Six months ago, a rash of strange paranormal phenomena occurred around the world. Chief among the incidents reported were countless instances of aiudara—elven teleportation portals, also called elf gates—suddenly overflowing with tremendous white light. As aiudara are often located in remote locations, witnesses were relatively rare. But those onlookers who were nearby and who gazed into the light saw something within the blinding portal: a loved one, a lost homeland, a glorious treasure. The specifics varied in each account, but in every case the witness saw whatever person, place, or thing they most desired. Few could resist the impulse to walk toward the light in the hopes of grasping the apparent object of their obsession. Many never returned. Those who did were forever changed.
The crisp summer evening on which this event occurred became known as the night of the Missing Moment.
No one who walked through an aiudara during the Missing Moment remembers what happened next—their memories of whatever transpired on the other side of the white gate were totally and irretrievably wiped. So far as they’re aware, one moment each traveler was stepping into the door, and the next they were stepping back out, only to discover that they had, in fact, been gone for minutes, hours, or in some cases even days.
In your case? You were gone for three months. Many others never returned at all.
In time, the individuals who took this journey would come to be called gatewalkers. Though some gatewalkers bore obvious signs of their travails on the other side of the aiudara—unfamiliar scars, for example, or a strange new hue to their hair—others returned with practically nothing to show for their trip, save for one: all returning gatewalkers now bare a similar brand somewhere on their flesh, most often on the back of their neck. This brand, made of thick lines set into the skin like a tattoo, seems to depict a mountaintop archway limned with four stars. This “sign of the gatewalker” quickly became an obvious marker of those touched by the paranormal.
The months since the night of the Missing Moment haven’t been quiet. In the wake of their strange experience, gatewalkers the world over have manifested unexplainable supernatural powers such as telekinesis, levitation, and regeneration. In the Ustalavic town of Lepidstadt, a consortium of gatewalkers has gathered under the leadership of the venerable scientist and fellow gatewalker Etward Ritalson. Dr. Ritalson hopes to orchestrate his cadre of fellow paranormalists to solve the mystery of what happened on that fated summer night.
Dr. Ritalson's funding and leads are your best chance at not only recovering your lost memories, but also of better understanding (and perhaps advancing) your new deviant powers. Dr. Ritalson has explained that his skills and interests are better suited toward the laboratory than the open road, so he’s gathered your group together to conduct field research in his stead. Your first mission for the Doctor's Illuminatd Consortium of Epopts is about to begin...
Part 1: The Seventh Arch
Chapter 1: Mighty Oaks Do Fall
After a long journey from Ustalav, you find yourselves in Sevenarches, a heavily forested realm in the River Kingdoms of northeastern Avistan. Long ago, elves dwelled in the verdant forests of Sevenarches, and it’s believed they built the stone arches that give the region and its eponymous capital city their name. Now, Sevenarches is overseen by the Oakstewards—enigmatic druids who prohibit elves from even entering the kingdom’s borders. This ostensibly has to do with the obnubilate curse, a mysterious affliction that kills any elf who dares go near one of the Seven Arches. In the wake of the Missing Moment, however, rumor has it that the curse has been lifted.
Your carriage stops at the border gate to Sevenarches--a low bridge across a stream just beyond a bustling caravanserai. Sighing, Dr. Ritalson uses a black handkerchief to mop the sweat from his age-spotted forehead. “I fear this is as far as I accompany you,” he says. “I have matters to attend to farther east.” He smiles fondly. “I’ve no doubt that you can handle this investigation yourselves. Of all my field researchers, you show the greatest promise for uncovering the secrets of the hidden world.
“I need not remind you of the importance of your mission.” He points to the mysterious rune emblazoned across his throat—the same mark that brought you together, the one you all share. “Three months ago, we embarked upon a mystery. All across the world, elven teleportation gates—aiudara—burst with light and lured people like us in with visions of our greatest desires. A subset of we so-called ‘gatewalkers’ returned from the sojourn—some, like you, bearing fascinating new abilities. We all, however, remain ignorant of what befell us on the other side of our doorway, how we came to be marked with this unknown sign, or what may have happened to those who did not return.”
