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Ioxeia shrugs imperceptibly. "I don't know quite what happened in her youth in the town, true, except that she was terribly unhappy and people took advantage of it, but burning it all to the ground with all its people seems ... disproportionate? I would think a normal person would curse, shake her head and the mud from her boots, and leave it behind her." "As for winning, she hasn't pressed her advantage yet, though I admit her friends and her pets are troublesome," she adds, thinking of the - tentamort, was it? - with a shudder. "But we cut a swathe through her rank and file, sparing the militia the trouble. And for the rest... well, that's why we're here."
"She's won enough favour from her goddess to begin some sort of physical transformation, so her connection to the divine must be strong," Ioxeia starts, "but I'm not sure how trained she is in magic. She did steal her father's remains for desecration, and her plan is to burn Sandpoint to the ground, so I think it's safe to expect ruthless desperation."
Ioxeia is grateful for the offer, but reluctantly shakes her head. "It will take me at least a whole night's rest to start to shake off the worst of that thing's poison, and in the meantime, something else might creep up on us and call its friends, losing us any advantage we have now." "If Nualia is lurking deeper inside, as that witch doctor insinuated, if we can catch a few goblins in the fort up top, we might be able to thin them out like we did the first time and still avoid attention, at least enough to secure the bridge. We still have all our spells, and I have a quiver of arrows, so if you and Dan can hold things off Matsuno, Syuviel, and me, we should be able to do some damage. Only- if I do fall again, I'm less likely to pull through on my own with this stuff in my body, so anything quick to staunch my wounds in such a case would be welcome."
"That is rather nice, I'll admit," Ioxeia says, assessing the strength of the doors. "I wonder how long ago those goblins came through here and found that - thing. If we move quickly enough, could we fall back here if necessary, and barricade these doors and rest safely? If there's still that goblin chief and Bruthazmus, and a couple of others, to deal with before we ever get to Nualia, we'll have to strike very hard and with good luck to get through them in one go."
Ioxeia falls in, and noticing Syuviel's glance, she smiles weakly behind her mask, "It was fortunate, then, that I didn't get too much of that sting. I'm in no hurry to get a better acquaintance with the dissolution of the mortal coil, from within or otherwise." Behind the bravado she assumes to encourage - herself, as much as everyone else, she thinks, Goddesses save us all. What have we gotten ourselves into?
Seeing that she almost seems to have most of her gear spread out around her from finding the potion, Ioxeia grabs her spear just below the head and holds out the blunt end toward the wizard so he can grab hold, and hauls him in. She repacks her belongings as compactly as she can for exploring, and when she straightens up again, she has her bow in her hand, making what adjustment she can to her tactics while her body fights off the effects of the poison injected into her.
Ioxeia gingerly explores her wound and shakes her head in answer to Matsuno's question. "The sting itself could have been worse, but what it's doing inside is ... shall we leave it at something awful? I doubt I'll be winning any races in the next few days, and it might be best if I resort to my bow for a while..." She pauses to rummage in her pack for a bit, before extracting the potion the group took from the goblin caster just the day before. "I had hoped this would keep longer," she says, "but we're likely to run encounter more danger in short order in this place. May I recommend we take the first stairs up we find, so there's less of a chance that we run into something nasty if we get pushed that way after bandying spells about?"
Ioxeia tries to gauge her own jump while Dan hoists himself up the rope. "If you're worried, Syuviel," she says abstractedly, "I suppose you could use a scroll to levitate up and then we could rope you in. Would you mind holding this?" She hands Syuviel her oar as she picks her moment, waiting until Dan's clear before she jumps.
Moving with the waves, Ioxeia adjusts the straps of her pack and leaps lightly from the gunwale, but the added momentum makes grabbing the rope less easy than she expected.
“I’ll take an oar while we get close, so a better climber can get ready,” Ioxeia says. “Matsuno? Thorfinn? Otherwise, I don’t mind giving it a try. Anyway, whoever goes first should bring a rope to tie off for the others.” As she takes her place, she finds herself actually looking forward to the exercise: coasting in, then leaping up to scramble up a cliff face... Of course, magic makes it easier, and she looks forward to the day she can accomplish such a feat by her own power.
