"No no, Father. Don't be sorry. What you've given us is quite helpful. And I hope we can be mutually helpful in the future. At the moment though, we'll do our best to find your apprentice with what you've given us." Sirio says earnestly, despite his sinister dress and businesslike mien.
@ Pricknettle's
The gnome purses her lips, then nods. "If you learn anything else of interest.... come and tell me, if you would? I'd like to be kept informed. Good day for now."
***
The straggled duos all re-unite at the pre-determined meeting place, as the afternoon shadows grow long. Emma and Talon see the others approaching down different roads, and soon the six strangers are re-united, to share what they've learned.
Dependable Drummady's has not yet been visited-- will our heroes descend en masse on the cobbler's, or brainstorm their findings first, perhaps over a meal?
"No no, Father. Don't be sorry. What you've given us is quite helpful. And I hope we can be mutually helpful in the future. At the moment though, we'll do our best to find your apprentice with what you've given us." Sirio says earnestly, despite his sinister dress and businesslike mien.
"Absolutely," Hannelia concurs. "You've been very helpful and I feel like we're starting to unravel some of these tangled threads. Hopefully our companions will have been similarly successful." She turns to Sirio. "Speaking of which, we should probably head off to find them." She carefully places her current herb bundle onto the floor and inclines her head respectfully towards the priest. "Thank you for taking the time, Father. We'll let you know as soon as we feasibly can if we have anything useful to pass on."
She takes her leave of the temple, heading back out through the large timber structure and leads Sirio towards the tavern to meet the others.
Constantine travels back to the tavern after a somewhat productive afternoon, and takes Alcie up on the drink he had paid for previously while waiting for the others to arrive.
As people begin to return, he recommends comparing notes over a meal. The first piece of evidence that he produces is the note referring to the 'usual place'.
"I don't suppose anyone recognizes this handwriting, or knows where the youth of the town might want to congregate?"
He also shares the general tenor of his and Roger's findings: that many of the apprentices seem to know each other and have friendly connections: Morvinarr being the big-brother type trying to keep others out of trouble, Gellion and Nolaria seeming to be tight. He looks around to the others to see, in particular, who might have gone to the Temple and what they might have learned about Nolaria.
"Aye, that's about the short and long of what we found." Roger confirms the story, now with a long blade leaned against the table next to his seat, so the old pirate seems to be taking the situation a bit more seriously now than earlier.
This time, Emma isn't quite able to suppress her shudder. "Well. Hopefully there's no actual giant bugs and it's just the result of people gossiping." Emma pauses for a moment. "I suppose it wouldn't be out of the question for something to be intentionally making people think it's one thing when it's meant to be covering up for something else. But regardless, we'll need to touch bases with the others and figure out if there's a pattern to these disappearances." Emma shrugs at Talon. "We never really had mass disappearances occur in Piren's Bluff. One time our shopkeep disappeared, but it turned out he'd drank too much and gotten turned around in the woods. I don't like the sound of this situation so far though. The quicker we find answers, the better it will be I think. I'm hoping this is just a misunderstanding, but well..." She leaves the sentence unfinished.
Talon picks up where she leaves off, "It could be that they're all off just having fun, but considering the level of concern? It's unlikely. Agreed." The ranger just nods when the paladin suggests meeting up with the others and turns and heads towards the rendezvous spot.
The straggled duos all re-unite at the pre-determined meeting place, as the afternoon shadows grow long. Emma and Talon see the others approaching down different roads, and soon the six strangers are re-united, to share what they've learned.
Dependable Drummady's has not yet been visited-- will our heroes descend en masse on the cobbler's, or brainstorm their findings first, perhaps over a meal?
The half-elf offers the gist of what they had found, which he admits, is little, before adding, "Well, I for one, am famished. We should eat. and then check out that last spot together..."
As people begin to return, he recommends comparing notes over a meal. The first piece of evidence that he produces is the note referring to the 'usual place'.
"I don't suppose anyone recognizes this handwriting, or knows where the youth of the town might want to congregate?"
