You all gathered the webbed bandits together and presented your terms -- leave this place, go home, and stop preying upon the people of Hither. The harengon are quick to agree to any chance at freedom and life. With Agdon most gruesomely dispatched, and their dragon mascot leaving for greener pastures, not to mention your solid handling of them without so much as a fight, they were not interested in testing the limits of your mercy.
Downfall lies to the northwest. Bavlorna Blightstraw, the hag who stole Nuruk's song and Willow's smile, lies to the northwest.
Finishing your business with the harengon bandits, you set out, a new friend in tow.
As you travel into the next day, the plant life around you begins to show signs of distress. First it's just a tree here and there, but before long, you reach a swath of devastation, plants dead or dying, choking in mud. Demalyn beholds it all with a profound sadness. Dead vegetation is common in a swamp, but there appears very little in the way of new growth here.
Your raft reaches the end of its usefulness. The water that's carried you for several miles through the bogs becomes more and more disconnected, pools and puddles instead of big stretches. You reach a point where to continue forward, you must go on foot.
The mud is thick, and sticky. Demalyn, feet bare, somehow seems to walk atop it without sinking, but the rest of you find it difficult going, the mud forming a suction with your boots that threatens to rip them from your feet with each laborious step.
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Not being the fiercest or most intimidating, Khalil mostly observes as the bandit's release is negotiated and finally allowed. The druid stays alert for any signs the harengon are lying or hedging as they make promises to leave and cease their evil ways. As far as Khalil can tell, the prisoners plan to stay true to their word.
After gathering up any spare food or other items that could be useful during their continued journey through the swamp, Khalil joins his companions, both new and old, at the small raft. Soon enough he takes up his familiar position helping push the little boat through the dense swampy waterways.
What is unfamiliar, is Demalyn's presence. The druid finds himself constantly drawn into her every word. Or finds himself simply admiring the way the colorful blossoms frame her face or how stray petals drop to the water and slowly drift past leaving a trail of beauty upon the dark, murky waters. This is all a terrible distraction, and more than once, one of the others has to direct Khalil back on course or point out the fact that they were passing the same exact moss coated trees as they did not so long ago.
Willow kept her mean streak going to cow the remaining harengon, making them promise not to interfere with the Defenders' business in the Feywild in any capacity.
Willow sits in the middle of the raft with Nuruk, keeping an eye on things--especially as it seems their normal guide is quite (understandably) distracted by a certain pretty dryad.
Eventually, they hit the edge of the waterways they can travel, and have to continue on foot. "You, ah, still have those boots, right, Nuruk?" Willow asks, sighing over the squelching sound the mud makes when she steps off of the moored raft. "Going to just follow in your wake..."
The cleric looks around, trying to find a path for them to follow.
Being wholly unfamiliar with this type of terrain, she finds herself concentrating more on following in Nuruk's wake to avoid the worst of the muck than actually figuring out where they are.
While Vash wasn't particularly happy with letting the remaining harengon go, not being the most trusting of sorts, he was ultimately content to go with the decision of the group as a whole.
Vash keeps mostly to himself during the party's travels on the raft - providing what little privacy he could to the established couple and the burgeoning couple on board - he and Karley rarely seemed to have much to say to each other, not that there was any animosity between them - at least to the bard's knowledge.
When the group's travels took them into the sticky mud, Vash sighs. "So much for those boots..." he complains to no one in particular, while looking around for a more stable path that takes them in the general direction of Downfall.
"I just bought my before the carnival arrived back in our home plane, too. Most of my gear, really." Willow comments to Vash, falling into step beside the half-elf. "Brand new, covered in swamp muck. Will the smell ever leave? Who knows. I'm apparently far too spoiled to handle adventuring," she finishes in a self-deprecating tone. She steps carefully over some branches, glancing at the bard with a bemused expression. "I'm surprised that harengon fellow didn't try to square up with you again. He must have been shocked to see you."