He chuckles ruefully. “In every university and seminary, scholars are ransacking their libraries to understand this ‘Missing Moment.’ Yet I believe that we—that you—will succeed where they all fail. For our quest into the paranormal is not merely academic, but personal.
“Toward that end, I’ve given you my most promising lead: Sevenarches. For centuries, any elf who approached the city’s infamous Seven Arches has been subject to a terrible curse. Yet, on the night of the Missing Moment, the curse was somehow lifted. We need to know why. The city’s famed aiudara no doubt hold some of the answers we seek, and moreover represent a prime research opportunity to study the portals in person. That’s where you come in.
“To help, I’ve arranged for you to meet with an old associate of mine. Fianara Caralestri claims to have crucial information about the arches. Ah, and there she is now!”
An elven woman wearing traveling leathers and a backpack overflowing with scrolls waves from the caravanserai's porch.
"Do you have any questions for me before I depart?"
Sylva was never ‘that kind of girl’ when it came to tattoos. But the sign of the gatewalker is actually very cute, she’s been telling herself.
The four stars are silver circles on Sylva’s cheeks and shoulders. The mountaintop peaks just under her bellybutton. The arch neatly stripes the sides of her body, and like the mountains diamond cap, the arch itself is partly by clothing. Sylva is clad in a heart-shaped crop top, a lacy knee length skirt, striped leggings and fingerless princess gloves—the whole outfit is black, white, cool grey. Across her mostly-otherwise-bare
and wingless back are her mismatched blades, Donkeytail and Lemonsbane!
The doctor asks for questions. “Is the curse a sensitive topic for Ms. Caralestri? I mean… like, did she personally know any of the elves that were dea…lost. Y’know… lost, like, their lives.”
Sylva is pretty sure she was good at this sensitivity stuff before the Missing Moment showed her how materialistic she truly is.
Dr. Ritalson shakes his head. "No, fortunately. Fianara is an old traveling companion of mine from back before I settled down into my studies. A fine scholar. You'd do well to trust her." He leans on his cane, looking wistful.
Stepping down from the carriage, Ravenna waved hesitantly to the woman on the porch before turning back to Ritalson. Her mismatched eyes, one a pale green and the other a deep violet, betrayed the anxiety she kept out of her voice. "When can we expect to see you again, Doctor Ritalson? Will we continue on to join you, or will you return here when your other business is finished?"
She was dressed quite practically in trousers, sturdy boots, and a heavy longcoat left unbuttoned in the unexpectedly warm sun. A bandolier strapped across her torso held a number of vials, tools, and small pouches in its loops and hooks, while a battered-looking musket hung from a sling on her shoulder.
Ravenna glances down at the back of her left hand, where her own Missing Moment had left its mark on her. Ever since, she had taken to wearing gloves to cover it from casual view, but she could feel its presence all the same.
|
Nox somberly stepped next to the Sylva who practically glowed with color in comparison to the almost monochrome sprite. His tattered white moth-like wings fluttered for a moment before settling once again to show off the most colorful part of him, the gatewalker symbol. He gave a somber sigh from under his beetle head turned helmet and readjusted the Sewing needle sword at his side.
"Do you have any guesses as to what may have caused the retraction of the curse? I mean seems to me to be a positive for the elves and fey alike. It's just.. odd that there aren't more here investigating."
He bows all six-ish inches of himself in front of the elf. "Were it that we could have met on happier terms."
Sylva sees the look, and thinks she gets it. She feels for the good doctor at least if their history is what I think it is.
