Seelah sees red at the sight of her compatriot being injured and moves in to exact retribution on the larger ooze.
Kalla ally gained resistance 3 to all damage against the triggering damage so should have 3 more HP
Seelah takes one more hack with her longsword at the large ooze before jumping backwards to narrowly avoid the blast radius of Laszlo alchemical attacks. After suring her footing, Seelah raises her shield in anticipation of a renewed assault by the oozes
Laszlo moves to get a better view on the situation and then pulls forth a shimmering vial and tosses it to splash over Kalla, the iridescent liquid soothing acid burns.
Seelah's righteous wrath falls upon the Plagueborn ooze, and she carves it into harmless hunks of foulness, while the helpful hunk of foulness behind her returns Kalla to consciousness.
You do notice however, that on one of the particularly tainted trees, a horrible tumescent boil, the color of overly textured milk is newly growing and quivering.
Tumescent Boil (Red ! on the map)
Rising Dawn -6? Basic Reflex DC 14, Inspired
Plagueborn Swarm (Blue) -23
Sajan -1, Inspired
Amelia -6
Plagueborn Swarm (Yellow) - 12
Kalla -11, Wounded 1, Prone, Disarmed, Fort save on your next turn
Seelah -1
Laszlo
Dawn cries out in pain as the oozes' acid burns her. She stumbles free of the swarm, moving to Kalla's side. There, she calls on the spirits to fully heal the bard! "Back on your feet, warrior."
The tides of lesser oozes have yet to ebb, cresting over Laszlo and Seelah in a stinging mass!
Tumescent Boil (Red ! on the map)
Rising Dawn -6 Fort save on your next turn, Inspired
Plagueborn Swarm (Blue) -23
Sajan -1, Inspired
Amelia -6 Will bot to electric arc
Plagueborn Swarm (Yellow) - 12
Kalla Wounded 1, Prone, Disarmed, Fort save on your next turn
Seelah -1 DC 14 Basic Ref
Laszlo DC 14 Basic Ref
Laszlo makes use of a "technique" he developed in the laboratories of quickly batting oozes off himself to minimize contact.
Seelah attempts to divert the oozes crawling up and around her with her raised shield
Damn, looks like they need me in the fray. Sajan stands to his full height, steps around the tree in front of him, and unleashes a flurry of punches and kicks on the nearest swarm. "We will not fall just yet, but can someone tell me what that tree is releasing?"
Sajan batters the tiny oozes into splatters, the few of them that remain too far apart from one another to cohere into anything more dangerous.
Amelia quickly slips away from the remaining oozes, blasting away with lightning from her storm-eye as she goes leaving behind a visibly diminished heap of slime on her tail. That voracious goo gets immediately distracted in its pursuit and feasts on Seelash and Laszlo instead.
Tumescent Boil (Red & Purple !s on the map)
Rising Dawn -6, Fort save please
Sajan -1
Amelia -6, Will bot to electric arc
Plagueborn Swarm (Yellow) - 17
Kalla Wounded 1, Prone, Disarmed, Fort save on your next turn
Seelah -3, Fort Save please, 2x DC 14 Basic Reflex Saves please
Laszlo -2, Fort Save please, 2x DC 14 Basic Reflex Saves please
Dawn ignores the lingering slime as she looks at the pulsing boils. ”They’re growing more oozes! Use fire if you have it. I’m going to try to stop them.”
She rushes into the watery muck, trudging slowly but steadily towards the pustules.
Laszlo pulls another vial and tosses it at Amelia. As Rising Dawn makes her way into the muck, he calls out to the party "Those mutagens Dolok gave us should help, but beware. If they are anything like the ones we make in Ustalav, you'll be more susceptible to the oozes. I will stay and deal with this swarm." Turning toward the oncoming swarm he draws another vial in preparation.
"Hells" the young woman groans and her EVERYTHING hurts. Somehow she manages to stand and pull her sword from the ground. "I sound listen to myself more." she sighs as she pulls out that potion the bear god gave her.
Seelah intercepts some of the oozes attacking Laszlo with a swing of her longsword
Seelah nods at Laszlo, I will leave the remains to you, then pulls out her mutagen and hastily downs the contents. Feeling the fiery energy coursing through her, she starts moving towards the pustules
Seeing his allies rush towards the trees, Sajan focuses his attention on the remaining oozes.
