Orik steps away, and glances at everyone, summoning divine magic to power up all of their weapons.
He doesn’t seem to take notice of his bleeding, but he frowns at the demon angrily.
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Orik snaps at one of the enemies as it passes, and then retrieves his bow before stepping back slightly and firing one of his durable arrows at the enemy.
Unfortunately, he's not very accurate. He grits his teeth, "this'll go badly for us if we aren't careful."
Orik's mouth is as thin of a line as possible, given the two large incisors sticking up from his jaw. "Alright, well, then we shouldn't stay too long. I can keep myself healthy, but there are limits. Estig takes care of as many as he can, but I would not test his patience long. The gods may have a reason for abandoning Iobaria - this place may not be for two-legs. I am not in the habit of testing their patience," he grumbles, then excuses himself gruffly, "sorry. Anyway." He extends a hand, "I know my way around the wilds, but we'd be glad for company and help, if you can, and if you wish to. It's good to learn about threats, learn how to fight monsters and such - Artrosa may be a proving ground for you." He rubs his temple, "for my part, I'm going to sleep. I hope nobody kills us, goodnight." He nods, and pats Yrja on the back before leaning against some sacks, grabbing a hat, and putting it over his head.
Orik is a little flustered by the reaction of the centaurs but starts making snares and foraging for the centaur. Despite his distraction, his superior skills in the matter come through, and he's somewhat successful, letting his hands complete the tasks, somewhat on auto-pilot - with a serviceable result, if nothing spectacular.
Orik keeps his mouth shut, having offended people before, and tries to avoid inadvertently glowering, feeling at least respectful towards the centaur, even if he is annoyed that they can’t move on. Considering a lot do the speech is translated, he can’t do much anyway, so he mostly takes in the sights of the centaur camp. Despite the fact that he is inured to cold weather, he’s obviously pleased that they aren’t in a boreal climate anymore.
Orik adds in Giant, Giant:
”yeah, we didn’t do anything to you, just let us through.”
Orik sighs, and mutters, ”alright - let’s just keep going. If they want something from us, they’ll let us know.” He keeps walking forward.
Orik starts, ”centaurs? Okay. Okay. Dez, centaurs - ecology? I don’t think they’re particularly aggressive. Right?”
Orik frowns, ”alright - so - Iobaria? Never been. But I do remember old maps of the place. Artrosa was a major landmark. If I were to guess, if we head that way,” and he points in a specific direction, ”we’ll run into the place we’re looking for.”
Orik casts a spell and grants everyone the ability to see through magical fog using ashen path.
Orik shakes his head at Yrja, ”no - my pumpkin power has the ability to enlarge, but it has not been useful in quite some time. I can rely on that magic if I need it.” He raises his eyebrow, ”shall we use mist? Ashen path will give us a sizable advantage if that is the intent. Recall that we used it to defeat the dragon in the clocktower.”
Orik stretches a bit, ”there’s a bunch of us, and one giant, right? Even if they weren’t, they’re threats to the people who live around here. Let’s just defeat them, we can prepare in advance.”
Orik looks on, concerned, "maybe we should try to find this loophole before we leave?"
Orik looks at Yrja and says plainly, ”Yrja, I am going to be honest with you - I’m hanging on by a thread here mentally. I know places like this exist, rationally, but it’s not right - and it’s gnawing at my mind. Sort of. Let’s get back into the hall, first. Once there, we can get settled.”
Orik readies his bow in case something lurking in the dark seeks to ambush them when they are distracted.
Orik retrieves the alchemically treated arrows from the beast, sniffs them, and then puts them away. ”alright - ready to go.” When they get to the new room, Orik seems impressed for some reason, but says nothing.
”I don’t know what it is, but I know something to hunt when I see it” Orik doesn’t mind the range, and grabs two of his reusable arrows, letting them loose against the presumed enemy.
Orik frowns, when reminded of Iobaria, ”mmmm. Not a good place to go. They say the land is cursed.”
Orik waits a moment for the others to respond, then adds, ”vengeance. Does that satisfy you, bird?”
Orik frowns, snorts and moves over, pointing at the others to do the same, ”unless anyone has some better ideas, I’m putting this thing down. Reason obviously doesn’t work on it.” He lowers his bow to deliver a coup de grace
. Orik looks like he doesn’t really notice the spell. He raises his bow and tries to arrow the dream.
Orik is tired of her talking, but improving his companions remains the best course, and he casts a spell.
Orik sighs, and it sounds like a grumbly rumble of roots breaking through the earth, and he touching the simple wooden symbol around his neck, he summons a protective ward around himself and the party, maneuvering to try and get all the front and rear folks covered.
When he casts the spell, it’s as if an enormous, mostly translucent orange pumpkin grows from his hand, extending in size until the diameter is quite large, but the magic fades after a moment, and people in the group are left with only an odd tingling feeling.
