Veil and Vodnykel approach the filthy statue without hesitation at their partners' bidding.
Nothing strange seems to happen to them and they seem oddly content in the statue's shadow.
"Hm. Well, either it works only on wild animals, or... well, Veil and Vod are unusual specimens. That being said, it seems like a nice enough place." Meneas turns back to the others with a shrug, flexing his fingers.
Lina’s nose twitches as the glade opens up before her and the others begin their search, almost as if the statue has got up it already. It’s … fine, really. There are much worse gods to keep running into shrines of, but there are also so many she’d rather.
"I see the remains of the building as well. A hunting lodge makes sense, I suppose. But look here: there's something odd. Further out, see how there are tracks going around the edge, but nothing nearby? It seems like the statue is warding off wild creatures. Hard to say whether it's intended to do that or some sort of curse effect."
As Brental starts pointing out the quirks of the site, the witch’s arched brows lift still higher in question and perhaps somewhat alarming delight. “It would be an odd sort of curse, to my mind, depending on what it was keeping out, exactly. Unless Erastilians normally keep herds at the altar, but-”
With that, Lina starts trying to figure out, first, what sorts of animals might have moved through the area if they hadn’t been diverted by whatever the statue’s emanating.
Shaking her head, she extends her sense for magic to examine the statue at the epicentre.
For whatever reason, her usual instinct for such things just doesn't coalesce into anything sure enough for her to mention. She frowns, muttering briefly and darkly in Elven about, <"Weird human magic. Weird human cults.">
Shrugging, she looks over to the ruins Morof's found, and shakes off the last of her truculent mood with a grin to the others, "I think we should beat about the bushes, don't you?"
"Get it? With a hunting god? Though with that ... whatever in place, I doubt we'll stir up so much as an ordinary toad, let alone another boggard." Nonetheless, just in case, she finds herself once again prodding her spear into overgrowth.
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Morof comments "Well, I can see traces of transmutation. Strange... This wouldn't make animals stay away. What changed?" His question isn't directed at anyone in particular. He wishes he had more knowledge or power. Trying to distract himself from his ineptitude, he turns to Lina to see how her bush beating is going.
"Isn't transmutation what makes one thing into another?" Meneas asks after a moment. "Maybe this is a counterpoint to the bear we met earlier. A virtuous hero of Erastil's faith, turned into a statue until it is his time to return to this world..." He chuckles at the thought.
"Though admittedly, that's more like something a fey might do to one of their worshippers than Old Deadeye, from what I know."
Yep, this is definitely a building burned to the ground. Absolutely, Lina thinks to herself, her prodding turning up no more interesting trace of what said building might once have contained. Aloud, she confirms, somewhat redundantly, her suspicion that no beast lurks within. However, Meneas’ words suggest a strange possibility, particularly in combination with…
“Did anyone else notice those tracks? Some of those … pocket tigers?” She frowns again, trying to think of the right word in Common and resenting, as an herbalist, animal life generally. Plants are so much more interesting. “Thylacines! More importantly, though, bears too. Do you think any of this could have something to do with that cursed bear at the other shrine?”
Her glance shifts back to the ruins. “If this was a case of arsonous ursine sacrilege, maybe he was transformed and then a ward settled to keep him out forever after, even in his new form, only it affected all animals?”
“I hate to admit it, but I’m drawing a bit of a blank, otherwise. Unless we can tap into that source, it might be best to move on before whatever time it is that bears are normally active. Though so long as the effect holds, I suppose we should be safe enough close to the statue.”
"Yes, this is definitely transmutation. That is a class, or school I suppose, of magic that druids tend to emphasize in our training, and it is focused on transformations. But I'm not sure exactly what effect this is."
If it was a spell or effect to transform a person into a statue, then it was far beyond Brental's ken to restore the creature. But as far as he knows, magical auras only persist while a spell is active, while transmutation effects tend to be instantaneous and would not be able to be detected much longer after the effect was put into place: minutes, most likely. But they had already been here for minutes. So what then?
