Withdrawing from melee combat is a full-round action. When you withdraw, you can move up to double your speed. The square you start out in is not considered threatened by any opponent you can see, and therefore visible enemies do not get attacks of opportunity against you when you move from that square. Invisible enemies still get attacks of opportunity against you, and you can't withdraw from combat if you're blinded. You can't take a 5-foot step during the same round in which you withdraw.
Meneas, Brental, and Vod all attempt to bring an end to the spitely little monster but it proves fart to quick jumping between their attacks with small mocking cries and a few rude gestures it darts quickly out of sight.
Brental commands Vod to move swiftly down the stairs to help his hoofed friend, while the druid follows after him. The proboscidean lets out a battle trumpet roar as he charges down the steps to come to Veil's aid. In private conversations, Vod had told Brental that he rather liked his equine friend. They weren't able to properly converse often unless they both received the appropriate spells, but they had discussed the merits of different kinds of apples (and other treats) and found broad agreement. So Vod needed little encouragement to sink his bladed tusks into the harassing grimstalker.
A few moments later, Brental comes rustling behind him, exiting out and nearly dancing through the overgrowth, unimpeded. He sees the dreadful creature menacing Veil and scrutinizes it. One didn't spend a year as the ostensible high priest of a kingdom without picking up some religious knowledge. And that included knowledge of the undead. For its odd features, Brental still thought it might be as fey as the other inhabitants of this fell place were.
After making it to the bottom of the stairs, Signy position herself as well as she can and take her best shot at the new arrival fighting Vod.
Meneas jumps over the bannister to land heavily on the stairs. Swiftly, he follows his fellows down to the ground floor, though he cannot get within reach of any of his foes in time to help.
Meanwhile, Veil rears back, kicking two heavy hooves at her attacker.
Lina hurries down the stair after the others, but, knowing that she's not really a front-line sort of person, hangs back to guard Meneas' and Signy's backs. That quickling must have got somewhere, but she doesn't think it's gone yet.
Long thought to be a form of intelligent plant because of their many plant-like features, grimstalkers sulk among the trees of the darkest forests. Even among sylvan communities of elves the grimstalkers are legendary as natural born assassins. Grimstalkers sometimes work together with other evil fey such as redcaps; though such alliances are short and rare, especially with the malevolent and untrustworthy redcap.
It is rumored that powerful evil druids often summon grimstalkers for nefarious purposes.
Grimstalkers strike from ambush if possible, hiding among the trees and dropping on interlopers into their forest. A troupe of grimstalkers that set up an ambush point make ample use of the terrain, using nets woven from living vines, snares, and pit traps. Grimstalkers also employ trained plant creatures such as assassin vines and scythe trees. In melee they are capable of fighting with their claws or with weapons–their favorite weapons being a sort of spiked quarterstaff and longbows knocked with poisoned arrows.
They have the standard fey resistance to mundane material aside from cold-iron and their claws hold a crippling poison which they prefer to unleash in sneak attacks.
While Veil's second hoof connects with the fey creature's arm in a manner that should have shattered the bone, the grimstalker seems more annoyed than anything at the mare's persistence having gotten away with little more than a bruise.
However, when Signy's arrow thuds into the creature's chest it most certainly has a more pronounced effect causing the fey to roar in pain... a roar which is cut short into a pathetic wheezing gasp as Vodnykel slams into the man-sized monster's gut with his tusks and sends the fey creature reeling as its tainted blood splatters against the earth and soaks into the overgrown plant-life below.
"B-Bastard, Bastards... all of you!" The grimstalker wheezes.
"I'll kill you, I'll kill all of you! And your skulls will adorn my tower for all to see!" It cries as it attempts to rake its claws into the hide of the charging mastodon with little real success.
The victory is short-lived however as Rigg jumps out from nowhere to slice at poor Veil's heels. The creature succeeds in drawing blood but not much damage is done given Veil's fey nature.
Even this small success can't be properly celebrated as Lina's ensorcelled wand triggers and releases a burst of magical darts which hone in on the small fey with uncanny precision absolutely buffeting the tiny man.
Signy goes looking for a more open space where she can shoot with more freedom. She end up behind Brental, where she take a shot at the quickling Rigg. Her thinking is her arrows are the only weapon faster than him. If she can only dial in on his movements, she can take him on while everyone else deals with the grimstalker.
Magdi rushes past Brental and Rod, hopping up onto Veil's back. Reunited with his horse, he urges her to kick back at the quickling, but her hooves are not quite quick enough to land the blow.
For his part, Meneas swings his sword down at the grimstalker, striking hard and taking advantage of his higher position now that he's back in the saddle.
"Banaan," Brental intones. "You are not welcome on our plane." The druid whistles and Vod moves in to savage the dark fey.
Brental clicks his tongue after the assault, and the mastodon takes a step back. The druid moves in to fill the space. "Strike without mercy!" he cries, raising his flaming blade to slices into the grimstalker.
Lina reacts instinctively, flicking her wand with a shouted command word when she spots the quickling for a moment, but the next few heartbeats are all confusion from her vantage point, as the melee crowds too close to the door of the tower for her to see much of what’s going on.
Still, with the impossibly quick fey flitting around dangerously, she knows what she has to do. Hugging the walls of the tower as best she can for cover, she slips behind Brental and Vod, and raises her wand again, eyes alert for the blur of the quickling’s movement.
Sigy's arrow is, indeed, quick but not quick enough to match the creature named after such speed itself. But as Rigg dodges the singular projectile several more bright flashes of light emerge from Lina's wand and crash into the small man's body scorching his flesh and drawing forth a gasping scream of agony.