Sajan and Seelah disperse the last of the oozes, and while quiet, peaceful spirits of the wood heed the call of Rising Dawn and hold the oozes within the rotted trees quiescent, Seelah puts them to the flame.
The noisome mist remains, but already seems to be lightened. As you examine the area, you find a disproportionate number of smooth, clean bones, and a small iron chest tucked under an exposed root.
The chest is quite rusted, but simple enough to pry open. Inside you find a Predator's Claw, a Minor Elixir of Life, an amethyst worth 10 gold, 75 silver pieces, and a vivid red Backfire Mantle.
Rising Dawn -6
Sajan -1
Amelia -6
Kalla Wounded 1
Seelah -7
Laszlo -3
"Most excellent! We are victorious! But in many ways, my battle has only just begun." Laszlo shakes the vial in his hand until it looks like a particularly thin Elixir of Life and then downs it.
Looking Sajan up and down, Laszlo reaches in his pack and pulls out a flask of something with clear sediment at the bottom. Shaking it vigorously until it has remixed, he hands it to the monk. "Drink this. Quickly, before it separates again. The first rule of fighting off a plague is don't spread the plague! Also have one of these it looks like you could use it." So saying he also hands Sajan one of his ersatz elixirs of life.
Without waiting for a proper response, the monstrous alchemist turns and start bustling toward the others. "Kalla! Come here, those acid burns of yours won't heal themselves! I wonder if we still have any of that honey from the ritual... And the rest of you, I can make more of that Antiplague I gave Sajan tomorrow, but we should get you patched up for now. Want to be in top shape for whatever else is out there!"
"I think-" the bard started to say she was fine but the sudden swaying of the world stopped her. So she sat and let their doctor do his doctoring. "We should be back to Darkfur, hoping he's less of a burr in our nether cheeks this time now that the sick has been burned out."
Once everyone was satisfied with the cleansing, Sajan was selected to wear the Backfire Mantle. After dawning the vivid red cloak, a stark contrast to his typical dark blue attire, Sajan gave an exaggerated flourish and posed with his hands on his hips and chest puffed out. "How do I look?" he asked his comrades with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.
----
Nodding in agreement with Kalla, Sajan added, "Yes I look forward to seeing Dolok in good spirits!"
A beaming smile comes on to Kalla's face as Sajan poses "Shiny!" she exclaims, meaning Good, of course.
You are still half a day out from the destroyed village when the air seems to thicken, and a moment later Dolok Darkfur steps forth. The bear god look stronger, his fur more lustrous, his feathers brighter though still a bit ragged. The sigil upon his chest though remains unlit, faded, just a memory.
"I FEEL THE CLEANSING UPON YOU. I FEEL IT AS FREEDOM FROM A CAGE OF BONES. I FEEL..." He snuffles out a great breath, "THE FEBRILE HELPLESSNESS THAT HELD ME FAST IS ENDED."
The great feathered bear looks to Amelia and then to you all. "YOU SOUGHT THE TALES OF THE FARHEAVEN CLAN. THESE I WILL GRANT YOU IN FULL, CHIMINAGE FOR THE FREEDOM YOU HAVE GIVEN ME. BUT I SEEK YOUR WISDOM IN HOW MY DEBT MAY BE PAID."
Kalla's eyes glow at the improvement of the god. She looks to her companions, then steps forward. "I cannot speak for everyone here, especially she who lived through the happenings, but your people and their people's people, the Sarkorians, are scattered without a den. Would you accept their return, and provide protection and wisdom as you may?" Kalla has to concentrate to keep slang from slipping between all words, but she manages to answer without a tally or a waker.
Laszlo takes the opportunity to step forward. "Or... well, being trapped here mostly alone for all this time you might not have heard, but the Worldwound is... well, not healed, but improving. We hope to recover some of the lost lands, including the Farheaven homelands. If this place is too painful to stay in, you could join us in recovering those lands since you're no longer bound here. We came here to learn about your people but even the living descendents wouldn't be able to help us as much as someone who was there back when people lived in the homeland."
Dolok Darkfur rumbles contemplatively, then turns his weighty head to Amelia. "CHILD OF THE STORM, I FEEL THAT YOUR PATH HAS CHANGED, AND I DO NOT ASK YOU TO FORSWEAR OATHS MORE BINDING THAN MY OWN. YET THIS I MUST ASK OF YOU, WILL NELKET TAKE UP HER BOND ONCE MORE? THERE MUST BE A LINK BETWEEN US TO TETHER ME TO THIS REALM."