He chuckles at Lina's comment in Elven, forgetting for a moment that Meneas still doesn't know the language. If he asks, we can translate.
Lina's investigations and theorizing intrigues Brental. It would be interesting if what had happened to the fallen Erastilian cleric was that he had committed some crime here, arson as she suggests, with this effect preventing his return.
"Perhaps, Lina: it's very possible! In either case, a warding effect would be more abjuration than transmutation, but neither Morof nor I detect such auras. Erastil is more focused on agrarians and hunter-gatherers, so keeping wild animals--especially such dangerous ones as you found tracks of--away until you're ready to seek them out could be a minor blessing rather than a curse."
The druid shrugs. "If we can't find anything concrete, then we may as well move on. We can bring Jhod here after we take him to the Temple. He might be interested, or perhaps even know more than we can piece together."
Meneas nods slightly, considering. "Well, I don't know whether this would be related to the bear directly - I'd've thought that he'd be more involved with the temple that he was... guarding, I suppose. Anyways, if you think we should move on, I have no objection."
Thylacines are large marsupial carnivores. They typically hunt alone, only occasionally forming small packs. Thylacines hunt at night, and rest during the day in nests hidden away from the world in hollowed trees or bushes. Farmers fear the creatures, blaming all manner of problems on them. However, thylacines are quite shy and antisocial, and usually avoid human settlements. Because of their odd, almost hybrid appearance, thylacines have a far harsher reputation than they probably should, playing a sort of bogeyman role in farming communities.
Brental continues his skills with the making of maps and gazetteers as the group procced further into the forest. Evevrything here starts to look the same after a time so Lina once again climbs a large tree to attempt to scout out the region from above.
Near the top of one of the larger trees Lina perches for a time and cranes her head around. Looking for anything of note in the heavily forested surroundings. After a moment she spots faint smoke rising from an area further to the south.
Rapidly desecending the tree she informs her friends of her findings and the quickly mount up and head back out in that direction.
The trail here is rough and very overgrown with vines and all manner of other vegetation and the horses are very nearly tripped up several times but Meneas manages to expertly guide the less experienced riders along the path of least resistance.
After a few minutes Morof spots something through the trees. Four rough-looking men with five canines of some sort... perhaps dogs? No... definitely wolves. In cages.
One man dangles some fleshy raw meat tauntingly over one of the beasts cages as the others meander about their camp.
No one has noticed you yet.
It’s harder to trace a wisp of smoke from ground-level, but fortunately Morof’s keen eyes and concentration are able to do a better job than Lina’s, and as the group gets closer he’s able to lead the way and quietly point out important things going on a few paces away from the fire.
She reins in and considers the sight. She knows that sometimes a cull is desirable, but whatever this is, it’s pointlessly cruel. They’re just animals – unless it’s part of a nasty scheme to at least half-tame them?
She looks over at the others to see how they want to approach the situation, asking quietly, “The direct approach, all together? Or do we want to sneak closer, with one or two of us hanging back in case those men are even less friendly than they look?”
She reaches behind her to make sure her quiver is hanging properly, silently conveying what sort of precaution she has in mind.
Brental contorts his face as the sight of the encampment. These men weren't poachers, at least not visibly, but caging animals like this had always bothered the druid. Even before his druidic training, he was keen on enabling animals to be free. Pets and domestication were one thing: Especially if the generations of work to change an animal's nature had already been undertaken, telling a farmer to release her cattle into the wild was as like to lead to both her and the herd's starvation. Balance and harmony, after all, was the goal, not some misguided anarchic drive. Brental had even heard plausible arguments, both from druids and non-druids, about the use of a cage as a tool. An occasional temporary tool at best, but still a tool like any other.
It did not seem like these men shared Brental's philosophy.
The druid whispers cautiously. "I may not like what they're doing, but as far as I can tell it's nothing illegal." Not that the law ought to govern everything, but then simply attacking the men without just cause would be a gross violation of any semblance of justice. "We could continue to observe them and get an idea of their intentions and motivations. We could simply introduce ourselves as fellow travelers and allow them to do the same. The direct approach, as you put it. Or we could leave them be, go our separate ways, and avoid any possible confrontation."
