One of the giants begins swatting at a tiny wisp. The little one evades the biggun easily, but the tensions are mounting even as you watch. You see exhaustion and frustration playing at the edge of every word and gesture in the glade.
Wamblee blinks at the chaotic scene, but looks to others for a speech. How to address such whimsical and dangerous creatures is beyond the monk.
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Abnaki smiles at Samen, and nods. He starts to step forward, but as he does so, his head snaps around to face Samen once more, a deadly serious gaze on his face, "I can't trust myself anymore Samen, if I go too far, you have to stop me. Do whatever it-" He seems to cut himself off, and continue walking forward, seemingly oblivious of what he just said, the same grin plastered on his face.
"*ahem*" Abnaki clears his throat. As a standard action, he holds his hand up and states, "Boosted Line of Discordant Note!" A 60ft line of 5d4 sonic damage springs forth from Abnaki's outstretched hand, straight up into the air. That ought to get their attention. As a move action, he begins using his Lotus Geisha inspiring performance to inspire competence in himself, for a further +5 bonus on his ability to orate, which he uses for quite a few other skills. The ground cracks and heaves as he begins to talk, before settling back down, but Abnaki remains serenely balanced as it moves beneath him
"I greet you, Great Giants, and Wise Elders! Whimsical Wisps, and Living Legends! I mean no insult to those that I have not greeted personally, but if I named every group gathered here, we would be here for a great time, and time is of the essence."
"My name in this place is my own. However, you may address me by any of my titles. Storyteller, Thrice-Slain, Proclaimer, all are titles I have earned. I come to you with my companions, who will be introduced in due time, to help you reclaim your lands from the Gem interlopers! Disparate we are weak, united we are strong! And I shall be the one to unite you!"
"Once, like many of you, I was an El. In fact, like many of your brethren have now, I had gem embedded in my flesh." Abnaki takes out a knife, and runs it along his palm, letting some blood fall to the ground for all to see. "No more! I have undergone several apotheoses since then, and the taint of Gem has been purged from me! No more does my blood glisten! I am here to aid you in doing much the same."
"Pledge yourself to follow me, and I shall lead us to victory against these interlopers. My friends and I have faced a great many threats in our time, and as you can see, are unique creatures ourselves. I have wrested from death itself the ancient magical arts of declaration, as I am sure the oldest and wisest of you were immediately aware of, after I cast my spell. My companions have skills of equal merit."
"What do I desire in return for doing such a noble action? There is reward in doing the Right Thing of course. In addition, in a past life I promised that I would help combat the Gems. Finally, once we have repelled the menace from your world, I ask that you help us in defeating Moon in our world, once and for all!"
"Finally, I understand that you do not wish to pledge yourself to an untested leader. This is reasonable. If any dare to challenge me, if any think that they would be more suited to lead us in our fight to reclaim your homes, let them step forth now to challenge me!"
"If you accept my help, you must understand that my orders will have to be absolute. I do not expect unquestioning loyalty, and I relish the thought of working closely with your cleverest minds, but but any command I give must be obeyed! Ours is a glorious fight! Who dares to challenge The Storyteller?"
Abnaki spreads his arms wide.
An old orean riddle asks: How do you stop a stampede, alone?
A favored answer among the stoic, stony people is often: By doing it.
Abnaki, with the confidence of one who has tasted death many times, strides into the clearing and stops the stampede of voices and anger. He shouts a commanding word at these living stories, and they listen. In his stentorian tones, they hear echoes of glorious giant footfalls; they hear the din of sword-clash battle; they songs of valor and reverence sung for heroes of old.
The false, painted sky momentarily gives way to a real blue vista, clean clouds scudding across open skies--
--and the vision fades, leaving the fables and fairies stunned at the intensity of it. They seem ready to follow this story-weaver.