Ioxeia looks up from where she’s idly leafing through the sheaf of scrolls they’ve bought from Master Gandethus, letting her thoughts wander in what she hopes are productive directions. “Bad form for us to take him, more likely. We’re the reckless adventurers, after all.” She catches Syuviel’s eye and saunters over, enjoying the roll of the sea beneath her feet. It’s been too long since I’ve travelled this way. Oh, for the swift ships at the foot of the Spire… She cuts her fancies short and confers with the wizard. “It’s a pity we haven’t had time to study these in detail, but I suppose it’s a miracle we were able to get them this early at all. Still, I think it would be best if we try to save most of them until we can copy them into our own grimoires. That being the case, have you thought about how we’d like to do this? I … would be taking a risk if I tried to cast the more powerful of these spells,” she admits, “but I’m not sure how you would feel about going ahead of us unarmoured.”
After the party splits up for the night, Ioxeia settles in in her room to complete her preparations for the next day, thinking uneasily about what it might bring. Flexing her hand one last time to practice the gesture that, with the right incantation, will let her strengthen her hands to tear through wood, if need be, she blows out her candle and goes to sleep.
Ioxeia gathers up her spellbook and scoots over as the others join them with their drinks. She exchanges a glance with Syuviel at Matsuno’s greeting, to which she replies, “That’s good, I suppose. We’ve commissioned some scrolls that might be useful, but they won’t be ready until around mid-day, unfortunately. We might check at first light to see if at least one or two are ready, perhaps, otherwise we’ll have to do our best without, if you or Thorfinn feel like getting a rope up the cliff for us. It’s that, or try the bridge again.” As the party weighs the possibilities, Ioxeia remembers that she might have something for Thorfinn, but she tempers her enthusiasm in recognition of his solemn drinking in honour of a fallen companion. Quietly, she says, “I’ll drink to him. A warrior’s glory to Dorik! He had a heart as strong as oak, and only treachery and ill-fortune stopped him. May he find welcome among his ancestors!” After what she hopes is a tactful interval, she adds, “I wanted to say too, that you might be interested in one of the things we took off that thrice-cursed goblin, Thorfinn.” She brings out the wand with the merest suggestion of a flourish. “It’s not my kind of magic – something for people closer to the land, allowing them to disguise themselves in it. I could probably force it to work with a bit of effort, but I think it would be easy for you. We can talk about it later, though.”
As she leafs through the pages of her grimoire, soon, she realizes with satisfaction, to be filled out a bit more, Ioxeia considers her options for the next day. Depending on how quickly the others want to set out, perhaps I should prepare the brute way of gaining access to places people want to keep private. It might even last long enough to get through more than one door, if it comes to that, with a bit of luck. All the same... Growing frustrated with how much she can hope to prepare for, it occurs to her that she still has a scroll to look over from the explorations beneath Sandpoint. She doesn't imagine it would do to quite immerse herself while waiting, but she relishes the challenge of trying to figure out on her own how the writer managed the spell, at least, before trying to translate it into what makes the most sense for her.
Well, that's interesting. Or perhaps ... but no. Her initial intuitions are promising, but don't quite seem to tend in the right direction. Nonetheless, Ioxeia enjoys the puzzle, and isn't quite ready to draw deeper on her arcane bond to use magic to solve it.
“Thank you, headmaster.” Ioxeia says, dipping into a slight curtsey. “We will return late tomorrow morning, then.” Taking her leave, Ioxeia retraces her steps through town to the Rusty Dragon. Despite, or perhaps because of, the quiet of the evening, the cool darkening towards night, she can still feel the excitement of new magic. Possibility sparks through her senses, and she has more than one mystery to contemplate, she recognizes in a still surprising flash, as her thought and look glance toward Macha, flying ahead in the dusk. Not a bad day, for almost dying, she decides. A few minutes’ musing brings her to the doorway of the inn’s common room, from which she looks about for the three she and Syuviel had left in their search for some practical scrolls. She finds Bahni to ask for a glass of wine, and learns where the others are off to, and that they’ll be back soon. Resisting the impulse to stretch and kick back less discreetly, she tenses and relaxes her muscles head to foot on tiptoe, before settling primly but comfortably in a chair from which she can watch the door. Between her familiar, her spellbook, and another arcanist to talk to, she imagines she’ll be able to keep busy until the whole group reconvenes.
“Of course,” Ioxeia says, carelessly, as the headmaster names his price. “We should both be able to make use of most of those,” she continues, “Only – when in the day will they be ready? We’ll need to inform our associates so we can best make our preparations for the next step.”