Meanwhile, the grimstalker barely has the time to gasp as Meneas' blade plunges into his chest only to be followed by anther valiant charge of the mastodon, breaking bones and tearing flesh. Finally, it is almost a mercy when Brental's enchanted blade lops off the fey creature's head in a shower of sparks, blood, and cinders before the creature collapses in a lifeless heap.
The quickling scowls, his dark eyes darting about rapidly as he assesses the situation, then... in a split second, turns tail to flee!
Meneas' sword darts out, slashing the quickling, and as he pulls back, Veil lashes out with her hooves as well.
With a quick flash of sunlight off his glimmering blade Meneas' blade severs the spine of the fleeing fey who's cry of anguish is quickly silenced by Veil's mighty hooves falling down upon the creature's head and squelching its remains into the thick foliage below.
The party stand and wait for the next challenge to arrive but when nothing more comes they sheath their weapons and take a collective sigh of relief.
Among the bodies they scavenge a number of items including handful of tiny blue flowers and a short sword sized for a small creature.
Returning to the second floor of the main tower where the sith was dispatched they identify a number of items the foul creature must have salvaged from the ruins or taken off the corpses of her victims including a harp, a jade statuette of a coiling snake, a life-sized alabaster statue of a nude, dancing elven woman, and an ancient filigreed elven water clock.
Carmine's bed is, meanwhile, covered with a snow-white bearskin coverlet.
A finely carved wooden wardrobe besides the bed holds two royal outfits, three courtier's outfits, and several other tasteful, once expensive articles of clothing (heavily stained with blood and now worthless).
A small wooden coffer atop a rosewood table contains three vials of exotic perfume, a gem studded tiara, and a fourth odd vial with a pink sparkling liquid within.
A nearby chest holds 431 sp and 370 gp in leather sacks.
As Meneas cuts down the quickling before it can get away and a tense silence falls over the courtyard, Lina freezes, wand arm still extended, to listen for the sound of any more trouble approaching.
After another moment, she visibly relaxes, leaning a bit on her spear as she gives her wand a spin over her fingers before sheathing it in the narrow pocket it lives in when not in use. She doesn’t handle the gesture as easily as she normally would, which, coupled with how she droops onto the support of her spear-staff, shows just how shaken Lina is.
“That was embarrassing and ignominious,” she mutters, mostly to herself, rubbing at her cheek where Carmine’s caress landed, as if to wipe it clean. “Thanks again, Signy! I shudder to think what would have happened if none of us had been able to, um, keep their wits about them.”
She blushes furiously, and adds, eager to move on as quickly as possible, “Now that we’re not liable to get our lives drained out of us, maybe we can still find a clue as to how she got here?”
The witch starts her search without further ado.
Compounding Lina’s embarrassment, for all her pretensions to sophistication, and even as a merchant’s daughter, the overwhelming majority of what the wicked faerie had accumulated is not such stuff as she can confidently put a reasonable value on.
She loves the harp – or at least, she knows someone who she hopes would who deserves it much more than Carmine did – and the artifacts that clearly are the work of her people, but she can feel herself betraying her humble origins. The clothes, too, are lovely, she thinks, but are they still in fashion? Or could they be altered to be? Or would she be tittered at in any of them in Hymbria, let alone Kyonin? She also spends too much time bent over cauldrons and beakers to ever have had much call to try finding a perfume that wouldn’t be overpowered by whatever herbs she’s brewing on any given day…
Predictably enough, what the witch is sure about is the flowers, the sword, and the obviously magical potion – and, of all things, the tiara.
Meneas wipes his blade clean before sheathing it, then slips off of Veil's back to clean her more carefully. He examines her wounds before looking to Brental. "I have little knowledge of medicine, so I'd appreciate any help you could give me here."
He nods to Lina. "Yes, I'd... well, I thought myself mostly resistant to fey enchantments. Glad I didn't have to die to learn that."
The Hooded Knight then surveys their newfound haul. "It seems someone was ruling as though a... queen, I suppose. Or pretending to." He folds his arms. "Somewhat pathetic, really. We should make sure that none of our citizens has disappeared after heading in this direction."
Signy isn't quick to relax her guard. Things seem to keep popping out from here and there, so she keeps her bow ready with an arrow nocked in case there's more of the same to come. As they scout through the tower and it's surroundings, she leaves the collection of valuables to the others, instead keeping a wary eye on their surroundings.
It's only when they're back up in Carmine's lair that she relaxes her guard, putting her bow aside and dropping onto the bed. Arms spread wide, she plows face-first into the white bearskin coverlet.
"Mine!"
After taking soaking up the luxury of it all for a few moments, Signy rolls over onto her back and grabs an edge to pull it over herself, giving it a real test. She demurs when Lina thanks her.
"I suppose, but I couldn't hurt her. Left on my own, it would have been just a matter of time before she gutted me. Gonna have to do something about that."
Last time we did this, we took anything above 10 as an aid and used the highest as the primary. So at the moment, we have:
Harp: 16
Jade Statuette: 12+2
Alabaster Statue: 16+2
Water Clock: 17+2
Bearskin Coverlet: 18+2
Royal Outfit: 0
Courtier's Outfit: 15+2
Exotic Perfume: 15
We could appraise the Harp, the Alabaster Statue, the Water Clock, and the Courtier's Outfit now if Meneas and Signy meet a DC 10, but we'll otherwise have to wait until we get back to Limen.
