Grog moves into Pandir’s line of sight, and the big orc comes to his knees heavily, looking at the leshy.
His eyes are worried, and he says nodding, “Da snakes are bran bread. All bran bread.”
"Ohhh... I tried... to ask them to leave..." Pandir rustles. "Tired, yes. Need rest."
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Ceija is starting to get a better understanding of what is immediately beneficial to Pandir’s body, dousing her petals and leaves with water in hopes of reducing the concentration of the toxins.
Once the anti-venom is administered Katala does what she can to help Ceija treat the little Leshy. Maybe once they have some time she can learn better how the plant body works.... ??
Being far more proficient at causing death than keeping it at bay, Finch leaves Pandir in Ceija's hands and walks over to the dead snakes to retrieve her knives. She peers suspiciously into the woods, glancing about her for any footprints or the like—the killer must have gone somewhere.
Encouraged by the flutter of the eyes and the weak voice expressing concern for Grog, Ceija tries again to stanch the effects of the poison.
"Let's see if we can help you feel better, Pandir." Probing the puncture wounds where the fangs pierced the stem, Ceija tries to soak up some of the venom with a scarf.
Rocking back on her heels, she withdraws the other vial, and carefully cradling Pandir's neck with her hand, pours the liquid down her throat. "There, that should help a bit." She sits back to observe the effects of her desperate attempts.
1. Interact
DC: Same as poison
Time: Instantaneous
Critical Success -- +4 circumstance bonus to creature's next saving throw against the poison.
Success -- +2 circumstance bonus to creature's next saving throw against the poison.
Critical Failure -- –2 circumstance penalty to creature's next save against the poison.
2. Administer Elixir of Life
(Alchemical) Elixir Of Life, minor (Lvl 1)
Time: instantaneous regain 1d6 HP
Time: instantaneous gain +1 item bonus to saving throws against diseases and poisons, duration 10 minutes
Katala, equally at a loss about how to treat Pandir, decides to hold the leshy’s hand and reassure her everything will be fine. Her words are mostly lost in the chaos of the situation, but, she hopes, still give her friend some comfort.
Finch, meanwhile, sees her suspicions confirmed to some extent: there is a hidden trail leading further into the woods near the camp and towards the stream.
Ceija looses no time and pour another elixir on Pandir and continues trying to thin out the venom.
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Pandir freezes up for a moment as her body finally locates the worst of the toxin and tries expelling it. Wait, use the mouth to expel! Pandir focuses on using her mouth to cough up the worst of it.
"Tired. But... thank you all. Reincarnation will have to wait." Pandir slowly sits up and frowns as she sees the gored cobra. "Who is driving these animals to attack us?"
She slowly roots herself. "Where to, next?"
Grothog stands up, holding firm his pick. He looks alongside Finch to the woods.
Pandir, though weakened, feels some strength returning to her limbs, leaves, petals and stem. Ceija, realising the worst is over, exhales as if she hadn’t breathed in the past minute or so.
Grog sees nothing in the woods, just a trail he anticipates being extremely uncomfortable for someone his size. Finch also sees little, but hears hideous hissing further down the hidden trail — as if ten or a hundred vipers had been bundled together in a ball of poison and fangs.
Exhaling a long slow breath, Ceija slowly shakes her head. "Pandir, you almost died." Looking around, she sees Grog and Finch peering into the woods.
They better not find any more trouble tonight. Neither one of them has fully healed from those snake bites, and I'm all out of potions and elixirs. And neither Pandir nor I are in any shape to fight off anything stronger than a kitten.
Ceija takes a few minutes to look over each of her comrades, cleaning and bandaging the best she can.
"Folks, it's nearly midnight and we've all had an exhausting day. And none of us are at our best right now. I suggest we get some sleep and resume our search in the morning."
Finch stares into the forest for a few more seconds, clutching her fists as if willing the darkened trees to cease with their ophidian menace.
"There's a trail," she grumbles, "but the woods are full of crawlies, by the sounds of it. Clearly, they're gonna have the advantage in the wild."
Turning away from the trail, the halfling curses and spits on the ground. "It really pisses me off, but Ceija is right. No sense gettin' killed tonight. I mean, assumin' the bastard doesn't just keep sendin' bloody adders into our beds until we're all swollen from venom. Ugh! They're gettin' off scot free..."