“That’s a relief, Dr. Ritalson. I’d hate to say the wrong thing and put my foot in my mouth.” Inch in my mouth, at sprite scale? Sylva flashes back to that incoming tomato on Comedy Nite. Second-least funny night in my entire life. “Fianara seems friendly enough.”
Looking up at Ravenna, jade eyes wide, lips pursed, Sylva asks very politely, “Mind if I hitch a ride, Miss Dreamwalker?” Pointing to the Ravenna’s right: “On that shoulder.”
"I will continue on to a city called Uringen," Dr. Ritalson says to Ravenna, "famous for half of it disappearing and reappearing at random intervals. It’s been happening for decades, so it’s perhaps unrelated to our present matter, but worth investigating all the same.
"I suppose if you can find a secure way to get a message to me, that would be grand. Otherwise we’ll have to wait until both our investigations are concluded, and we meet back in Lepidstadt. We wouldn’t want anyone to intercept a message and steal the thunder of our discovery!”
He looks down to regard Nox. "I am not certain, but that is what you are here to find out! The Oakstewards who run this place are a secretive lot, and they have likely been discouraging inquiries about the curse, politely or otherwise. I'm sure Fianara can tell you more."
"Not at all, Miss Belle." With an amused smile, Ravenna kneels down to scoop Sylva up and place the tiny sprite onto her shoulder. She stands back up and nods to Ritalson. "I understand. We won't let you down."
Sylva demurely sits upon the offered shoulder, crosses one leg over the other, and—though able to descend from rooftop to street without ending up like one of those audience-flung tomatoes—the sprite entwines a triple-strand of Ravenna’s hair about her wrist for safety’s sake.
At 0.98 ounces soaking wet, Sylva’s not worried about plucking the woman’s hair out.
Once the good doctor is well on his way, Sylva comes just short of sticking her face in Ravenna’s ear to whisper, “‘Traveling companion?’ That’s so cute!”
Once you have finished asking questions, Dr. Ritalson bids farewell and steps back into his carriage, which soon disappears down the road. Fianara steps forward, watching him go. "That's Doc Etty for you. He's a bit of a cracked nut, but a brilliant theorist nonetheless.
"Anyway, as I told Doc Etty, I have some information I think you’ll find useful—but if you want it, I need help with my own research first.”
She points across the bridge. “I’d like to test a theory, but the Oakstewards still aren’t letting elves into Sevenarches. To be honest, I’m not especially keen to test the rumor about the curse suddenly lifting, nor the uptick in attacks from gorgas—monstrous, shadow-eyed fey creatures, if you’re unfamiliar.” She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a reader and writer, not an adventurer. So here’s what I need:
“Sevenarches is supposedly named for the cluster of seven aiudara in the middle of the city. Well, I’ve been going through old records, and I’ve reason to believe those arches are fake—decoys to draw attention away from the real arches. But if I want to publish my findings, I need proof.”
From her bag, Fianara withdraws a foot-long glass tube with a cluster of hollow bulbs at one end like a mace. "This is an aura recorder I’ve keyed specifically to aiudara. When you pass it through an aiudara, it will record the gate’s magical signature. I’d like you to go to the town’s center then use this to read the aura of one of the gates there. If I’m right, this will prove that the aura of the supposed ‘Seven Arches’ is all wrong for true aiudara. Once you've got the reading, bring it back to me here and I'll share with you what I know.”
She beams cheerfully. "Should be rather straightforward. I asked Doc Etty for his best, so you lot must have plenty of skills between you, yes?" She looks between each of you, clearly hoping that you'll explain said skills.
Sylva offers a pleasant smile. “Sylva Belle at your service, Ms. Caralestri.
“Skills, yes. After I was… relieved of my stagely duties—a mutual decision between myself and audiences, barkeeps, certain curmudgeonly mayors and one jealous wife who baselessly got wrong idea—I started exploring other career opportunities. Doctor Rital…Etty was very understanding about The Forklift Incident, and after noting my abilities in regards to… discretion? And, well, Entering Doors Without Knocking, heh, I think we can be of service.
