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Hey everyone, I wanted to drop a note that I've as of friday last week finished my medical specialization and that the looming deadline of having to do tons of things next to work has finally lifted. As such I'm finally free to enjoy a bit of free time and writing time again, and I'd like to rejoin if possible. Though I have been absent a lot up to this point and would understand if you would instead prefer someone else. Kind regards,
Phoebe watches the giant go, fully expecting him to turn on them at a moment's notice. When he doesn't and disappears from sight, she breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay... let's go and rescue those hostages, assuming they live. We was- ... spent a lot of time helping him back up."
"May I remind you that over the span of perhaps ten minutes we have killed no less than seven people - two of them by your own hand - all of whom possessed those same attributes? " At this, the Naiad's eyes widen and she gives the Tiefling an incredulous look. "I-! Wh-! Are you serious?" she whispers intently. "*We* are fighting in self-defense, *they* are hired killers! What do you think he'll do if we let him go?" But seeing both the warriors with the group wanting to forgive the giant assassin for his many murders here, Phoebe stands by as someone else tends to Jurgrindor's wounds. She clearly wasn't happy at the thought of letting someone like him to free, but knew she was powerless to do anything on her own.
To the side, Phoebe gently closes the eyes of the Helfling, knowing there was nothing she could do to save her - or any of her group. Anger rises in her as she recalls just how cheerful they'd all been the day before, on the eve of the celebration. How much they'd seemed to enjoy her and Linzi's music. What had killed them all? Was it the obvious giant? He hadn't been at the party, as far as she could recall, and he would be VERY hard to miss...
"Nidintu! You're not REALLY going to let him get away with this, are you!? There were all people just like us, with friends and family with each their own passions and dreams. And he took all of that from ALL of them AND from their loved ones!"
Phoebe laughs at Linzi's antics, a lighthearted, almost musical sound starkly contrasted against all the death and destruction surrounding the group. "Thanks, Linzi. Do you want to tag along with us? We have no idea how many of them are left and whether leaving the building safely is even possible. It seems to me like there's strength in numbers. Plus we'd get to perform in a duet together!" She adds excitedly. After a moment, however, he freezes, reminded of the insults he used to distract the ogre during the battle. The towering tiefling turns to the rest of the party, a sheepish look on his face. "I'm afraid that some of the language I used during the battle was a bit... harsh. I get slightly carried away during combat - I trust none of you understand the Abyssal tongue?" "No, not really," the Naiad admits, slightly sheepishly. "But it did sound really impressive, whatever it was! It's sure to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, I'd say." She responds, just before her face, too, falls at the sight of the destroyed library. She balls her fists and huffs. "We'll get them for this and the murders both!"
"Leave my friend alone, you! Go and... pick on someone of your own size! Yes, that means finding one first, preferably far away from here!"
After casting again, she tries to inch closer to the halfling. "Linzi! Are you all right!? Is anyone else here?" she quickly asks her in between the fighting. "...Nice tune, by the way. Modified Neruda?"
Seeing the rest of the team move in, Phoebe follows them and casts a spell the ogre!
"I confess I cannot see the logic of that idiom, nor how it could possibly apply to the current situation." His confusion is mirrored. "You know, to stop eachother from being eaten - I think? The satyrs always insisted that was correct." She says, blissfully innocent of the implications of being pranked for who knows how long.
"Where are you, halfling? I'll rip you to little bits!" "'Halfling?' Oh no! Linzi is in trouble. Quick - we have to help her!" She urges. "She's such a good musician!" She calls, and helps looking around for a safe path to her assailant.
"Thank you, Miss Phoebe. I very likely owe you my life." The naiad looks up at the gigantic warrior with a look of embarassed surprise. "O-oh, um, you're welcome? Don't worry about it, really. We're a team, aren't we? What was the Taldane expression again... 'you watch my snack, I'll watch yours'?" "Perhaps our new friend here can tell us more about this attack. He will likely be recalcitrant, but I'm sure we can persuade him through some means or another - after all, he has nothing except the information we desire, while we have weapons, numbers, and the means to remove his restraints. On that topic, I have some rope with me - unless any of you have a more effective means of holding him?" "Are we going to wait that long, though?" Phoebe responds."We'd have to expend very valuable magic or some of these healing potions to get him back to consciousness quickly. But even then, talking to him is going to take a lot of time. These are assassins out to kill presumably everyone here. Should we not press on to see whoever we can while the other survivors, if any, last?"