"Hm. 'Tis sort of admirable, now that I think about it—real professional-like. I'm still goin' to gut 'em, though..."
"Thank you Miss Ceija. I am in full bloom again!" Pandir's confidence flushes through her body and her hands are on her... er, you guess it would be on her hips if she had any.
"But Mister Grog and Miss Ceija still need to rest. We have spent many resources to avoid my rein- er, death, and the darkness will make it difficult to see. Perhaps we should rest until tomorrow?"
"Should we set watches so that we don't get attacked while we sleep?"
Katala looks at the trail. She likely would have never noticed it. "We can create light to help in following the trail at night. But what happens if it rains? It might wash away any sign of the trail. Perhaps those that aren't hurt should try to follow the trail, stopping if or when something is found? Then we could return to camp, rest and return tho her spot in the morning."
"Wot if iz a lure?" Grog asks thoughtfully, looking at the woods. "We shud go back 'ome."
After a long break tending to their wounds, the group decides to make their way back to the tent where the rest of the troupe waited and mourned. It is a surprise when, as they draw closer to the big top, Katala and Pandir hear loud music and dancing.
Finding no one backstage, they follow the sounds of merriment and are briefly confused by the scene they find on the centre ring: a fiddle and a tambourine echo across the tent whilst the whole Circus of Wayward Wonders spins in four concentric circles. Their energetic prancing seems incongruous with the weariness on their faces.
“Godsdamned shit-eating bug bastards! I’ll f@~@ing murder the lot of them!” yells Lily, who seems lost between pure rage and extreme exhaustion.
“Help us!” the Professor pants, sweat pouring down his frail face as his limbs jerk in time to the lively jig.
It is hard to see from where the group stands, what with the frenetic dancing, but it seems there are two small figures playing instruments at the centre of the innermost ring. Reaching them might prove a challenge, as none the dancers seem able to stop or make way for others to pass through.
A weary expression of exasperation crosses Ceija's face.
"Now what? We don't need this!"
Ceija grabs for her flute, and blows loudly.
"ENOUGH!"
"I did not expect this kind of celebration." Pandir squats.
And then "willingly" gives in to the music and dances and bounds to the performers. "Oh! Hello! Your music is very lively. But my friends are so exhausted. Perhaps you can play a later time?"
Finch slinks off to the side, using the commotion from Ceija's music and Pandir's dancing as a distraction to hide. She prowls closer, readying her dirks for some much-needed stabby catharsis.
The enchantment in the musicians’ song and Ceija’s flute are evenly matched, but the clash of melodies allows some of the Wayward Wonders to break free from the spell. Pandir takes advantage of this and enters the dance, exchanging partners as necessary until she reaches the centre of the ring.
There, she meets two tiny creatures about half her size. They have the hindquarters of crickets and blue-tinted insect wings sprout from their backs, flitting by as they fly to the rhythm of the song they are playing.
“Tarisia! Look! It’s Pandir! Pandir, the acrobat!” Says one of the creatures, holding the tambourine. Before his partner can reply, he continues speaking: “I’m Cannono and I loved your trick! It was so pretty! And your petals! They look even softer from up close!” Even distracted, he continues playing. “I’m so happy you joined the dance! Everyone’s so happy!”
Whether it is malice or lack of awareness, the creature seems oblivious to the exhausted faces all around him.
Pandir nods, pleased. Not many people compliment her petal hygiene. They just say "ooh, pretty petals! Can I pluck them?" and then it gets awkward.
Right, need to get them to stop playing. Er, what are they?
And is this malice or just ignorance?
Hopefully it's ignorance. Let's be nice.
"It is good to see you Cannono. If you could pause playing for just a bit. It has been a long day and my friends need to rest."
Tarisia and Cannono, Pandir realises, are grigs — kindly if mischievous fey musicians whose performances often prove irresistible to whatever creature hears it. Though the fey are often fickle, grigs can sometimes go against the stereotype and become completely obsessed by a single subject or creature.
With that in mind, the leshy decides the musicians are likely to be well-meaning, but oblivious. As if to confirm this hunch, Cannono tilts his head and stares at Mordaine who seems seconds away from fainting.
“Huh, I guess they do look a bit tired…well, it figures, what with that great show! Oh, is Finch here? I loved her trick! I want her autograph!”