---
Brental is glad that Meneas' patron doesn't forbid him from taking out maleficent fey or associating with those who do. Between the four of them and their swift actions, there are three fewer fey to prey on Helikians. Brental notices Meneas flinch at the flame on the Salamander, and although he keeps the sword out during the exploration he quenches the flame.
First things first, though: he looks over everyone's injuries, especially Veil's.
"Minor injuries," he concludes to Meneas, "And no lingering venom that I can find. I'll patch her up later. The rest of us, too."
Now that they danger seems to be past, Brental relaxes a bit. "I don't think there's a need to be embarrassed," he tells Lina. "Fey-charms are not like those of mortals. We all take precautions, but no protection is foolproof. We survived. That's enough for me for now."
But they would definitely need to get more cold iron. Maybe a nearby kingdom would trade with them for that.
While Lina works at identifying the magical items, Brental lends his eye to the appraisal of the other goods. They quibble a bit over approximate values, though Brental feels like he has a better sense for some of the art pieces than his queen does. About the only thing that he is confident in is the bearskin coverlet that Signy wraps herself in, which reminds him of the work of an enterprising ranger he knew some years back.
"Well, we can take everything with us. The question now is whether we make camp or continue on to meet with Tiressia. Depending on how far it is, some of my spells could remain active."
Signy doesn't get up, but she does eventually sit up with the bearskin draped over her shoulders. As the goodies are sorted through, she offers some opinions on their value, for better or worse.
Harp:
Jade Statuette:
Alabaster Statue:
Water Clock:
Bearskin Coverlet:
Royal Outfit:
Courtier's Outfit:
Exotic Perfume:
Now that they danger seems to be past, Brental relaxes a bit. "I don't think there's a need to be embarrassed," he tells Lina. "Fey-charms are not like those of mortals. We all take precautions, but no protection is foolproof. We survived. That's enough for me for now."
“Mm,” Lina nods, biting her lip, and trying to laugh it off.
“Goodness knows that I’m not above deceiving hearts and minds to get what I want. It’s just, there are some things I wouldn’t do, even so. I might enchant an innocent young girl, but I would never devour her under the influence,” she says lightly, glibly ignoring the ways that neither young nor innocent particularly apply to her. “And like Meneas said, it rankles to have one’s tricks turned against one.”
There’s something uncomfortable about the knight’s words about Carmine’s tragic little court, too. It doesn’t take long for Lina to realize that the sith could almost be a horrible reflection of herself in some ways: if she were more self-indulgent, ruthless, and willing to hole herself up alone in her pride rather than try to cooperate with others and make friends rather than prey…
“It’s very strange, but for the life of me it looks like she just appeared out of nowhere,” the witch says, firmly returning her thoughts to less disconcerting subjects and looking about for any papers or the like to which the sith might have consigned her thoughts and plans among the admittedly much more exciting baubles.
"Well, we can take everything with us. The question now is whether we make camp or continue on to meet with Tiressia. Depending on how far it is, some of my spells could remain active."
“I’m glad to hear it, but are you sure? I suppose we could at least get it downstairs,” Lina muses, considering the size of both the clock and the awkward – at least, for the purposes of transport – pose of the life-size statue. She grins, thinking about Erastilians’ peculiar ideas about balance and family, “You don’t think we’ll break Jhod if we put that in the gardens, do you? Maybe inside the town hall, while we find the best place? And I suppose we could keep an eye out for a gentleman counterpart to her, or a sculptor who could provide, so we don’t leave anyone’s eye wanting.”
She shrugs. “I’m happy to press on, if everyone else is. If we do get a chance to rest before we meet Tiressia, though, I think I will prepare something to help clear enchantments away, just in case. I think I can spare that much at least without taking away from my other spells.”
Jade Statuette: 12+2
Alabaster Statue: 16+2
Water Clock: 17+2+2 identified
Bearskin Coverlet: 18+2+2 identified
Royal Outfit: 16
Courtier's Outfit: 17+2+2 identified
Exotic Perfume: 15
Meneas could try, but we'll get the rest once we get back to Limen one way or another.
Brental looks over the items once more and shrugs. "I think we can fit the water clock in the bag of holding, though it will be a tight fit. The statue, of course..."
Jhod would probably hate it. All the more reason to take it.
"We can come back for it. I believe I have just the spells."
The idea of marching back into Limen with a giant stone statue on his shoulders sort of tickles Brental and is a welcome distraction from...all that.
Meneas takes a closer look at the goods, peering out from beneath his hood. Hm... "Ah. Not worth a lot, but an interesting find nonetheless." He picks up the jade statuette, examining it more closely. "We probably could find a buyer unless we want to use it as a decoration or the like."
He considers a moment longer. "We should definitely return for it rather than risk dragging it through the forest on our way to meet a potentially hostile fey."
Jade Statuette: 21+2+2 identified
Alabaster Statue: 16+2+2 identified
Water Clock: 17+2+2 identified
Bearskin Coverlet: 18+2+2 identified
Royal Outfit: 16
Courtier's Outfit: 17+2+2 identified
Exotic Perfume: 15+2
With Rackal's permission, I'm just going to peek under the spoilers and add everything to the loot sheet as-is instead of futzing with "well, we think it's worth xyz." That way, we can start figuring out what we're doing with the items. Selling, keeping, claiming, etc. I assume that the items that needed to be appraised are worth their market value, while the other items are worth the standard half cost if sold. I'll mark what it seems like we're doing based on the descriptions thus far, but please either say explicitly here or mark in the loot sheet any differences.
