Each of the Pathfinders has arrived in Sakakabe, Minkai, a prosperous city famous for its trade in silver and pearls. Venture-Captain Amara Li has summoned the group to help lay the groundwork for a lodge in Minkai, asking the Pathfinders to perform a variety of tasks that are well-suited to their individual skills.
Amara Li has been collecting relics from across the world to house in a new museum with a focus on relics from Minkaian history that have been kept in other nations. To this end, she has been traveling all over the nation to pursue leads. These relics have come from a combination of purchases and donations, and she has occasionally called on local Pathfinders to guard the relics.
One day, Venture-Captain Li summons the PCs to meet with her in one of the gardens of the Kiniro Kyomai teahouse, a famous teahouse by the museum.
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Taking off his armor and leaving it in a pile outside, unslinging his shield and setting it gingerly on top, unsheathing his sword and folding it between the shield and armor, and finally, leaning his hammer head down handle up against the teahouse, Lough decides "that's enough" for him to properly enter and not accidentally break anything. Besides, She won't know he has travelled so far... or will She? No matter...
...walking inside slowly, he greets Amara Li without contact - not out of any such knowledge around customs of greeting or whatnot - he abhors shaking hands, and instead nods and states plainly "Lough" and finds a seat at the table (the "corner spot" if possible) and waits for the others to arrive.
Seated now "How strong is the Tea here?" curious to see what sorts of herbs will be used to steep the hot water!
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A nervous-looking elf joins the group and takes his seat beside Lough. "A fine place you have here. Such wonderful selection of flora. You just have to tell me more about ... erm." He clears his throat and shifts his focus from the flowers to the venture captain. "I mean, you just have to tell us more about the mission at hand.
He takes out his alchemy crafting tools and formula book. [b]"I am Erevan Dalanthan. I may not be proficient in brewing tea as fine as the ones here, but if an elixir is something you need then I'm your elf."
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"Elixirs huh - I should learn more about that" as if trying to convince himself he'll ever follow through on such an undertaking. He takes a twisted-looking brown-stemmed white-spotted strip of semi-firm organic matter, tears it in half with his strong fingers, and lays one half against the inside of his cup of piping-hot tea "A mild psilocin - for nerves" explaining as he offers the other half to Erevan.
"I was raised a carpenter, and to be frank, am still confused myself how I became a Pathfinder - one thing just sort of lead to another" correcting his posture himself as he notices Snarlfist's prominent slouch "That is a fine spear" he says to the hobgoblin, noticing the craftsmanship of the runic wood.
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Yanko’s fingers fiddle with the stone held by a thin wireframe that is dangling from a silken chord around his neck. An odd looking fragment of tektite – Yanko still cannot decide if it’s glass or stone inside the amulet. ”Let’s hope it does what it is supposed to” he thinks, as he tucks the amulet under his black shirt. It was a last-minute purchase in Caliphas, where he ended up after his last mission. It was strange being back home – Ustalav that is – after having avoided the place for well over a century. He grimaces as he remembers the countless beatings and threats, he had to endure from fathers and mothers cradling their stillborn, desperately needing a scapegoat for their anger and pain. It took his toll on him and eventually he left Ustalav – it was weird being back.
A sigh of relief escapes Yanko, who barely loses his composure, as he disembarks the vessel that brought him to Minkai. It is no happenstance that his next mission took him to the other end of the world, after being confronted with his past. He was surprised and relieved that Venture-Captain Li selected him for her foundational work based on his diplomatic merits. Apparently, his cause for redeeming the Twice-Born has reached even Minkai. The Tien are supposed to have a quite different relationship with their ancestors and death in general than the common Avistani. Curious. Most interesting. He thinks as he purposefully strides through the streets of Sakakabe.
His hand is already on the handle of the teahouse’s sliding door constructed out of a wooden frame covered with paper, as he stops abruptly. He raises an eyebrow as he sees the small installment of armor and weaponry outside on the small veranda. Curious. The records have no mention of Tien traditions as such. He adjusts the thin frame of is glasses on his slender nose, before he slides open the door.