She nods at Syuviel’s report. “Perhaps the armour would interest one of the storekeepers here, as a display piece, and on the chance some adventurous soul among the smallfolk comes through town. The potion is for healing, and as for these … well, the one would have to be charmed by any of us to work – I have some skill in that way, but not enough to rely on it in grave peril – but the other might be of interest to Thorfinn.”
“I’m rather afraid that that would mean I’m sometimes less wise than I would like,” Ioxeia says, ruefully, as she dives into her pack and rummages for a moment, before starting to unpack goblin equipment, apologizing to Gandethus as she colonizes his desk. She continues, “If you could think whether you know any spells that would help us ease or avoid a climb, control a rope, or avoid notice – even turn invisible, perhaps – we would be most grateful. In the meantime, we’ll see what we have here – no sense in putting you to more trouble than necessary!” Despite her efforts, Ioxeia can’t quite disguise her sheer delight and wonder at the prospect of understanding a new bit of magic, and even before she calls up her own cantrip to detect magic, there is an unusual gleam in her eye.
"I think I'm getting distracted by what I can sense from the wands," she concludes, shaking her head. "Would you mind taking a look at the armour and cloak, Syuviel?"
Ioxeia relaxes, and dips her head in the tilted nod that serves for a grin among her masked people. “Problems with inquisitive children?” she asks. “You do flatter us, though. We were told you were the person curious mages in Sandpoint should ask about scrolls. We’ve run into some difficulties with goblins that have suggested that we reconsider our approach, and what spells might help us reach difficult places.” As she begins to outline the sorts of things she has in mind, she slips her pack from her shoulders, adding, “Would you believe we were so hard-pressed we hardly had the opportunity to examine some things we were able to recover from our first attempt?”
The noise unsettles Ioxeia, and she reflects, That boy said the children aren’t allowed down here, but didn’t mention how old the headmaster is. Could the man be fragile enough to have hurt himself, or is this some sort of silly trick? With a glance over her shoulder at Syuviel, she shrugs and advances to the door, reaching boldly for the latch.
Ioxeia goes on ahead, though she demurs, “And who saved us? Let us see what we shall see.” Just before she disappears down the stairs, she turns to the children and nods. “Thank you, and be well.” She thinks to herself, Boarders, I suppose. Do any of them have the spark? If we had time to prepare some less energetic spells, could we show them something to encourage – hush, Xei, do you really see yourself as a teacher? Perhaps start with, “Avoid goblin traps, if at all possible.” The thought amuses her, though she does hope the children's lives include magic.
“Are you from Riddleport, then? I wish I had been able to stay and study longer there, but I’m afraid I found the rest of the city less friendly for an innocent young dabbler in magecraft than the Cypher Lodge, and I thought it best to move on.” Ioxeia laughs with a shade of self-consciousness. Before she can continue, the door opens. Ioxeia meets the effusiveness of the boy behind it with her usual formality, but softens her tone to make it more obviously friendly to a child. “Greetings to you too, young man. We were hoping to speak with the headmaster – people in town have told us he’s the one to speak to about scrolls and spellbooks, for mages out on adventures. Is he in?”
Making her way to the Academy, Ioxeia notes the flickers of new impressions that cross her mind when she thinks of Macha. It’s a bit disorienting, but fascinating, and she wonders what her familiar thinks of her own perspective. After a few minutes, drawing up before the school’s doors, Ioxeia knocks politely and waits to see if anyone’s about. Stretching a bit to loosen her tense muscles, she makes conversation with Syuviel while they wait. “I’m honestly not quite sure what we’ll find here; I’m new to Sandpoint.” Looking the building over, she adds, “It’s no Tower of Stars, but then humans have their own traditions, I suppose. They seem like good people here, and it is a small town for them.” This would be a lot easier if I were back home, she thinks, But then, I suppose that would be cheating.
"Thank you, Father,"Ioxeia says, earnestly, "It was a near thing, but we could do no less." She hands over another small purse of coins for his services, and, reluctant to depart so mercenarily, pauses for a few minutes to offer a grateful prayer to Desna, holding the feeling of the goddess' healing magic in her mind. Collecting her thoughts, as she turns to leave again, enumerating the list of things she still has to look into before she can relax this evening, a quibble occurs to her that makes her smile. I suppose it's as they say, that elves pray to Calistria to get into trouble, and Desna to get out of it. Once on the steps outside again, she turns to the others. "Unless you feel like chasing down scrolls with me, I suppose we could reconvene over drinks at the Rusty Dragon?"