Dolok Darkfur ruffles his feathers, and one comes loose, drifting over towards Amelia's hand. "THEN DO ME ONE LAST SERVICE AND BEAR THAT FEATHER TO HER. IF SHE SHOULD SEEK ME OUT, I WILL MEET HER UPON THE ROAD."
***
The woods of Iobaria are no less grim as you walk back, but there is a lightness to your step nonetheless. The bear god has been given the hope of renewed purpose, the Skorvlovs, grateful for the banishment of the mist bears and any concomitant curses, have given you delicious rations of fresh berries and well seasoned venison for your walk back to Mishkar, and while the road after that may be long, at the end of it lies Absalom, the Jewel of the Inner Sea and City at the Center of the World. And from there, who knows?
But on the fourth day, both of the Sarkorians awake with fevers, aching muscles and a gnawing pain in their bellies...
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Kalla wakes to a cold so deep in her bones she cannot stop from clattering from toes to nose with extra in her teeth. A stunning pain in her belly screams to be let out, and she is sweating all she has ever drank.
"STOP" she croaks at the first person to come check on her "I think... no, I know... the sick in the trees, the th-th-th-THINGS that killed th-th-th..." she gives up for a minute, grabbing her knees, curling into a ball "L-Leave me"
She cannot bring this anywhere else, cannot risk killing an entire people like last time. She doesn't know about Amelia being sick since her own is all consuming. But she wants the others to live so she manages to croak out.
"r-run"
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Dawn bids Kalla to lie down and rest. "It will not do to have this plague progress to a point where you cannot recover. Let me tend to you."
The dwarf mixes up some healing poultices from her kit to help leech the sickness from the bard's body.
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"oh" Kalla whispers in an odd mix of resignation and hope as she obeys. She's never been this sick, this helpless before. At least anytime she remembers. She's seen enough of humanity to know that each time of the Bad feels like the worst time of the Bad, so trusting even herself on this seems off.
"th-thank you" she manages to Dawn and Laszlo as they treat her, when she remembers, since she is in and out of lucidity. When she is particularly out of it she babbles about his sister, who it is obvious she loved and was annoyed with most of the time and from one moment of weak screaming something bad happened to her.
When the worst passes, embarrassment wells in her eyes but she doesn't acknowledge it and instead stretches "Just needed a lay down and some keen country ai-" her banter is lost to a fit of coughing and something rather unpleasant being coughed up.
As she gets ready to hike again, after putting on boots for the first time in a bit, "All ready" she announces, the hoarseness just at the edge of her voice
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At Kalla's faint plea, Laszlo's thoughts jump to only a couple of months back, he remembers issuing a similar warning to what he thought was just a group of passing travellers. Returning to himself, he declares "Nonsense, Pathfinders do not flee what they can fight, and they certainly do not leave people behind."
Laszlo watches Dawn treat Kalla with a touch of disappointment. She didn't even do a proper bloodletting. And with a swamp nearby, we have a perfect source of good leeches. They're always better fresh. Ah well, nothing for it. Despite his misgivings, the impressive results speak for themselves.
As Kalla professes her well-being, Laszlo takes the opportunity to give Amelia another quick examination, ensuring that the disease has not taken hold. "Well this has been a day well spent. Though we should note down the onset period, in case a similar disease rears it's head. Would have been a true shame to unwittingly infect the town."
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The day passes with grave concern, even the pines above seeming to still, the forest holding its breath in trembling dread over the rebirth of one of the plagues that curse Iobaria.
But today, no ill star shines down upon you all.
***
After a few days more travel, homesteads, orchards and hog runs give way to the town of Mishkar. It's substantially less busy; the market is closed, and most of its people are back on their own lands, leaving the gate guards more time to express their pleasant curiosity , polite revulsion , or outright fear .
But again, Sajan and Seelah's wayfinders, and the Pathfinder Society's name tell a tale all their own that smooths over potential rough spots.