“Oh, and we’re one shrinking spell and/or potion away from being able to fit in places you Big People can’t …which might actually be necessary. Ya never know.”
Sir Batman glances out of the curtained window as the carriage stops at the border gate to Sevenarches. The Bronze Knight smiles at the bustling caravanserai.
I wonder if they will have Olyphants! I heard that a sprite could get lost for weeks just traveling across the back of one!
As the posh carrige stops to allow them egress, the bronze-colored bat-shaped sprite grandly exits. Standing at 6"--but proudly projecting the height of any gold elf--Sir Batman surveys the caravanserai with a nod of sufferance.
There is hopefully a Prestidigitation post to take care of all this dust, dirt and grime.
Watching the approach of Fianara, as Dr. Ritalson points the elf out to the group, Sir Batman smartly salutes, bows and introducing himself. His bat-shaped wings flutter in unison with his Salute.
Sir Batman at your service, Madam. Our little troupe shall deliver with the utmost professionalism!
The Bronze sprite winks at Sylva, Nox and Revenna, using his right eye....
|
|
Nox nods silently, having jumped from the carriage to the floor of the place before it took off.
"We have many skills, I have quite the understanding of the strange. But will rely on Sir Batman should a scuffle between the folk happen. Ravenna will be able to brush most insects off simply. But perhaps will need us to keep her trousers safe from encroaching beasts."
The monochromatic fellow trots through the brush towards Ms. Fianara, and examines the strange tube. Though from his position so low it's difficult to do so.
"Might I take a closer look at your contraption?" He asks the titanic being.
Fianara hands the aura recorder to Nox. It is larger than him but fortunately doesn't weigh too much. The occult item's functions are difficult to ascertain, its design inscrutable.
"You should be all set. Since I've never been to Sevenarches, I can’t give many more details about the locale. I trust you to come up with your own plan. I know that the arches are a popular attraction, but that non-residents are kept at a safe distance by alarmed barriers and guards. I suggest you try to be discreet. The Oakstewards don’t take kindly to troublemakers,” she notes.
To aid the your mission, Fianara supplies you with a standard disguise kit and five replacement cosmetics.
***
Gtting to Sevenarches is easy. The citizen guards at the border aren’t Oakstewards, and they wave non-elven visitors through without issue. There is a relatively significant population of fey in the town, so the guards don't bat at an eye at the presence of three sprites.
Sevenarches is built at the confluence of two streams, the Wendwater and Fogmorn Creek, which continue their flow eastward to eventually join the Sellen River.
A third, artificial waterway known merely as the Canal connects the two streams west of their natural meeting,
turning the city’s central district into an island. The entire city is built atop the stone ruins of a pre-Earthfall elven settlement, and much of that repurposed architecture is still visible beneath the wooden human additions and the vines that seem to cover every surface in the city. Trees and shrubs line the streets and flourish in parks, with many residents simply building around them rather than risk the ire of the Oakstewards.
Sylva giggles at the disguise kit. “Sir Batman with specs and a red beard is still, like, same bat-guy, same bat-stature. I guess Ravenna could use the kit, as long as she doesn’t have three sprites clinging to her.”
The surprisingly high fey population makes the kit seem potentially effective. “I stand corrected… and might need to see what is known about the local little ladies—wingless sprite girls of double-digit ages in particular,” she muses.
From her perch on Ravenna’s shoulder, Sylva keeps an eye out for any fey who look particularly friendly. She is so focused on this one idea, she isn’t putting much thought into anything else.
"Ravenna Dreamwalker, at your service. I know a bit about magic, a bit about alchemy, and I can reach tall shelves without having to climb on the furniture. But my real specialty is this thing," Ravenna says, hooking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the musket. "The little ones also like to hitch rides on long trips."
"That's not the worst idea you've ever had, Sylva," Ravenna says, giving it serious thought. "Maybe your date could fill us in on whatever's going on around here."
