"I think we're headed in the right direction, though." He nods at the various shiny objects. "Either we're in the territory of some extremely dextrous magpies, or there're fey in the area."
"Oh, definitely," Lina chirps, nodding sagely. "Can't you just feel it? The veils between the worlds are thin, here. Like standing in the mist off a waterfall. The First World makes everything feel more fresh, doesn't it? Younger, even though I suppose by some measure one might expect the reverse. But it's not really that kind of firstness, I don't think... Oh, what lovely bleeding-hearts!"
"You know, they're also called shining-smoke plants, because of the white petals, I think. Or lady-in-a-bath, but that's rather more fanciful. Oh! And! I'm not normally much for pinks, but maybe we'll find some glorytrees!" Some part of her worries that she should be thinking about other things than how pretty the flowers are, but the part of her that will always be a whimsical girl wins out.
Brental appreciates having another appreciator of the local plant-life pointing things out. He had gotten the impression on their most recent jaunts that Signy had grown fatigued of his litany of stories and ecology, though she had seemed interested when they first began. So he had withdrawn a bit, only pointing things out when she specifically asked. So he engages with Lina on some of the details of the bleeding-hearts (especially since Signy was ranging more).
"I hadn't heard of the shining-smoke sobriquet! Lyre flower or heart flower, I've heard as well." He goes on like this for a bit, speculating and musing with the elf. He jots down their more concrete observations in his journal and sketches some of the rarer foliage along the way. Nothing as exotic as the moonlight radish that he could see yet, but perhaps if he kept his eyes peeled...
He also feels the thinness as Lina described it. Whether there was a portal to the First World or simply an area of increased planar influence, it sends a chill (though not an entirely uncomfortable one) down the druid's spine.
Meneas hesitates a moment before inclining his head slightly. "Mm. Well, either of my answers stand. The First World's full of such strangeness."
Lina doesn't notice a thing as she continues down the path, deep in discussing of the local flora with Brental but as Signy returns from her most recent scouting something in her recognizes a subtle clink of Lina's bag unfastening and she glances over just in time to see a small, around the size of a large lizard, shimmering blue dragon with these glorious, gorgious wings far more reminiscent of a butterfly than that of its other scaly kin pilfering a shiny scroll case out of the elven woman's bag.
Brental's eyes widen as Signy points out the diminutive faerie dragon prying into Lina's bag. Draconic creatures existed all around these parts!
"A faerie dragon," he marvels aloud admiring its beauty, before realizing the attempted theft. "Verj tvek!" he shouts, repeating in the Common tongue for emphasis, "Stop that!"
He hopes that calling it out might cause it to at least pause, or else give the rest of them time to figure out what was going on.
The dragon chirps in surprise that it has been caught in the act and immediately dissipates into its surroundings becoming totally invisible though also dropping Lina's scroll case in the process.
As all this happens a soft, effeminate giggle emerges from somewhere in the trees and a woman's voice calls out. "I told you they'd spot you Peri. These bandits are smarter than the last bunch. I say we go with my plan now you silly dragon!"
Meneas' voice is sharp and grating as he replies in Sylvan.
He glares up at where the faerie dragon vanished to, before sighing.
"I hadn't heard of the shining-smoke sobriquet! Lyre flower or heart flower, I've heard as well." He goes on like this for a bit, speculating and musing with the elf. He jots down their more concrete observations in his journal and sketches some of the rarer foliage along the way. Nothing as exotic as the moonlight radish that he could see yet, but perhaps if he kept his eyes peeled...
“λαμπροκαπνός, ναί;” she specifies briefly, nodding appreciatively at Brental’s alliteration. “I’m not translating particularly well, I admit.”
But then Hyalinnea jerks to attention in her saddle as, under Signy and Brental’s hurried whispers, she finally notices something plop curiously out of her gear, and she quickly dismounts to recover her scroll case, wondering what’s going on and rather annoyed that she missed a faerie dragon, apparently.
Meneas' voice is sharp and grating as he replies in Sylvan.
He glares up at where the faerie dragon vanished to, before sighing.
** spoiler omitted **
She quickly puts the pieces together as the evidently long-suffering Meneas addresses the voice coming out of the woods. Since as far as she can tell there’s no harm done, she herself tries to meet the situation with good humour.