"Definitely not today," Brental agrees. "Tiressia might look at us askance if I'm hoisting a naked stone elf."
And he'd deserve it.
When it's time to get going, Signy rolls up her bear coverlet and hefts it down the stairs. It's some effort to get it up onto her horse, but she manages that plus tying it in place securely.
She takes a few smaller, lighter items to carry back as well, but the weight of the coverlet is substantial.
Reasoning that they could continue on their journey and still reach the grove before the day is up, the party give the ruins a once over before heading out. In the other towers they find a clay urn filled with 119 gp, 131 sp, and 27 cp and a dozen different sparkling gemstones worth 1800 gp in all. They also find a remarkably well-preserved mithral statuette of a
beautiful elf woman wearing archaic robes, framed by an archway of mithral branches.
They also find a chest containing a fine velvet cloak, a gold necklace, a silver ring set with an emerald, a bejeweled masterwork short sword, a moonstone, 76 sp, and 31 gp.
Gathering up their findings they head further out following the Skunk River deeper into the forest for several hours.
The river makes a sharp bend here, widening into a deep pool dotted with lily pads and fringed with waving reeds. Several freshly felled trees lie beside their stumps on the shore of the pool, their crowns dangling in the water among fading tendrils of mist. Before the pool stands a group of angry looking men armed with handaxes facing off against what would appear to be two similarly armed men standing before the pool. The adventurers can hear angry shouts being exchanged between the partys when one gruff individual who looks to be the leader of the larger group notices the adventurers approach and quickly waves them over.
"Oi! Oi you! C'mere quick! We're in need of some f$#@in' back-up here!" He shouts coursely spitting at the ground.
The man grabs each of the adventurer's hands in a too rough handshake as they arrive. "Well met well met! Name's Corax, of Corax Lumber and Supplies. These here sorry sacks of s%## are my men and we were just innocently MINDING OUR OWN F~@$ING BUSINESS" he shouts pointedly turning his head toward the pool before returning his gaze to the adventurers with a deep frown on his heavily bearded face. "When suddenly all these f+&%in' spooky ass noises start comin' from the water and mist starts to make it hard to see." He chuckles.
"First I thought it was funny and told everyone to keep f&~@in' working knowin' how the fey like their pranks but this is just too damn far now. Stupid b*#~$ in the pond went and hexed two of my best men and is gonna try to kill us next I swears it... Maybe comin' to do business here was a mistake f%@#in damn near impossible for a decent man to make a living with all of these damnable fairies in the woods. Anyways.. I can't be arsed to wait much longer, these are two of my best men but time is money and if that b&!*$ tries to hold us up any longer we'll just have to chop her up like her precious f@*#in' trees."
"Try it you bloated eel carcass and I'll drown you myself." Comes a melancholic almost monotone voice from the middle of the pool where, indeed, a green-skinned head with hair the color of seaweed and decorated with shells pokes out above the water staring down the angry men with a grumpy pout as Corax turns to flip her the bird.
Nixies are guardians of ponds, rivers, lakes, and springs. They prefer dwelling in idyllic places, which they protect from the depredations of predators and careless humanoids. While this often involves confusing enemies and driving foes away, nixies are not afraid of spilling blood to protect their homes—though they prefer not to resort to such means unless completely necessary. Nixies are 4 feet tall and rarely weigh more than 45 pounds.
Nixies avoid combat if possible, using charm person to lead humanoids away from their lairs. They sometimes use this ability to enslave people to act as protectors or help with a task that is simply too big for them to deal with. They cast water breathing on charmed creatures helping with tasks below the surface. Nixies are reclusive and prefer to keep their presence hidden. They make lairs underwater, forming small communities if their numbers are great enough. Legends speak of a secret nixie kingdom at the bottom of a great lake, but no one has yet confirmed its location.
Meneas looks over the last bits of loot, before singling out the weapon. "A bit gauche, but it looks like someone might buy it for a fair bit more than its use is worth."
At the sight of the strangers, Meneas pulls Veil up short, stopping just far enough away to get a good charge in - in case they were more bandits. Hearing them introduce themselves as loggers, he relaxes slightly. The charitable feeling fades swiftly upon hearing they're having trouble with fey, however.
He looks at the small creature as its head emerges from the water. A nixie? Master spoke of them...
"What exactly is the dispute here?" He asks the fey, though his hooded gaze does not leave the humans.
Lina pokes casually around a bit more with the others, quite enjoying the treasure hunt now that no one’s trying to eat her. On that note, amid some rocks on the edge of a clayey, unpromising puddle, she finds a tenacious Calistria’s honey-trap with one of its flowers closed, and she wonders if that’s the thing that nearly got Brental’s beetle friend. Among the less snappish, but perhaps snappy things that turn up, there’s a rather flashy watered velvet cloak that shimmers like a blue-green forest pool that she immediately gathers into her arms and holds to her cheek, before murmuring promises to the precious thing.
There’s also quite a pretty gem, so Yuelral is definitely smiling serenely down on her today, as becomes clear when the delicate mithral statuette of her sister goddess, Findeladlara, turns up tucked away in an overgrown niche.
“A statue of the Guiding Hand!” Lina exclaims, cradling the piece reverently in her hands after carefully extricating it from where it’s lain for who knows how long. “It will make a nice altarpiece, when we get around to building a chapel.”
It’s strange, though. The Shifting Lands may be wild, and Carmine (good riddance) was monstrously dangerous, but Lina doesn’t have the architectural background to be sure whether or not the ruins were originally elven, though surely it’s unlikely that the ruins would have been undisturbed so long. So where did the wicked faerie come from, and where did she get her treasures?