He also shares the general tenor of his and Roger's findings: that many of the apprentices seem to know each other and have friendly connections: Morvinarr being the big-brother type trying to keep others out of trouble, Gellion and Nolaria seeming to be tight. He looks around to the others to see, in particular, who might have gone to the Temple and what they might have learned about Nolaria.
Hannelia and Sirio arrive at the tavern to discover the other four already there and make their way over to their table. Greeting the others, she pulls out a chair, seats herself and listens as first Constantine and Roger, and then Talon and Emma, share their findings. As they talk, she flags down a serving girl and orders a glass of wine.
When they're finished, she replies to Talon's question, "The handwriting, no, but the graveyard has been mentioned as a common meeting place. Nolaria also goes out into the woods but while she might be adventurous, she's apparently hardworking and capable of looking after herself; disappearing with no word for this length of time sounds out of character for her." Taking a sip of her drinks, she adds, "Although acting to defend her friends or leading them off somewhere on an impulsive idea somewhere sounds rather more in character, I'd judge."
Glancing at Sirio, she continues and informs the others about what they'd learned from the haberdasher: that Betrona and Pavlovus are siblings who each live with a different one of their parents. "We've only heard one side of the marriage story but there doesn't seem to be any love lost there," she comments drily. "Is that a fair account, Sirio? Anything I've missed?"
Addressing the whole table, she adds, "And has anyone got anything substantial about these insects or simply more rumour and conjecture?"
As they arrive together, Sirio greets everyone with a wave and seats himself next to Hannelia. He orders a light meal as well and takes mental notes of the conversation and shared information.
Sirio answers Hannelia's prompt, "Not much else. Gellion is seeming more and more to be the ringleader of this group of loyal friends. Another clue is that they haven't all gone missing at the same time, suggesting that indeed they've been taken."
Talon, famished, orders as well, and digs in as soon as it's set down at the table. Munching on some warm, crusty bread as he speaks, the half-elf says, "We did hear from a couple of sources that the orchards might somehow tie into all this..." He swallows, then points the remaining crust in his hand at Roger and adds, "But those folks also claimed to have seen gigantic webbing...that wasn't found by the authorities..."
Emma takes a seat next to Talon, nodding amiably at the others. "Like Mr. Talon - sorry, just Talon - said, there hasn't been any solid evidence for giant insects, but there's enough people talking about it that it bears investigating. Either there really are giant insects out there, or someone wants people to think that there are so they'll avoid the area." Emma rubs the back of her head, a blush coming to her cheeks. "I suppose that sounds a bit melodramatic, but it's a possibility at any rate."
Clearing her throat, Emma gestures to the bread in front of her. "Also, feel free to have some. I bought enough for the group. Freshly baked, and quite good. The baker is a grump, but he can bake."
The Witch's End is bustling at this hour with all sorts of colorful figures-- which means your group fits right in. Alcie gives a grudging nod of remembrance to Constantine, and a serving girl is over in short order, taking the drink requests and offering the dinner special for the evening -- river trout, baked with herbs and lemon, roasted fingerling potatoes, and a creamy goat cheese served with honey and slices of crisp apple. There's bread too, but you have your own, courtesy Emma and Talon.
Over glasses of wine, ale, mead, or water as individually pleases each of you, you exchange what you've learned thus far.
"Seems like after we speak with ole Drummandy, we've got the Graveyard and the Orchards to explore. Spooky enough spots, at least when tales of great bugs are buzzing about in the orchard's case. Think we should split up into threes for those two or stay as a group?" Roger does seem to be keeping up relatively well with the discussion, at least for a man tucking away at dinner with as much enthusiasm as he is.
"Seems like after we speak with ole Drummandy, we've got the Graveyard and the Orchards to explore. Spooky enough spots, at least when tales of great bugs are buzzing about in the orchard's case. Think we should split up into threes for those two or stay as a group?" Roger does seem to be keeping up relatively well with the discussion, at least for a man tucking away at dinner with as much enthusiasm as he is.