Identifying Pathfinders, Yanko learned, is quite an easy task, especially if they come in larger groups. Find the motley crew in any given place and you will have a good chance talking to Pathfinders. After a quick scan of the venue, it ought to be the table with the Hobgoblin, the elf and the man who’s eyes give away the fact that his lineage is not entirely human. Yanko smiles and fights the urge to scratch the barely visible scar tissue in shape of a handprint on his bald head as he walks over.
”Good day. I hope you all had safe travels and could already adjust a bit to the shifted day and night cycles.” Yanko says as he takes off his ankle long black leather coat, folds it neatly and places it over his bag on the ground. After he makes himself comfortable on one of the sitting pillows around the low table, he continues ”It can be quite draining, in fact. Especially for folks with long life expectancies” he adds towards Erevan. ”Well, good thing we drastically shortened that by joining The Lodge right?” A broad and honest smile appears on his pale face. ”Yanko Tiriac, is the name. Pleasure to meat you all.”
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"To drastically shortened life expectancy!" Lough ventures, the dark thought tickling his brain, as he downs the half-empty teacup, taking it like a medicine rather than enjoying it as a beverage.
His eyes reflexively scan the creature that perches upon the pillow with human pretense - his body tenses at the hint of bestial nature restrained behind the trappings of high culture. After a moment of overlong staring, Lough realizes that whatever fears he is assigning this new subject is little more than a self-unconsciouss projection of his own doubts as to his own mortality, and he snaps himself out.
"I have a hard time sleeping anyway" he admits, addressing his new companion's questions (rhetorical or implied) in reverse order "This is Snarlfist, that is Erevan, and my name is Lough - the pleasure is reciprocated" adding introductions.
Lough crosses his legs the other way and adjusts his position, looking around eagerly.
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A dwarven woman enters the room. She wears a leather jack over a colorful skirt, a shortsword swings at her side.
"Hello dahlings! It seems I shall be accompanying all of you on this outing for the Society. I am Myra, and it's very nice to meet all of you. When all of this is over, you all really must allow me to do a tarot reading for each of you!" With that, Myra fans a deck of large cards in her fingers.
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"Ough" Lough nearly spits out his tea "Yes please, let me know what the Entities of Fate have in store for me, though I'm certain I already know Nothing Good"... he narrows his eyes to see what exactly the "nature" of this fortune-telling will be - whether she will use legerdemain or thaumaturgy or psychology - or perhaps a blend? - and how that bears on the outcome...
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Myra at first seems surprised by Lough reaching for the cards, but as he lays his choices on the table, Myra settles down in her seat to ponder the ancient and rare dwarven tarot.
"You have drawn the Splintered Pickaxe, Bolka's Glittering Grotto, and The Abundant Feast. It's strange that you have arranged the cards as you did on the table, with one sideways, and the other two overlapping."
Myra ponders this, then offers "Clearly, you must offer hard work during the adventure we are about to begin, and though there may be obstacles, there are rewards at the end." Looking up to Lough, Myra continues, "As I see the cards, none of this will be easy, yet it is eminately necessary, and the completion of this task will have its own rewards."
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Yanko meets Lough’s scrutinizing look with a mild smile. It is nothing he has not encountered before. Be it a whiff of churned earth reminding him of a freshly dug grave, a glance of Yanko’s canines that are a hunch too prominent for comfort or his overall pale complexion, it does not matter what caught Lough's attention. Yanko knows what first impression he leaves with people and has made it his purpose to change their views with his second. ”I’ll drink to that!” he says and helps himself to a small clay cup of tea from the communal – at least that is what he is assmuning – tea pot, toasting in Lough’s general direction.
After greeting Myra with a nod and a welcoming smile, he scooches over to give her some room at their table. With a curious look he follows the interaction between Lough and Myra, wiggling on his pillow in anticipation.