Wide-eyed, Phoebe looks between both fallen enemies to her hands and back again. "I guess it's a forbidden spell for a reason..." She mutters - before seeing the extent of Nidintu's wounds. "Oh no! Here, um, hold still!" She calls to him and attempts to heal the worst of it through magic, figuring there was little time waste with who knew how many other enemies still abound, and how many other people could still be saved...
Abandoning her act, Phoebe turns around and winces at the outbreak of violence, of weapons crashing into bodies and blood spraying the hallway of what had only yesterday been the site of a great celebration. Then she she swallows her fear and begins singing a tune of Satyrs outsmarting enemies and overcoming great hardship - interrupted only to quickly blast the assassins in between.
Now dressed in hastily donned armor over her nightclothes, Phoebe listens as the group discusses what to do and how to lure the assassins into an ambush. "Um... if we want to draw them to us, how about I walk to the edge of the door, cry out in only partially feigned terror as I see them, and run back into the mansion? They might persue if they think I'm alone. If they work in teams with previously assigned targets, they'd probably assume I am since everyone is supposed to be dead," The naiad reasons, hoping these assailants didn't have the kind of lightning reflexes to instantly pinpoint and fire all their bows in the split second she'd reveal herself as part of the ruse.
Phoebe gasps awake to the sounds of violence and the smell of fresh blood. She quickly grabs her whip, knowing there was no time to don the armor. "W-what is happening!? Are we-" the second body falls into the room, already dealt with by Lani and Halrod. "Oh goddess. Who-" She shakes her head. "No, no time! We need to get out and help the others!" She says, and makes to move out into the hall in just her undergarments and a hastily donned coat. Should she still find active battle, she begins her song of battle!
Sure, just point me in the right direction :) I'll try and get a post up tomorrow. As a side note, I am very busy the coming weeks with a very important work-related deadline. As such my writing time will be limited until the middle of june and my responses might be a bit slowish. Should that happen feel free to bot Phoebe, she will try to charm NPC's who seem succeptible to perform or diplomacy mostly. As this particular PBP is very new and still just getting started I'll try and prioritise it a bit with the limited time I do have so that hopefully won't be needed often.
Earlier, at the restaurant/Inn:
"I think I understand the nature of the duty you speak of. The priest who raised my brother and me, Taavor Ardeth, devoted his life to gathering and cataloguing the wisdom of those who came before, in the hopes that it might guide those who come after. I learned much about the legends and folktales of the River Kingdoms under his tutelage - for instance, in the village of Tazenda, they say that giants once lived in the Tors of Levenines, carving their homes into the rock." "Wow, that must be an amazing place to visit either way! Maybe we can have that be the stage for one of the play's scenes and have an epic confrontation where the Prince Clanar polymorphs into a giant and destroys part of the mountain in his fight with the evil fey!" The Naiad puts aside her dinner momentarily to begin taking notes. "But there has to be more to it. Hm... maybe the maid drew him there to distract him while she dealt with her competition? To add extre tension, as every moment he spends there is one too many." After scribbling a few notes, her eyes narrow and she looks back up at the fighter. "Wait, you say you were raised by a priest but somehow became a river bandit? How did that happen?" She turns with interest when Lani speaks of another interesting event happening on the way, but as she doesn't seem keen on speaking more of it she lets it go for now.
"What is a 'manda-lore-ian'? A Mandarin that makes you better at remembering stories? Did that make the knights oversized, animated librarian fruits?" She smiled at the thought, amused. "No wonder that didn't want anyone to see their bodies!" Chalking it up to Roots' sillyness - there was no way a human sized fruit of any kind could hold up its own weight, let alone armor - she instead begins approaching the uncomfortable, beautiful woman and her score of admirers. Still, curiosity did get the better of her and she tries to get a look at their hidden plated faces in passing.
"Want me to distract them for you?" She winks at the woman. Unless stopped, she would hop on a nearby and draw her harp. Once there, she was suddenly aware of just how many people there were, and whether she could really pull this off.