<“Call me Lina,”> she says, switching to Sylvan as she peers into the understory. With the short nickname, although she can feel the pull of it, she hopes it won’t give a fey enchantment as much to latch onto as her full name, just in case. <“We are smarter, but like the Cowl said, we’re no bandits. We’re trying to clear them out, and have a charter from interested parties to that effect, you know.”>
She flourishes her scroll case a bit, though she suspects the group’s unseen interlocutors will be even less concerned with the finer points of the sponsorship than she is. She continues, curiously, and not above flattery, <“And what is your plan, now? You two are certainly cleverer than we, to be able to surprise us.”>
Before Brental can appreciate the elf's translation, he is looking for the voice in the trees. He does not reach for a weapon, simply sitting astride his horse, but moving a bit closer to Vodnykel who is looking around a bit nervous. "Shh, shh, it's okay. Söka."
Brental peers about while Vodnykel uses his considerable nose to especially smell for there as-of-now hidden interlocutors. Meneas and Lina have said their piece for now: no need to muddy the waters with any further words.
Everyone thinks Signy's shriek as she points at the little dragon is a warning about its attempted theft. They're wrong. It was a shriek of delight. The little dragon is by far the most excellent thing Signy has seen since she came to the Stolen Lands.
She's very disappointed when it disappears. Since everyone else is talking in Silvan now, Signy tries it as well. She's been learning some of the language from Brental. Her phrasing isn't elegant, a few short choppy sentances, but she does get her meaning across.
"Nie ne sme razbojnici. Tvoite krilja se mnogu ubavi. Jas sum imenuvan Signy. Za malku ḱe zastanevme na odmor i užinka. Dali sakaš nešto da jadeš?"
The sweet sing-song voice calls out again from the underbrush. "'Ние не сме разбојници' е точно она што би го рекол разбојникот, зарем не?" The voice questions with an amused tone. Curiously one could almost swear they hear a chirping note in their words as they speak out.
Brental's attempts to have Vod sniff out the fey is proving more difficult than anticipated. One moment the mastodon moves to the left then again towards the right and now he's sniffing at his feet. The creatures seem to be everywhere at once.
"Лина? Колку чудно име за такво заносно суштество! Па, Лина, ти си сигурно попаметна од просечниот разбојник, но сигурно не си помалку забавна!"
"Мислам дека можеби ја кажуваат вистината Тајг. И покрај тоа, остриот оној ме нарече убава!" A raspier but slightly squeaky voice calls out, directly into everyone's minds.
The first voice chirps out once again in a huff. "Охх, тоа само го кажувате затоа што ви понудија храна Пери! Не залажувате никого!"
"Не можам ниту да потврдам ниту да негирам!" The second voice responded in everyone's minds again.
[spoiler=Sylvan]"I can neither confirm nor deny!"
"Dali mislite deka ne možete nitu da potvrdite nitu da negirate deka sakate zakuska?" Signy asks with some confusion. A three-way conversation in Sylvan is a heavy lift for her to keep track of.
"Ne mora da bide edno ili drugo. Imame hrana za spodeluvanje. I, isto taka, mislam deka si mnogu ubav zmej, kako prikazni što gi čitav koga bev malo devojče."
"Ne mislam da bidam grub, tuka sme samo kratko vreme. No, našeto iskustvo e deka razbojnicite mnogu brzo im kažuvaat na site deka se razbojnici. Ni gi napravi rabotite mnogu lesni. Tuka sme vo lov na razbojnici što gi gledate. Tie navistina ja eliminiraa pretpostavkata za nas."
Signy goes to the bundled up bandits possessions Vod is carrying and dumps them all out on the ground in plain sight.
"Vidi? Denes veḱe bevme dosta zafateni so toa."
"Kako i da e, kako što rekov, nie sme dosta novi tuka i navistina možeme da iskoristime nekolku soveti od onie koi se lokalni. Raboti kako kade da gi najdeme najdobrite rotkvici od mesečinata i na koi treba ili ne treba da im veruvame."
Meneas reaches into his hood to rub his face, but remains quiet for a moment.
His voice is firm and completely sincere.
Brental nods in agreement. He was actually going to say the same thing as Signy: near every bandit they had met so far announced their identity quite proudly as they threatened you to drop your items.
"Da, naprotiv. Namesto da bara od vas da plaḱaat nekoi počit, nie nudime da spodelime so vas. Dali toa se čini kako na odnesuvanje na banditi?"
Brental smiles at Signy. She was picking up feyspeech quickly! Although dumping their gains from the bandits might send a conflicting message...