He stops playing, which makes Tarisia, who had paid little attention till now, to berates Cannono.
“We need the rhythm, Cannono, why did—OMGs, is that Ceija?! Can you really read the future? Oh, please, please, tell me, am I going to be rich? No, wait, I’m a grig, I don’t need gold. Am I going to be elected queen of a human village?”
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Grothog stomps into the tent--before the enchantment strikes a chord with the fading high. He stomps left and right, huge body shaking the ground. Not completely enchanted nor completely clear-of-mind, Grog sways.
Pandir's investigation is complete, and she drops on her elbows, holding her head in her hands and kicking back.
"Welcome, Grigs Tarisia and Cannono. We are honored to be in your presence." Pandir remembers to smile. "You music is very catchy. After a good night's rest I am certain everyone would be willing to speak to you."
I hope.
"Miss Finch should be around here... somewhere... But Mister Grog, Miss Ceija and Miss Katala are right here." She rolls over just enough to wave them over.
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"The future is sometimes wrapped in fog, Tarisia,but I'd be glad to take a look for you. But first you and Cannono need to agree that you won't make music at the circus again unless you are asked to by the Professor." Ceija walks over and puts her hand on the Professor's shoulder. "He's the only person who can give you permission."
If Tarisia and Cannono agree, Ceija reaches into her pocket and pulls out a deck of Harrow cards.
"I'll take a quick look now, and I'll give you a full reading after we find out what happened to the Ringmaster."
Fanning the cards, she holds them out to Tarisia. "Close your eyes and move your hand over the cards. When you feel one that is warmer than the others, pull it out."
The Fiend! This is not good.
"The Fiend suggests that some sort of dark and intelligent creature is in the area, endangering the populace. Your being elected queen will depend on this threat being removed."
Ceija puts the card back in the deck, and the deck back in her pocket. "The threat seems to be to all of us, not just Myron. This will not be easy."
Katala watches Ceija's work with the cards and smiles. "So the threat is expanded. We need to find the source. But tonight we still need rest."
Tarisia and Cannono stop playing and there’s a soft and sonorous thud as several of the Wayward Wonders immediately hit the ground. The two grigs drink Ceija’s words, their eyes increasingly wide until Tarisia hits her companion with her fiddle.
“You see! I am going to be a queen! I knew it! That will show mum! My first decree will be that everyday will be a circus day! Call me Tarisia, First of Her Name, future Queen of Absinton!”
The brief respite is broken by an angry and frustrated grunt. At first it is hard to pinpoint where it came from; then some of the troupe realise that there is a specific spot near the backstage entrance on which their minds simply refuse to focus. Even as a female voice comes from it loud and clear, their eyes see only a vague, generic shape.
“Are you insane? They are cutting down your woods! They are destroying nature, corrupting it! You should punish them!”
There’s the soft sound of someone blowing a candle and suddenly that vague shape resolves into a rugged halfling woman wearing formerly grey robes mostly torn apart by continued use. Whilst her right hand gently caresses a dog-sized rat, her left hand hols what looks like a half-consumed candle shaped like a human finger with a burnt wick sticking out of its tip. A huge swarm of smaller vermin carpet the area around her, their stench slowly filling the whole tent.
Even though the robes are in terrible shape, their colour seems to be the very characteristic shade of grey worn by hermits who worship Gozreh.
"Oh. I see." Pandir goes limp long enough to assert her balance and sit up without rolling over. "Future Queen Tarisia. Grig Cannono. Is this your friend?"
Pandir maintains her delighted facade, but her worries build up more and more. "Hello, unknown halfling! Perhaps you have us confused for lumberjacks! Are you targeting us? If so, why?"
Pandir makes a Shamless Request. Primarily for information, but secondarily to stall for time. This is one situation peace may not be an option.
The halfling’s attention focusses on Pandir.
“And you! A spirit of nature! Helping those who destroy the land that created you! Have you no shame?” Her matted hair shakes when she raises her voice. “I target all who violate nature! Are you blind, spirit? Haven’t you seen the withering, unhealthy plants? The scrawny and stunted animals who have fallen so far from their rightful glory? These Abbertonians—” her mouth twists in disgust at saying the word—“have destroyed the land, sucked it dry. Already they suffer the consequences of their own actions, yet they refuse to make amends, to leave this place and let nature heal. The only language these vile cowards understand is that of blood, violence and fear. A pile of corpses is all they need to finally understand that this land will offer them no reprieve.”