”Talking’s fine - maybe better - in small groups but I feel we’re asking for trouble splitting up to go looking for danger. Everything suggests a disappearance of these kids against their will so whatever it is, it’s presumably capable of subduing half a dozen teenagers.” Hannelia runs a hand through her hair. ”By my reckoning, the more swords at our disposal when we run into it, the better.”
The food is as delicious as the locals' high esteem of the tavern would suggest. By the end of it, the thought of just lolling and letting everything digest might be tempting-- but no, there is still work to do.
Compiling their leads over supper, our heroes determine that Drummady's is the likeliest next port-of-call, as Old Roger's parlance might put it. By the time they exit the pub, dusk has settled in, and the streets are emptier than they were a half hour ago, as people's shops close and their footsteps turn for home, or for places like the Witch's End.
The cobbler's shop, when you arrive, has the lights off, the windows shuttered, and seems fully closed for the night. But there is candlelight visible behind the shutters of the windows of the floor above it, and some knocking ultimately gets the window in question thrown open with a sigh.
"I'm closed for the night. There's a sign. Open an hour past dawn. I'm sure your shoes can wait until then," says a tired-sounding woman's voice from the window above.
"Our deepest apologies madam," the dark priest said with a bow of his head. He spoke with discipline and very little animation, one hand over the other's wrist in front, "but we're not here to solicit your services. We're aware your children, Betrona and Pavolus have gone missing. We'd like to talk to you about Pavolus. We've come to understand he was apprenticed to your trade? If you can shed some light onto his disappearance, we may be able to find him and the others." Alive, hopefully. He thinks to himself.
He doesn't want to give the impression that they're desperate for the information since they aren't, but he'd rather not have come all this way for nothing.
There's a moment's long silence from the window above, and then the woman says, "I'll be right down."
True to her word, it's less than a minute after the shutter closes when the door to the shop opens. The woman who peers out from the other side is of middling years, with a broad, tense face and a shawl pulled around her shoulders against the night's chill. She looks the six investigators over with a worried frown.
"Pavolus is learning the craft from me, yes," she says with a certain wariness. "And who are you people?"
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Talon starts to say something, then glances around at the others and realizes that he's obviously not the best talker here, and holds his tongue instead. I'm too used to having to do everything on my own...this is different. We're working as a group, and I have to rely on other people as much as myself.
Emma looks at the rest of the group and then clears her throat. "We've been sent by the erm, the Mayor to investigate some disturbances in the area. We've been asking questions around hoping to get more information on the matter - some of us are from here, others of us are from elsewhere. If you could spare us a moment to give us any information you might have, we would very much appreciate it." Emma winces, annoyed at the uncertainty in her tone.
"Aye, any snippet ye have might be of aid." Roger nods along to Emma's explanation.
Drummady does not look convinced. She gives Emma and her halting speech a stern once-over.
"Girl, you barely look any older than my children! Why the mayor would send strangers and youths on a task like this, I can't fathom!"
Constantine looks at the young paladin fumbling and tries to save the situation with some smoother words.
"If you would prefer a writ from the mayor, we may be able to procure one, but not until the morning. Strangers and youths though we may be, we are dedicated to the task."
He recognizes that it may not necessarily be convincing, but he's trying to save face at this point. His eyes pass over towards Sirio. If ever there was a time for a silver tongue, now would be it...
After his mind wanders for a bit, Constantine blinks a few times and pulls out the mayors' writ, handing it to the beleaguered cobbler. "Or you may not need to wait until the morning. Here you are."
After his mind wanders for a bit, Constantine blinks a few times and pulls out the mayors' writ, handing it to the beleaguered cobbler. "Or you may not need to wait until the morning. Here you are."
Hannelia steps forward as Constantine produces the paperwork, whispering "Fortune favour me.”
Turning on her professional charm, she begins, ”Good evening Ms Drummady, we are sorry for troubling you at this hour, but it’s a troubling time, particularly for those who are missing.” She chooses to ignore the woman’s comment about the make-up of the party. ”We’re here to help and believe that we can; we have already acquired some leads. If you can spare us just a few minutes to answer some questions and confirm a couple of things, the better chance we have of finding your children.”