This time at the Jolly Hag, Nelket is not alone. Gone is her modest green dress; now her apron shields a somewhat musty looking buckskin vest, with a bandage on her shoulder that's bled through just enough to need changing. She's in animated conversation with a few children, the oldest of whom Amelia recognizes as is the spitting image of Artem, Tolvaj's son, but she doesn't know the names of any of this generation of the Farheaven children.
-if there weren't the plague, it's still too long a distance for you children to go, Tolvaj!" "That's no fair, Auntie Nelket, Tato says you were basically our age when-" "I don't care what your tato says, that was very different and- oh."
As Nelket catches sight of you, the kids whirl around so fast that one of them loses her balance. They peer up at you all with undisguised wonder, until Amelia enters. Unlike the guards at the gate their gestures of warding aren't discreet, but held up across each of their faces and- "Don't spit on my floors! Did- did you?" Nelket reaches up to worry at her bandage, again. "Is he... what did you find?"
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With a glowing smile Sajan responds, "It's good news! But I'll let Amelia give you the details."
Turning his attention toward the children, "Looking for adventure are you? Well don't be in such a rush! Sure there's adventure to be had, but there are a lot of responsibilities too! Imagine having to do all your own cooking and cleaning, all while hiking through dense jungles full of dangerous beasts!"
Sajan sits cross-legged on the floor and gestures the kids closer, "Now, well Auntie Nelket talks with the pathfinders, let me tell you the epic tale of Dolok the Great and his battle against an evil plague!"
Sajan proceeds to weave a tale likely familiar to the children, but with a more fantastic presentation that softens the dark and highlights the light. In this version of the story, Dolok has spent many years battling the plague and only now was able to overcome it with the help of the Pathfinders.
Kalla looks to the witch, then sees the weight of the people's reactions. "A father and his two daughters have made a home in your village and would welcome company." she says with a smile, bright in the promise of the village becoming a village again, but not wanting to steal the glory. "Amelia summoned him...." she prompts, with a look in her eyes that holds the awe of meeting a god, but the horror of having that awe crushed.
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"So there was enough of him left to help."Nelket takes a deep steadying breath, but tears shine at the corners of her eyes nonetheless. She embraces Amelia, looking up at Kalla and the rest of you she at first only manages to say a simple, [b}"Thank you."[/b]
She lets go of Amelia to look at the children as they stare in delight at Sajan's story; a look of hope on her face as she murmurs, "I didn't dare to hope, but we could be a people again."
The practicality that Nelket's life as worked into her takes over, and a look of focus seizes her features. "I'll need to talk to the other Farheavens. Some will want to stay here, of course, and perhaps some will want to return to the village where so much was lost, but..." She looks to Kalla. "The Wound is closed. If the Farheavens are to be reborn, then why not do so in the land that was our home for so much longer? I'll need to gather them all so we can talk as a people, but I should speak with Dolok Darkfur first, without you."
She looks searchingly at Amelia, feeling the frustration and resentment. "And if you've had your fill... the rest without you?" She pulls Amelia back in for another hug even as the Farheaven children flinch. "Clan or no, you'll always be my family."
***
Nelket and the Farheavens have many preparations to make before they set out, so she gives you a letter for your return to Jorsal and Nerosyan. "We will never be able to give you enough gratitude. We owe the Pathfinders a debt for sending you here, but to you six most of all, thank you."
***
The road back to Jorsal of Lauterbury is long, and even beneath the forest canopy, an unseasonable heat makes each day of travel seem twice as long. Still, the hunting trails and well trodden herd paths mean there's little fear of getting lost, and the hamlets and homesteads that dot the land of Iobaria help to break up the monotony and give you easier access to fresh food.
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One night while sitting around the fire, Laszlo pulled out one of his extra sets of travelling clothes and a small sewing kit to patch its holes. Looking around to the others, he offered "I am happy to assist with any of yours as well, just say the word." As he finished unpacking the necessary tools, a wooden thimble rolled out and he deftly caught it before letting it get close to the fire. A melancholy smile crossed his face as he examined the thimble in the firelight. "You know I was always taught that sewing is talking work. It was always the most challenging part of the skill for me, my face does not invite gossip, and my stories from the castle were not suited for good company. But perhaps I can learn the skill now and improve my sewing.