Brental lays out what he sees as the viable options. Given the lack of bandits or their evidence in the environs that they had been trekking through these last few days, it would be just their luck to run into more bandits now. Nonetheless, Signy had established a pattern of trying to deal with the bandits who were open to abandoning their cause. Vlad was a good example of the kind of enlightened justice that was feasible: a path away from the Stag Lord's employ that didn't involve death, dismemberment, or societal desertion. As much as possible, Brental wants to follow that pattern.
"What do you think, Meneas, Morof?"
"Just because it's not illegal doesn't mean it's moral. Or acceptable. Besides, we are the closest thing to legal authorities." Meneas says, voice hard. "But I am willing to let them hang themselves, so to speak."
I doubt any fey would appreciate what they're doing - with the possible exception of those that would do it themselves... The knight-errant flexes his fingers. "I prefer striking when they're unaware."
Brental raises one eyebrow. "Of course," he sighs. Striking from an advantageous position is preferable to an equal playing field, but... "Perhaps as Lina said, one or two could hang back. If trouble arises, we could send a signal. They would be less aware, if not entirely unaware."
Of course, if the men released their wolves, then the group would be quite outnumbered. Brental is happy to have certain spells prepared this day. If they were keeping them in cages and dangling meat, then they were probably hungry. Whether the men were effective handlers was another question.
He waits to hear what Morof may have to say.
"Just because it's not illegal doesn't mean it's moral. Or acceptable. Besides, we are the closest thing to legal authorities." Meneas says, voice hard. "But I am willing to let them hang themselves, so to speak."
I doubt any fey would appreciate what they're doing - with the possible exception of those that would do it themselves... The knight-errant flexes his fingers. "I prefer striking when they're unaware."
Lina gives a bit of a start. That wasn’t quite what I had in mind, but I’m sure we can work with it.
“Well, we’ll have to give them some rope first. Do you think you could find a clear-ish line to charge through? I don’t mind trying to draw and hold their attention, and if they do prove to be villains and pugnacious…” Like a bird on a spit.
You can't hear what the men are saying at this range but in time it becomes quite apparent that they are trying to turn these creatures into attack beasts.
Not tame them per say but rather starve and provoke them into a feral state to which they will attack anything before them with wild abandon when released as these men poke and prod the creatures while refusing to feed them.
During their observations, Brental's attitude sours further. Brental knows that he has trained Vodnykel, as Meneas has trained Veil, to be helpful in combat situations. But that was a bond gained through aid and trust, not mistreatment like this.
"It is likely that these men will try to release these wolves on us if we approach. I would prefer not to have to harm any of them if possible, but if we are attacked then we will need to defend ourselves against the wolves as well."
Brental gets an idea.
"Hear me out. The wolves are clearly hungry. What if we do a bit of hunting of our own? If we have some meat available to give to the wolves, should they be released on us, we may distract them long enough to manage. Not much. Just a few small rabbits. Rather than taunting the wolves, we can offer them more than their captors have. Why attack dangerous prey when easy prey is available?"
"Don't you have a spell that could do it?" Meneas inquires, tilting his head. "But... do we have the ability to incapacitate them before they open the cages? If we take them by surprise, we might be able to knock them down or slay them before they get the chance."
He looks to the others, spreading his hands. "There are only four of them. If we each take one, they might not be able to open the cages."
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Morof takes a long while considering the situation. He remembers how useful animals are to farms and households. On the other hand, Brental's evaluation that they are just mistreating the wolves to achieve aggressiveness from them is not necessary and is plain cruel. He whispers "That's a great idea. We can even wait for them to sleep, or even relieve themselves, then feed the wolves and ask them to not do it anymore." Of course, the half-elf is a bit too kind hearted to realize that these people will probably do it again.
Lina’s brow furrows as she tries to balance everyone’s instincts and concerns. Like Meneas, she’s eager to settle things quickly, but like the other two, willing to offer the lugs a chance to explain themselves.