Roger glances over to Constantine with the writ mix up. He shifts in his boots before looking down as he exhales deeply.
Sirio clenches and unclenches his jaw, noting Drummady's response and interrupts, "Look, Mrs.- Ms. Laterna, whichever you prefer, what my colleagues mean to say is that this is not a private matter. You are compelled per Mayor Trinelli to cooperate in this investigation. You have two children at risk, and there is a certain level of urgency to the task. We have reason to suspect they have been abducted and may soon be killed if we do not act. We would like to act tomorrow on what information we have, so if you please, we would also like to find some rest before the night is over.
He finds his pleased mask part way through his interruption and smiles with his mouth the rest of the way through. Do not waste my damned time he thinks to himself.
Drummady looks increasingly weary with every person that speaks, until, finally, Sirio does. The woman frowns at the tail-end of his words, takes a look at his particular regalia, and wordlessly reaches out for the mayor's letter.
After reading it, she hands it back, her forehead creased with many worry lines. "I suppose you had better come in."
The interior of the shop smells of leather, wax, and dyes. There isn't really customer seating, but Drummady Laterna awkwardly waves a hand at some of the work-stools that hang around the counters.
"I don't know where the children are, Pavolus and Betrona and all their friends. I am sure it's something Gellion dreamt up-- he's a bright boy, and charming, and Pavolus would follow him anywhere. He... he is especially fond of Gellion, though Gellion's a bit older. A harmless crush, I supposed. Now I hope that a broken heart is the worst that will come of it."
Drummady rubs at her forehead briefly. "And Betrona, my daughter, she's not very happy over at her father's-- she'd need very little encouragement to run out for a few days on some prank or mischief..."
Drummady trails off a moment, then shakes herself. "Let me think, what could be useful to all of you? Pavolus gave Gellion some new boots a few weeks back, a gift, the first pair he'd made himself. Dyed a very bright red, silly boy, but I suppose when we want to impress the objects of our affections we don't think much of the practicalities."
Drummady frowns, thinking. "There was something going on, I think. A great deal of whispering and the children showing up looking for each other-- Morvinarr, that's the big strapping lad that works at the tavern, he came by asking after Pavolus, the same day Pavolus ... disappeared. He had gone out to get lunch for he and I, and just hadn't come back. I thought he was just dawdling and told Morvie as such, and he accepted that and went on his way, and... well... Pavolus just didn't come home, that day."
She sighs. "I thought he might have gone over to his father's, to see his sister, and when the next morning still hadn't turned him up I went over to ask, and of course Petrello and I had a dreadful row, and he accused me of hiding both the children from him, and, well-- anyway, so then I thought both of them might have decided to get out from under his eye and go off with their friends-- I know that the priest's girl is always tromping around in the woods..."
"But he hasn't come home. And no word of Betrona either. If you can find them, then may all the kindly gods speed your mission. I hope that it really is just the mischief of youths and young adults, high spirits, but as the days go by it is harder to convince myself of that."
Talon follows the rest inside, but remains standing, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms as the woman speaks. He perks up at the mention of new boots being worn by one of the boys, a fact that might assist him in tracking an individual, or in identifying a body, at the very least...but beyond that, most of the woman's ramblings simply seem to be lost the half-elf.
Still, the ranger watches and waits, holding his tongue. A good hunter has to learn patience, and so he simply takes in his newfound companions and hopes that some of them might be better dealing with "social cues" then he.
Nodding along, Sirio looks and listens intently. He muses aloud to no one in particular, "The tavern boy went looking for him... Perhaps the the children knew something of what would take them..." Then he focuses on Drummady, "When did Pavolus disappear, eight or nine days ago?"
Roger's brow furrowed, and his thoughts turned inward. Judging by the consternation, it seemed he didn't make any breakthroughs.
Drummady shakes her head, picking anxiously at a loose thread on her shawl. "Less than that. Four days, now? Tomorrow it will be five.
"His things are here in his room. I don't think he was planning to go off. Even if they wanted to do some foolish excursion downriver or the woods, surely he would have taken extra clothes, that sort of thing. I've looked through all his belongings but nothing stood out.