”This looks entertaining. I had my palms read several times, but cards…” He begins to ponder. ”Must’ve been several decades ago in Kaer Maga, I believe. I received a reading from one of the Augurs I didn’t quite like and wanted a second…opinion, you could say.” He leans over to take a few cards from the deck. ”May I?” Without really waiting for Myra’s response – she offered a reading after all – he picks the first card and continues his little anecdote while his eyes are fixated to the deck of cards as if he was trying to see through them. ”Have you been to Kaer Maga, Myra? The troll augurs read from their own intestines, completely relying on their own natural gift of accelerated tissue repair to render the otherwise fatal method harmless. Fascinating really.” Yanko’s hand hovers over the deck of cards, fingers dancing tentatively in midair and his gaze still lying heavy on the deck, while he is trying to select his second card. He picks one from the last third of the deck. ”Though, I’ve heard it’s all a charade to encrypt secret messages.” Yanko shrugs and picks the fifth card of the deck as his third choice, before tossing his selection face-up on the low table.
”So Myra, what has destiny in store for me?” He finally raises his head and looks over his thin glasses at Myra, smiling as he leans back to a more comfortable position on the pillow.
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Myra looks on as Yanko draws the cards from her deck. "I have indeed heard of these trolls you speak of, though I have never seen this first hand. It seems crude to me, as I prefer my artfully elaborate deck you see in front of you. It belonged to my Aunt, who passed it down to me when I showed interest many years ago."
Myra reaches out her hand, closes her eyes, and magically straightens the cards on the table . Finally opening her eyes, she gazes upon the cards. "The Brewery of the Ancients is your first card, followed by the Enslaved Dragon, and finally The Departed Host." The first card shows a dwarf walking down a shadowy aisle, flanked by massive barrels of ale and beer. The second shows a dragon, its head pointed up toward a forge, with several dwarves working around the red-hot flames. The third shows a throng of dwarves in shining regalia enjoying their eternal reward in some sort of afterlife.
"My interpretation of these cards is this: there are those who look over us, and wish us happiness. They wish us both rewards in life, and in death. Find ways to use your, nay, perhaps OUR, circumstances to our advantage. Those looking over us will then help us."
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Lough receives his fortune and shifts his weight backwards in silence, undertaking contemplation of it's cryptic prediction. He loses audible and visual reception as his attention is drawn inward to the echoing thoughts in his head the reading stirred to life...
- an echo in his head. Offer. Hard work. What could this foretell? Offer to whom? And how? And what is the nature of the Work? - - another echo. May. Be. Obstacles. What kind of obstacles? Originating from Within? Or Without? And if he Offers Hard Work correctly, does this mean they can be avoided? Why? - - a third echo. Rewards. End. End of what? Is this where I meet my End? Will that be my Reward? Is this my last adventure? Are these the last five people who will ever get to know me?!?...
From here, Lough begins a downward mental spiral of myopic obsession, possessed with a single mortal idea, casting a paranoid eye at every person in the table, sweat accumulating across his brow, his heartbeat accelerated, his innards twisting inside of him - the "tea" kicking in full force? - and he passes out head first on the table with a crashing splat of his forehead against wood...
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The door opens yet again, albeit a little faster and rougher this time. A large human enters the room huffing and puffing. He bends over, taking a deep breath, and tucking his shirt back under his belt and adjusting it over his large belly. At length he straightens with a smile and brings up both hands to smooth his orangish blonde mustaches on either side of his mouth. "Ha. I didn't get to take the boat with you lot, I wasn't even close to where it was going to leave. So I had to..." The mace hanging on his left hip seems to 'drop the ball' so to speak. The head of the mace, attached to some sort of cord, falls with a clunk to the floor. Annoyed,
Ronnie harrumphs under his breath and pushes a button on the handle of the mace, and it snaps back into place. "Need to tighten that fool thing up again. Anyway, I'm here. My name is Ronnie Albertson, and I'm happy to give you the aid of my shield!" As he finishes off his flurry of words, he turns so that the other pathfinders can see his backside, and sure enough, there is a metal shield strapped to his back! Ronnie presses palms with all who seem so inclined, with a genuine smile all the while.
Just as Myra says the words "Brewery of the Ancients," Venture-Captain Li arrives with a platter of tumblers filled with sake, served ever so slightly chilled.
She looks a little distraught.