...But the moment of hesitation passes. She was a nymph, trained for this sort of thing her entire life! Surely she could manage when it really mattered, like making a good first impression on all other perhaps future allies -or enemies, admittedly- gathered here. "Everyone, If I may have your attention! My name is Phoebe, from the River Glades of the Thousand Voices, and my group and I would like to thank you and Lady Man- Jamandi for your hospitality in inviting us to your city and this event. As thanks, I offer a return gift: the ballad of Kallipheia, first to settle in the forest, to help ease our wait..." The melody is enchanting and pleasant, a song based around hardship and finding and creating a new home. Which was fitting for the situation, or so she figured!
Phoebe pockets the note in her dress, making a mental note she still had the clothes from the play - there'd been no opportunity to change them on the way. Still, now that they were in the city, it would probably do well to get something more modest and soon . This was the sort of thing to wear during a performance, not on the road. And heavens forbid she showed up back home in anything less than a handpicked set of aquatic plants! 'Home...' Her mood falters at the thought, but seeing the kind lady glancing at them expectantly, she forced a smiles. "It's delicious - I really like the stew! It reminds me of the vegetable dishes in Pitax." After a moment, he looks at Phoebe, raising one eyebrow. "You mentioned that you were from Thousand Voices, but I don't recall ever hearing of a town by that name. Is it near the Branthlend Forest? I've never been past the Margreve myself." "Ah, well..." She looks up at the towering mass of intellectual muscle that was Nidintu and a hint of homesick longing creps into her tone, her gaze growing distant. "It is a forest far to the southwest, on the other side of the Narlmarches, in between Pitax and the border of Numeria. Many creatures native to the wilds live there, mostly in good harmony with eachother. The river glades is where the Naiads and likeminded fey dwell, and where I was born and raised for the most part. It... is a place of great beauty devoted to the persuit of artistry. Sometimes, outsiders from far away lands seek our help, to serve as muses to them and aid them with what they are stuck with. We take such requests and vows of favor very seriously; it is seen as a duty of our kind to guide along the progress of science, arts, medicine and the like." She trails off and shakes her head. "Come to think of it, Mother and the others must be greatly worried for me to disappear like I did when I was summoned. I should have asked Fanderay or Cerise to relay a message back for me before leaving... but I fear that when it comes down to it, I have too much of Mother's impulsive nature; to get too swept away in the moment." "Nidintu! Miss Phoebe! Miss Lani! Wow! Taste this stew!" The Leshy's overly enthusiastic attitude and innocence pull her from her revery and she chuckles, proceeding to pat him gently as he eats. "Yes, it is quite nice, isn't it?"
She looks up from reading when dinner is served and breaths in the delicious scent of the stew. "Say, I don't suppose anyone here has any experience with this lady Mandy we are meeting?" she asks before digging in. "Her name doesn't ring any bells to me, but then again, every time I try thinking of it, it seems to change in my mind. Hm..." She considers for a moment, then gasps! "Oh no! Do you think she might be cursed!? No wonder she needs help!"
"I'd love to have some stew as well, please," Phoebe answers the half-orc, cheerfully plopping down on the bench next to Nidintu and Clementine while Roots scuttled around under the table momentarily. "Haaah..." She exhales happily, content with having a decent bench to sit on after days of walking and frantic course correction to make it here in time. Sensing no real request for or attempts at subterfuge from the Inn's patron, she opens her letter and reads the contents, curious for the message directed at her.
Phoebe lets out a cute yawn then as the sleeping Naiad turns around and snuggles in a bed of branches and leaves... ...Before realising she wasn't quite alone anymore and her eyes shoot open . She scrambles to her feet and looks around. "You? You're all really here... so it wasn't a dream." "...Well, that's great! So we're really working for Lady Fanderay, then! Oh, this is so exciting! Maybe now I have some actual time I can go and wite a decent play without taking just the page they liked best from each script and glueing it all together!" She leans forward slightly and studies everyone in turn. "I wonder which of us is best suited to be the main character? Who has that valiancy, that doughtiness to overcome anything? The most tragic, unfair backstory to make the audience root for them and overlook all the plot armor bestowed upon them?" She seems to consider momentarily, then looks at Halrod. "Hm... well, you look appropriate forlorn, Sir Halrod. What's your story?" It seemed as though matters like where exactly they were or how to actually get to Restov were of secondary concern to her right then.