"Where will you look next, for my son, for my daughter...?"
*****
"Extra clothes? Aye, t'would've been smart." Roger's eyes lift to distant heights of memories long past.
Drummady shakes her head, picking anxiously at a loose thread on her shawl. "Less than that. Four days, now? Tomorrow it will be five.
"His things are here in his room. I don't think he was planning to go off. Even if they wanted to do some foolish excursion downriver or the woods, surely he would have taken extra clothes, that sort of thing. I've looked through all his belongings but nothing stood out.
"Where will you look next, for my son, for my daughter...?"
*****
Hannelia rubs her eyes at Drummady’s words. ”No,” she agrees, ”it doesn’t seem like any of them planned to be away for any length of time. Are the woods or down the river regular places he goes?” she inquires.
"It would seem they've not gone off on their own. The woods and river could be good leads, but we should check the orchard and graveyard first. There will be better clues there. The woods and river are too big to search in one night. The orchard seems like a good first check, your thoughts, Roger, Hannelia?" he glances over at the ranger, the other local in the posse, "Talon?"
"On occasion," Drummady concedes to the question of if her son ever goes off to the woods, or down the river. "When there's holidays, and a day or two where he won't be needed at the shop-- but we agree when that's going to happen. Not like this."
***
After taking their leave of the cobbler, our heroes discuss briefly the likeliest next stop. The majority seem to favor the idea of checking out the orchard en route to the graveyard, and thus, the six investigators make their way towards the heart of the town, and the sprawling orchard that's there...
Talon and Hannelia and even Roger, when he needs something to help wash down his ale, have no doubt picked an apple in passing, as many of the townsfolk are prone to do-- simply reaching up when walking one of the roads that borders the perimeter, and taking one of the crisp, crunchy fruits from the heavy-laden boughs that hang over the low fence. Or perhaps they've indulged in a picnic on the grass that stretches between some of the trees. It's even possible you helped tend the orchard for a day or two, unofficial community service. It's never been a sinister place for you before, at any rate.
By night, however, the trees seem denser and thicker and wilder, the wood twisted and gnarled, the rustle of the leaves an ominous little whisper.
...or maybe that's just all this talk of disappearances and monster bugs? Hmm....
The trees closest to the roads seem free of giant insects, at any rate-- only the garden-variety of spider spins its webs.
As you press deeper into the trees, the pleasant scent of apples sours a bit, becomes something cloyingly sweet. The cause is quickly apparent--- past the easily-gathered roadside apples, the deeper trees are harvested more rarely, and fallen apples are abundant on the ground. Many of them are soft with rot, squishing unpleasantly beneath your bootsoles, and attracting worms and other insects-- though inspection reveals these are still perfectly ordinary grubs and bugs.
After taking their leave of the cobbler, our heroes discuss briefly the likeliest next stop. The majority seem to favor the idea of checking out the orchard en route to the graveyard, and thus, the six investigators make their way towards the heart of the town, and the sprawling orchard that's there...Talon and Hannelia and even Roger, when he needs something to help wash down his ale, have no doubt picked an apple in passing, as many of the townsfolk are prone to do-- simply reaching up when walking one of the roads that borders the perimeter, and taking one of the crisp, crunchy fruits from the heavy-laden boughs that hang over the low fence. Or perhaps they've indulged in a picnic on the grass that stretches between some of the trees. It's even possible you helped tend the orchard for a day or two, unofficial community service. It's never been a sinister place for you before, at any rate.
By night, however, the trees seem denser and thicker and wilder, the wood twisted and gnarled, the rustle of the leaves an ominous little whisper.
...or maybe that's just all this talk of disappearances and monster bugs? Hmm....
The trees closest to the roads seem free of giant insects, at any rate-- only the garden-variety of spider spins its webs.
As you press deeper into the trees, the pleasant scent of apples sours a bit, becomes something cloyingly sweet. The cause is quickly apparent--- past the easily-gathered roadside apples, the deeper trees are harvested more rarely, and fallen apples are abundant on the ground. Many of them are soft with rot, squishing unpleasantly beneath your bootsoles, and attracting worms and other insects-- though inspection reveals these are still perfectly ordinary grubs and bugs.