"Don't you have a spell that could do it?" Meneas inquires, tilting his head. "But... do we have the ability to incapacitate them before they open the cages? If we take them by surprise, we might be able to knock them down or slay them before they get the chance."
He looks to the others, spreading his hands. "There are only four of them. If we each take one, they might not be able to open the cages."
“I could try knocking a few out with a spell, at least for a bit, if they’re close enough together. And yes, if it does turn nasty, making sure that each of those men has his hands full with one of us might turn them away from trying to add wolves to the mix.”
As to trying to turn the wolves, Lina’s not that sort of witch, and has no idea how winning them over would work. But two-legged folk and cut-throats – poisoners, rather, if you please – are another matter, and it occurs to her that…
"Hear me out. The wolves are clearly hungry. What if we do a bit of hunting of our own? If we have some meat available to give to the wolves, should they be released on us, we may distract them long enough to manage. Not much. Just a few small rabbits. Rather than taunting the wolves, we can offer them more than their captors have. Why attack dangerous prey when easy prey is available?"
“Could we just offer to show them how it’s done – or at least get better results – with their own meat? I mean, the cuts they’re taunting the wolves with now. We’re a bit far from anywhere to just pop out of nowhere with a convenient brace or two of whatever to spare. These fellows don’t look like the sort to rely on the kindness of strangers, and unless we can convince them that you’ve a pocketful of goodberries, I think they might suspect ulterior motives. I don’t think asking to let us demonstrate would be more far-fetched, unless any of them also speaks Wolf. In which case, why the cages?”
She’s pretty sure that’s not actually how druids normally work with animals, as if translating spoken language directly, as opposed to posture, gesture, and a parcel of other cues obscure to her, but she’s rarely above a certain amount of flippancy.
Brental suppresses a chuckle at the non-mage's question. "Unlike Nethysians, I don't believe every problem can be solved with magic. But yes, I do have spells that can help. Lina's spells may be even more useful from the sound of it."
To Morof he briefly quips, "Asking may be nice if they are reasonable, but I'm doubtful they are."
Brental wonders how the half-elf has maintained such idealism through his capture by the kobolds, the loss of his previous adventuring group, and what sounds like a childhood of bullying. It's almost admirable, and Brental doesn't want to completely disabuse him of his notions.
Similarly, Lina's addition goes about Brental's ideas the long way around. He tilts his head to the side, thinking. Brental isn't particularly adept at crafting a good lie: he's always been more straightforward.
Beyond that, this foul mistreatment is a method adopted by the cruel to "train" animals. It's not necessarily ineffective either, in that it achieves a similar result as trust-oriented methods. Brental doubts that they're interested in tips or tools of the trade, especially not from a wandering band of woodsfolk.
"I meant...well...ah, nevermind."
Brental looks sidelong at Lina and sighs before shrugging and smiling. "Shall we go give them some rope to hang themselves with?"
“If you think bringing our own offering will help our case with the wolves, be my guest,” Lina shrugs, trusting Brental to know animals much better than she does. “We’ll keep an eye on things here.”
Brental slips away go go hunting for a spell.
In about an hour Brental returns to the group with several plump rabbits slung over his shoulders. Deciding that the group is ready, Lina and Brental then cautiously advance on the encampent whilst Morof, Meneas, and Vodnykel get themselves into position
A piercing whistle rings out as one of the men finally notice the aasimar and elf's approach. There is a flurry of movemont and vicious barking and snarling from the caged wolves as the men gather to adress their company.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? You lost strangers?" A man with a five o' clock shadow who appears to be in his early fourties snickers. "These woods can be awful dangerous to traverse alone. Perhaps you've come for our protection? Or maybe..." the man eyes the rabbits Brental carries with him. "You're offering a tribute to the Stag? It'll take more than some rabbits to appease him I'm afraid." the man sneers.