The crowd's attention is diverted by one who steps forward. A wrinkled old el with a serpent's tongue and gaze. Dressed flamboyantly as a mystic, the el strokes his long goatee with a faint air of contempt. "You may have compelling words, young storyteller, but can you resist the alluring words of another? The Gems subvert many with their whispers."
He raises his voice theatrically. "This duel shall be one of wills! You must stare into my hypnotic gaze and prove to be the stronger! Do you accept?"
"I accept your challenge Elder! And when I best you, and you pledge yourself to our cause, you shall have a place at my side, for we have need of bold creatures like yourself. Would you have me give you a handicap by being silent as I gaze into your eyes, or may I speak, for my words are my armor."
His words are flat, confident. "Use your words. Use everything at your disposal. I will not be holding back; nor should you."
The old wizened el closes his eyes. A look of intense concentration crosses his face. Under other circumstances, it might be comical. Beads of sweat appear, his neck and head shaking with tension- "nnnn-"
He opens his eyes: his mad irises send a flashing siren of colors crackling through the air, invading your vision, dazzling your sight. "Ah!"
A curious Fey creature sidles up to you. They are are some kind of shapeshifter, currently trying to mimic your appearance (but in a friendly way). Something is off about the micmicry: looks too pink, and it seems to be mixing something between undine scales and ifrit scales into the skin.
"Oh, um, hello there! You are a fascinating creature! What are you? " This is said with bouncy curiosity.
"You will have to try harder than that, old timer. Is that all you've got?"
"Kneel before me."
The mystic tries to regain his composure, throwing green, red, and blue gazes at you in rapid succession.
Gabe watches from the sidelines, looking for any advantage he might grant to Abnaki. A jab in the side would be too obvious, and I'm sure some of these creatures here can see invisible things. After that speech though, any interference would likely do more harm than good.
Gabe bides his time until this contest of wills progresses.
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"It's a good attempt, I'll give you that. Might have even worked on me before Moonfall. But not after. I stared into it's pallid eye, and saw colors far more terrible. Plus, I'm pretty sure that after the Mycos incident, I've gone red-green colorblind."
The mystic, sweat now pouring from his brow, falls to his knees in obedience to your command. After the compulsion passes, he nods to to you, remaining on his knees by choice. "The Thrice-Slain! The Thrice-Slain!"
Giants bellow; pixies roar. An ocean of fairy-characters call out your name, proclaiming their allegiance to you.
Wamblee stands against the rush of voices for a moment, but is knocked prone. Flat on his back, he looks up at the blue Sky. Serenely, he waits for his body to recover from the psychic blow.
Gabe is caught completely off guard with the cacophony of the fey. He stagers against the wall as the magic washes over and through him, clapping his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block the noise.
Qizzlvutz has been sitting quiet happily watching the strange magical duel. Enthusiasm unable to be quelled by Kalliks grumbing about it "Being a ridicules fight" and a "waste of time"
Though the surly phantom is far more linguisticly creative in her insults and Qizz is learning a great many new phrases and words of the surface elen. They smile far to widely though the duel. Silly Fey don't know the horrifying wordsmith Abnaki is. He was weird to begin with. Kallik weird. At the silence Qizz bubbles out browns and blues in joy. They can win with mind words too.
Easily distracted Qizzlvutz falls backwards into a ball at the roar. Rolling a few feet backwards before stretching out their limbs with a giggle. Blue and brown erupt from the little mycos this is not going to go well..
A creature that looks just like you moves up nest to you! It is clearly a playful Fey that is mimicking your form. It smiles and giggles, but doesn't get your blue/brown coloring quite right.
"Hello!" it says in bouncy Common.
Abnaki puts his hand on the shoulder of the kneeling elder, and beckons for him to rise. "Help me gather those who can tell me details about the situation. Gems are lattices, creatures of order. They will have patterns that they follow. My associates and I will make a plan based on your gathered information to take advantage of that ordered nature." Abnaki smiles and waves beneficently to the adoring throng. "Report to the pink skinned one," he says to the Elder, gesturing at Samen. "He will inform me when you've gathered the knowledge base. Make sure all groups are adequately represented," he says sternly to the Elder. "I must spend some time further increasing confidence amongst the other fine fey folk." Abnaki goes to mingle with the crowd, and make diplomacy checks and the like, talking to individuals instead of the crowd as a whole.