Wrinkling her nose at the smell of soft fruit on the turn, Hannelia naturally slips in behind some of the others, following their lead. She finds her eyes adjusting to the darkness away from the town's lights but her vision is limited, especially under the shadowy oppression of the trees. "Should we get some light on? It'll show anyone where we are but I can't see a lot and I'm not sure we're likely to be moving particularly subtly here anyway." She pauses a beat before adding, "Especially if we can't see what we're walking into."
She stops briefly and dips her fingertip into some metallic dust from her spell component pouch. Whispering a quick cantrip, she blows on her fingers and causes four magical torches to flare into life, lighting up a tree a hundred feet away. "That's better. They don't last long but I can keep on casting, and I can move them about that far away," - she gestures to the lit-up tree - "or just keep them on us. She looks for a small patch of grass devoid of fruit and kneels to sort through her backpack, cursing to herself as it appears she's brought a variety of firelighting equipment but little beyond candles that would catch flame. "So much for always being prepared," she mutters. "Has anyone smarter than I currently feel got a torch or a lantern we can use as back-up?
Constantine frowns at the request for light. Why didn't I think to bring any torches? He has numerous useful implements for exploration, but he was feeling increasingly useless on the expedition. He shrugs, uncertain of what he can add in the dim light. But he stays close to the front, both heavily armed and armored, ready for any untoward threat.
With Hannelia's light, Constantine feels much better and more capable. He gets to looking around as best as he can.
"No such forward planning on my part," he admits. "But that's a useful trick." He smiles, trying to be earnest while he scans the ground for any signs.
As he walks, Constantine feels a tugging at the back of his mind. He looks at his shield and sighs. Not right now, he thinks, casting his eye warily towards the others.
Emma nods appreciatively at Hannelia. "The light is much appreciated, Lady Hannelia. So long as you're willing, I do believe your lights will serve us well in this endeavor. I do have a sunrod - it can stay lit for hours, but will essentially be useless afterwards. I would suggest we save it for future use, or a situation in which we have to separate again, but I would be happy to use it now should you all wish to do so."
Emma glances around the area, wrinkling her nose slightly at the smell of the fallen apples. At least the dim lighting makes it seem less likely that the others will notice the blush on her face. Perhaps she should have brought some torches instead of a sunrod - but, well, it was too late to worry about that now.
"Either way, I don't think we need to worry too much about others seeing us. At this point, we don't even know what we might need to be hiding from. Frankly, if there are giant insects lurking around, I don't think it would matter much if we had lights up, and I would much rather see them coming. Besides, it won't do anyone any good if we end up tripping over ourselves while looking around out here."
"Aye, I kinda like the style o those lights. Like an anglerfish a bit. Hopefully any buggy bastards'll pounce at them rather than us, and give us the drop on 'em." Roger appreciates the lights forward positioning at least. He stays near Connie, and trusts his eyes ability to see better than most in the dark, striding confidently through the mucky applies. No worse than a bog or the bilge!
The ranger winces slightly when the arcane light flickers to life, anticipating it will hurt his eyes, and is pleasantly surprised when it doesn't. He nods to Hannelia, scanning the area with his low-light vision.
"I've always found this place to be rather peaceful...but I have to admit, it's got a far more malevolent feel to it after dark..." he offers, frowning a bit while he walks slowly forward between the trees. "I do have torches if you all feel we really need them."
"I doubt that will be necessary, ranger." Sirio says before announcing his own light spell as he holds aloft his pentagram, which now produces a baleful glow. "I'm sure your senses will be sufficient to detect evidence of these... elephantine arthropods. If they're even here."
Most of you strain to see through the tangle of branches and leaves that surrounds you here in the darkness of the thicker trees. Hannelia's lights emerge at her gesture, and move on to light up a distant tree, while Sirio demonstrates another benefit of serving the Prince of Law.