I learned to sew early in my existence, and it is probably why I am here today. Once we had mastered spoken language, generally by the age of three, the master had no compunction about sending his homunculi to town on shopping trips. We could not barter well, but the townsfolk knew who we served and none would think of shortchanging us. Amongst the butchers and the fruit sellers, there was a blind weaver who had her own stall, Baba Takacs. Her neighbors made sure she was not stolen from and her work was of a quality beyond what would be expected in a small peasant town like ours, so she never lacked for custom. On my shopping days, I would always stop a while to appreciate her stall. We were too poor for her to have many colors, but the patterns drew my eye almost hypnotically.
One such day, while I was enjoying her work, her hand shot out and caught my sleeve, almost like a viper. She felt at my burst seams and lacking patchwork and then snapped at me. "Boy! What is your name?!"
I was unwilling to admit that I didn't have one so I stuttered out name I had heard often enough in the marketplace, "I-i-ivan, baba."
"Well Ivan, I cannot stand to feel cloth so poorly treated. If you cannot afford my goods, I will teach you how to take care of what you have. Tomorrow afternoon you will come to my place and I will show you." So saying she gave me directions to her house and sent me on my way.
No one had ever addressed me like that other than the master, so I did exactly as she told me. As I think on it now, no one had addressed me before at all. The master always wanted his homunculi to be as skilled as possible but was unwilling to put the effort in to teach us, and he didn't need us much during the daylight hours, so he sent me off with little care. He claimed that "at the least it will help with suturing the more delicate surgeries."
It was a new experience, being treated like one of the townsfolk. She would holler at me if I broke something, and tell me her idle thoughts as she wove or sewed. I learned the names of the butchers and fruit sellers I brought from, not from their own mouths, but from her gossip.
I had gone back for three lessons before I realized she was never blind at all. She was criticizing a seam I had admittedly done horribly on and I stuck my tongue out at her like I had seen the town's children doing. She immediately snatched a pair of shears from her worktable and snapped "You will keep that civil tongue in you head or I will cut it out."
Immediately, a strange terror overwhelmed me. She knew who and what I was and now the illusion had been dispelled she would cast me out. She would trap me and burn me to death like the master said happened to my older brother who fled to another town.
Instead, it seemed she misread my fear, and soothed me, "There, there Ivan, I would never actually do that to you. For one thing, these are my good fabric shears. Now let me show you how to fix this..." And the lesson continued as though my world had never been about to end.
As I think on it now, even had she been blind, of course she would have known I was different. She taught me everything by touch, and my hands...
Several lessons after that, I happened to arrive early and overheard a local housewife complaining to Baba Takacs about her ill child. She of course left as soon as I arrived, but Baba Takacs told me of the boy's symptoms, which reminded me of an illness that struck the master weeks prior. I would have let things be except she bemoaned "So sad that a young boy like that will pass, but at least his mother has three other children, she will not be left alone."
I recalled that the master had mixed himself some potion from a book and was better immediately, so upon returning home I searched for the cure. I was able to find the book quickly, since he had left it out, and though I couldn't read at the time, it fortunately had a picture of a native plant I recognized. I gathered some from nearby and ran back to the town. The woman and her family wouldn't let me in, still terrified of folk from the castle, but I was able to explain to Baba Takacs what I'd found and she told me later that I'd saved the boys life.
That event inspired me to learn to read. One of the master's ghostly servants took pity on me, and I consumed all of the medical texts that I could. The master even let me keep my favorite, the works of Professor Csoka. I still returned for "lessons" even after I clearly could not progress further, and for some reason she would always hear of the illnesses and maladies of the town. It was years before any of them worked up the courage to approach me directly. But that is another tale.
When she finally passed, I secretly interred her in the one resting place I knew none of my brethren would ever dare disturb, the master's family crypt. It brings me a strange joy to know that she rests safely there, but he never will."
Laszlo's eyes snapped back into focus after staring silently into the fire for too long. "Ah I let that get away from me, clearly I still need more practice at this aspect of sewing." Holding up the thimble again, he turned to his neighbor, "Rising Dawn, surely you've collected interesting knick-knacks like this! Why don't you spin us a tale of your most interesting personal effect?"
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The laws of the universe are indisputable, especially the one that states you are ALWAYS asked a question right when you take the chewiest bite of your dinner.
Kalla interjects to save Rising Dawn's waiting words as the meat refuses to be tamed quickly "For me the interest is in the story, true or not." everyone who has paid attention to her as they traveled through villages and towns as seen her trading item after item, weaving falsehoods so false there is no doubt to all ears they are so, But heck they are entertaining.