Something to think about on the way to Tiressia, and the witch is accordingly quiet as the group gets back on their way again. Her musings are rudely (though surprisingly belatedly, given her abstraction) interrupted by the dispute they seem to have ridden into the middle of.
Lina's glance flickers briefly over the nixie, and she resigns herself to her fate as Meneas cleverly chooses the civilized party to address.
"Charmed, I'm sure," she tells Corax, though her brilliant grin probably looks suddenly toothier as she adds, "As are your men, I'd bet. It's a neat trick."
The boorish woodcutter has, unfortunately for him, run into probably the worst party to appeal to that he could, short of more fey. She's not sure quite what bargain Meneas struck with his patron, though he seems to speak fondly of him, and the paths and weirder denizens of the wild, Brental's, well, a druid, while Lina's a very botanically inclined witch, and Signy's just too nice to put up with blustering bullies.
"If they're her trees, I think you would be well-advised to leave them alone," she says, her smile vanishing for a moment. "If you need work, if you follow the river down to the town on the lake, I'm sure you can find a contract, once the authorities there are sure you understand the laws of the forest there. I understand the lady in charge is quite fond of the woods, and counts fairies among her friends and citizens."
Despite herself, there's a wicked part to Lina that can't help creeping out again, and for all the seriousness of the situation, a certain cat-with-mouse-ness enters into her attitude again.
Corax frowns, seemingly taken aback by Lina's demeanor as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a well crumpled document he takes a moment unfolding. "I don't believe this little t@*% has any real claim over these here trees, they belong to the ruler of this here land and as you can clearly see from this here 'ficial document, we got ourselves a logging permit already and we ain't nearly at our permitted number o' trees yet."
Taking a moment to go over the document in hand it does appear to be an official document entitling Corax and his company to their logging rights.
"Be that as it may," huffs the nixie in her matter-of-fact monotone, "These coachwood trees have been growing by the side of my pool for over two hundred years and they deserve a far better fate than to end up as some grubby peasant's slop table. And besides we fey do not recognize the ownership of land by mere mortals." She glares and puffs up her cheeks in a grumpy pout. "I was just trying to scare off these dunderheads when they came at me with their axes and threatened to hang me from the nearest tree to 'drip-dry' if you can believe it." She huffs. "I did a little magic to turn some of these morons to my defense just before you arrived... but you seem like a more sensible lot. Get these idiots to leave, after they've paid proper compensation for the damage they've already done of course, and I'll let these two go."
"COMPENSATION?!" Corax sputters incredulously, "As if we'd ever agree to pay you anything you uppity b+#%$!" he roars then turns back to the adventurers. "We got every f&@#in' right to gods damned well be here. The law is on our side and the only way we're leaving is with our coachwood in hand!" He growls tightening the grip on his axe.
Signy groans to herself. She's already had her fill of fey troubles for the day and would really like to avoid any more. She frowns in a concerned way and warns the logger off.
"You're not in just any old stretch of forest here. Trust me when I tell you that what you do here now will haunt you for a long, long time to come. You might even think you've gotten the best of her and get your trees but the other fey, who will know, won't let things rest. You start this fight now, and they will end it whenever they eventually get the better of you some day. Best you go find a different stand of trees, these trees aren't worth all the grief you'll bring yourself."
"By the way, who exactly signed that document for you?"
+2 to Meneas brings it to a 20 --> Identified
No clue, but Signy might get something with 2 successful aid rolls
Emerald Ring: Identified
Short Sword: Identified
Moonstone: Identified
Brental loads the remaining items of value and not overloading bulk into the bag of holding, which he slings across his back so as not to treat Vod as a beast of burden. At the very least, they might look the part of rulers now, if they wanted to. Nobility often cared about these sorts of things: the trappings of wealth.
Brental wasn't strictly utilitarian, of course. He didn't particularly like arbitrary valuations one way or the other. Art was lovely and, like all acts of creativity, deserved to flourish. But it ought not be at the expense of another's well-being. If these art pieces could no longer support the original artists, perhaps they could inspire another artist in town to create something. Otherwise, Brental was not above selling them to ensure that the people he was charged with taking care of didn't have another hard winter like the last one.
---
It doesn't take too much of a glance for Brental to recognize a nixie, but he is also certain that this is not Tiressia. Tyg and Peri had told Meneas and Signy that Tiressia was a dryad. Dryads were bound to trees. Nixies, on the other hand, were decidedly aquatic fey. That this one cared so deeply for the trees in her grove could suggest that she was allied with Tiressia, but it certainly wasn't necessary.
Brental had worked very carefully to set up Helikia's lone sawmill. They had established it last Kuthona as winter approached, not far from the Moonlight Radish Patch. They had only set up the sawmill after months of conversations with the local fey population. What trees were considered sacred? Were there any dryads or other fey bonded to particular trees or groves? Where did different fey and animals live? Beyond that, druids had passed down lore through the eons about sustainable arboreal practices. Brental had personally overseen the hiring of the lumberjacks to ensure that they understood that the guidelines of which trees were felled needed to be followed carefully, not taken as suggestions. He trusted that a logger worth their sawdust ought to know which trees were important for a forest's overall health. But of course, that wasn't the only consideration.
In any case, this Corax thought that he was gaining allies to his cause when that was anything but the case. He sibilantly whispers to his comrades.