A doleful, reddish light shines forth from the Asmodean symbol, while Hannelia sends less foreboding lights to brightly move around a distant tree. The group moves cautiously forward, waiting to see if Hannelia's glow-bait will draw anything to it. Talon's eyes scour both the darkness around them, and the ground beneath their feet, while Sirio keeps his senses tuned for anything at all-- and they are both rewarded, in different ways.
Talon notes that the ground here shows signs of some recent passage-- not your group. There is one distinct pair of boot-tracks that looks to have walked through several times, as both squashed apples and the occasional patch of muddy ground attest. These tracks seem to proceed mostly in a north-south path that you can see, but occasionally branch off east or west. The size of the tracks are consistent with a human individual, likely a man's boot, or a woman with generously large feet, perhaps. In one spot, the boots are joined by a different pair, larger yet, and that set of double tracks comes from the southeast, and proceeds more northerly through the trees. All of the tracks are at least several days old, Talon would estimate.
As Talon relates what he's noticed, and before much can be decided about whether to follow any of these particular tracks to either their destination or their origin, Sirio speaks up-- he's noticed that Hannelia's lights seem to be growing-- more spots of light, fainter in comparison, are emerging around Hannelia's distant lights. Hannelia's four spots of magical light seem to have been joined by at least four others, these ones with a dull orangeish hue.
"Something's there." Sirio alerts the party, pointing to Hannelia's conjured lights. He raises his pentagram above his head, as if to get a better look, which likely doesn't improve things much. He draws his morningstar and buckler before taking a half step forward.
"Are any of you locals familiar with that?" Sirio asks aloud.
At Sirio's statement, a surge of alertness floods through Emma's body. She tenses up, grabbing for her shield and taking out her longsword as silently as possible - even still, the shrill scream of metal against metal seems overly loud in the darkness. Squinting into the murky surroundings, she tries to scan for any movement. She's never particularly enjoyed lurking around in the darkness - while she considers her vision to be good enough for most things, it's not exactly ideal for such murky conditions. Spot a convoy moving through the woods at Piren's Bluff? No problem. Try to figure out if that dark object in the distance was a wolf or just a bush? Not quite as easy.
"Any ideas?" she whispers to the group. "If there's someone or something out there, should we attempt to draw it out, or try our hand at talking? Perhaps Talon could scout ahead while we do so?"
"No," replies Hannelia to both Sirio and Emma's questions. "In case it's not obvious, I didn't create the extra lights. As for talking, I'm open to it - we know there's something there and they presumably know we're here so I don't think we're giving much away."
She sees the others carefully draw weapons in preparation. "I'm going to move my lights and see how the others react. Be ready." So saying, she shrugs her backpack off her shoulders and lowers it to the floor, then drawing her bow and picking an arrow from her quiver.
Warily she wills the four magical orbs to move along the row of trees, keeping them at a distance from the party, to see what these new lights do.
Talon arches an eyebrow, then nods to Emma and silently draws his bow. He takes two small steps away from the group, forward, though holds his scouting advance until Hannelia gives the go ahead.
Constantine similarly and warily draws his blade.
"Talk would be preferred," he whispers, "If they're willing."
There were many creatures other than humanoids capable of casting such cantrips, orisons, knacks, or what have you. Constantine keeps his breath shallow as he waits to see what happens. A game? A signal? A mutual lure? Friend or foe?
Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst...
Our heroes draw weapons or otherwise prepare for a possible threat as they warily watch the wandering witchlights in a worried or simply wondering way.
Hannelia's gambit with the lights pays off-- some distance away, the four other lights move to follow Hannelia's glow. Unlike her spell, these fade and dim then brighten again, irregular; and while hers move in a steady smooth line directed by her will, the Other Lights jitter and circle, weaving around and among Hannelia's glow-wisps. It's almost as if some strange dance is occurring, Hannelia's four orbs the leading partner through the steps, and the four ember-orange glows dancing a more erratic counterpoint.
What would you like to do?
Roger doesn't draw his blade, but watches the pretty lights curiously. He scratches his beard. "Could be some faeries having a bit of curious fun with our lights, or mayhaps four giant luminescent bugs. Not much we can divine till Talon checks it out."
Kubular