)
Samen closes his eyes, brow furrowed, then opens them again, eyes flaring with a blinding yellow light. "Legends and stories, please share the letters and words and ink of your thoughts with me. I must know what you know."
From the many reports and failures and terrors of the fey-folk, Samen constructs the general shape of the gem patrols in his mind, sparking white-hot in his brain. The scattered sapphire-showers and streaks of amber-lightning are predictable, exactly as you hoped the Gems would be.
The fortress, however, is another matter...
Gabe closes his eyes as he listens to the description to block out distractions from his mind's eye. He starts tracing routes in the air as he considers the obstacles being described. "This... will be challenging but it is definitely possible. Getting through unseen though... with this group..." He leaves the thought unfinished as to not insult the fey army.
As Gabriel discusses strategies with Samen and the others, the remaining crowds of Fey folk are in a near-frenzy over their new leader. They have invented a symbol for their broken storyteller king: a cloven book. Some have taken to stitching it on their clothing; others are tattooing or branding themselves; others still are enchanting their pupils and tongues.
Past the predictable weather patrols, there is a fortress filled with the chaos of Moon. Sparkling moonbeams are reflected over diamonds and stained glass and a hundred other clear crystals, shifting in a sharp maze of confusion.
A small group would be able to navigate these halls, especially with the shadows at your side. No one has made it to the Gems inner sanctum yet, so you have no knowledge of what might be there.
Qizzlvutz smiles widely and bounces on all fours. "Hi," pointing to themselves, "Qizzlvutz" and then points to the fey.
"Qizzlfutz!" the changeling imitates your voice more thoroughly now, but still lacks the correct colorations.
The axe nervously calls out from your back, "Umm, is it normal to attract weird things that duplicate you? Are we going to get eaten next?"
Samen stands by and silently watches the duel, ignoring the shapechanger before it wanders off toward Qizz.
With the planning meeting going well and the locals motivated, Samen does his best to stay out of the way. Even given their numbers, this would be at dangerous fight, at least as deadly as the confrontation with Moon.
He prepares with a few spells for protection and readiness.
Wamblee stands by you in companionable silence while you cast your spells. After a time, he says, "What drives you these days, Samen? I think of protecting Chapawee and I find all the courage I need, but why do you keep throwing yourself into these messes?"
Aren't you the Fey Krz?
Giggling at the mispronunciation then tilting their head when Krz speaks up, "Surface weird Axe."
Refocusing on the fay, "Friend?"
Gabe reconsiders the thought of the whole group needing to be unseen. "Abnaki, some of these larger folk would make a good distraction while the smaller of us sneak past the outer defenses. It will probably be a very... lethal task." But that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make...
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"And a sacrifice they would be willing to make as well, I'm sure." Abnaki says, using his powers of insight to fill in the blanks. "Oh, and try and avoid using my real name where the fey can hear us. I can see across long distances, but I cannot take to the skies, or even hide all that well. I was an Oread once after all," he offers by way of explanation. "Perhaps I should bolster the giants, and rendezvous somewhere else?"
"I will join you, Abnaki. Some of the giants may die in the attempt, but we will not toss them away like rotten food. The gates of the Gems shall shudder at our approach."
"If it helps, I can turn a few folks into floating thought bubbles for 20 minutes or so. It's not as fast as I used to be able to fly, but I'm sure it's reliable. This is how I was planning on ascending, myself."
Qizzlvutz, the axe replies, "Yes, and you are the mushroom-person Qizzlvutz. It's nice to meet you. I like singing and dancing." He says all of this in a distracted tone---his attention is clearly on the changeling how is staring at the pair of you.