Sylva would surely be flat on her back on the ground, if not for the hair wrapped around her wrist. Flustered, she asks, “Date? Hahaha…uhhh, I… I… I meant like, the disguise kit. If there are ladies my size who have, y’know, jobs or something, I could ahh …blend?”
She calms herself a little then slides down to Ravenna’s forearm, and into her hand too if it’s palm up.
Looking up at the woman, she mumbles, “If it’s just lunch, I…” She takes her lacy hem up in her fingers. “This is my only dress. Do I look okay?”
The Bronze Knight bows in gracious gratitude to Nox' comments.
Only if sweet words will not perturb such unpleasantness.
He taps his ever-present shield.
But then that is what this is for!
Sir Batman nods at Fianara, as the researcher gifts them the Disguise kit. The Bronze sprite smiles at Sylva's comments and then reversal.
I was thinking that a set of just the correct spectacles could indeed properly Disguise my identity.
The Champion seems serious....
Walking down the streets of Sevenarches, shield strapped on his back, backpack strapped underneath and his bronze bat-like face beaming with awe, wonder, curiosity, the Champion of Mazludeh appears every bit both a tourist and a diplomat.
Where do we want to go first? Maybe we should walk around the streets, pursue some watering holes, take in a show. We could learn about what the locals know about the Missing Moment, the Elf Gates and where to find the best banquet barbecue in town.
The Bronze sprite smiles at Sylva's comments and then reversal.
I was thinking that a set of just the correct spectacles could indeed properly Disguise my identity.
“Without specs, you could pull off a Platinumaire Playboy look.”
Sir Batman turns his bat-shaped bronze head in the direction of Sylva. The Nyktera demonstrates a gracious bow to her; his bronze bat wings spread out grandly.
Actually, the related metals that could be confused are Silicon Bronze. Silicon bronze, sometimes called red silicon bronze, contains copper, silicon and zinc. Also, Phosphor Bronze, Aluminum Bronze, Manganese Bronze, Bearing Bronze and, of course, everybody knows about tricky Copper-Nickel.
The Champion then continues to strut down the street.
|
|
Nox doesn't really have the strength to carry the device, let alone hold and examine it. So he paces around it on the ground before nodding to the elf. "An oddity for sure. We shall conduct our research of the area. But first I must ask if you have been able to make any leads yourself as of yet, skeptical of letting elf-kin into the area as these oakwarders are. Do you have any contacts?"
Nox looks around to his brightly colored companions, "I've been apart from other fine folk in recent years. It's good to see new faces though." He silently hopes he can continue to see them through this journey. "But that raises a point what are our area's of expertise? Mine is in the occult, and utilizing the strange powers from the gateway in new ways. Don't expect me to dance a jig though... I haven't in oh... about a hundred winters or so. I also have a good sense of how to get people to do what I want, weather through diplomatic or less so means."
Taking the offered ideas from Batman he shrugs, "A banquet of sorts would be ideal for meeting with the locals and getting to learn some rumors."
Ravenna pauses her stride to look down at Sylva, confusion written across her face, which quickly reddens in embarrassment as she realizes her misunderstanding. With a jerk, she starts forward again, eyes fixed on the path ahead of the party.
"Sorry," she says belatedly. "I didn't mean—that is, your dress is lovely. But we can probably buy more while we're here, if you want! If there's any place that sells dresses in your size, I bet this is the one."
Idiot!
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Sylva offers her friend a smile. “It’s okay. I think for the mission, I would… y’know, chat it up. Nothing’ll… y’know.” Nox’s skill question seems like a good thing to answer.
Sylva hops to street level and says, “Oh, I can dance. But not without music. So yeah… guess I gotta provide that too.”
She has no instrument… but her voice.
I’ve got my share of secrets
And regrets
Let’s leave it
At that
She sways her hips, keeping eyes on her, twirling her way into the next stanza.