I am sort of wondering how the succession thing will go, yes. If everyone is fey-like chaotic, perhaps everyday there is a die roll and the selected inhabitant is the Count for that day? XD
Feels great thusfar, imho! Eager to see how Mandy reacts to a super chaotic fey party joining her summons. :)
Phoebe finds herself so entranced by Cerise's words of passionate valor that all her reservations simply slipped from her mind. Issues? Were there issues? Surely not! A fun AND noble challenge; what could be better? She nods more and more resolutely and stands just a little bit straighter as the elder fey reached the end of her speach. "Of course! I will do whatever I can do help, Miss Cerise!" She exclaims, smiling brightly. "Oh, and if you want a play, I'll write that too! Many of them! So that next time we meet, we'll have a fresh script and you can all share in the fun we had on the way!"
"Hey, that does sound good, actually!" The naiad says, brightening over the notion that there was , in fact, some sort of plan. ...Assuming this noble really gave the necessary support and resources. ...And said figure wouldn't change their mind or do away with them when it no longer suited them. ...And there wasn't some underlying, more sinister reason all previous settlement attempts had failed that was being very conveniently swept under the stream. ...And the fey would actually uphold their bargains made here, without some surprise cost too heavy to pay later. Promises of protection and acceptance from the Wolf of Summer herself had a 'too good to be true' element to it, recent near-death experience aside. Okay, maybe there were a lot of unknowns and assumptions for this to actually be a good idea, but still! It DID sound fun, and there were only so many Eldest-level threats and dragons out there, right? "...Wait, what am I thinking!?" "Still, I don't suppose we could ask to to elaborate on, well, everything?" She continues in more cautiously optimistic fashion, her more responsible heritage just barely eeking out the other. "Such as... who is this noble, and how do we know we can trust them? Why would it be so natural for all previous settlement attempts to fail? Is there some known local danger we should we aware of? And which terms do you speak of, Miss Cerise, in return for your aid? We are all here by your express summons to do this task, aren't we? So... aren't we already working together?" She finished, clearly a bit confused over this last point in particular.
"Um, if I may, Mistress Cerise? Laying claim to a land generally requires a large amount of settlers, and some sort of force able to protect and govern them. And while I'm honored by the faith Lady Fanderay and you all seem in place in us, I personally do not have an army to call on. So... where should we start with acquiring those?" Phoebe hesitantly interjects, looking to each of the others in turn to see if they were better off than she herself there. She rests on Nidintu last. "And... while I suppose a force made up entirely of bandits and former bandits is one way to claim a territory, I'm... not sure if I would ever feel safe living in such a community. I imagine the same is true for most people. I'm really sorry if that offends you, Nidintu.. but I feel it should be said." She hangs her head apologetically and looks away from the giant afterwards.
"Oh! How... dreadful, I think? Did you get out all right? Boiling water can give you some really bad burns. Not the type of water I'd ever want to swim in, that's for sure."
"Peanut... butter? How do you make butter out of peanuts? Does that not require cream from raw milk? You're not telling me there is a thing like peanut milk as well, are you? " Phoebe asks, looking up - or rather down, since it was Roots - with a mixture of surprise and wonder at such a substance existing. She glances to the drink of water (?) at her side and intensely frowns at it for a moment, willing it to change to the fabled peanut milk, if only to see if she could shape the First World to a degree like these other fey could!
The Naiad finds comfort in the projected images and sensations; in the idea of belonging to some greater whole - and with a being as magnificent and powerful as Fanderay, no less. No not just that: to be accepted when she was but an insignificant stranger to her; an offer so grand and warm that it threatened to bring drops to her eyes. Perhaps being a half-blood would not get in the way of her functioning properly for this particular task, regardless of what it was? No sooner does Cerise point towards the food does Phoebe then realize how hungry she is, having worked frantically without any rest or sustenance for at least a full day - probably. Her stomach growls and she blushes, then quickly inclines her head towards the Wolf of Summer. "I... thank you greatly for your hospitality and gifts, Lady Fanderay! My name is Phoebe; I don't quite know what it is you require of us, but I'm very much inclined to help!" There, not a promise, but a stated intent. Mother would be proud - probably? Outright promises to powerful fey could still be disastrous - everything could still be a trick - though she felt it was only the most vile tasks that would bring her to risk opposing this being and losing her good will.