Now she has a small pile of things in front of her that she is wrapping in sturdy burlap "We would do this as a lark in the bends of the backs. We had less than a copper between us, but plenty of leavings around no one wanted. So find something not so broken or gross, and trade Up, either fix or fling. Fling a story, see if it catches, like fishing. Then do the same with what you got, over and over, to see how high a nuthing can get to a sum-thing"
Which is what she has been doing. An odd looking stone became fossilized Darkfur poo getting a bag of rose petals which became the hope of a young man's dreams for a family getting a polished metal mirror. A curved nail managed to hold a witch in place for three days traveled up ten whole times until two large metal bowls were now in her possession with several bars of lightly perfumed soap. More nuthings became sum-things bringing laughter and warmth to the new owners, and netting Kalla a few bolts of fabric, and two small but wicked sharp knives.
Rising Dawn was near done ending the fight with the stubborn flesh, so turned to the caravan driver that was visiting from the camp just in site, as luck would have it. "Remember get this to Nelket" she annunciates her accent and slang out of her voice when she takes to this man, easy as pie "Tell her these are for Adula and Klara. Thanks for lending us the bowl." takings gets a bit of loyalty, but coin is needed to see a long job done, so she pays with coin she got weaving tales in taverns to seal the deal.
If asked back at the fire, Kalla smiles soft "Two young women living in the no wheres with their dads might take more interest in the unnecessariness of appearance as more than their dad suddenly takes up residence in the now somewhere." the smile slips a little "And if that turns south as unfortunately life likes to do, two little wicked knives reminds people north is better on that day."
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The journey was long, indeed, but Dawn knew just what to do to keep morale from flagging. As a liturgist, she draws forth her apparitions through song and dance, two things that the dwarf is quite skilled in. So she sings through the long marches, her voice bold and deep. She sings the songs of the dwarven people, ballads of stone and sky. She sings the arias of the spirits, hymns of wild places and of worlds beyond this one. And at night, around the fire, she dances the dance of the Rivethun, a dance of joy and freedom at becoming one's true self.
When Laszlo asks about her personal effects, Dawn reaches into her belt pouch and presents a signet ring with a carved dwarven sigil. "The ring of House Stjorn. It is a reminder of a life that I left behind, a life that would not have been my own. When I joined the Rivethun, I gave all of that up for the chance to seek my own path instead of the one that had been pre-ordained for me. And now here I am, on a grand adventure with you fine folk. I wouldn't have had it any other way."
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An unusually chill breeze swept over Sajan, causing him to stir and wake. Looking around the dark camp he spotted Lazlo dozing gently in the watch chair. The more time spent with him, the more his humanity shines brightly.
At first he meant only to get up and relieve himself, but after another chill breeze passed he was certain he heard a voice. Immediately on guard, Sajan crept away from camp toward the voice.
After a short distance Sajan spotted a clearing from which the voice could be heard clearly, "Where are you? Where could he have gone..." Intermixed in what was clearly anguish were heaving sobs of sorrow.
Once Sajan glimpsed the source of the voice, he nearly sprinted back to camp to raise the alarm. Before he could run the spirit made eye contact with him and something convinced him to stay, as foolish as that may be.
A moment of alien silence swept over the area before Sajan mustered up the courage to address the spirit, "What ails you, dear spirit?"
The spirit phased out of existence briefly before appearing directly in front of Sajan, startling him. "My beautiful boy! He is lost in these woods and I cannot find him. Will you help?"
Sorrow swept over Sajan and he felt tears streaming down his face, "Dear spirit, what is your name?
"Alara... Please! Help me find my boy!"
"Alara... do you know what you are?"
A brief glimpse of anger shown on Alara's face, "Of course I know! I am a grieving mother!"
Sajan drew symbols of Pharasma in the air as a means of granting comfort, "Alara, your boy is not lost. You are lost."
Alara paused and her face contorted in a mixture of confusion and sadness. "Yes... I remember... I died near this place... But my boy!"
"Your boy is not lost, and is long gone I'm afraid. It is you who must find your way."
Alara's ghostly figured leaned against Sajan and sobbed. For several minutes Sajan soothed Alara and shared the story of his long lost sister. Eventually Alara was calmed enough to move on. Before doing so she thanked Sajan for sharing his sorrow, then she dissolved into the night.