Vashrin nods in agreement with the tiefling's assessment. "I'm certainly not used to it anymore. After I left home, there were some rather unpleasant conditions I found myself in, but more recently I've grown accustomed to far less muck-filled conditions." Thinking back a couple of days, he adds, "I suspect Karley can help with the smell though. That little spell she used that made everything smell of strawberries and lavender."
Vash allows himself a small chuckle at Willow's comment pertaining to Jinko. "Well...I suspect that confrontation would've happened if he didn't fall asleep and then awaken wrapped in spider's web. I imagine that took a fair bit of his capacity for bravado right out of him."
"Things weren't luxurious at the carnival but it was certainly dry and comfortable." She replies. "I liked the lavender touch. It's my favorite smell." She makes a small pleased sound after she speaks.
While they walk, Willow will look around to keep an eye out for anything interesting.
Nuruk keeps an intimidating presence amidst the harengon as they are slowly cut free and alerted that their banditry days are over. Oaths were sworn and, in the Light's name, they were sent home with a slap on the wrist. If they were encountered again on the wrong side of righteousness, there would be no mercy.
Back upon the raft, the massive man would sit himself in the middle to try and keep the boat as balanced as possible. He is unhappy being in the middle of boat and quiet and has to be reminded of his weight time and time again as he talks to his comrades. Swamps were not a common thing for him to venture through and Khalil finds an eager student in the dragonborn who listens. Vash finds his solitude repeatedly interrupted by the boat shifting and Nuruk trying to quietly sit beside him without disturbing him. A warm presence that was there whenever the half-elf needed him. When told of fresh cranberries, the dragonborn acted as a crow's nest for the halfling to search for them floating amidst the dark waters.
When there were moments of reprieve or he was scolded back to the middle of the boat, the massive man would sprawl out and lay his head in the lap of the young cleric, rumbling in happiness at the gentle touches that she would give. The boat trip finally came to an end though, leaving him to disembark first. The trinket he had been given at the carnival gleamed lightly on his hip, the water evacuating the space before him and the mud cracking dry.
"I will try to lead us. I cannot stop the water from returning though." He would say with an apologetic smile, stepping out into the mucklands before them. He acts as a watchtower again for Karley should she wish, stepping through the worst of it to try and ease the trip for his comrades.
"A bit of magic and time at Waterdeep and we shall have cleaner, better boots than any we dreamed of. I wouldn't worry though; boots are meant to be dirty." Nuruk said from the frontline. "I'd like to hear your stories Vash. Mine was simply training, nothing amazing or harrowing to be honest. The rest of you have such interesting lives. I want to know every detail."
Try as she might, Karley doesn't spot any of the tasty fruit. Leave it to Bavmorda to make a swamp and not fill it with tart delights.
Demalyn is thrilled by the raft ride, all smiles, oblivious to Khalil's attention as she sees new sights for the first time, gliding across the deep water. She lets her hand trail through the murky liquid, and a row of white and pink water lilies blooms behind it, before your eyes.
Once you hit mud, Nuruk's water-repellant makes the going slightly less miserable, though slow. The water in the mud recedes slowly, friction with the particles of earth preventing rapid movement. Still, it beats every step being a chore. Demalyn notes Khalil still sinking in the mud a bit, as only the area immediately near Nuruk is dried, and she takes the druid's hand shyly. With the contact, he finds his step lighten, and not simply because his heart does. Looking down, he can see tiny strands of fast growing fungus growing just ahead of him, mycorrhizae rolling out like a red carpet to make his path a bit easier to walk. Between that, and Nuruk, you all mange to avoid the worst of the muck.
Amidst the thinning trees ahead, you see a run down little hovel, built from hardened mud and clay. A large figure is bustling about outside of it, muttering to themselves...
Willow pauses as they approach the hovel, peering around Nuruk's broad body to try to figure out who or what the large figure is before they approach.
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The figure appears to be an ogre who is setting a long table.
"I see something...and someone..." Nuruk said softly to the others, standing up straight. It only took him to notice that the figure before him was even bigger than him and Nuruk had learned from experience that most things bigger than him were not the friendliest. The Feywild was a tricky place though and it was best to not assume anything at first glance.