Then he raises his voice to this Corax, adding to the recommendations (and threats) of his friends. "Do you even know with whom you are entreating? This is a nixie: a typically kindly fey and guardian of the pools where they make their homes. Whoever issued this permit was clearly unaware of the residents of this area. Tell me, Corax: if someone issued a permit where you lived and someone began prying the wood from your house, wouldn't you be upset?"
He does wonder who considers themselves the ruler of this land. He hadn't heard of any competing claims nearby. He looks a bit more closely over the document.
It’s been a long day, and harrowing as it may have been, Carmine was a lot more fun polite about her bad intentions, at least at first, than this fellow. Right now, Lina’s feeling pretty sure that most trees she’s met would be more pleasant company and conversationalists, even with her still being an indefinite time away from actually being able to talk with them.
Fortunately, Brental seems to be in a better mood than she is, so she follows his lead, peeking around the druid’s shoulder at the purported ‘permit,’ wondering who had the audacity…
Remembering the Wise, and the Guiding Hand – an image of whom, after all, she just put into Brental’s magic bag – Lina tries to be civil, though the River Kingdoms in her is about ready to overtop her appreciation of the finer points of elven legal tradition. Quite apart from the letter of looser principles like Say what you will, I live free and You have what you hold, bullying the locals is just not on, as she understands them.
"The amusing thing is," she chimes in, looking up from the document, "I'm pretty sure that we've spoken to the only survivor of the group who held the charter to explore parts west of here, and there's nothing in that about interfering with the freeholds of peaceable folk already settled, mortal or not, or their trees. I think she's got you there, so why not at least ask what compensation she has in mind, hmm?"
Honestly, if it's the sort of thing Helikia's council can easily spare and it will get this Corax to shut up and move on, Lina wouldn't mind covering it. Unfortunately, at the moment she probably also wouldn't mind boxing his ears and shaking him down, and only the sheer cheerfulness of her observation does anything to soften her obvious partiality.
Meneas grips his lance as hostility grows more evident. Once the nixie requests his aid, he levels it at the loggers. "Very well. You will not do anything further here. This land is not for anyone to claim but the fey - or those recognized as authorities. Which you are not. Do as the lady asks, or don't. It's much the same to me... but it won't be for you."
Corax seems to deflate as Brental, Lina, and Signy seem to talk the man down. "W-Well, I suppose you do have a point there blonde... wouldn't want to spend my whole life looking over my f&#$in' shoulder now would I? A-And I gues that I would be none to happy if some f*%%er decided to start tearing up my g+@$!$n home... As for the document, we got it signed by a rather portly bastard, claimed he worked for the government here... kinda oddly dressed, a little garish but that's government types for you eh?" He starts to chuckle before Meneas levels his lance at the man and Corax's eyes go wide as his hands go up.
"Woah! Woah! Let's all just calm right the f+~% down now shall we? Take a deep f@~&ing breath alright? I was just about to f@#!ing say that I'll hear what the water wench has to say no need to get all murdery, alright?" Corax sighs before turning his attention to the fey.
"So, tells ya what, we'll leave sure enough, but I'll need the lumber I've taken, another source of coachwood, and I suppose I want those two dumbasses you have with you back. Square" Corax yells over to the nixie.
"Seems you're finally willing to listen to reason you vile nimrod. Thanks to you noble knight." The Nixie nods her head appreciate towards Meneas before returning her focus to the angry loggers. "I have no qualms releasing your fools back to you, they pollute my sacred pool with their very presence, and the lumber of my felled friends is yours, it would only go to rot if left here... However the new source of lumber is your concern not mine and I shall require my trees being replaced, then you may go."
"Replace your trees? You mean like, plant sticks or somethin in the ground soggy b!+~%?" Corax replies baffled.
The nixie splashes her little fist angrily in the water and growls, "My NAME is NOT 'soggy b&+~%' NOR is it 'water wench' it's MELIANSE and I'm over ten times your age and you WILL show me some RESPECT! And NO! Saplings will not due, I want fully grown trees here to stand where my lost friends once stood, that or no deal!"
"WHAT?! Fully grown trees?! Are you mad woman?! How the f&*~ are we supposed to do that?! You're asking for nonsense, fantasies, b&!*#~@$! And what's more I'm not leaving without a new source of coachwood! I got f#$%ing orders to fulfil gods dammit!" Corax rages.
Signy can't understand how Melianse's demands could conceivably be met. It's a real head scratcher. But, she can't see a path to argue so with her that goes anywhere. But, maybe she could convince Melianse to reconsider her priorities.
"Melianse, I understand you will miss your trees terribly. Replacements won't be the same, no matter the size, for the ones you knew so well. But there is a way for you to save another tree for each one you've lost."
"Saplings that have sprouted too close to large trees rarely survive. The large trees around them choke them off from light, and eventually it kills them. You could save some of them by having them brought here. Any large trees brought here are already thriving where they are. Maybe the kindness of bringing otherwise doomed saplings here instead could give your loss some meaning."
As progress is being made, Lina casts an eye over the felled trees, doing a quick (alas!) headcount and estimate of how old they were before asking, as she steps over to the shattered canopies, “Out of curiosity, how much were you hoping to get for these, Mr. Corax? In case you get any ideas about sharp dealing, I’ll remind you that I’d be quite happy to give our gallant cavalier his head. Or rather, let him take…”
She trails off meaningfully, though with a casual, cheerful wave, as she bends over the wreckage, looking for any bird nests or webs.
“I don’t suppose you’d be close to a particularly adventurous arboreal, Brental? Or if you know of a suitable spell of your own?” The witch may be loath to admit it, but she will grant that this is the sort of thing that probably calls for a druid. “Although…”
Working with Riftun for over a year now, Brental had become fairly familiar with his signature. This was a good facsimile--a reasonable forgery even--but it was not the genuine artifact.