“I fear that misfortune may have struck some of your fellow agents. I hope that you can help them return here to safety, but I fear the task I have to request of you may instead center around recovering what you can from your fallen allies and, if it is safe to do so, completing the mission in their stead. I know you were brought here to help with the museum, but would you accept a small field mission of importance?”
A spider crawls out of a passed-out Lough's mouth, up his forehead, down the back of his neck, rotates it's body to be vertically aligned, then opens it's tiny jaw, bearing slimy mandibles dripping with guck like two envenomed sewing needles, and clenches into the back of the soft flesh, injecting a substance into the apex of his spinal column!
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...and he jolts awake!
Looking first around the table - one more anxious glare! - then at the sake, he takes a cup, throws it back unceremoniously, and looking at the "newcomer" nods his head and says "Lough" then looks down at the cord-mace contraption "That looks nasty!" a compliment of the highest form!
To Amara: "What is the nature of this misfortune? A warning perhaps? A freak accident? A brewing rivalry? Just bad luck? Angering of a Malificient Entity?..." he goes on to describe several other such interpretations of the words...
“I wish I knew," Amara admits. "All I know is that something's missing."
"Last year, I received a donation of relics from Taldor. The route is lengthy and complicated, so I will spare you unnecessary details. A caravan carrying the relics safely arrived in Hongal to the north, where it met up with a pair of Pathfinder agents, Lin Po and Ti Lan. These agents inspected the cargo, sent me a missive indicating that all was in order, and joined a second caravan to take the Spirit Road through the Forest of Spirits."
"The journey is understandably long, taking over two months to complete. Still, the caravan is late, and I fear that they may have run into trouble along the way. They were supposed to reach Sakakabe two weeks ago."
Amara watches the spider nervously.
“While it’s possible that they were waylaid in the northernmost parts of Minkai, I believe it’s far more likely that they ran into trouble in the Forest of Spirits, a mystical place that shelters departed souls and most of the world’s kami. Kami are spiritual guardians with a deep connection to certain living locations or living things. The locals pay great respect to the kami, never intruding further into the forest than their one coastal road, the Spirit Road, and a number of small settlements built around shrines. This should make tracking the caravan simple, since there’s only a single road along which they should have had to rest or resupply at some point. I need you to check each of the roadside settlements until you find the last one to have seen the caravan, then track it from there and figure out what happened.”
“Be sure to respect the kami and the local traditions honoring them; I don’t want you to come to harm in your journey. The kami are mostly benevolent, so long as they receive the proper respect, but there are some dangers that might have harried the caravan. Bandits, hobgoblins ..."
Amara looks at Snarlfist and quickly corrects.
"... hostile hobgoblins, and giants, among other creatures, dwell within the forest. The forest also hosts some aggressive plants and animals, not to mention malign spirits such as the oni, the sworn enemies of the kami. The locals will know more than I of what perils to expect.”
...catching the Venture-Captain's nervous gaze, scuttles back into Lough's mouth as he shares what he knows about Spirits of the Forest...
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Ronnie listens to the story from Amara. His brows are crinkled and he pulls at his mustaches a couple of times during the telling. "Oh, yoohoo. These other pathfinders went on a two month trip to bring the relics here and never arrived? This could be a very long search mission, yeah?"
"Knowing the lay of the land of where they may have gone missing would be good. How many days travel to the Spirit Forest? I sure hope we can help these poor adventurers."
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Rewards in life and death… Yanko grows silent after Myra’s reading, the words lingering with him. What about the limbo in between? he raises the question only in his head. A massive crunch snaps him out of his gloomy thoughts, when Lough’s head smacks on the table. Before Yanko can react Lough’s spider crawls out of his mouth and reinvigorates the man. Curious. Most interesting. Yanko thinks as he just blinks a couple of times and softly shakes his head.
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Soon after Amara joins their table and briefs the crew for the mission ahead. Yanko listens to the story of the missing caravan and the perils that might have caused it’s delay, however, his eyes are always slowly glancing over to Lough. What a strange destiny…I ought to ask him later on the road, if there’s a chance.