"Greetings!" Nuruk said loudly, waving from the muck where he walked. "I apologize to intrude on your space here. We are looking for Downfall. How far away are we?"
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Khalil gratefully accepts Demalyn's hand and aid in traversing the clinging, thick swamp mud. Her magic is a wondrous sight and certainly easing the path will leave him and the others better able to deal with any confrontation that lies ahead. But there is something more important that he draws from dryad and his friends. Here in the dying swamp, surrounded by skeletal remains of what was once a thriving, wild, and so very much living place, he finds his heart growing heavy. His spirit, shadowed and turning to gloom.
It is a slow poison. The hag's magic and influence working its doom, not directly, but by forcing him to pass through a land more devastated than any he has ever witnessed. Even after a summer fire rages across the woods, he always found signs of new life, sometimes within short weeks of the flames passage. Tiny grasses, wildflowers, trees scorched but still wearing green crowns. Not here. Not in this wasteland of witch's poison and hate for all living things.
But Demalyn's touch. The life so evident with her vary existence, drives off the gloom and dark mood the dead swamp draped across his soul. Seeing Willow practice with Agdon's fiery brand while Nuruk stoutly clears a slim path with his magical boots gives the druid strength to strive ahead through shadow and muck filled twilight. Karley's search for berries, Vashrin's confidence in the small sorceress' ability to wipe the dismal swamp from their clothes in not their hearts brings a smile to his sad face.
As so his hand in Demalyns, Khalil forges onward through the muck. Resolute in his desire and will to reverse, or at least stop, the spread of the hag's evil across this land.
Seeing the massive ogress preparing her table pulls Khalil out of his thoughts. Stepping a bit closer to Nuruk, he looks for any signs of who might be the guests at whatever feast the big creature was preparing.
When Nuruk called out, the ogre woman spun to face him, a look of relief on her ugly face. Ignoring his question completely, she spoke with a grating voice. "Finally! You're late! You!" She pointed to Willow and Vash. "Go inside and make the cake! It's in the pot but refuses to be made.". She turned to Khalil and Demalyn. "And you two, the pool has been utterly lazy. Please clean it up so it can be swam in." Finally, she regards Nuruk, oblivious to Karley's presence. "And you, please set the table. It keeps moving out of place." Orders given, she rushes around the back of the hovel.
Completely befuddled for the moment, Khalil opens his mouth and then just closes it again with a shrug of his shoulders. For the time being something told him to not question the ogre's orders. Instead he could use her assumption that they were part of the catering crew to take a further look around.
Willow raises her eyebrows at the barked order from the ogre woman and glances over at Vash with mild indignation. "Wait, what? I don't even know how to make a cake..." Willow mutters, worry coloring her tone.
"I mean...I guess we might as well go along with it for now?" Willow says with a sigh, shrugging at the rest of the group.
If there is no protest, Willow will wander in where she was directed to see what they were in for.
"Your guess is as good as mine." Vash says with a shrug.
"Don't be silly, there's nothing to baking a cake...I think." the bard says, caustically - the result of Willow's mild worry and curse.
Wincing, he looks to the tiefling apologetically. "Sorry about that." he says, walking along with Willow.
"Late? Ma'am, I-" Nuruk tried to interrupt before the ogre began shooting out orders. She began to direct the Defenders, assigning them to different places to assist with what he assumed was some kind of party. "I don't think..." Nuruk tried to correct again before her large finger was stuck in his face and he was ordered to get the table set. Nuruk blinked for a moment, running a hand through his hair. "Y-yes ma'am?"
"Just keep an eye out folks, alright?" He would say, reaching behind him and petting the halfling on the head softly. "You'll help me, right Karley? If an ogre can't handle it, I'd hate to see how ornery this table is." He would gesture for the ogre to lead him to this table to set, curious to see what the Feywild would be throwing at them next.