Ioxeia laughs at Dan’s gestures, before a twinge of pain cuts her short, hand pressed against a scabbed wound on her side. “I’m afraid my spells tend to be of rather more aggressive purpose. I might be able to think of something, but it might take more than an evening to work out the details. Although…”
As she trails off, Ioxeia heads toward the cathedral first to seek Desna’s grace of healing, thinking ahead to where she might find someone selling wizardly scrolls thereafter.
Ioxeia looks up from her involved conversation with Macha, thinking of Chimaeryus’ fascination with Ameiko. “I think he might be at the Rusty Dragon, knowing him. He’s not one for the bright light of the outdoors, unless he went searching through town for likely folk.” Limping a bit, she continues, “I think we might stop by the cathedral first, and appeal to Father Zanthus’ better nature, before we do anything else. It will give us a start on getting our strength back for tomorrow.”
Ioxeia can't, at the moment; looks like we'll have to do a bit of shopping. At our level, vanish won't help those of us who aren't trained climbers if the bridge is down again, but why not? More spells for the book! Levitate and spider climb might also be worth looking into, if we're going to be bugging the local merchants.
I’m inclined to agree, but then three of us are hardly in any condition to stop them. On the other hand, I think we’ve cut through most of their rank and file and cavalry, so I’m not sure who they could spare to look for reinforcements, and how impressive a figure they could cut with their own tribe a shambles, while more horrible adventurers might sneak in during their absence. I’m more worried that Nualia and her cronies didn’t put in an appearance, but again, we’re in no shape to find out why that is. I guess we should just be grateful that we can have another night in our own beds, and hope for the best! :) As to the tunnel, there was another branch in some smugglers’ tunnels we found under Sandpoint that we didn’t explore fully, but I don’t remember any signs of recent passage, and I wouldn’t bet a long shot rather than stick with how we know to get places, if we’re worried about time. And yes, I think we are operating under the “washed out to sea” idea.
As the fire crackles peacefully across the water, Ioxeia feels the last ebb of adrenaline, leaving her all too aware of a dull ache through her whole body that is only bearable because she can’t focus on any one knot of soreness. She closes her eyes and concentrates on breathing until she’s steadied herself to the point that she can let her thoughts drift. Suddenly, an increasingly familiar feeling rises to surface of her thoughts, and she blinks, shaking her head in surprise. A near bowshot from me, and I didn’t notice. How long has it been? She retraces her steps through the tunnels of overgrown thorns in silence, letting instinct guide her through the shadows. Her heart skips a beat as she passes by the sinkhole where the party mounted its defence only the day before, but feels a tug past it. In another moment a chill grips her spirit as she realizes where she must go. She allows herself to hesitate, but turns past the last doorway. The birds have been busy with the goblins she and the others encountered here, but in the enclosed space, not as much as they might have. Still, the conclave is sufficiently numerous, and quiet in the whispering background of the surrounding woods, to be sinister. They are mostly crows, tearing desultorily at scraps, but among the few that loom over their smaller cousins, one raven in particular catches her eye, waiting on the ground majestically. If she has just torn a bloody morsel for herself, there is no sign. A lady, Ioxeia thinks bemusedly. I think we’ll get along. As Ioxeia enters the room, the raven clatters her wings and throws her head back, calling out, “Xei!” She feels the world twist close for an instant as a new knot is added to adorn the tapestry of fate. She kneels, and the raven hops closer. “ Macha. Tá sé iontach - ach ba mhaith liom a bheith ag súil go mbeadh muid le chéile faoi chúinsí níos sásta.” Sylvan:
“Macha. It’s wonderful – but I would have hoped that we would meet under happier circumstances.” Her wry tone matches her concealed smile, but looking down on her familiar, Ioxeia becomes aware of a new expansion to her senses, fascinating and yet disconcerting. A massive something brushes against her mind, and she hears as well as feels a burst of animal sympathy. After a moment, the unexpected soothing sounds resolve themselves into answering Sylvan that is rich for all its huskiness. “ Thug mé beagnach suas. Riamh ag súil agam - buille faoi thuairim mé an do lucht déanta an tsaoil seo a bhí ag breathnú.” Sylvan:
“I almost gave up. I never expected – I guess the shapers of this world were watching.” There are too many questions to hope to answer so quickly, so the two take each other’s measure in companionable silence. After a while, Ioxeia says, “ Ba chóir dúinn teacht ar na cinn eile. Ní chuirimid ag iarraidh iad a fháil ró-buartha.” Sylvan:
“We should find the others. We don’t want them to get too worried.” She offers Macha her arm as she gets up, and with a scream of triumph the raven circles a couple of times around the elven woman in the space above her in the grove, before the pair work through the passages to the others together.