Focusing again on the mission ahead he asks Amara: ”What do you know of the nature of these relics being transported on the caravan? Could there be a connection to the Kami or any other forest dweller with one of the artifacts?” Yanko takes a sip of his tea, it was barely warm How long was I lost in thought? ”Maybe our fellow agents were walking around with a massive target on their back without even knowing it. A list or even better a complete inventory of the artifacts would help a great deal.” He continues, whilst his thoughts are still drifting around. Should not have asked for a reading…Just shouldn’t have.
and mostly benign spirits that can possess living creatures to share memories but exert little control over their hosts.
and mostly benign spirits that can possess living creatures to share memories but exert little control over their hosts.
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"Oh, yoohoo. These other pathfinders went on a two month trip to bring the relics here and never arrived? This could be a very long search mission, yeah?"
"It will take several weeks, yes. If you reach the far side of the Forest and still haven't found any trace of the caravan, head back here - we'll send another team to search the Crown of the World."
"Knowing the lay of the land of where they may have gone missing would be good. How many days travel to the Spirit Forest? I sure hope we can help these poor adventurers."
Venture-Captain Li hands you a map of Minkai and the Forest of Spirits. The map of the Forest of Spirits indicates that the only settlements within the woodland are along the Spirit Road.
"What can you tell us about these relics that were being transported?"
”What do you know of the nature of these relics being transported on the caravan? Could there be a connection to the Kami or any other forest dweller with one of the artifacts?”
"There are four items that may be of interest to others outside of the Society. There's a wild bonsai tree, a paper latern, an omamori amulet, and a green scarf. All four of these detect as magical, but we've been unable to identify the nature of the magic."
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"Oh I have heard of the Forest of Spirits, yes! Thick as the vegetation on the physical realm is parallel to the spiritual realm what are called Kami. Possessing little entities that can inhabit living creatures with the purpose of sharing memories. It is their means of communication between the realms, methinks - a point of intersection. This should be interesting!"
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Erevan looks a bit confused but relieved at Lough's remarks. "I guess that's music to my ears. I've heard about spirits in the forest but I've heard that they possess hosts just to murder them!" Sounds of bottles clinking can be heard as he says this, indicating that the elf is shivering just at the thought of murderous spirits.
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"If there are no other questions, I suggest you head out soon. It's a long journey!" declares Amara.
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"Well then!" Lough rises, returning Ronnie's sideways glance, as well as keeping his other eye on Yanko, before nodding to Li and turning on his heels to head back outside...
...He re-dons his plate armor - which takes several minutes - then ponders to consider his options of weapons. He Looks first at his hammer and spike shield. Then over at his silver bastard sword with potency rune. He recalls Snarlfist's longspear and Ronnie's cord-mace contraption. These warriors can leverage space and distance if we need to defend ourselves - perhaps I could stand to be a little more weighed down if our enemies will have to come to us? - he recalls Erevan now - A doctor of sorts - I should probably stick close to him - now his mind drifts to consider Myra and Yanko - Two occultists of sorts... we'll see what paranormal they might conjure! - he spends a few more minutes in thought before hitting the road...
...and finally grabs the hammer and spike shield, stowing the rest...
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Yanko’s nod is barely visible as Amara suggests the group leaves rather sooner than later. He takes a last sip of his tea before he stands up and puts on his long black leather coat again. With a nod to Ronnie by the door, Yanko leaves the teahouse and joins Lough outside.
Almost casually, Yanko is standing next to him adjusting his thin glasses while his eyes are focused on the door of the teahouse. ”So, it’s quite the curious thing, isn’t it?” Yanko starts the conversation, without turning his gaze from the door to Lough. He continues in a soft tone, now and then readjusting his glasses. ”The spider I mean. Curious choice of storing, what I can only assume is your familiar. In your mouth, I mean.”
Yanko finally turns his head and his pale grey eyes meet the heterochromic ones of Lough. ”I’m not here to judge. You know what I am and your eyes reveal your heritage. I’ve encountered enough banishment and hate in my time, and I’m sure so did you.” A soft, empathic smile flashes over Yanko’s face. ”How’s your head by the way? That must’ve been some strong medicine…”
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"Coming down now!" Lough remarks, foot-holding himself into the conversation afoist "Thought I was human for the longest time. Fully so in the very least. I rather prefer passing for one as well" fiddling as he is with his armor "Will you latch the strap in the back for me?" his conversationeer shouldn't mind and seems the helpful type.