<"I too would know if you have had any troubles in these lands that you could use help with, unseen fey,"> Brental says deferentially.
Belatedly, it occurs to Lina to wonder what it means that Meneas is oath-bound to the First World, as he put it, but that’s a curiosity for another time. As it is, trying to keep track of the unseen voices is enough of a delightful puzzle on its own.
She’s grateful for Signy’s quick thinking as the Caydenite makes her case, displaying the loot and mentioning those moon radishes which Lina decides she’ll absolutely have to look into. But that gives her another idea.
“Не сум сигурен што друго можеме да сториме за да ве убедиме дека не сме разбојници. Искрено, најмногу ме интересираат магија, билки и цвеќиња, а разбојниците сакаат да ги расипат сите тие,” she offers. “Ако имате некои цвеќиња што особено ви се допаѓаат, јас би бил среќен да го отворам окото, за да можеме да споделиме и да бидеме сигурни дека нема да собереме премногу.”
“Гледате, јас сум билкар,” she explains, reaching carefully – unthreateningly – for her lip tint, to show (some of) the sort of stuff she makes, “и залихите ми недостасуваат, но, како и мојата пријателка рече, ние сме доста нови тука.”
She lets the implicit offer dangle, guessing that it depends on whether any of the mysterious voices belong to that sort of fey. If not, she wonders what else they might be interested in. Music? Some sort of impromptu concert in the greenwood?
"Unseen?" the effeminate chirping voice giggles. "But my, my we're right in front of your nose, Mr. Not-a-Bandit! Is your way perhaps not the only thing you've lost in these woods?"
"And she calls me pretty!" the raspy squeaky voice rings through their heads once more. "So she must have seen me to understand just how unrelentingly adorable I am~"
"Oh Peri do stop preening like a prized peacock I was hoping to have some fun with these 'Not Bandits'." the voice identifitied earlier as Tyg argues back to which Peri responds.
"Oh but we still can have fun with them Tyg! The grumpy one even said as much! And his friends they did confirm it!"
"Hmm so they did! You're such a smart little dragon Peri!" the effeminate voice chirps before continuing. "Morose, morbid, meandering, Meneas the Meanie~ Did you mean what you said when you offered us your assistance? For we do find ourselves in great need!"
"Oh such terribly great need brave sir knight~"
The first voice giggles again musically. "We can let you through, and we can tell you all sorts of things about the land and the kobold's radishes, and the mean old mites, and even some spooky ghost stories but we require a tribute from you~"
"Four things! Two for each! For things we need from the nice not bandits!"
"Calm down my sweet dragon friend I'm telling them! You see, we've been so very bored here so we are in desperate need of entertainment or I'm afraid we shall both simply perish! It is your knightly duty to save us from such a fate is it not sir knight? Well then we require four tributes. For me you must make beautiful music to which we shall frolic and dance in the forest as one! And for Peri~"
"I want some sweet snackies and someone needs to make me laugh! Then we will tribute you in turn brave 'not-a-bandits'."
Meneas rolls his eyes silently, before looking to his companions. "We should try to indulge them. Their help in these forests could be invaluable." He leans back on Veil, considering.
If one voice had not been coming from inside their heads, Brental is near certain that his neck would be bouncing and forth he was like watching a game of Ruk at the Moot of Ages. He blinks several times at the requests. Whatever their plan had been, these fey seemed far from malicious. Less capricious even.
Beautiful music was well outside Brental's wheelhouse, but he knew Signy could likely manage. And hadn't he seen a glimpse of a bow sticking out of one of Lina's bags? Perhaps she played the violin? Brental had some bells, but they were more about setting a perimeter than playing music. Even Meneas looked like he had an idea for entertainment.
Brental begins trying to think of some jokes that might entertain a fey. The one about the elf and the dwarf? No, too tawdry. The one about the baker and her wife? No, too long. His mind spins. Entertainment? He had some dice and marbles, but those were hardly the makings of a whimsical diversion. As for snacks...
"If you give me some time, I may be able to find some snacks near us. I doubt our trail rations would be particularly appetizing and we have not brought you little cakes. But are the berries nearby that you like?"
If he receives the affirmative, Brental will go off on a quick provisions expedition with Vodynkel. Otherwise he will think of something else.
Signy hadn't brought along her rebec. She had figured bandit hunting in the wilderness would be all about being quiet and sneaky.
I guess not always.