Khalil doesn't need to think too hard to surmise the ogre, like so many in Prismeer, is a victim of the hag's damnable curses. She sees to almost frantically be trying to prepare for a party of some sort, out here, in the middle of the swap, far from any sign of other people that might visit.
Vash and Willow headed inside. The hovel is a mildewed home with moldy furniture that look like they were once very expensive. Aside from the mold, it was relatively uncluttered and seemed tidy. Over the fire hangs a large pot containing some shapeless gray substance. A recipe book is open beside the pot on a marked page labeled “Put in pot to make a cake”. The recipe calls for odd ingredients -- lost hope, crocodile tears, snake oil, and a sweet tooth, to name a few.
Khalil and Demalyn go around the side of the home to the pond, and the druid is keenly aware they are alone for the moment. The water is filthy, scummy, and full of mud. "What should we do?" Demalyn asked him, standing close beside him.
Nuruk, Karley along for the ride, looks to the table the ogre had been frantically running around. The plates and silverware are all there, but in disarray, utensils all over every which way, plates randomly skewed about, some of the glasses upside down.
"Another poor soul cursed by the hag." Khalil whispers to the others before they all split up to their various 'assigned' tasks.
"What should we do?"
Demalyn's question drifts among the draped mosses and scraggly vines for a few heartbeats before Khalil shakes his head, his eyes breaking away from the dryad's. God's was I staring?! Please tell me I wasn't staring. Ach, bloody woolbrained fool. Focus boy or you'll get the both of you killed. His mind chastises Khalil for being momentarily more interested in how that one particular crimson, trumpet blossom perfectly curled over the dryad's left ear.
"Uhhhh..." Was his initial, highly thought through response. He tries to adjust his hat, only to remember it was now safely ensconced within Demalyn's hair, so instead just runs his fingers roughly through his hair in a weak attempt to gather his thoughts and composure. Finally...
"Ahem...Well, it seems our poor hostess is under one of the hag's curses. I can only guess that she's doomed to keep preparing for a party that will never happen." He looks over the filthy pool. "But perhaps if we could succeed in actually doing what was needed and then acted as party guests, we could break the curse."
"So we need a way to clear out all this nasty water and replace it with something fresh and clean. I only hope nothing has decided to take up residence in all that mud and muck. Let's see..." He says the last taking up his staff. Quickly imbuing the hardwood with a bit of natural energy he steps closer to the pools' edge. Making sure Demalyn is back a few steps, he begins tapping and swirling the staff in the water.
"Your guess is as good as mine." Vash says with a shrug.
"Don't be silly, there's nothing to baking a cake...I think." the bard says, caustically - the result of Willow's mild worry and curse.
Wincing, he looks to the tiefling apologetically. "Sorry about that." he says, walking along with Willow.
"Ah, I'm used to it," Willow replies with a shrug. "It's less annoying with you all. You guys get it." She offers him the most pleasant expression she's capable of--slightly raised brows, face just on the edge of a smile. "I've felt a lot more comfortable expressing those things since being around you all. I know it's not comfortable for you all to react that way, though."
Vash and Willow headed inside. The hovel is a mildewed home with moldy furniture that look like they were once very expensive. Aside from the mold, it was relatively uncluttered and seemed tidy. Over the fire hangs a large pot containing some shapeless gray substance. A recipe book is open beside the pot on a marked page labeled “Put in pot to make a cake”. The recipe calls for odd ingredients -- lost hope, crocodile tears, snake oil, and a sweet tooth, to name a few.
When they enter the hovel, Willow is viscerally blown away by the scent of the place: the earthy, gritty scent of the mold mixed with the mildew is strong and unpleasant. She glances around in dismay and snaps her fingers, using her thaumaturgy cantrip to force the windows open and allow for a breeze in the hovel.
"This is horrendous," she comments, picking her way toward the large pot and peering inside. "It 'refuses to be made,' hmm? Think I should poke it?" Willow held a hand over the pot's opening. She really wants to poke it.
Khalil pokes the pond and it tries to poke back.
