on edge, half-expecting another monster to burst out of Leandra's skin, just like Captain Marg.

I don't know whats going on, but do not trust the inquistors. They did this to me. He motions to the blacked veins, trailing one of the odd veins with a finger.

They performed dark rituals on people and others like myself were rounded up , I managed to escape during their collapse. That and she was getting desperate, rehearsed. Scripts are just another form of lie. even if her words were honest, her intent may not have been. You are in the unique position to have someone who knows things about the inquistors that they would rather outsiders not know. his tone is hinted with a calm anger, spite and hate, all under control but for Gabriel this would be the equivalent of yelling or being actually angry .

There was no attack necessarily, but "All the troubles started when the Blessed came and the Inquisition was displaced " is completely false. They were involved, i am certain of it.

Ozhna closes his eyes and breathes out, relief showing on his face. "Okay. No immediate threats. And I agree, I didn't like where Leandra's speeches were heading. It all sounds either dangerous or made up."

He laughs. "Quite a day when yellow-eyed vipers are a better ally than flesh-and-blood elens."

"Sorry for the wild pogona chase, everyone."

----

Abnaki, the flying petals let off tiny sprays of scent, perhaps to show their happiness. There are a few whiffs of lavender and orange blossom, despite all the little creatures resembling simple daisies.

As you begin to regale the fairy butterflies, the Weeping Willow attendant motions for you to follow. The cloud of curious little Fey dart around Abnaki as you all make your way toward a second basket, away from the dead oreads.

You walk and talk, and minutes pass. Branches and leaves seem to float and sway against the wind, all pointing you in a similar direction - to the heart of the tree. You are only as high up as the nearby one-story dwellings - the true immensity of the Elder still lies above you.

Abnaki and Samen, the Weeping Willow bows to you in farewell and turns to go back to the first basket, where the dead still wait.

Face still hidden by the wooden mask, she says, "I have duties to attend. Just continue to look for the signs among the branches. You will be led to the Courts. May the Gray Father look over you both." She shows one more sign of respect to you both, then she is gone.

The branches and bark do indeed show you the way, in a dozen small ways: a line of fireflies darting here; a curve of waving leaves there; even the wide wooden walkways under your feet seem to guide you in subtle ways.

At the trunk, there is a small opening, elen-sized, but hardly a blemish of the Elder's bark. You see there are passageways on the very outer layer of the trunk going up and down. You are guided down, just below street level.

Out of the tight passageway, now there is a wide tunnel going steadily down. The air is moist and alive down here. A rich green carpet of grass invites you to come this way. You see a chamber, crude doors of some kind, at the end of this passage, but no details yet.

She hears about bringing people back from the dead and the warpriest freezes. The sound in the room muffles, almost as if she was inside a bowl that would hold fish on land.

Clutches of the gods...?

The normally devout el falters for a moment and begins to open her mouth before she hears the others leave. "Wait..."

Turning she looks at Osna, "And if there is truth to this story?" Her gaze moves back to the inquisitor, "If you find proof, if you can provide me reason to lend aid, then perhaps we can continue this... I am not willing to entertain more until then." Her holy symbols burned against her chest and she grabbed them, Osna was right of course, but she didn't want to hear it just yet.

Standing up, she extracted herself from the situation as fast as she reasonably could, though it took much willpower to do so. Silently praying she knew that such a magick would come at some kind of price, one that she would be unwilling to pay.

"Gabriel, what is wrong? Why the signal?" Phon tried to keep herself in check, but the inquisitor's words continued to echo... Letting out a breath, she stood still for a minute, there was too much to handle right now.

apologies if this is incorrect, but as I recall Ozhna is one of the few who knows about Phon Vos' past tragedy, just like Phon Vos knows Ozhna's real name

Ozhna stops thinking about the awful day for a moment, and sees his friend's pain. He quietly whispers "cac" to himself.

Knowing the well-armored warpriest would absolutely not want her personal pain recognized or talked about, he says, "Gabriel, let's make sure one last time that no one is trailing us, and then scout a nice way out of town so we can rest for the night. It's been a hell of a day."

Ozhna will basically take 10 on perception - methodical, and making no mistakes on accident, etc, so that is 21 total.

Gabriel, roll for perception as you scout in tandem with Ozhna

---

Abnaki and Samen, you are led past a subterreanea hallway filled with suits of armor on both sides; each set is ornamental and likely useless for combat, but the designs are fanciful in horn and ironwood and red pogona leather. Moving quicker now, you come across,

an empty feasting hall, lit by the green glow of pale mushroom growing upon the walls;

rounded, organic-looking stairs downward, always down;

and the friendly daisies flying all about you. Abbygailiwy laughs out loud as some of them land on Samen's staff.

Still moving forward, I will update to the court tomorrow. Feel free to RP in the meantime

Do you both have some kind of connection to this Inquistor? Or their organization? Gabriel begins checking if they're being trailed, He sounds even toned, genuinely asking so as to gather more information.

perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Gabriel, Ozhna nods. "Sure, I never made any secret that I had to run a few jobs for them after the caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. I felt more like a tool than an associate, though."

Gabriel, you are quite sure you are not being followed by anyone. Furthermore, your blackveins give a sharp, momentary pain when others of your kind are near, and for now they are quiet. You unknowingly drift in and out of visibility as you prowl the shadows and question your companions, even though you meant to remain in sight while you talk.

Samen remarks to Abnaki as the descend deeper into this altered world. "This is no temporary outpost or makeshift home. The clear intent here is to claim territory, and I'd wager he didn't ask permission. Nevertheless, we're far past the point of being able to simply dislodge this Elder, so let's hope he's at least agreeable to combat Moon."