Orik shuffles around, "look - I'm better at talking to kids. I don't know if I can help, but I've helped spirits and other folks left behind before." He gestures at Elbrynn and Dez, "they're right, this has to be a kind of torture. Maybe you won't believe me but I'd like to help if I can." He takes a breath, "and, I don't know how we can prove we aren't visions. But even if we are, I don't know the harm in telling us what happened at least. Why are you here? You aren't really a spirit, so how did you get stuck in this... hut?"
Orik frowns, ”Dez, we have to put this thing to rest. It’s just like the kids. But I’m crap at … what’s needed here.” He keeps his mouth shut - obviously trying not to just try and talk to the woman - which he now sees doesn’t help much.
Orik points at the light, ”see? It dimmed. I’m not gonna say it again because there’s weird magic but - how are we going to face … that? Are we gonna fall asleep first?”
Orik has an annoyed look on his face at the raven’s rhymes, and seems sour at more people connected to Baba Yaga, ”alright, well, I won’t mind if you come, just don’t rhyme. We’re very tired.” He looks down at his bow and checks the string, ”and that first rhyme is a riddle. The answer is a dream or I’m a bard.” He looks up, ”so we have to face a dream or something. Not sure how you face a dream but that’s the riddle.”
Orik puts his mouth into a thin frown, ”I am Orik. I think that’s all I’ll say.” He pauses, and nods at Dex ”yeah, I can uh… feel the geas sometimes. It’s hard to describe.” He turns back to the lady, ”will you help us? This place is confusing.”
Orik nods, ”and if a monster attacks I’ll shoot it with arrows! That’s because I can’t fly at all.” He takes a moment, ”and it’s crazy that some of us learned to fly with magic to me I guess but I’m in a walking house trying to accommodate a crow that rhymes.” He gestures vaguely ”or I guess I’m not in a house we’re somewhere el- I’m getting a headache. Anyway, good luck with the plan and be careful.”
Orik, grumpy from the situation, scoffs, "bah, more trickery. Unnatural plants. I see what you're trying to do, house! Just build a greenhouse! I'll even help if you want to, this isn't... ugh." He looks perturbed.
Orik seems to be growing annoyed, ”games, tricks, ugh.” He puts his head into his hands briefly, ”alright alright, so her heralds were the knights of morning, day, and night, right? Or something? If morning comes first, then I agree with Yrja, let’s just check that door first, right? Exploring is not turning out to lead to anything definitive - I feel like we should just choose - surely our choice will have negative consequences no matter what so we should just get them over with.” He’s frowning at the hall as he says this.
Orik grunts, ”well, okay, are we going into the landing now? I guess when there’s only one direction we go in that direction right.”
Orik sighs and nods, "yeah, I guess just get a move on, right?"
Orik's thoughts are troubled as he heads back with Dezso, but nods agreeably. When they enter the hut and return back to see Nadya, his mood improves somewhat, though when they show up, he extends his hands as if worried, "hey, don't worry, we're managing the hut now. I mean, yeah bow to it if you want, I guess..." He looks back at it and sighs, "this country..." When Dezso unwraps the ring and the finger, he has a look of disgust. "Yeah it wasn't really my first choice, but somehow - through a VERY long road, we killed Nazhena. Blech." He shudders and grips his bow. "How are the kids?"
Orik sniffs the air, and clomps out with his heavy boots, "yeah. Duty calls." Reflexively Orik shivers, though everyone knows he's comfortable with the magical clothing he's wearing. "Alright, I need some help. I have some candles to put out, with some incense. It's ceremonial, but... ceremony is relgion. And the incense helps me focus." He waves the others along that wish to help, "no, nothing like that. It's just a dark, fallen place - this entire land is cursed - but some places more than others." He trudges up into the ruins, but waits to start until the others follow. Soon enough he's placing candles at different points around the room, though it's obvious that he's doing it by instinct or what wisdom as he can muster - it is hardly analytical. In the center of the room, he fills a makeshift censer with the pungent incense - which when lit, smells of nutmeg, cinnamon, and of course, pumpkins - he scrounged up for this purpose. "Well, this is it - spirits of the dead, children. The Elk Father would speak to you." The censer glows with a shallow green light, and he nods at it, "aye, he wishes to let you know something." Whispering begins in the walls, all around, but if Orik is nervous, or even notices, it isn't clear, "I guess you kids don't speak god - pumpkin speech, or whathave you - anyway, he's tasked me with unbinding you from here. Your spirits were shackled here unjustly. I am the Father's son, and his servant, you are safe now - break free of the spectral bonds that consign you to the prison." The whispering grows louder, and mist creeps from cracks in the walls, coalescing into forms of children of varying age, ringing the room hesitantly. Orik wipes his brow, beads of sweat appearing here and there, "the light - come, approach it and touch. It is a conduit. I cannot hold it forever, though - come now - line up." The ghostly kids do so, but in the chaotic way that kids can line up for things. Orik furrows his brow, "hey, don't push." He grips the censer on the pole, and beckons them to step towards it, and as they do so, with his other hand, he blesses each figure, as they extend their hand towards the green glow. Each time they do so he closes his eyes and mutters something, and a waft of green smoke leaves the top of the censer and dissipates out into the wind, through the broken roof, sometimes with a sigh, and others silently. The wind begins to whip through, bitterly, as if something challenges him. He plants his feet and grits his tusked teeth, "no. I am not bent so easily. Guide my hand, father." He works more quickly, exerting himself, and the spectral beings file through his makeshift conduit one by one, until the last comes. The wind whistles cruelly, a fell voice on it, full of rage. The last form is smaller than the others, and he nods at the child, who holds out a spectral object for Orik to take. The cleric extends his hand, and a tattered cloth bear takes form as if knitted together from the air itself. Orik nods, "thank you, I will take good care of it." With a flash, the last child disappears into the wind, and with it, the light. The room is cold, and lit gently by the candles. Orik removes his canteen and dripping water onto his fingers, splashes droplets here and there to extinguish the candles, each sizzling in turn until the light is extinguished. The ruins is dark again, but somehow not as cold, and is as silent as a temple. Orik scratches his cheek, "well, that's it, I guess. I don't know if it worked, but..." He waves the teddy bear, "it was worth a try. Thanks everyone for coming with me."