"Right," Ioxeia nods curtly, heading over the bridge as quickly as she can, pausing only to snatch up the wands and the other promising gear from the treacherous goblin Thorfinn cut down. As soon as she's safely over the bridge she turns to watch, before she collects the rest of her things and withdraws further into the thorny grove with the others.
Ioxeia’s carven face hides her bemused expression as she glances at Dan. “I know a spell that would let me make a start on breaking through a mere wooden door – I’ve had occasion to use it before. I could probably even manage it now, but I’m not sure how close we want to be to those goblins when they find their courage again, until we’ve had a chance to recover ourselves.”
Ioxeia gives the question some thought before answering, carefully acknowledging the limits of her knowledge. “Of the ones we were fighting, there are three left, not counting the chief: one of them had some acquaintance with an arcanist’s skills – the shrieking it made was horrendous. The chief appeared late, so I would hope he threw most of what he had at us, but I can’t be sure. What’s most worrisome is that we know he’s working with the people responsible for the raid on Sandpoint, but they didn’t see fit to appear, and I would very much like to know why. Those are three or four humans, and a bugbear who I have reason to believe has much to answer for to my people.” She shudders involuntarily at the implications of Shalelu’s description of her running battles with the beast. If I could bring the thing down once and for all … it would do these woods a favour, to say the least. Thinking of people they know, several other thoughts occur to her. “Are you related to the Sandpoint Kaijitsus?” she asks Matsuno. “It seems an uncommon name in these parts. If so, I’m sure you’ve heard about the misfortune that has struck Ameiko's family… Is that what brought you out on the road today, or just the goddesses’ luck to us?” Eyes flicking towards Syuviel, Ioxeia adds, “I don’t suppose you stumbled across a sorcerer on your way here? He would be about your build, in fine black robes, but with … distinctive eyes. He managed to get clear after his magic was spent for the day, and went to find help.”
You should have seen it a minute ago, Ioxeia thinks, as she adjusts her mask and the earnest young human warns them about the escaped goblins. Waves of the little vermin. They know we’re here, well enough. I wonder where Nualia was, though… “Ioxeia Androdaixa,” she says, introducing herself simply. As Dan and Thorfinn scan the waters below for sign of Dorik’s body, she considers the carnage before the fort. “He will be avenged,” she murmurs. She examines the entrance to the fort, and thinks about what must be done. She whirls around in excitement, and almost falls again as her weakened frame protests. Glancing at the robed half-elf, she says, “I don’t suppose you have any means of getting past barred doors? I might be able to get us through, but it won’t be particularly … elegant.” Looking over the group, she continues. “It doesn’t seem that there’s a safer way of getting in or out than this. I’m not sure if after that they might want to try to break out, but perhaps we ought to camp on the other side, keep an eye out that no one meddle with the bridge, and renew our attack in the morning. We’ve almost exhausted our reserves of spell-power for today.”
As she hears the scrape as the goblins start to pull the doors of the fort shut, Ioxeia thinks, Hopefully that will give us some respite, at least, even if the others can't stop them. A siege, then. She turns with a bit more confidence to the task of getting the bridge back in working order, moving as quickly as her injuries allow her.
Ioxeia’s eyes snap open as Dan casts his spell, darting wildly as she realizes where she is. “Is sh… is she safe? Who else is going to help her?” she asks frantically, tottering to her feet. Still dizzy with loss of blood, Ioxeia almost falls, but steadies herself at the last moment. Her eyes clear, and she watches grimly as Thorfinn pursues the last goblins. Turning to Dan, she says, “Thanks! If there’s any more of that… but see if you can help Thorfinn! I’ll see what I can do to get this bridge fixed!” Looking across to shore, she sees the new arrivals and catches her breath in relief. Thank the goddesses! I wonder who these might be…
Who is she?: In case anyone’s wondering, Ioxeia’s referring to her familiar, who should show up soon. I’ve been trying to work it into the game rather than just announcing it. |