He looks around at the swarming pixies with flat emotionless assessment. "And let's hope there's enough world left over for elenity to stand free."

Several pink-petaled butterflowers light upon Samen's head as he makes his grim proclamation. Abby giggles.

Abnaki, do you continue with more tales?  

Samen and Abnaki, you enter a long, winding staircase that appears to be a huge taproot - water is seeping in from the rootwalls, taken from the surrounding soil, trickling down through intricate channels that are carved into the living wood.  It is like the water follows the same path you do - around and around, and slowly downward. Eventually, you see most of the water diverted elsewhere.  

You, too, are diverted before reaching the bottom of that deep, echoing stairwell.   The cloud of flutterpetals takes you across a narrow bridge,

through a curtain of thick, luminescent seeds dancing in the air,

and finally you come to a wider, airy chamber. Dangling from the ceiling, about twenty feet off the ground, there is a tangled knot of briarthorns and gnarled rootballs that dominates the room. It resembles a demented bird's nest.

For the moment, no one is in here but you and the petalflies.

But suddenly there is an oread sitting in the tanglewood throne, watching you with eyes the color of hallucinogenic frogskin. An emerald grin slashes through a thick red beard. "Sorcerors? Warlocks? Jesters? Come into my domain and tell me who you are."

---

Gabriel and Phon Vos, I'm letting the scene between you continue for now - Ozhna has said his part for the time being, but I definitely want to hear more.

Samen steps in fearlessly. "Certainly. Host? Mouthpiece?" Samen's eyes narrow a bit. "Slave?" Just as quickly, the moment of hostility is gone. "I am Samen Firenze, a humble mage of no account, interested in studying elementals to understand elenity."

Assuming the sprites follow, he'd be delighted to keep telling stories. Do you want me to keep making up names, roll some dice, or just wondering?

Abnaki steps into the chamber as well, whispering, "I'm sorry little ones. We'll have to pick this up again some other time," before turning to the new entity that has appeared. "Who am I? I am Abnaki v'Cardi, the wanderer of two worlds, but finding homestead in neither. I storyteller of little renown, and a spellweaver of even lesser skill. Earth and fire blaze within me, but neither are master of the other. But most importantly, I am a friend to those who oppose the dark. I speak earnestly to you in the hopes that you will speak earnestly back to me."

Diplomancy: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (19) + 15 = 34 Oof! Hopefully that works well!

For now i am quite certain we are not being followed, further i should mention that people with... similar abilities to myself will be known to me and vice versa Gabriel still gives a pause and look around. There is clearly a lot going on in the religious sect of things, enough to where i believe those present in our group are likely the ones trustworthy.

Gabriel, Ozhna nods. "I'm inclined to agree with you. I'd go so far as to say we should stick with the warlocks and witches of our current company, and leave out any volcanic priests or rivery watersingers or tree tenders or...whatever sylphs have. Ha, I'm a sylph and I don't even know. Vulture breeders, maybe those are our holy els and eles."

Phon Vos,, he turns to you. "Let's just consult our resident warpriest for all our future divine requests. Fortunate that you worship the whole pantheon, Phon."

Do you both have some kind of connection to this Inquistor? Or their organization? Gabriel begins checking if they're being trailed, He sounds even toned, genuinely asking so as to gather more information.

[Dice=perception]1d20+10

Got caught up, personal issues at home.

The undine stays quiet. She was glad Osna was there, but Gabriel seemed trustworthy. "I have had many people lost to me when Moon came. My relationship with the inquisition is... Tumultuous at best." She swallowed, and decided against saying more, "Now really isn't the time to open up old wounds, perhaps we can talk more when we aren't on duty." She used that word, duty, as armour. Armour that was as thick as her own, "I have no desire to work with those people, and I have a feeling that they might be saying what we all want to hear... I'm sure we've all lost people." The conviction of her faith helped, she had to keep telling herself that.

"I will do my best Osna... As you can imagine though it is never that simple." Gripping the holy symbols she looks toward the sky, "And while I want to say that I have control over this, that would be untrue." She thought back to the voice that spoke to her while she pleaded to understand the dead, but left that bit out. "It seems that whatever is going on is pulling in many sects."

She focuses her gaze on Gabriel, "Does it make you uncomfortable that many would call me a heretic or a traitor?"

Osna laughs at Phon's last remark. "Ha, sorry. I think Gabe would prefer you to be a heretic in the eyes of the inquisition and such."

"And yes, it is the absolute epitome of wisdom to wait until later to discuss all these other things."

Gabriel, Osna turns to you, as always friendly and open around you and Phon Vos. "What do you say Gabriel? Trust is important in a combat squad like this. Everyone feeling good now that everything is out in the open?"

Phon Vos and Gabriel, the laughter of a passerby ifrit echoes down the alleyway, reminding you that you won't be alone here forever. The Tall Torch burns red, showing all boats from southern River where to navigate to reach the warmth of Hearth. From this vantage, on this particular night, the lighthouse seems small and impotent against the Dark, vainly calling out to boats with sleeping undine captains that may never arrive.

back to base for the night? anything else to do in Hearth tonight? Osna is frustrated by Leandra's lack of evidence, and is ready to go back and regroup

Gabriel casts a look to Phon, You being a Heretic or Traitor in their eyes, to me with my experiences, means your someone who doesn't kidnap people, subject them to dark curses and rituals. That alone in my mind means you can be trusted. His stoic look softens just a tad, I am... familiar with such treatment. These veins have an effect on some... A natural distrustful instinct. It is a curse and a blessing. So... No i am not uncomfortable in the slightest. You have done nothing to wrong me.)

Sorry, my last post was from my Kazmanaught alias, I'll repost it under a spoiler for clarity.