Going to get you an RP post to deal with the spirit children when I can, but I can always back-date it if necessary. Just been busy.
The best from a utility perspective is almost always faerie dragon, but it wouldn't always fit from an RP perspective.
Orik nods and Kseniya, "yeah, welcome to the club. We'll have to make you a little badge." Orik seems annoyed at the development of another rhyming trickster, "is that enough? Come on. And it's bad enough that we have to show you body parts - can you just speak plainly?"
STEALIN' THE FORMAT Orik Level 7:
Hinterlander level 2 BAB:+1 +8 HP
Automatic Bonus Progression Ability Boost: +2 Dexterity +10 move speed from hinterlander
Level 7 feat: Rapid Shot Skills: I lost track accidentally!
Orik finally has precise shot.
Orik steadies himself to avoid falling over, but is obviously nonplussed. "wh -" he holds his head as he recovers. "No, the black rider didn't tell me much. Just to find you, and I guess come here..." He purses his lips, "don't like it much, to be truthful. There's too much... unexpected." He looks out the window and grunts, and then puts his bow away, getting out some water to drink. "Well, I don't know what to do. I'll follow you three. If we can figure out how to... manage this place, or whatever we have to do, I need to get back and put those kids to rest, at some point, don't forget." He looks around more and scratches his head.
Orik puts his bow away, ”well, someone’s living here, and what do you want to bet they’re expecting us? Or something… should we see who’s living here? Maybe we can finally get some answers. I doubt they’re hostile or we wouldn’t have been able to get in. Let’s introduce outselves?.” He shrugs and motions like he wants to shout into the expansive cottage.
Orik scratches his head, "maybe, Kseniya, but you don't have a curse sitting on your head like us. We have to go in. Or we'll die, so, don't spend too long checking it out by being brave and noble." He gestures for her to enter and waits for some sort of 'all clear' notice.
Orik nods at the hut. "Yeah, alright. What she said too. Don't run away! We wanna help you more if we can."
Orik puts his bow away, "alright - uh, hey hut, can you lower yourself down? We'd like to go onto the porch while our friend unlocks you. Is that fair?" He opens his hands while talking to the hut, as if trying to explaining something and trying to find the words. "um. If you don't mind, hut." He glances at the others, "is this stupid? I don't know if talking to it will help."
Orik sighs at the other's rage, gently, and then drags the now dead princess-esque lady to a space under a tree. He folds her hands in front of the woman, and clips a piece of holly from a nearby bush, placing the sprig in her hands. All the while he's whispering words quietly to himself, and occasionally touching his crude symbol. He rests his rough hand gently on her forehead, then closes her lifeless eyes before standing up and brushing himself off. "Alright."
He looks skeptically at the whole situation. "Okay, why is the red rider dead, and why is the pale woman dead? They're related to the black rider, yeah? Does anyone know the story well?" He picks his tooth with his fingernail, "ehhhh, I don't really, but stories seem to matter here, right? Maybe the story can clue us into that stupid chain." He points at the manacle.
Orik nods, and trudges over to her body as the sleet storm dissipates. "Alright, Kseniya, Erastil seems to have rendered his judgment. I'm sorry that we had to er... kill your cousin. She had done some despicable things to Nadya and Thora but it is still a grim occasion, I think." He looks down at her and closes his eyes, holding the rough wooden holy symbol. He then checks everyone's condition for injuries.
Orik says something uncouth in orcish as the sleet storm appears, and then moves to the edge of the column of sleet and looks for the fleeing woman.
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