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Morof doesn't mind sitting out of sight. He doesn't respond well to bullies and these men look like they are. He asks Brental and Lina before they start the ruse "If it looks like they'll want to fight, try to get them all all nice and clumped up. I have some surprises for them."
As the two come out looking innocent, Morof touches his component pouch to make sure he has everything he needs.
The cowled knight rolls his head on his neck, cracking it quietly, before readying his lance and selecting his target - one of the ones on the outermost fringes. "I'll take that one, Morof, if you can't get them all."
In about an hour Brental returns to the group with several plump rabbits slung over his shoulders. Deciding that the group is ready, Lina and Brental then cautiously advance on the encampent whilst Morof, Meneas, and Vodnykel get themselves into position
A piercing whistle rings out as one of the men finally notice the aasimar and elf's approach. There is a flurry of movemont and vicious barking and snarling from the caged wolves as the men gather to adress their company.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? You lost strangers?" A man with a five o' clock shadow who appears to be in his early fourties snickers. "These woods can be awful dangerous to traverse alone. Perhaps you've come for our protection? Or maybe..." the man eyes the rabbits Brental carries with him. "You're offering a tribute to the Stag? It'll take more than some rabbits to appease him I'm afraid." the man sneers.
Stepping forward to see what’s what, the disdainful looks on the ruffians’ faces instantly suggests the tack to take to buy Brental some time while he works his magic with the wolves, and Lina channels the airiest, fairiest elf she knows how to be.
“Don’t be silly, stags don’t eat rabbits!” she chirps, blithely ignoring the blatant suggestion of extortion as if it sailed over her head completely. “My friend and I heard your band as we were passing by, and we had some good luck today, so we thought we’d share, maybe exchange news of how the hunting is in this part of the woods?”
She takes one of the fat rabbits Brental caught and holds it up proudly, almost twirling with her arm raised as she shows it off and tries to get around the ruffian and stay on the other side of where Meneas might charge in. With the mention of the Stag, she’s pretty sure that the only question now is whether the wolves will get involved.
For now, though, she continues her light chatter, “And you’re breaking in some new hounds, how lovely! How are they doing?”
"I mean, even if you're bored of rabbit - and candidly, I wouldn't blame you, though it is good sport here: have you seen any deer lately? but I digress - I'm sure these fine fellows aren't."
By some miracle (probably the lingering effects of thinking about her sweetheart and the times the two spent in the woods "hunting" together), Lina manages to sound and look very much like she means it as she looks at the flea-bitten things with puppy eyes of her own, as if she weren't considerably more devoted to plants than animals.
The leader eyes up Lina with a high raised brow. Looking at her as though she were a complete idiot and then smiles at her. "Well, you're just precious ain't 'chew?" He tirns to the others and laughs, where they all follow his lead in chuckling thoigh you remain dubious as to whether they actually found his remark comical or are merely trying to stay in line.
"Tell you what." the man spits something foul into the earth not far from the assimar's feet. "How 'bout your little friend here drops off the rabbits and you sweeten the deal with a little gold and we won't have you all meet our new 'dogs' how's that sound?" the man clacked his tongue in his mouth as he finished his statement, fixing the elven woman with a cold stare.
On the way down to meet the men, Brental invokes a spirit of guidance, ready to treat with the wolves.
Of course they're bandits. Brental stands nervously while Lina tries to buy some time. She's good at this...
At the offer to drop the rabbits, Brental fishes out a fat bag of gold and drops it on the ground. He then smiles and walks around to the cages, dropping a rabbit in front of each wolf. The druid fixes his eye with each wolf in turn, trying to convey a simple message.
We don't need to fight. Stay out of this.
The implication is that if they avoid violence, they can get more. Food and freedom.
As he finishes his rounds, he drops the remaining rabbits in front of the bandits.
Let's see what this does...
The leader eyes up Lina with a high raised brow. Looking at her as though she were a complete idiot and then smiles at her. "Well, you're just precious ain't 'chew?" He tirns to the others and laughs, where they all follow his lead in chuckling thoigh you remain dubious as to whether they actually found his remark comical or are merely trying to stay in line.