---------
The next morning Sajan wasn't sure if it was all just a dream, but regardless he felt a renewed sense of hope. Perhaps he can still find his sister.
For the last week, plumes of smoke have been appearing on the eastern horizon, staining the sunrises with grim promises. Still the road ahead has been looking clear, until a singed looking thrush drops out of the sky with an exhausted chirrup and a badly burned note.
It ought not be our need that bri___ us together again aft____ll your help. Unfortunately and unex____ issue ____ents us from _____ out. The Finadar Forest is aflame, and the fire threatens to ___ Mishkar. We had thought________t they ever seem to re______. A tribe of goblins _____ to be _________________ the fires. Dolok _______________st the____ge. Please send aid quickly to help________
___lket
***
As you return east the air gets thicker, a smoky, orange-tinted haze fills the sky, dimming the sun and scattering its rays into orange halos.
Before you break from the treeline you can already hear the sounds of Mishkar in crisis. Roiling clouds of smoke from a massive forest fire darken the sky and dim the sun’s light. Utter chaos reigns as humans and goblins dart back and forth between the flames and Mishkar, carrying buckets of water to douse buildings or stoking fire breaks to keep the massive conflagration from spreading into town. The signs of recent battle mar the buildings and many of those fighting the conflagration bear the marks of conflict in the form of bloody bandages or pained limps. Across a large field from the town's southern edge, a hastily erected encampment bustles with the clopping hooves of numerous centaurs.
A rumbling bellow roars from the other side of the town, and a band of centaurs gallops back toward their camp, fresh wounds visible on their flanks. As they see you, two of the less wounded warriors wheel off from the rest of the band and gallop up the road at you, shields flashing and spears flying! "Odol Pinuak! Kaana Korag! Piromanei heriotza! Ez dago errefortzurik dragoizurrak!"
Rising Dawn
Sajan
Red Centaur
Blue Centaur
Amelia
Seelah - Shield Raised
Kalla
Laszlo
Sajan follows the path toward the approaching centuars, stopping at the tree-line so as not to be too easy a target.
"Wait! We are not here to fight, but we will defend ourselves if necessary."
Dawn grants Sajan guidance before rushing towards the flames!
The centaurs continue their gallop, hurling their spears at Sajan and Dawn at close range before executing a neat caracole and retreating out of easy striking distance. "Peace and necessity of course you claim!" The hunter looks with scorn at the blood dripping down Sajan's chest. "Prowess also you claimed."
Rising Dawn
Sajan -6
Red Centaur
Blue Centaur
Amelia
Seelah
Kalla
Laszlo
Laszlo watches the centaurs stab at Sajan. Odd, I thought diplomacy typically meant less blood, not more. You learn something new every day. Turning back to the fires he views as the larger threat, he pulls out an iridescent vial and focuses until it turns a pale red of a weak Fire Energy Mutagen. Downing it, and feeling considerably safer, he strides toward the fire intent on putting it out as soon as possible.
Dawn gives herself guidance as she calls on the spirits to help douse the flames.
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"There is a fire! Wait to try and kill us later!" Kalla snaps as she rushes to follow the rather quick dwarf, ignoring the spears pointed at her.
Grimacing from the pain of his wound, Sajan turns and walks toward the fire to help to give aid.
"You seem quite capable yet I would guess you fare no better than any other when the world around you is inflamed. I will not fight you unless you force my hand, but we'd be better served working together to put out these flames."
Seelah presses her hands on Sajan's back as his wounds reknit in a pale red glow. After, she sets a steely stare on the centaur who struck Sajan We are going to save this forest and these people. If you touch my companions again, I will ensure it is the last thing you do. If you leave us unharried, we will not harm you . She then determinedly sets off to join her allies fighting the fire
The centaurs' ferocity begins to be blunted by Seelah's warnings and your continued nonviolence, but when they see the spirits answer Dawn's call they put up their spears and briefly confer. "Agian ez dira pirolariak?" "Kaana Korag-ek jakingo du. Utzi erabakitzen."
The hunter turns to Rising Dawn and continues, returning to Taldane, "The fires maybe you are here to stop. Kaana Korag, our chief, your words will judge."
With that they wheel and ride off to rejoin their clan's encampment.