A serpentine form rises from the pool, made of filthy water, and weakly tries to reach for Khalil, but it cannot hold its form and collapses back into a pool of water. Demalyn watches with fascination, standing close behind him, one hand on his arm as she peered around his shoulder. "I don't think it liked that."
Vash wrinkles his nose as the musty, moldy smell of the ogre's hovel fills his nostrils. "Uhgg..." he grunts, nodding in agreement with Willow's estimation of the environment.
The bard allows himself a small chuckle at the tiefling's curiosity at the gray lump of goo in the pot. "Sure, but I don't think I'd use my finger...nor yours for that matter."
Vash wrinkles his nose as the musty, moldy smell of the ogre's hovel fills his nostrils. "Uhgg..." he grunts, nodding in agreement with Willow's estimation of the environment.
The bard allows himself a small chuckle at the tiefling's curiosity at the gray lump of goo in the pot. "Sure, but I don't think I'd use my finger...nor yours for that matter."
"Good point..." Willow digs in her backpack and pulls out one of her unlit torches, then proceeds to poke the gray mass in the pot. "Let's hope it doesn't eat me," she mutters, amusement coloring her tone.
Dinner etiquette was not part of his knightly training. Certainly, one would think being a knight would have that be part of it but the Fey were particularly varied and wild. He would hear Karley whisper to him and he would give a nod, moving around the table to help her cast out the silverware across the table. The mighty dragonborn would begin stacking up the plates and glasses. He would settle them down, his eyes looking to the trickery that had befouled the poor ogre.
Nuruk continued to try and catch plates, goblets, glasses, and other things, while they continued to smash, break, and fall apart. Confusion riddled his face as he was trying his very best and Karley's willful attempts to disrupt went unnoticed. After all, he had asked her to help him.
Stumped and utterly dumbfounded, he would look at the ruined table with a questioning glance wondering how it went all wrong.
"I-I-I'm sorry. I guess I just...I was out of sync. I didn't mean to ruin everything..." He mumbled out apologetically towards the large woman, his head hanging low in embarrassment.
Khalil steps back with a start, but observes the creature closely. When it doesn't attack, but instead simply slips back into the filthy water he gives a little nod of his head.
"It appears to be a water weird." He says to Demalyn, covering her hand with his own. "Usually they can be a bit of trouble. Playing tricks or trying to drown those who cross them in some way. But this one seems too sick to be much trouble."
He turns back to the pool. "Maybe if we offer to help, it'll help us." He says.
"Greetings. And my apologies for disturbing you. We are here to clean this foul water in your pool. May we work with you to clean up this mess? He says sending his voice out over the water. After a moment he repeats his words in Sylvan just in case the creature understands that better being a denizen of the Feywild.
He then starts searching the area for any sign of nets, hoses, buckets, and anything else that could be used to filter the dirty pool water.
Willow pokes the sludge in the pot, and it pokes her torch back, hard enough, and unexpectedly enough, that it flies out of her hand. She glad she listened to Vash and didn't use her finger.
Khalil speaks to the living water, and a glob of it briefly forms a peak in the center of the pond before shuddering and collapsing. It does not answer -- he's not sure it can.
Looking around, Khalil doesn't find much that might help. Demalyn pokes him on the shoulder, and is standing close behind him when he turns to her. " What about these?" She's holding the ogre woman's pantyhose, pilfered from the clothes line. They are voluminous, and based on the hairs stuck inside them, they'd do a fine job catching and skimming the muck from the water.
Nuruk got one place setting juuuust right, before Karley initiated her ploy. The plate, cutlery, and glass were set just so... And then he saw them move of their own accord, and heard faint tiny giggles on the wind.
Pixies.
That was as far as the thought got before Karley broke a plate over his nose.
"Careful you lummox!" the ogre hollered. "We can't cancel Queen Zybilna's coronation dinner, are you crazy? Break anymore dishes and I'll send you to market to buy replacements, an' they won't be coming out of my pocket, I'll tell you what!"