"You'll pardon me if I can't share your experiences exactly: You see, my "Banishment" was self-initiated, in fact, I wouldn't even call it that. "Sabbatical" is a word I have heard in Professor Westyr's class. Though I am no academic - though I'd like to be! - that would be a word I might use describe my leaving my hometown" finally stowing his sword on his back "As for Shalinnis - he prefers warm tropical climes. Strangely enough, the human mouth provides just that, and I don't mind!" he grabs his hammer and shield now, and looks quite about ready.
"Tell me Mr. Yanko, are you a student of the Occult tradition? I am in need of a good teacher you know!" hoping to open the conversation up to the pursuit and exchange of magical knowledge, he casts a glance over to Myra, hoping she too will opt herself into the discussion!
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Snarlfist checks though all his supplies and backpack and other accoutrements. Replacing a strap or sewing a loose seem here and there to make sure his gear is in tip top shape for the long journey ahead.
Snarlfist will also gather a long walking stick, good for leaning on when having his trusty spear out might be inappropriate.
Snarlfist seems awfully muscular for a medic, but maybe it's just his hobgoblin physique.
Although Sakakabe is the closest city to the forest of Spirits, it still takes several weeks of travel on a road that winds through the Osogen Grasslands to reach the Forest of Spirits. Along the way, the Pathfinders cross paths with travelers heading south into Minkai, as well as the nomadic herders who call the rolling plains home.
No one the Pathfinders meet in the grasslands has seen the caravan.
When the Pathfinders enter the Forest of Spirits, the atmosphere changes. The forest is cool and damp, and profoundly alive. Snow blankets the ground and clings to branches of towering pine and spruce trees. Birds, rodents, foxes, deer, bears, and numerous other creatures roam through the woods, keeping their distance from the road. The density of the trees suggests that logging is almost unheard of in this forest.
As the Pathfinders progress through the forest, they visit several small villages, none of which have seen the caravan, either. They can find signs of passage from several caravans and groups that travelled on foot, and the remains of campsites right next to the trail. However, there are no indications that any of these groups came to harm.
Eventually, the Pathfinders arrive at a village nestled deeper in the forest’s outskirts. A sign besides the road identifies the village as Suboyashi.
"It's a hobgoblin!" someone yells.
"And a vampire!" someone else responds.
As the Pathfinders walk into the village square, they can feel the weight of many stares, and the murmur of many whispers.
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Lough elbows Yanko "See I told you - I can pass for human!" disproportionately amused at the prospect "Don't worry - I got this" spoken a little too cavalier?
Long over the trail had he already stowed his weapons - hopefully even learned a little magic from Myra if she be willing (a montage for another time, perhaps?) - or told stories trying to predict the date and time and means of his comrades demise over campfire (if obliging they be - most mortals are, at least where Lough is from, curiously interested in the subject matter as fireside entertainment) - but emerges now from the wagon, upon arriving in this village, armored, but unarmed.
"People of Suboyashi - do not be alarmed - we are passing through looking for our comrades - fellow Pathfinders as we - who might have come through these weeks past. Strange as my friends' appearances may strike you - I can assure you they are harmless to good folk such as yourselves!"
The villagers seem to accept Lough's somewhat unusual appearance.
They murmur some more, and then a shaman-looking fellow steps forward.
"We would, of course, accept your word. But the spirits may not. How would you appease the spirits?"
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"Spirits such as Kami are guardians, and just like people, are subject to different motivations as it represents their differentiated existential missions. A tree, a rock, a creek, or even larger expanses of the natural places upon the material plane. With different personalities - just as with people - their specific preferences, such as exactly how one shows their reverence - can vary from spirit to spirit. But unlike people, they are unusually tied as well to the ethereal plane, which intersects our own physical plane at different orders of sacred geometry. I am of the opinion that it's best not to assume what a particular spirit wants, beyond of course despoiling it's particular ward or charge - it's tree or rock or creek - and that sometimes simply being respectful and patient will allow them to communicate what it is they need to continue in their mission. Kami specifically, as I understand it, are known to communicate through benign possession. So really, as outsiders to these lands, we lack the knowledge of what the spirits of these forests specifically want, what specific actions could be taken honor them, and beyond just the general mode of treading lightly, what could be done to exist in harmony"
Lough looks around first at his comrades - especially the "hobgoblin" and "vampire" - then towards the other villagers, and smiles.