And act like nothing’s wrong
Just sing my stupid song
Dance down the street
While smiling sweet
At who I meet…
And pray she can’t see I’m a low life
Run away ’fore she sees
I ain’t no wife
-to-be
I’m gutter trash
When I bat my eye-lashes
Don’t you dare fall for me
’Cause those falls end in crashes…!
She ends her dance with a flourish—kick, curtsy, eyes meeting those of a female fey.
“Almost rhymed myself into a corner. Sylva Belle. New in town. Yourself?”
Ravenna considers Nox's question, grateful for a change of subject. "Well, like I told Fianara, I know a bit about all kinds of magic. Can't cast any spells, mind you, but I've studied them enough to know what I'm up against. Past that, I'm not half bad when it comes to wilderness survival and getting through rough terrain."
The Champion of Mazludeh stops at the words uttered by Nox. The 6" tall bronze sprite flutters his bat wings in amusement.
Skills? Why, my good Sorcerer, that is why we have a sprite as talented as our Sylva and as wiley as our gunslinger!
He then winks at Nox.
I am certain that your occult research will be paramount, as I am not that familiar with these strange occurrences.
Sir Batman stands for all to view him in his shining bronze breastplate, helm and shield. The Bat-like fey then smiles and twirls to better display his wares.
As a Champion of Mazludeh, I have the honor of being trained as a diplomat, interrogator, and I was arm wrestler champion of my senior class.
Nox doesn't really have the strength to carry the device, let alone hold and examine it. So he paces around it on the ground before nodding to the elf. "An oddity for sure. We shall conduct our research of the area. But first I must ask if you have been able to make any leads yourself as of yet, skeptical of letting elf-kin into the area as these oakwarders are. Do you have any contacts?"
"I've got a lead for you to pursue, yes. But I'd like you to gather the aura readings first. Once you return with those, I'll tell you what I know," Fianara reiterates.
***
“Almost rhymed myself into a corner. Sylva Belle. New in town. Yourself?”
The luminous sprite giggles, glowing with pink light. "I'm Petal! I've been here for a few years now. Buy a girl a drink and I'll tell you all about it?"
You follow Petal to the Honeybrush Cabaret. While Sevenarches boasts plenty of places to get a drink, none can provide a show to match the Honeybrush Cabaret, with entertainment ranging from whimsical fey‑themed musicals and bloody pit fights to satirical comedies baiting the Oakstewards.
Sylva and Petal make some small talk laced with light flirtations. When the rogue inevitably steers the topic to the city's eponymous arches, Petal taps her chin. "Oh yeah, you have to check out the arches. Everybody loves to see them! But ever since the gorgas started hunting closer to the city, the Oakstewards have increased their security. There's been two Oakstewards posted at the arches, plus an ensorcelled rope. If you even try to go under or over it, it starts screaming like an angry squirrel. Birds and things are always setting it off. It’s a real headache!"
“Thanks for the tip, Petal,” Sylva says, playing it cool, not nervous at all, knees not knocking together, not committing to meeting again sometime, not against that, and definitely not overthinking.
She takes a final sip of her own What She’s Having. “One more question. Is there a reasonably safe, clean swimming hole or a bathhouse where they Prestidigitation-cleanse the tubs? I’m amphibious.”
"Sure!" Petal provides directions to a nearby bathhouse that meets Sylva's requirements.
Sylva takes the sprite’s hand. She does not kiss it. She wants to. She does not swipe a shiny from her. She feels that urge, and stifles it. She gives the hand a little squeeze.
“It’s been a pleasure.”
"The pleasure's mine. Hope I'll see you around town, Sylva," Petal says. She plants a kiss on Sylva's hand before grinning and dancing away, glowing brightly.
Sylva watches Petal dance off, lips parting. “Wow.”