When the torch goes flying out of Willow's hand, Vashrin gasps, "Whoa! You alright?"
Seeing the young woman only startled and not harmed, the bard glances over at the rather odd recipe and begins looking around the room. "Where in the Nine Hells are we supposed to find half these things?"
Willow yelped as the torch went flying, then huffed with smileless laughter, looking at Vash as he approached. "Well, I'm glad I listened to you!" Willow says, running her finger along the recipe.
"Hmmm... I think you're onto something with digging around this room."
The giggle teasing in his ear, the way the plates and glasses began to move, it all made sense that they were dealing with a group of teasing pixies. As Karley placed the small bandage over the cut on his nose, he would nod.
"Seems there are pixies here. Strange." The dragonborn tried to recollect what he remembered about the strange little creatures.
"I think those will work splendidly." Khalil says with a wide grin at the dryad. After cutting a length of thick vine from the many available, the druid takes the thick, worn stockings from Demalyn's hand and crafts a workable net at the end of his quarterstaff.
Once satisfied with his makeshift construction, he makes another with another length of branch and vine for Demalyn. Handing her the finished net, he grins again. "Welcome to the glory and grandeur of the adventuring life." He says with a chuckle and turns to speak to the water once again.
"Okay, we're going to begin scooping the debris and muck from the water." He says in both languages to the ailing weird. "We'll go slow so you've time to move away if one of us starts to accidentally catch you up." He says. Then with a nod to Demalyn, they begin the methodic task of clearing the mucky pool water.
Karley is certain this dinner event is not happening, but the ogre seems entirely convinced that it is. She senses no deceit there, just a fervent belief.
Nuruk mulled over what he knew of sprites and pixies and the like. In some ways the mascot of the fey to outsiders, the epitomized the dual nature of such beings. They weren't evil, but they were prone to mischief, and rarely considered how the victims of their machinations might enjoy their fun.
Inside the building, Vash and Willow looked around. These ingredients... what did 'lost hope' look like, anyway? They didn't find any labeled vials or crocodile tears, and were relieved to not find spare teeth anywhere. Vash considered the recipe book again. “Put in pot to make a cake." That was the only step...
Meanwhile, out by the pond, Khalil and Demalyn spent a few quiet minutes together helping to clean the water. They worked side by side, skimming out the scum and muck. Most folks, he suspected, would have found it an unpleasant task -- the water smelled like decay and waste, and the ogre hosiery wasn't much better. But Demalyn was all smiles. A wider smile to be helping another fix up their home, and to clean something the hags had fouled. And a smaller, shyer smile to be working alongside Khalil.
Before long, the water was clear enough to see through again, or would be, once some of the silt they'd stirred up settled to the bottom. The water weird twisted up out of the pool like a serpent, spiraling upward in a sort of helix that seemed to Khalil to be joyful. It sank back into the pond and swam rapid circles, stirring the thing into a spiral --and the waters began to sparkle with magic. Little motes of light evaporated upwards from the surface, glittering before popping out of existence, the whole pond emitting a steady cloud of them.
Vashrin stands there consider the cook book for a few moments and comments, "It couldn't be that easy could it?" before picking up the book and dropping it in the pot of grayish goo.
The bard turns to Willow and shrugs, "Just following the only real direction we have...maybe all the rest of the stuff was already in there."
Willow looks surprised as Vash drops the recipe book in, but shrugs. "I mean, sometimes it really is that simple," She replies, clapping Vash on the shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Good thinking...better than poking it," She finishes wryly, crossing her arms over her chest and watching the pot.
Khalil ignores the stench of the muck and filth as he works steadily to clean the water. It was after all, not much different from mucking out the animals stalls back home. Especially if the cows got into the lush, fresh spring grasses. Now there was a mess.
Demalyn's smiles as she works are infectious and soon enough Khalil is smiling and humming some random tune while he drags gunk from the pool.
"Ha ha! We did it." He exclaims joyfully when all is finished. Without thinking he turns and wraps Demalyn up in a big hug still laughing with delight at the water weird's antics and the sparkling magical motes slowly drifting up from the clean water.