She asks Lina "Can you accompany with your violin? A capella singing can be a rough road to travel if you can't prepare upfront. They want something to dance to anyway."
What does a person sing to a couple of invisible fey cutups to please them?
Signy thinks of the best thing she can for the job, deciding to poach a song she'd heard from a cultist of Ashava. She's sure it's fine to do so, Ashava's people are good eggs, almost a good as Arshea's people. She hums a few bars to get Lina started before she begins.
We get it on most every night
And when that moon gets so big and bright
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody here is outta sight
They don't bark and they don't bite
They keep things loose, they keep things light
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
We like our fun and we never fight
You can't dance and stay uptight
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight
Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody here is outta sight
They don't bark and they don't bite
They keep things loose, they keep things light
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody is dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight
"Four things! Two for each! For things we need from the nice not bandits!"
"Calm down my sweet dragon friend I'm telling them! You see, we've been so very bored here so we are in desperate need of entertainment or I'm afraid we shall both simply perish! It is your knightly duty to save us from such a fate is it not sir knight? Well then we require four tributes. For me you must make beautiful music to which we shall frolic and dance in the forest as one! And for Peri~"
"I want some sweet snackies and someone needs to make me laugh! Then we will tribute you in turn brave 'not-a-bandits'."
Lina tries to stifle her delight at the prospect of the solemn knight entertaining their interlocutors, hiding her grin in her saddlebags as she puts away the odds and ends that had to be recovered from being pilfered or that she was trying to use to prove her innocence. Her schadenfreude evaporates as she realizes that while she piques herself on being able to hold a tune, those she’s most comfortable with are best suited to quiet campfires alone rather than accompanying lighter entertainment.
Maybe? But no, I couldn’t possibly… Or perhaps… She extracts her violin case from her gear, exchanging a rather anxious look with Signy as if to say that she’ll follow her lead. It must have been her she heard on her arrival at Oleg’s, and she might be able to scrape together a tune to match a song the other young woman might come up with, so she turns to where she thinks at least one of the voices is coming from, a mixture of confidence and trepidation playing over her features. <“Alright, lead on! I must confess, that while I’m certainly willing to play, I’m not much of a dancer myself. Though I grant that Peri might get a laugh that way, if nothing else.”>
Signy thinks of the best thing she can for the job, deciding to poach a song she'd heard from a cultist of Ashava. She's sure it's fine to do so, Ashava's people are good eggs, almost a good as Arshea's people. She hums a few bars to get Lina started before she begins.
** spoiler omitted **
With Signy's lead-in, Lina's able to catch on quickly, and by the time the singer gets to the first chorus, the herbalist has found the fun of the situation again, and even tries a tentative twirl or so as she plays.
At Meneas' urging, Veil prances through the grove, dancing easily through the undergrowth and seeming to nearly throw her rider off several times, even as the knight-errant apparently clung onto her for dear life.
Brental is stunningly unsuccessful in his attempts to find something sweet for the little dragon to eat. Everything he lays eyes on that may be sweet ends up also being extremely poisonous to the young druid's knowledge.
"No luck on sweetness? Oh dear me I did think these not-a-bandits looked a little on the sour side." Peri's raspy squeak enters the party's minds again with a not of whimsical disappointment, quickly fading to the idea of other fun things. "If sweeties you cannot offer then perhaps something shiny will have to do or even some of that beloved alcohol you mortal-minded creatures create! A tankard alone would do!" The voice almost gasps in excitement as it mentions alcohol.
Not long after Signy and Lina begin their delightful impromptu concert another bow seems to join Lina's and small, spritely creature around the size of a cat leaps out of the bushes and begins hoping around the pair dancing and swaying rhythmically as it continues to pay its own music to go along with yours.
The creature has the upper half of a beautiful elven maiden with fine silken white hair flitting about her and faming her small horns in the center of her forehead. She appears nude but there are peculiar tattoo-like orange marking running up and down her body that seem to cover her up enough to offer her decency. What is most odd however is that the music appears to be coming from the creatures hind legs rubbing against one another. Her lower body is that of a cricket or grasshopper perhaps and springs along delightedly to the music of the party's women, leaping and occasionally flitting about the air on gossamer wings.
Before long Signy is surprised by the sudden reappearance of the faerie dragon right before her in the air born upon its resplendent golden butterfly wings. The creature bears what must be a smile and briefly bows like a gentleman before Signy before flitting and twirling about her and then the others all in turn in an elaborate and whimsical aerial dance.