"We are open to any consult you could provide on the matter!"
A soft humility to his demeanor now, contrasting the spikes that protrude from his heavy armor, not to mention his other features...
The villagers are surprised at Lough's knowledge of the spirits they've known their whole lives, and they readily accept the Pathfinders as friends. They invite Lough to help them rebuild a shrine they keep to appease the spirits (that hasn't been working very well). They had kept a small collection of broken items they thought the spirits disliked - a broken urn, a dull spear, and a splintered pickaxe.
The Pathfinders learn that this village was the last place the caravan stopped to rest before continuing on the eastward branch of the Spirit Road, a branch that leads toward Minkai but forks in a few locations. Despite warnings from the villagers, the caravan chose to take an older path toward Minkai, which veers into thicker woodland for several days’ journey before rejoining the main road. The caravan’s members were determined to take this alternate path, but they did not share their reasoning with the villagers.
Before the Pathfinders can do much more, a cry comes from the watchtower. The village is under attack!
Two small gremlins rush in before anyone else can react. One, with a red bandanna, takes cover behind the water fountain platform; the other, with an orange bandanna, takes cover behind some bushes and hides.
He fools nobody.
Round 1
Red Small Gremlin (concealed)
Orange Small Gremlin (concealed)
Myra
Yanko
Erevan
Ronnie
Blue Large Gremlin
Purple Large Gremlin
Snarlfist
Lough
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Flashback to the teahouse
A wry smirk is establishing in Yanko’s face as he listens to Lough’s story. ”An expert? Not really. I’m in liaison with death…and life of sorts. It is complicated.” he says and turns to the teahouse where their fellow Pathfinders are emerging. ”Let’s take this up at a later time if you will, for now let’s get to Suboyashi.”
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Yanko just smiles when he hears the scared whispers of the people of Suboyashi – nothing he has not experienced before – but he raises a surprised eyebrow once Lough shares his more than impressive knowledge of the Kami. ”Most impressive.” he mumbles to himself.
It comes to a surprise to Yanko as the village gets attacked later that day. With a quick gesture he adjusts his glasses on his nose and tries to assess the situation as quick as possible. His eyes narrow as he focusses on the creature with the red bandana behind the central water fountain.
Yanko spreads both arms and his long pale fingers start dancing in the air conjuring a black mist in between them. With a quick motion he hurls the mist at the gremlin with the red bandana. ”Fly.” Yanko whispers and blows air in a silent whistle after the black mist, which apparently carries the black fog a little further until it softly engulfs the head of the gremlin. All of a sudden the lethargic fog transforms into black tendrils that vigorously snake their way into the gremlin’s nose, mouth and ears.
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"Complicated? Tell me about it!" not that Lough's own mortality is at all inversely related to the inner planes - indeed his blood is hot and has on at least one occasion suffered under the positive healing foist upon him by others - a thoroughly strange experience if you actually stop to think about it.
"May I ask you a personal question:" the pretense of inquiry little more than a polite prefix "On the sum of the whole, do you consider your state of being... a Curse?" neither condescension nor conceit taint the honest question - as a matter of feelings, it seems quite rightly to come from a place of not-quite-perfectly-congruent empathy - although! - there is a non-zero hint of mischiefism in the tone, evidenced by the single eyebrow raising over his one steel-grey eye!
Back at the shrine, and just when Lough thought he was getting somewhere in terms of learning new and foreign (to him) Rites of Spirituality the commotion breaks out!
Late again! - he thinks to himself, dashing across the yard in time to hear strange music, watch his fungus friend arm himself to the teeth, as well as witness the black mist of his intellectual fellow conversant!
"Alright - what's going on here?"