She acts unconvincingly-nonchalant as she approaches Ravenna. “Well, so… I learned things. And, that…that wasn’t, like, a date-date, was it? Rhetorical no…right?” Sylva’s hand is still raised limply, palm-side down. The same position it’s been in since the hand was kissed.
While Ravenna waits for Sylva to finish her "not-date," Batman and Nox head to Arch Plaza in the center of town. Seven stone archways stand in a neat circle in this central town plaza. Each arch is twenty feet tall and ten feet wide. Multicolored lights of unknown provenance warp and weave across the arches’ stone faces.
Surrounding the arches is a circle of dwarf oak trees, each just ten feet tall. A hempen rope tied around the tree trunks forms a barricade whose only gap is just south of the arches. Shops, inns, and merchant wagons surround the busy square on all sides. To the southeast, a small podium rises five feet high.
Two Oakstewards keep an eye on the crowd. One stands guard at the break in the barricade while the other patrols the Arch Plaza. Since no one expects trouble this deep in the city, the guards are casual in their duty, often chatting with each other and passersby.
|
|
Nox casually dodges, ducks, dips, dives, and dodges through the busy market street. The fine figure cutting through the crowd of tall folk feet as if it were second nature to such a person. All of which he spends chatting with the Sir.
"A Sprite knight of Mazludeh, how did you become a member of such an order if I might ask Sir Batman?"
Nox waits patiently for a few moments before exclaiming a tiny, "Excuse me good Warden sir. Do you have a moment to talk with some weary scholars of the finer arts of the ancient elves? We have questions about the aiudara you see and have come a long way to see them."
The Oaksteward looks down at Nox and gives him a nod. "I will answer any questions as best I can, but nobody is allowed to access the arches at this time. You'll have to study them from behind the barricade, I'm afraid."
|
|
Nox tilts his beetle covered head to gaze way up at the mountain-like Oaksteward.
"Ah, in that case might I ask for a lift? This is quite the awkward way to converse on if we're to have a lengthy conversation especially one that I plan to take notes for. First might I know what they call you?"
Regardless of weather the Oaksteward allows him a step up of not he will continue shortly. Pulling a long rolled up grassblade that he plans to use to make notes on from the ground slightly off the path just earlier.
"We shall do what research we can without breaking your rules of course. Sprites we may be, but mischievous nay sir-ee. We have come to study the validity of the structures. See if they activated recently like others around the region have, and see if it's caused any changes in the local wildlife habits."
The Oaksteward kneels to give Nox a lift. "My name is Carlao," he says. He listens to the sprite's explanation and chuckles, bemused by the whimsical fey.
"That sounds like very important work, indeed. Tell you what, I don't really see the harm of letting you get a closer look at the arches, so long as I accompany you. Just, uh, don't tell my supervisor, okay?"
Carlao walks with Nox through the gap in the rope barricade and lets him use the aura recorder. After holding it partway through one of the arches for several seconds, the recorder lights up to signal completion, shining as brightly as a torch. The light is predominantly purple, though a few bulbs of other colors glow faintly.
|
|
Nox looks at the strange wand and makes some notes on his grass sheet, "Hmm interesting, my colleague will be very intrigued by this information. Also I can assure you my device simply went off from outside the roped off area Carlao." The sprite gives him a wink and a nudge although one is lost underneath the helmet.
"On that note however, have the wildlife been strange after the incident or normal? And what of the general populace any unusual activities or obsessions? I see you've got the area roped off."
"The native wildlife and the people of Sevenarches have been fine. It's the increase in gorgas sightings that have the high druids on edge. They want to be sure nothing tampers with the arches, just to be safe."
While Ravenna does not stray far from the Cabaret, neither does she simply stand around outside waiting. Instead, she plays the part of a curious tourist, asking locals about recent goings-on or eavesdropping on interesting-looking conversations.
She returns in time to meet Sylva as the sprite exits the theater, and can't quite hide the smile that comes from reading her starstruck expression. "Went that well, did it? Glad you had fun."