Signy doesn't begin to dance, but she sways along some until their song is done. When she's finished with her part in the music, she takes the tankard from her belt and sits it on the grounds.
"Olutta ikuisesti"
Her words request a small boon from the Accidental God, filling it with ale.
"It's not the best in the wold to be had, but not bad for a brew called into existence from nothing."
Lina momentarily considers, with the part of her mind that can be spared from the music, the dried berries among the mix that forms part of her rations, before tentatively rejecting it, since she keeps them unsweetened, preferring the tartness they add. She doesn’t have any wine, though, since, while she has odd ideas about practicality, she draws the line somewhere the wrong side of trying to travel with a decent cellar in her little boat. And then, as their hosts join in, all distractions are swept aside as she gets carried off into the song.
She has just enough time to try to place the sprite among the types of fey, as the tiny lady shows herself, and then her dragon friend. As much as she can while still playing her instrument, Lina finds herself joining the dance, wondering how anyone could want to resist it, stilling the slightest inner qualm. A grig! They live up to the euphemism of Good People, even if their music is, er, especially compelling.
Alaïs would love this, she thinks as she whirls about, her laughter ringing out once or twice in delight, her movements only slowing when Signy stills and ends her song, and even then merely segueing into something more sedate that can serve as unobtrusive and hopefully pleasant background.
Brental is feeling frustrated and trending towards grumpy as he returns empty-handed and is less in a dancing mood when he arrives. As the duet begins, though, he cheers a bit. He leans against a tree gazing at the onset of the dance. As it becomes a trio, a smile spreads across his face.
The druid is surprised that he has never heard of nor seen anything like this fey before. Both she and her dragon companion are quite pretty.
Brental feels no supernatural compulsion to dance, but he is nodding his head along and begins to clap while Vodnykel sways happily. After a few moments, the druid laughs, goes into one of the bags slung on Vodnykel's bag, and grabs the bells. These he straps around his wrists and ankles.
"I am no dancer, but perhaps that will make you laugh."
Brental draws on some memory of dances at the manse at Silverhall and shows that he may indeed have two left feet. His awkward noble-influenced dance seems not quite to work with the music as the bells jangle. He eventually begins to abandon the practiced moves and dances inelegantly with no seeming sense of propriety, his tall frame and strong limbs now ungainly with the music.
Meneas holds to Veil's back as she dances through the grove of her own volition. "A grig?" He balances delicately, shifting easily along with his partner. "We're on the same side, friend - both of us would rather keep these lands safe for all who would live here or pass through."
The fey creatures laugh and sparkle and giggle as they flit about through the party. When the song comes to an end they both collapse to the ground and hug one another laughing jubilantly.
It seems that through a bizarre combination of Brental's gods-awful dancing and Veil's surprisingly comical antics the pair can hardly cease their laughter and only once the belly laughing has been reduced to a trickle do the fey gorge themselves on the ale that Signy has laid out for them. The two collapse with wide grins on the floor and bow to their guests.
"You have all proven yourselves the most entertaining not-a-bandits we have ever met!" Tyg's chirping voice calls out and Peri continues.
"And you bring some good ale with you too! Best dance partners we've had in a long time! I'm Perlivash and this is my mighty lair! I try to keep it cute~"
"And I'm Tyg-Titter-Tut! A pleasure to make your acquaintance dear knight and his cheery squires!" Tyg curtsies with a sly smirk. "You've payed our tribute so now we owe you in turn, we'll answer any three questions you have and then provide you with safe passage so long as you stay within the bounds of the forest~ It's the least we can do as proper hosts!"
Lina’s mouth opens happily before snapping shut again almost fast enough to risk clipping her tongue. She can think of a thousand questions, but some of the first to mind are about local flora and fey politics, and their magic, and rather less germane to charter business. Though what actually stops her is her inkling that the others, having been around for a few more days than she has, probably have a better sense of what’s most important.
"It is a pleasure, Perlivash and Tyg-Titter-Tut," Brental says, comporting himself with a bit more dignity and a bow and ignoring the bit about being a squire. "You are good and kind folk."
Brental considers their offer of three questions. Choosing would be important. He certainly wanted to know where the mites were. That seemed to be the first priority.
The druid pauses thoughtfully, making sure that he didn't accidentally ask two questions in one and lose their chance at getting more information. He then launches into his chief question.