It is true that the land on this side of the Isle of Erran seemed to languish, as if some of its vitality has seeped away.
Anyone from the troupe who has been to Abberton heard the rumours about repeated disappointing harvests and the ghost of approaching famine.
Pandir's usual carefree attitude smashes against the briars of accusation. She stands up tall, hands near her feet, and looks sternly at the halfling.
"Mother Meredith, before her punishment, was cruel to all who encroached her land. Even those who did not know of her law, and her wrath. It was one of her greatest regrets."
"There is a fine line between protecting the land from abuse and abusing the inhabitants." She looks to Future Queen Tarisia and Grig Cannono. "You would even abuse the spirits you protect just to carry out your thirst for violence!" She stomps, which isn't overly impressive given her small feet, but it's a gesture.
"You aim at the citizens of Abberton, but instead kill members of a traveling circus! You can't even perform your blood-soaked mission right!"
"Cease your attack, now!" She squeaks ineffectually.
Katala glares at the halfling, certain that she has identified herself as the source of the attacks. "You speak of attacking those that violate nature, and then you target a Leshy? The lands around here are having problems with the plants, both food plants and other. But if you know where the blight comes from why aren't you helping? Gather the resources to properly locate the source of the blight and end it! Your random attacks against good people have just made you part of the problem!"
"But if the only language you understand and speak is blood, violence and fear, then you face us and we will have to destroy you!"
"Why have you chosen the circus? Are there not targets who have more impact and influence over the plants and animals and the lands they live on?"
Ceija stands back with a wary eye on the halfling for any sudden moves by the swarm or the rat or the halfling herself.
"What is your name? How did you come to be here at Abberton?"
Gozrah, eh? that might explain some of this, but not the zealous approach and bloodthirsty goals.
Ceija looks around, and notices a decided lack of vibrancy in the woods.
"You have a point, though. Throughout our travels here on Erran, the plants and animals have been languishing. "
She shrugs. "But what can one small circus do to stop a blight that covers so much of the island? It's not like we caused the rain not to fall. We don't have that kind of power.
There’s a flash of pity on the halfling’s expression when Pandir squeaks.
“You really haven’t noticed it, have you? To think one such as you has become so blind to your suffering plant brethren…nothing is safe from corruption, it is clear.” She shakes her head. “And I’m a pragmatist. Can you imagine their terror, knowing that you have been murdered? Those who made them laugh but a few hours before? They’re already close to desperation; most of them will leave once they see your bitten, bloated, diseased and poisoned corpses. Efficient, brutal, uncompromising. Like nature.”
To Katala and Ceija she reserves a scoff.
“I am Nemmia Bramblecloak, and I have lived here my whole life, at the Hermitage of the Blessed Lightning. The source of the blight — your words, not mine — is Abberton. They cut trees, they pollute streams, they kill animals. The bigger the town becomes, the more the lands suffers. There is nothing random about what I’m doing.”
Rats continue to gather around Nemmia’s feet, her threats becoming more palpable the more the writhing mass of rodents grows.
"What in the blazes is this damned treehugger on about?"
Finch stays concealed amongst the props and other assorted paraphernalia, looking with increasing concern at the events as they unfold. First there are fairies, and then a druidic type—at least she was on to something there, though having been right provides little comfort at the present. The snakebite continues to sting, and she still feels a little light-headed from the pollen. Most of the troupe is either wounded or exhausted to the point of uselessness, while the enemy is ready and with allies.
The halfling represses her natural urge to slink away—to save her own skin before things get too bad—though the situation looks near hopeless. Perhaps she can find an opening...
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'most of them will leave once they see your bitten, bloated, diseased and poisoned corpses. Efficient, brutal, uncompromising. Like nature.' That sounds vengeful, not like a god that is indifferent to good and evil!
"A massacre isn't natural. It's not 'just like nature'. Does Gozreh ask for retribution and revenge? The god of wind and waves can be tempestuous and use the forces of nature to vent their wrath, but I've never heard of them plotting premeditated murder."
"All you want is blood, and you hide behind the dewy leaf of Gozreh as an excuse." Pandir tenses up. "So be it."