Brental could probably reach into his bag to find any number of Riftun's signatures on documents that he carried with him on journeys outside the capital, but he returns his focus to the ongoing tense negotiations. He raises his hand and places it on Meneas' lance in a sign to his friend that there was still time for discussion. He also casts a sidelong glance at Lina--he didn't want to question here so openly here, but more threats were going to be counterproductive. He's inclined to side with Signy here.
"The portly bastard," Brental repeats. "Was his name perchance--Grigori? Or did he claim to be Riftun? The signature here says Riftun, but I know our treasurer's signature and this is not it. Riftun was also rather lithe when we saw him last night, as he has been the entire time I've known him. I'm afraid, Mr. Corax, that you, your employees, and your customers have been defrauded by a foreign agent intent on sowing discord in these lands."
Whatever the case, as Marshall it was Meneas' responsibility to enforce the laws of Helikia. With an internal chuckle, Brental thinks that he's doing an admirable hands-on job of it. The law was his sphere; Brental didn't know exactly what he and Lina had discussed, but it seemed like the person at fault here was Grigori, not Corax and his men. And if they could prove it, then they could mete out justice. (And if they couldn't prove it, perhaps they could get Chief Sootscale to "hire" Grigori and send him down towards the Nausicaa as a welcome-to-the-kingdom present.)
And of course, Signy was fulfilling her role as the chief Councilor, here, ensuring that heads did not begin rolling. Whether Corax and Melianse were Helikian citizens or not, and whether or not this was formally Helikian land (yet), they ought to deal fairly here. (He's also happy to hear her spout off a bit of natural wisdom. He's almost certain that he's mentioned concepts of growth patterns off-hand half a dozen times in the last year alone.)
In any case, arbitration was needed, and four of the appropriate parties for such a matter had just happened to stop by at the right time. This was a happier problem to deal with than Carmine, Rigg, and the grimstalker. Not simpler necessarily, but certainly one that could be managed without bloodshed.
Brental walks calmly into the center of the conflict, imposing himself between the charmed and uncharmed loggers. "We haven't formally introduced ourselves yet. As was mentioned: I am Brental, Priest of Helikia, Brother of the Green, and Follower of the Rivers and Trees. My fellows can introduce themselves as they so choose. But I am always glad to meet neighbors such as yourselves, Melianse, Corax, and company. It is a shame that the circumstances right now are so tense." He waves his hand and takes a breath. "But as we seem willing to use our words, I'd like to offer my services in this matter."
"I'd like to review, if I may. Corax has requested that: 1) his employees be returned to him, 2) he be permitted to take the felled lumber, and 3) that he be able to find a new source of coachwood. Melianse has agreed to the first two items if her trees are replaced. As this document is fraudulent, Corax is not legally entitled to the third item. However, I believe that we may be able to come to an agreement on a new, legitimate contract, perhaps in return for formal testimony about the identity of the man who signed your charter. We have worked with the residents of the Northern Narlmarches to ensure that timber operations are conducted appropriately. I would need to check our records to see if there are groves of coachwood that have been cleared for felling, but we should be able to negotiate a new agreement with your company."
The druid turns now fully to Melianse, bowing his head lightly. "As for you, Lady Melianse, I would ask for your forgiveness by proxy, and your patience. Would you accept trees from another source--me? Both you and Lady Signy--" he gestures to the blonde Councilor "--indicated rightly that saplings will not do hhhere. And yet for one like me who listens to the Will of the World, I can nurture an otherwise-doomed sapling to full robustness. Beginning tomorrow, and each day henceforth needed, I could usher three saplings to full growth. I would not even need a sapling--a seedling, sprout, or seed would do."
---
You cause an explosive burst of growth in a single plant, causing it to grow through a cycle of flower, fruit, or grain production as appropriate. If the plant is not one that normally produces food fit for humanoid consumption, it produces edible flowers under the effect of this spell. The plant produces enough food to nourish one Medium creature per caster level. Food harvested through this spell rots if not eaten within 24 hours. This spell nourishes, fertilizes, and pollinates the plant, and doesn’t harm the plant in any way. This spell has no effect on plant creatures.
Meneas is quiet as the discussion deescalates somewhat, and though he keeps his lance in his hand, he lifts it up so that it is no longer leveled at the woodcutters.
"Ah. So we have a reason, now, to imprison this agitator?" Meneas muses aloud. A soft giggle emerges from within his hood. "Good."
He lets his more magically inclined companions discuss how to handle the recompense before an idea comes to him. Switching to Sylvan, he speaks to the small fey.
“Out of curiosity, how much were you hoping to get for these, Mr. Corax?"
"Now, now no need to sick your hooded hound on me. I was hoping to get around two hundred gold for these trees here." Corax explains defensively.
"Was his name perchance--Grigori? Or did he claim to be Riftun?"
The lumberjack seems confounded by Brental's words, stunned into silence for several seconds before, fuming he throws his hat to the floor and stomps it repeating letting out a string of curses so foul, so profane, that they bare not repeating here. After letting himself calm down with a few deep breaths, Corax looks back up at Brental and nods, "Well, the fat f%#% told me his name was Riftun.. I don't know any Grigori so your guess is as good as mine if that's who the deceptive f$+&wit was but if you can bring him before me I'd be more than happy to testify against him in whatever manner ya like, especially if it gets me a new contract that is."
"As for you, Lady Melianse, I would ask for your forgiveness by proxy, and your patience. Would you accept trees from another source--me?"