"We are seeking a tribe of mites who seem to have been causing mischief in the area, incurring the wrath of multiple humanoids in these woods. We would like to meet with them and try to stop them from causing anymore harm, or bringing harm to themselves. We have heard that they could be at a tree called the Old Sycamore, but we're not sure where that is. If they are indeed at the Old Sycamore, then how do we get there safely?"
Tyg giggles in response to Brental's first question holding her hand up daintily to cover her mouth. "Safe and Boring are best of friends are they not but if a mundane direction you seek then simply head down the Thorn River to the south-east. Swim and splash as you dash until you reach a rickety bridge to pass. From there due east three hours at least. Then you shall see the mighty tree. But I fear the bites of the nasty mites will be the most minor of your worries indeed."
Meneas watches quietly, flexing his gloved fingers as he listens to the fey speak. A bridge? I wonder if there's a ford - I don't know if a "rickety" bridge would hold up to the weight of our horses.
Brental grins a bit at the fey's chiding. "There is a time for fantasy and whim. If we choose excitement, then we will avoid your directions. Than you, Tyg. My next question."
Brental regards his allies, who seem to have fallen quiet. Me then? All right.
"What greater worries might concern us in this area other than mite bites?"
Lina is delighted by the rhythm and rhyme of Tyg’s directions, and refuses to let the ominous note trample that down. Not hearing their gallant knight or bard chime in, after Brental asks his second question, Lina puts forth a third.
“And, since you’ve already been such gracious hosts, could we impose on you to speak of ghosts? Such unseelie things oft are trouble, goodness knows, so we’ll keep two eyes out as our journey goes, and if we find such aid, we’ll surely share the shade’s bane of the dragon rose.”
She can’t be sure if either Tyg or Peri are particularly fond of flowers, but in case they are, and if there are ghosts haunting this stretch of the woods, Lina’s not above dangling another favour to tempt a rather generous construction of what counts as one question. After all, if that plant is to be found at all in the area, the more eyes there are looking for it, the likelier it is that such anti-ghost measures can start to circulate in the Narlmarches.
Perlivash flutters about Brentals head as he projects his voice into the party's minds. "The mites are most cruel and ugly indeed but even these foul beasts can find friends when in need. The mites may be small but their friends they are big and and carry moee than enough venom to put you down like a roast pig."
Tyg and Peri look towards one another in delight as Lina mentions the local flora, happy to have another nature lover in their midst. The two skitter and dance and float about the elf as they answer her question.
"A flower, in this case shall alas hold no power for the ghost of which we are in talks still technically walks this world as one of the living." Tyg chirps cheerily despote the ghastly note of the rhyme.
"Better off dead, the ghost lost his head and with it his whole world crumbled." Peri squeaks into their minds as he floats and somersaults through the air with ease.
"This man he did fall for a most lovely lass and pass away the hours. Until came a child and who drove the man wild when his life took that of the mother's."
"Tempted by thing most unclean, this man of the Green, did turn to darker powers."
"When his dark acts were found his fate it was bound as he was cast from the great Green Order. Alas it was too late for the pretty young thing he snatched whilst unseen and made feel the sting of his razor."
"Apathy came and empathy went as druid and child journied the lands together. The boy's face, a reminder, the druid put it through the grinder and tormented the child ever more."
"A child, no longer, the boy did grow stronger and cast his father from his high horse. Now a great Lord the boy has become what once he abhorred, the abused has become the abuser!"
With this both fey bow and once again entirely vanish from sight leaving nothing but this chirping of bird and insects about as the party remains in this strange and wonderous place.
"Venom... common poisonous creatures in this sort of place are vipers and spiders, I think..." Meneas muses aloud once the fey have fallen silent and made themselves scarce.
"A living ghost, though... that I have no idea. It could be a metaphor, or they could mean a solid undead. I don't know." He spreads his hands helplessly. "In any case, we should be ready to face poison if we face the mites in combat."
Signy keeps feeding Tyg and Peri ale as they wish, sipping along some herself. She tries to squeeze in another question.
"What about the Kobold tribe? We're supposed to meet with them. I promised to deliver a recipe. Can we expect them to behave themselves toward us?"
Three questions asked and answered the fey remain silent, if they are even still around at all. That is until the ale gets the better of Peri and he lets out a loud belch and is roundly chastised by Tyg for breaking the illusion.