Sylva nods slowly. “Well enough, without going too well.” She doesn’t seem to realize she just said that aloud.
Her jade eyes linger on the kissed hand.
“Haha, it was nice to—” She shucks her fist in a smile-shaped arc across her midriff. “—get out there with the plenty o’ fish. Oh and speaking of the sea in which there are plenty o’ fish, Petal told me about a bathhouse! That’s important information because I have gills, and am very particular about where I swim.
“Oh, and gorgas hunt too close to the arches, so now they post two Oakstewards and a screaming rope. I probably shoulda led with that.”
"Do you think it's expensive? This place is a sight warmer than I'm used to, but it's always nice to get some hot water. These gorgas, though, that's odd."
Ravenna chews on her lip in concentration, trying to remember if she's even heard of a gorga before.
“I actually don’t know what a gorga is. Or what they hunt.” She looks around at the local yokels. “How about we see who knows what a gorga is—I bet a huntsy-woodsy type would know.
“And if all we really get outta this place is directions to a hopefully-affordable bathhouse, we still win.”
Sylva approaches a huntsy-woodsy type.
“Has the hunting been happy? How about them gorgas, eh?”
As Sir Batman and Nox head to Arch Plaza in the center of town, the bronze bat walks a step ahead of the sorcerer.
My village was just outside of the Land of Celestial Concordance, or Holomog, as it is commonly called.
The proud champion reaches for his shiny bronze shield, tilting the emblem toward Nox.
Mazludeh was responsible for organizing the Celestial Concordance which established the celestial sponsorship of the nation of Holomog to protect millions from the chaos of the Age of Darkness. She is now their matron goddess.
Sir Batman smiles as in remembrance.
My village traded regularly with those of the city. It is not uncommon to see sprite representatives, although, most are scholars and singularly diplomatics.
The armored sprite proudly lifts his shield.
During the encounter with the Oaksteward, Sir Batman is seen as guarding Nox, while the professor performs his experiments.
Coming up behind Sylva, Ravenna gives a pained smile. "Sorry, we're new in town, and we keep hearing about these gorgas. Think you could help us out?"
The grim-faced farmer narrows her eyes at Sylva and Ravenna. "Best not be talking about the gorgas, lest you draw their attention! They be shadowy fey that stalk through the dark of night and attack when their prey is most vulnerable. They've got big, bulging eyes, and they can consume your very shadows! Now, I think you better make like a barge and shove off!" She quickly walks away.
Sylva finds it odd that the farmer made like a tree and leaved, so shoving off is moot. She doesn’t point this out to anyone.
“We do have directions to a nice place to shove off to,” Sylva says. “Shall we?”
If Ravenna would like to go to the bathhouse, Sylva will kindly ask a waitress to direct her fellow sprites to her whereabouts. “One’s bronze and batty, the other’s old and gray.”
"We should probably find the boys first, unfortunately. They might have learned something in the meantime, and I don't want it to be too hard for them to find us."
Sylva will happily accept a shoulder ride “to the arches!
“I hope we get to see the rope scream.” Not that she particularly would want to see (or hear) that, but Petal really piqued Sylva’s curiosity.
About screaming ropes, she tells herself.
|
|
"Hmm I'm quite unfamiliar with Gorgas. Any chance you could tell me what they are or maybe why they've been more agressive in the area?"
Sylva and Ravenna would arrive as Nox, Sir Batman, and Carlao are arriving back at the edge, the monochromatic pixie and the oaksteward talking shop. The strange glowing magical rod, is well, glowing unlike earlier. Nox points at them with a muted 'aha'. "Ah my colleagues, thank you so much for your assistance Carlao. If we can assist while we're in town please let us know. We will compile our data with our other fellows and return soon. One is of the elven kind and she is wisely choosing to not go so far as to risk her very being coming to sevenaeches proper."