She turns to the grigs. "My apologies, Future Queen Tarisia and Grig Cannono. Your friend plans to kill all of my friends, and this I cannot allow."
As it becomes obvious that the halfling isn't going to listen to reason Katala steps away from the swarm of snakes and casts her cantrip. She targets the big snake and Nemmia Bramblecloak.
As Nemmia easily avoids Katala’s spell, the grigs shake their heads vigorously.
“She’s not our friend. Never seen her before. But if she doesn’t like circuses then we don’t like her!” Tarisia says and begins to rub her cricket legs together, producing sharp melodies that seem partly disorient the mice. “We’ll distract the small ones!”
Lily, who had taken advantage of the brief talk between the group and Nemmia to move people out of the tent spits on the ground. “F!#%! Everybody, scram! You guys hold this crazy b!~$$ I’ll get the others to safety!”
The halfling laughs. “Kitty cat! You seek to hurt a servant of the Sky Father with lightning? How unwise!”
1. Finch: hidden
2. Ceija
3. Grog
4. Nemmia
5. Giant Rat
6. Katala
7. Pandir
The notes from Ceija's flute fill the air as the battle begins. After a rousing chorus, she crosses her arms and you can see the bolts of electricity jump from the halfling to the rat, shedding blue sparks as they arc.
Success = Inspire Courage lasts 3 rounds
1. Cast Cantrip: Inspire Courage
+1 status bonus to attack rolls, damage rolls, and saves against fear
2,3. Cast Cantrip: Electric Arc targets: halfling and rat (saving throw: Basic Reflex DC 17)
Grog stands straighter, using his full height. He roars at the halfling, advancing towards her in an intimidating, heavy-footed manner before bringing his pick to skewer the oversized rat.
”Die”
It turns out that lightning can indeed touch a follower of Gozreh: distracted by her own bravado, Nemmia only becomes aware of Ceija’s spell once it is too late. The bolt pierces the halfling through the chest, leaving a ghastly burn where it hits.
Her rat companion is more aware of its surroundings and is barely singed by the electricity. It is then that the animal turns to face the giant orc running and roaring. Even petrified with fear, the creature is small and agile and manages to evade Grog’s pick by a hair’s width.
Finch appears, seemingly out of nowhere, dashing from the shadows towards Nemmia. She directs two vicious stabs at her midsection.
"Քո երկնային հայրիկը պատրաստվում է պաշտպանել քեզ նաև դանակներից, բիծ!?"
Finch’s second stab goes deeply inside Nemmia’s stomach and she gasps for air. Before the clown can make any more damage, Nemmia grabs her hand and smiles wickedly.
“Sky-daddy is going to teach a b@&&+ some manners!”
Finch feels her muscles lock up as electricity runs through her body. It doesn’t last long and is actually not as painful as she expected, which clearly frustrates her foe.
“Eat them, my brothers and sisters!” She exhorts the giant rat and the swarm to attack and draws a sickle with a glowing blade.
While the smaller mice are in complete disarray due to the grigs’ music, the rat jumps on Grog, biting and clawing the orc with unexpected fury.
Katala glares at the enemy halfling. If electrical attacks weren't going to work, then something else.... "Don't like my electrical attacks? Try this!"
The giant rat sinks its long teeth into Grog's midsection, eliciting a deep and angry grunt from the orc. Grog takes a step back, extracting himself. His pick then shoots forward, aiming at the rat's skull.
◆ Action 1: Strike vs. Rat
◆ Action 2: Strike vs. Rat
◆ Action 3: Raise Shield
Pandir screams in a fit of wordless rage. She bounds around the giant rat and ignores it, flailing away at the halfing.
"Nature favors-"
"only the wisest!"
Nemmia barely has the time to raise her sickle before Katala flings her crossbow bolt with supernatural force, plunging it on the halfling’s chest. Nemmia screams, colouring some of Finch’s make up in blood. The scream becomes a gurgle: Pandir’s first strike is gentle and fails to harm Nemmia, so she overcompensates with a devastating blow to her foe’s throat.
There is a moment of silence when Nemmia falls to the ground, dead.
It is briefly interrupted by the giant rat’s skull being torn apart by Grog’s pick.
The remaining mice scuttle away shortly after.