"Tell you what." the man spits something foul into the earth not far from the assimar's feet. "How 'bout your little friend here drops off the rabbits and you sweeten the deal with a little gold and we won't have you all meet our new 'dogs' how's that sound?" the man clacked his tongue in his mouth as he finished his statement, fixing the elven woman with a cold stare.
It’s tricky, deliberately misunderstanding someone but not being obvious about it, though Lina tries her best.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” she sighs. “We’re on a boat, you see, and that means no room for a pack of hounds. Bow hunting for us, sadly, when we’re ashore, mostly. I’m just tagging along with Brental, there , but my mum and dad would send me straight back if I told them I’d bought a dog. Maybe-”
She doesn’t mind drawing hostile attention if it gives Brental the opportunity he needs, so she’s cagier about bringing out her purse, and opens her eyes wide and innocent as Brental throws a pouch of coin down. “Wow! Do you really want all of them? Lucky. I wish I could have just one, but nooo~~~ Dad says.”
She pouts for an instant before turning to the nearest wolf. “Even if they are cute. Good boy! Who’s a good boy?”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thinks, waving her rabbit as if playing with a puppy or testing its spirit, waggling the fingers of her free hand – though not close enough to risk getting them nipped, obviously.
Pulling out his blade and pointing it at Brental's back the bandit leader growls, "That's enough of that then! Time for you to get out of here before we make you get out! His patience has clearly worn thin.
Brental smiles at Lina's continued act, walking boldly and confidently through the camp. When she takes the story even further and interprets his plopping of the bag of gold down on the ground as an offer of purchase instead of a concession, he gets an idea.
Keep it short. Not too much. If they take the bait and back down, we can regroup and kill them later. But take every advantage we can until there's nothing left to take.
Wisp had called him Brother Odd-Eyes because his eyes had always had a tendency to change colors to match his health or his mood. An odd vestige of his celestial heritage. Usually he didn't have much control over the shade, because one usually doesn't have that much control over their emotions. But in certain circumstances, if he conjured the right mental state, then he could push it.
for x10 minutes.
It didn't take much to push him to boiling anger this time, as he was already nearly there. Honestly, going off to hunt the rabbits had been a way of blowing off steam. No sense going into a potentially lethal situation hotheaded.
As the bandit leader pulls out his blade and points it at Brental's back, the druid turns around and stares at him dead in the eyes, drawing up to his full height. His eyes shift from vibrant green to piercing red, his head resting on the pommel of his sword. Then he speaks for the first time since arriving in the camp. "I want all of them."
Slowly backing away from the red-eyed aasimar the grizzled man stammers. "Wh-what the hell even are you? Some kind of demon?"
He looks back to his men for support but they all seem equally surprised and are frozen in place like living statues.
"Fine! Just we'll take to gold and leave... you can keep the mutts. They aren't worth the scrap meat anyways.
With that the bandits start to clear out of the area leaving the party with the starved wolves still biting at their cages.
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As the weapons start being drawn, Morof begins his chanting, but then Brental does something that the half-elf can't see which scares the bullies off. He freezes mid movement still trying to process what just happened. After a while it becomes clear that they aren't coming back, so Morof just steps up still holding his incense and says "What was that?! That was amazing! Did you use some druid enchantment magic?", unable to process mundane intimidation.
Meneas urges Veil forwards, his hooded gaze fixed on the retreating bandits. "We shouldn't let them go. They'll end up joining up with the Stag Lord, and making it even more dangerous to take him down." His voice is a leaden iron, each word laying heavily on those who hear him.
Brental is silent as the bandits take the gold and begin to leave. He didn't mind being called a demon. He stares as them, implacable.
As they leave and Morof emerges from hiding, Brental doesn't face him. He gazes off into the woods.
"No magic. And I'm not done with them."
He turns to the caged wolf nearest to him and reaches for the release. He looks at the hungry wolf, down at the rabbit in front of it, and back at the wolf.
"Morof: you have magic that could release the cage from a distance? Or shall I release it now?"