Samen, as Krz tings in irritation at the changeling, you see the shifty little creature quiver and blare the same note back at the axe.
It gets your mind (and your mind within minds) thinking about magic, and amplification principles...
"Sorry 'Thrice-Slain', I didn't think... it was that big of an issue." There is obvious sarcasm as Gabe recites the title though something passes across his expression causing him to pause mid-statement. The last part is said genuinely as he makes an effort to stare at his feet.
"Anyway," he begins with renewed confidence, "We need a way to get the big fellas up to the clouds first. They said they can jump there. Is that actually true or just boasting? Getting everyone into the clouds at once should be priority. We can split off to our own tasks from there."
Gabriel, a few demonstrations from the giants does indeed prove they can either jump or be hurled into the sky, once the present location of the fortress has been identified. The heaviest, oldest giant will stay behind to throw some of the others.
Spellcraft: => (10) + 21 = 31
"Come, little ones, lovers of stories. Imagine with me. Imagine yourself lighter than air. Now wrap that imagination around yourself, like this; Samen pulls a cottony cloud out of his ears and cocoons himself amongst it. And you, too will join us up above.
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"No worries Gabriel," Abnaki says gently. He picks up a rock from the ground. "I will need this to cast my spells. If I am not touching the earth at least a little bit, I cannot draw power from it."
"I may not be able to provide my bard-song until we land on the ground, but once there, I suspect we will make a suitable distraction," he says to Wamblee, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "A two-pronged attack. Hopefully the others will not be too far behind us." He raises his voice to address the crowd. "I shall accompany the giants to lead a daring assault on the front gate, while my companions will lead you in a cunning formation to catch the Gems in a pincer maneuver!" He pauses a moment for cheering. "Know that I would go with each and every one of you, but my talents lie in with bombastic, unsubtle noises!" He points to Wamblee. "My friend, a great leader amongst our people will guide my group with on the ground tactics! He has a brilliant mind, and fists harder than stone! Which giants shall have the privilege of being an honor guard for him and I?"
As he speaks the banner that he carries seems to undergo a transformation. The familiar symbol of the Happy Swords shifts and morphs, going through several iterations: a cracked gem, a book with it's pages torn out, a broken heart, before finally settling on an abstract image. If one squints though, it almost appears like it could be a highly stylized silhouette of Abnaki's head...
Qizzlvutz smile nearly splits their face in half. Joyously twisting the clouds around them. This is a battle not a joy ride. Focus. And let me out the moment we get up there. Understood? Nodding absentmindedly. Its not everyday an underground mushroom gets to soar into the sky like this. Qizz cant draw it all right now but does their best to commit it to memory.
Trolls, ogres, and giants --- all these lumbering creatures have not been seen on the plane of elens for millenia. With no more than a squat and a thrust of their legs, they hurl themselves into the air, just where Samen's knowledge and Abnaki's instinct point. A squat matron giantess the size of a small hill stays behind, but she launches her sons into the air with great pride.
Tiny fairies and wisps zip up right beside their huge brethren, flitting their wings as fast as they can, brandishing wickedly-sharp swords made from hummingbird beaks. They shed fairie fire everywhere, ensuring no invisible foes are coming from below.
Finally, all the clumsy, malformed goblins, boggarts, wretches, and redcaps limp and belch their way over to Samen the Cleansed. His spell makes them all perfect, floating thoughts for small sweet slice of time. They gently sway on their way toward assaulting the fortress of the Gems.
The sons of the matron giantess act as Wamblee's honor guard; after saluting Abnaki with a fist over their hearts, the second-eldest son carries Wamblee on his shoulders as he is catapulted into the air. The eldest giant-son waits for his griot king to ascend.
Gabriel, you feel a sharp tug against the back of your spine.
Just remember, I'm not going anywhere this time. You and me, 'til the end.
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"An emissary called Julian Opal threatened me once long ago. I am glad I will live long enough to see him regret it." Abnaki muses to himself.