Phoebe slowly approaches Fanderay with obvious reverence, in clear awe over the majestic wolf. It reminded her of when her mother had taken her to the deep glade of Helicon, to receive her birth blessing as a Melete - the first muse born of water, immortalised through practice. The same sense of wonder came to her then; of the Nymphs and Satyrs alike practising various musics and arts in that busy yet harmonious place, ever untouched in its natural splendor. To, for the very first time, see your people at large and truly know your place inside the world. And her moment of absolute failure, which then took it away. She quickly put that thought aside. This... godlike, perhaps beyond godlike being, was friendly and offering shelter. It wasn't a time for doubt or misery. Mimicking Kilava, she falls to one knee and tries to mentally convey feeling of gratitude over such an offer - especially in a place as dangerous as this. She didn't trust herself to use words, not when this being didn't also. That felt like overstepping her permission.
Phoebe winces slightly over Nindithu's challenge to Hanith, but is unsure of what to do; technically the... Tiefling? Elf? Both? was right, though it felt a bit harsh to blame him for being overpowered. Both the first world and their own were dangerous ones, and a far stronger enemy could technically attack you at any time. But did that mean you should always act in such a way that they would never catch you alone, never doing anything by yourself? Even if you did, there was no guarantee you'd be able to fight off this attacker together, and constantly worrying about one seemed to impact your life much more than it was worth. She instead kneels down to pat the Leshy, smiling at his enthousiasm and about to engage in conversation with him when Kilava informs them they'd be leaving, and for some unknown task to boot. "I wonder what they want us for if not the play. Clearly we are beneath most figures here in terms of power and skill..." "Mistress Kilava? Does that mean your Lady isn't Cerese?" She asks as she follows the catlike fey.
"I was merely enjoying a stroll through the forest. We can return now." He gives the naiad a furtive glance, his gaze quickly wandering elsewhere. "You didn't need to come after me."
The Naiad tilts her head slightly, her cyan hair falling over her shoulder at the front. "Wait, what? But the others said- the others... Hm. Were we pranked then, the two of us? But... why? Was there some reason to get us here alone? Well... I'll ask later. For now, he sounds hurt, more in pride than anything." "I'm sure you would have gotten us out in time," She says, smiling as gently as she could at hanith while keeping pressure on the wound. "Besides, it was a nice stroll for a break. Springs know I needed that after rewriting the script like five times in a single day..." There is a slightly pained chuckle following that admission. Fortunately, before having to ask anyone to support her back, Lani then takes care of her injuries - and everyoen else's - by her seemingly much more powerfull healing magic. Phoebe then reaches beneath her dress, pulling on something and producing a algae-like vine to help cleaning the blood. "Thank you, Miss...?" She asks the gnome, then glancing at Halrod as the other one yet to introduce themself. "My thanks to all of you as well. I am Phoebe, Phoebe Selene, a Naiad from the River Glades of the Thousand Voices. I... got here, I think a day ago? It is hard to tell with how pliable the surroundings are. Are you, um, 'invited guests' then as well? It appears my role to be here is that of playwright."
""I have sustained minor injuries, but they are nowhere near as grievous as they would have been without Miss Phoebe's healing magic. However, I believe that she could use some healing herself - her wounds from the mites looked rather severe, though regrettably, I do not have the expertise to aid her with any degree of competence." "That... would be greatly appreciated. And no problem." She gives the Fighter a pained smile as she leans against a tree, breathing heavily and wincing as her hands clutched the fairly deep leg wound. In truth, she could probably have healed it herself just then with her one remaining spell for the day, but if Kilava was offering - well, these Troupe people as unpredictable as acara cichlids on the run from bass during mating season ! Who knew when the next time came that she'd have to heal someone and they just weren't there - AGAIN - because they didn't feel like paying attention? "...as well as some particularly insolent inanimate objects. As such, I hypothesize that either all tales of dragons have been primarily comprised of egregious exaggeration and outright fabrication - a result I find unlikely, to say the least - or it wanted us to think it had fled." She blinks as Clementine translates for the group - perhaps the near-death experience just made it difficult to focus, but she found that hard to follow. "Is he always so verbose? Odd to find that in someone with the appearance of a brute. Wouldn't 'It wasn't as big as I'd thought' been much more efficient use of vocabulary? ...Not that I'm going to invite a discussion with Professor Maul on his favorite topic of 'Smashing Face and how to do it'." "Um, Mister Hadith? Did you get what we needed from here?" She instead calls to Kilava's brother as he... washed himself? She *still* didn't know why exactly they had to come here, or why it was apparently neccessary for all of them to almost die, and hey - a girl could hope? "You know, so we could perhaps... get back to the others?"