The sparkles reflect in his eyes as he belatedly realizes how and who he's holding in his arms. Face burning red, but still smiling, slowly lowers his arms and takes a step back.
"Err...ahem...uhhh...it is just always so nice to undo one of the hag's ill magics." He says growing shy and tongue tied once again. "I couldn't have done it without your help. Those stockings really did the trick." He looks over at the filth coated, ruined bits of silk. "I hope they weren't her only pair." He adds with a quiet snicker, his earlier giddiness returning as he stands near Demalyn watching the motes of light dance and sparkle upon the pool.
Vash drops the book into the pot, and the grey sludge, which you realize now is an ooze of some sort, pours itself out onto the ground. For a heartbeat you fear it may attack, but instead, it shapes itself into a lovely cake, complete with piped-on frosting roses. It proceeds to slowly ooze its way out the door, towards the table Nuruk and Karley were tasked with setting.
Demalyn returns the hug, laughing along with Khalil, his good mood infectious. "If this is what adventurers do then I am glad to be one," she says joyfully. She doesn't seem to notice his moment of embarrassment, and she slid a hand into his, looking at the pond sparkle. "It's so beautiful!". Her eyes light up with an idea and she turns her gaze back to Khalil. "It seemed to understand you, when you spoke the water's tongue. Can you ask it if it would terribly mind watering the sapling? She's a bit thirsty."
The ogre took the parchment from Karley, and it was clear she could not read as she held it upside down. She frowned a moment. "Why you wasting time with words? We have to finish getting ready before the garden gnomes arrive, it's their patriarch's eight hundredth birthday!"
"Good try there Karley. I don't think the hag's curse will let us get through it that easily." Nuruk mutters to Karley before he sits at the table with the pixies. Of course, he couldn't see them but he knew that they were around him.
"Greetings, little folk. That was a good trick you've been pulling on us and this poor ogre. I can't imagine how many times she's been fooled by the group of you." Despite his frustration, he would have a smile on his face as he chuckled. His eyes opened wide, as if he had gotten an idea, before he spoke again. "You know...I heard there was going to be cake with this meal. Now, at least from what I know, those that help are generally offered a piece of cake to enjoy. If you all helped me set the table, we could share cake! I'd like that, would you?"
It was impossible to know if they would agree or not as he gathered the plates that were nearby, setting them down like Karley had suggested. "See? You just set the plate up like that. Can you all help me, please?"
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Seeing the gray glob lurch out of the pot, Vashrin's hand immediately falls to the hilt of his rapier, only to stand in confused amusement as the glob shapes itself into a cake and ooze its way out the door.
Standing silently for a few moments, the bard shakes his head. "Gods this place is f*+~ing weird."
Turning to Willow he asks, "Shall we follow the 'cake'?" before heading for the door of the hovel.
"I've seen a lot of weird s!+# working at the carnival, but never that," Willow replies, chuckling softly at Vash's statement.
"Mm, before we go though. I'm going to trigger my curse, but are you alright? I've been worried about you since the inn. Got all introspective, then everything...literally blew up." She looks a little embarrassed and then powers through. "I know we've all been apart for a while, but...we all went through a lot since that day. You don't have to carry it alone, you know?"
Vash fights down the response Willow's curse elicits the best he can before turning to the tiefling with a small smile. "Tis nothing to worry about. We have other priorities at the moment."
Admiring the pond, its beauty and that of the one standing next to him, Khalil simply enjoys the moment. This time his hand stays clasped in Demalyn's and the druid even begins to relax. Her question draws him out of his quiet reverie and with a smile he readily agrees.
"Hello -esse i nende." He calls out politely in Sylvan. "Emme were wondering if emme could request a ince boon? Mime írima friends sapling na- a bit parca. Could emme have a ince amount -o your poica nen ana anne- -yes ar aist- sina happime lú?"
He relays his words to Demalyn and then stands with her to wait for the water weirds response.