"Dang it Peri! We had our exit perfect this time!" Tyg's voice chimes out followed by a deep resigned sigh. "The kobolds are fun but they've been very strange of late. There that's all you're getting! No hurry along your knight grows weary and the night grows closer! And one more thing, we won't be able to protect you outside the bounds of thr Narlmarches so be weary! Fair well not-a-bandits!"
"Than you again, Tyg and Peri. Your exit is preserved and your hospitality is appreciated."
Dragon Rose! Now this was something that interested Brental. After a few moments, Brental addresses Lina directly.
"I would be happy to assist in a search for such a wondrous herb, but I must say I lack the skill to prepare it to unlock its fabled power."
Brental realizes too late that the fey had been rhyming. He was never particularly capable with rhymes, so he's glad he just conducted his speech normally. Otherwise he would have been standing there awkwardly trying to count his words and analyze his meter. Instead he listens carefully to the fey's tale as his mind makes connections. A member of the Green Faith, cast out after his paramour died in childbirth. He harmed his son in some sort of retribution, and when his son grew he visited the pain back on him. And the fey were specific to call him Lord. That meant...
"Their ghost story is that of the Stag Lord." The druid pauses to let the conjecture hang in the air for a few heavy moments. "I'm nearly certain. Laptev mentioned an 'old fool' that he keeps locked in his basement, not meant to be crossed either. Having a scarred face would be reason enough to wear a mask. His father must have been a druid of some order...perhaps the Oakstewards, but maybe another lodge of the Green Faith."
And whether he was an Oaksteward or part of a rival lodge, that would be reason enough to send Brental to investigate. Sometimes he wished the Order wasn't so secretive.
Ultimately, the various druidic orders did not govern a person's access to powers: that was granted directly through one's bond with the Earth herself. If he had been trained in the druidic ways, he would still have his knowledge and power. The 'old fool' could still be quite dangerous. Brental would need to write to his masters as soon as possible to inquire about this news.
Meneas flexes his fingers idly. "I suppose that's... possible? It seems a bit of a reach, but I guess they might have been paying him attention since he was young." The knight-errant shrugs. "In any case, I think it's a good thing to look into when we have the time."
“Thank you, good people, and good evening!” Lina calls, as the fey disappear to whatever next adventures they intend to pursue. Which immediately reminds her of her own, and the extremely suggestive tale they just shared.
Like Meneas, she’s a bit unsure, but Brental’s interpretation has the advantage of few loose ends. She wishes Tyg and Peri had been a bit more clear, but she’ll appreciate anyone that can beat an elf for indirectness.
“It’s the thing that makes the most sense, if that story was meant to be particularly local. Unless there are other great lords lurking about? I suppose it depends on definitions of greatness, but if he was born among druids, becoming a bandit would be a fitting way to spite his roots.”
She shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. On to the river then, and then perhaps setting up camp for the evening? Unless we feel like trying to track down the mites in darkness.”
As she says her goodbyes Signy works in a secret wink at Peri, who she now considers her secret best fey buddy.
Signy listens to Brental's interpretation of the fey couple's answers and draws no conclusion.
"Could be Brental. But I don't think they were necessarily answering in a straightforward way. I think that's part of the game. I don't think we should make plans around father and son druids leading the bandits."
Brental knows as well that his conclusion could be a reach: he probably could have hedged his bets a bit. But better to be decisive, invite disagreement, and be proven wrong later. Low stakes, this bet. He simply nods to his allies' points.
"Yes--well, let's break for camp near the river. Our newfound fey friends say they'll keep us under their protection, but it's still a good idea to set a watch. Lina, perhaps you and I can begin the search for some dragon rose, and...well, I don't know, perhaps Meneas and Signy can practice with their Aldori swords? There is much light left in this day."
Brental checks on his mastodon and the horses, meticulously ensuring that all of the dead bandits' things are carefully packed and stowed, and then remounts his steed.
Meneas tilts his head. "If you need to look through the wilderness, Brental, I would've thought you'd know that you can rely on me." His voice is amused. "Of course, if you would rather I help you practice, Signy, I can do that as well."
"It depends Meneas", Signy replies with suspicion. "Are you going to going to try running me through the ringer like Keston did, or would we be sparring some?"
Brental's eyes widen a bit at Meneas' comment and he begins waving his hands. "Oh, no, that's not what I meant!" he stammers. "I meant I could help Lina, because she mentioned it. I know you know your way around the woods. I meant...never mind."
Brental slumps and stops yammering. He was hoping to recommend something interesting with Signy's new practice, but is afraid he has offended the hooded knight.