""Is there not a dryad near here? Could not her magic aid in the healing of these trees?"
Melianse's stoic expression seems to shift slightly, perhaps her lip curves into a slight smile, though it could have been imagined as she regards the noble druid and her gallant defender.
Brental begins concocting the barest bones of a plan to discuss with Lina later. With her creativity, she could probably figure out a way to actually execute it. But perhaps they would need to weave some magical signature into their contracts to make them more difficult make forgeries of. Brental didn't think that that would be a problem that they would need to worry about for years, but here they were.
"I'd say this qualifies as reason, if anything," Brental confirms with Meneas. "Thank you, Corax. I think we'll be able to work this out to our mutual benefit after all."
The druid turns back towards Signy, Meneas, and Lina. "Perhaps Corax and company should travel to Limen, then. The real Riftun could begin to draw up a proper contract, and we'll return soon to oversee anything else needed."
Then Brental smiles at Melianse.
The druid seems to actually relax for the first time during this exchange.
Corax and crew reluctantly agree to return to Limen to meet with the real Riftun and obtain proper documentation. Meanwhile, Melianse releases the two charmed loggers and visibly relaxes as she begins casually swimming about.
------------
The adventurers move on towards there destination soon after and within an hour find themselves at a clearing, the trees part to reveal a peaceful forest glade dappled with sunlight. A small pond lies placidly at the roots of an enormous oak tree with a scattering of leaves floating upon its surface. Birdsong twitters from the branches high above.
Here, by the pond's edge kneels a strikingly beautiful dryad fair of skin with autumn leaves for hair and garbed sparsely in leaves, vines, and flowers. As the party approaches they can hear that the woman is openly weeping and has not seemed to notice their approach.
Meneas nods briefly at Brental's confirmation, before looking down at the fey.
Meneas nudges Veil forwards with his knees, approaching the weeping dryad. "Greetings, lady." He sweeps a bow. "We are from a realm nearby to your grove, and have heard you are troubled - many fey have expressed their concern for you. Can we offer some aid?"
Lina resists the impulse to bow her head, scratch her cheek again, and pinch the bridge of her nose. It would be far too much of a concession to just how long and frustrating the day’s been. Instead, she pulls herself to her full height.
“I apologize,” she says gravely, “It’s been a difficult afternoon – for all of us, it seems. At least no one’s in any danger of being eaten, Corax, so you’ve had that much better luck than we’ve had today. I’ll have to think about establishing a clearer point of entry on the other side of the woods, or at least more ranger patrols, so that no one else is misled as you’ve been. We’ll make sure in Limen that you can find a place you can work safely for all concerned, and with fair recompense.”
With that, she turns to the nixie and curtseys. <“To be sure, Lady Melianse, we’ll make sure to redress the loss of your trees as soon as we can, whether by our spells directly, or by some more careful magic. You have my word as the witch of Helikia.”>
Lina’s not one to make promises or use of her name lightly, and hopefully she manages to convey that with her words.
Once everyone is on their way again, whether through wood or wave, Lina grows quiet again, thinking she should consult Brental’s maps soon to get a better instinct for situating herself wherever she might end up wandering through Helikia (or hinterlands of soon-to-be). Predictably, once again, the witch is definitely slow to notice the changing atmosphere of the trees and birdsong ahead.
Meneas’ words startle her back to reality. “Lady Tiressia? Our friends Perlivash and Tyg-Titter-Tut, in particular, told us something of your sorrows, but in sparse detail. As Sir Meneas says, can we help?”
Signy doesn't see herself having much effect trying to relate to fey who aren't like Perlivash and Tyg-Titter-Tut. She stays quiet and waits.
The dryad brings herself to her feet and turns to face the party eyes full of tears and addresses them with a sniffle, "Tyg a-and Peri sent you? My goodness I am so very glad someone was able to hear our pleas for aide... we were worried that the rest of the forest had left us to our fate after what happened to my sweet Falchos but... Oh I'm just so happy, forgive me!" Tiressia apologizes before bursting into tears once more which takes a solid minute or two to pull her out of and back to her senses.
"Right, right... I am so terribley sorry but please my dear people you must you simply must help us! You see, lately our stretch of the Narlmarches has fallen prey to the depredations of a scythe tree, an evil, intelligent, carnivorous plant that particularly relishes the taste of dryad flesh. Falchos, my satyr consort that is, and I have tried to drive away the malevolent plant numerous times by ourselves, but the monstrous tree has repulsed our attempts to destroy it or drive it out every time."
"During our last attempt, Falchos suffered grievous
injuries before we could flee back to the grove and I was left at a loss as I am unable to abandon my bonded oak and fleeing the creature, so I tried rallying the other fey creatures of the area to assist me, but after seeing what happened to myself and Falchos, none of them would agree to risk their own lives. Now I hide within my tree, weeping in pitifully, while my dear Falchos is forced to wrestle with the choice of abandoning me or accepting his own inevitable death if he stays to face the scythe tree once it finally locates our home." Tiressa stands sniffling for a moment more before she begins wailing once more.
"IT'S ALL MY FAULT! HE'S GOING TO DIE BECAUSE OF MEEEEEEE!!!!!"
Signy understands very well what Tiressia is trying to do. She can't say she's never done the same sort of thing; after all, she was 14 or 15 years old at one time.
Rather than addressing the dryad's tactics directly though, Signy opts to try convincing her there's no need for them.
"There's no need to plead for our help. We've come out here intending to help you. It's the only reason we're here."