Panting from injury and adrenaline both, Phoebe quickly looks around for an exit, only to decide that without Kilava, they'd probably not make it back to the others - and home. But what to do? Clearly these foes were beyond everyone except their 'guide'. An idea strikes her, and she looks at Halrod. "You mean to say the others are coming too!? Oh, thank the endless spring!" She feigns, then turns back to Kilava and calls to her melee in Sylvan! Sylvan:
"Only a little longer, Mistress! Cerise and the others will be here soon!"
Hopefully this dryad and the weird dragon would not risk hanging around for their non-existant backup, with how just Kilava was appearantly already giving them a lot of trouble...
"Well hello, Phoebe! I am Roots-Sink-Deep, Hunter for Erastil! Protector of the Community!" "Great! Good to- ...Wait, what community? You mean you are a guard of the troupe?" "Then where were you when we needed you earlier!?" Suppressing the immediate impulse, she briefly glances between the small yet energetic leshy and the monstrous beast Kivali had turned into - which was now ripping into the equally powerful dryad. She mentally tried to reconcile the latter ever needing the former to protect her from anything , but couldn't, and gave up. The First World was weird, even more than she'd ever thought, and if there was anything her short stay here had taught her, it was that logic had long since abandoned it. But his lightning, it had to be said, was promising? "Never mind! Just... keep 'protecting'! You're, um, doing great!" After Roots introduces himself to the newly freed Phoebe, Nidintu addresses the bard. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Phoebe. I am..." The Naiad turns in the direction of the voice and freezes, looking up to find a massive, fiendish elf warrior with a gigantic maul towering over her in the middle of the fight - and his eyes were on her. "Well, that's it then. Goodbye world. Why oh why did I ever go down that stream!?" She closes her eyes over a loud crash and squelching sound, figuring it to be her skull, but -very fortunately- it was another mite, and this... man was on her side? "Where was I? Oh, that's right..." He extends a hand to Phoebe. "My name is Nidintu." "Okay, so *maybe* there's a chance...?" She thinks, hesitantly smiling and shaking his hand - when right behind and above him formed the visage of a horrific dragon, straight out of a nightmare, whose very shadow seemed alive and stretched towards them even now. "...Of course. Why not? I am so, *so* dead." She points to it anyway. "D-d-d-drago-OW!" Getting stabbed in the leg herself just then, she grimaces and glares at the offending mite. "Look, nice to meet you, Nidintu. I promise I'll give you a more eloquent response when I'm finished getting stabbed!" She attempts to trip the might, then heals the warrior next to her as she resumes her song...
"Phoebe, welcome to the scrum! Keep your eye on the ball!" "'The ball'? You mean we have a plan? Because with that thing coming for us, running sounds like a really smart thing to do right now!"
With the dryad distracted, one of the captured humanoids struggles through and loose of the vines. She quickly stands up straight, gasping for breath as she looks at the group and the ongoing battle. The figure had the same kind of unnatural beauty as the earlier Fey performers - though blue skinned, and with a distict type of cyan-green hair through which light seemed to flow the way the sun's light reflected in a shallow stream of water, changing with her every move. However, unlike the rest of the Seelie troupe, she too seemed out of place here - something about made her seem younger, more innocent, and genuinely frightened - like this wasn't just a game for her, or something far beneath her capacities. That she seemed to almost fall forward as she freed herself on part of her unreasonably impractical high-heeled boots gave the impression she'd been probably forced to wear them - which with how leg-revealing the otherwise admittedly stylish dress was, was probably a fair assumption. Not sparing time for introductions in an active fight just yet, she pulls one of the broken vines with her to use as a makeshift whip and rushes to the group, taking cover somewhere behind the frontline of Nidinthu and Roots. "Oh, thank the Eldest! Misstress Kilava! I feared you'd forgotten us - or worse; that she'd get bored of us soon!" She cries when she reaches relative saftety, finally sparing a moment to watch the others. "Are you here to save us? We -or I at least- are really, REALLY glad for your help! You can call me Phoebe. I was- well, that can wait for later!" She begins to sing a pleasant moldy and the tone is enchantingly soothing - helping those near her focus just a little bit more, even in the thick of the fight. Still singing, she then tries swinging the whip to distract one of the enemies engaged with Nindithu - or Roots if the Fighter was not currently still engaged with one.
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