(Before Sparks awakes from her dream. My deepest and most sincere apology for the discontinuity this causes.)
The dream shifted and though Sparks knew she was still asleep she somehow also awoke… in a different time and place. Or, at least she tried to… She was drowsy. So drowsy. It was all she could do to open her eyes and bear the aches in her bones and muscles and skin and soul each time the wagon, whose hay she was laying, on rolled over a bump or dip in the path.
The path… home?!
Sparks’ pained, blood shot eyes widened as she recognized the familiar archway of limbs and branches that lined the path to her home. She’d passed under them so many hundreds… no… thousands of times that she knew them by heart. She’d made it home! Somehow. Which meant there was just one last thing to do…
Her weak hands tightened around the flask she held between them, making sure to keep the red liquid with the shifting, inky black swirls as steady as possible.
Some minutes later the slow movement of the wagon stopped and Sparks gritted her teeth as she forced herself to sit… but that was all she could manage. Fortunately, her friends were there to help her. She… she could no longer recall their names… it made her head throb with pain to shift her thoughts to anything but the present… but she recognized them all the same.
There was the young woman, tall and thin… always talking so fast, thinking so fast. She’d… she’d become so much more than she had been when they first met. She helped Sparks move to the edge of the wagon and swing her feet so the hung towards the ground.
Then there, there was her strong, fair, protective, and kind half-elven friend. Still in his armor, though many pieces of it had swapped out and changed… hadn’t they? He helped her stand and held her up when it was clear that she no longer could.
And finally was the short old Gnome… always so cheerful and so wise. Always humming a tune or singing a helpful song. Always so compassionate even to a stranger like her, even at the times where he had no need to be so. He took her hand and led her towards the makeshift home that she’d set out from so many years ago.
Her other hand kept a strong grip on the flask… despite the pain the liquid it held drew from her….
As they neared, her father emerged, and her sister Inapita Sasa as well! Her sister’s limp, though still present, had improved so much! They both greeted her with concern. With panic. But Sparks quickly hushed them with sharply spoken Elven words issued from her cracked lips and burning throat.
Another sentence or two and their faces fell, their smiles and even their concern swept away by grief as they led Sparks and her companions inside, to the room where her mother lay on a large, comfortable bed that had not been there before.
At the doorway, Inapita gave her sister a long tearful hug before moving aside. Sparks’ father did much the same, leaving her with whispers of love and of pride.
The others, too, held back to the safety of the next room as Sparks moved inside under what was left of her own power. Her steps were heavy and sluggish. Her labored breathing shallow and quick. But somehow she made it to the bed, then up onto the bed so as to stretch out alongside her still disfigured mother.
The sounds her mother made, her excited whimpers and her worried moans, they all saw Sparks smile and cry.
Sparks forced herself to sit up again, as difficult as it was to do so, then used all her remaining strength to pull the stopper from the flask of odd liquid that she’d been protecting these last few weeks.
She shakily ran one hand gently, lovingly across her mother’s cheek then, with the other, she put the open end of the flask to her mother’s mouth and slowly poured the frightening liquid across her mother’s lips.
Not much of it made it down into her mother’s mouth, but not much had to. It was the act of willful offering that mattered here.
The candles in the room snuffed out. The sounds of the outside world grew strangely quiet. Even the rays of the sun streaming in through the window to cast what had been bright patters across mother and daughter grew dim even though they still shown brightly everywhere else.
Sparks had only but a short moment to watch her mother’s eyes flash fear and alarm before her own eyes grew heavy and closed. Somehow it felt as if the room had begun to spin around her even though she could no longer see.
She put her head back down to the pillow and felt herself become wrapped tightly in a loving embrace even as everything… her pain, her fear, her thoughts, and even her love dulled down to a flat, deep, even numbness.
U'tulivu Nyeupe-nywele Malaika Njia’yawazi held the cold body of her first born daughter tightly with arms that she had not been able move in years, with fingers she had not possessed since the fire. Tears flowed down the renewedly smooth skin of her face as she gently rocked her daughter and wept and wept.
“Binti yangu binti yangu? Umefanya nini? Umefanya nini?” she asked with lips that had not spoken a word since they had commanded the gods to cover her Mkali Moto Kipande with protection against the fire and smoke and crushing timbers that were soon to fall on them both.
“Kutimiza ahadi yangu na wewe...” Sparks somehow whispered contently in reply.
Wrapped tight in her weeping mother’s arms, and also beneath her heavy blanket deep down in the cave filled with the corpses of villagers and spiders, Sparks drew in and then gently release her last and final breath.
"I will be back shortly," Sparks says to Cath before following Tainesh.
"I feel I should apologize as well," she says one the two reach Tainesh's bed roll. "I did not mean to imply cruelty on your part. I was simply stating what will be whether I wish it or not. It is... not a pleasant thing to entirely unable to escape one's fears... and I did not intend to punish you over them."
Sparks sits and watches with interest as Tainesh begins her preperations. As she does so, she pulls her knife into her hand and begins idly whittling away the remaining damage to her prized bow that was caused when she dropped it to the hard ground after the previous day's battle.
"Perhaps you could show me this spell when you are finished with it? It might help if I know what it looks like and what it feels like before... if... we find ourselves in another tense struggle."
Hey, Mr. GM, could Tainesh show Sparks the new spell, say at not full combat power, without using up a spell slot?
"The torch up there on the nearby wall..." Sparks begins slowly. "...I can feel the heat it is giving off even from here. I can feel it a little on my face and can especially feel it if I look at it directly with my eyes and..." she closes her eyes and her words become slightly softer, slight more fearful "... and even though I know it will not, I constantly fight the small fear that it might fall and somehow light the floor and walls and ceiling ablaze. That I will be trapped within that hell again, in so much pain that my only thoughts are my wishes for death so that the pain might stop."
Sparks opens her eyes and looks to Tainesh and says sadly, "Your fire spells will frighten me. They will remind me of how my mother used all of her power to heal and protect me at great cost to herself. There is no way around that. But we have both already seen that we may need more than swords and arrows if we wish to make a difference."
"I will simply grieve for poor souls you inflict your fire upon..."
Sparks starts a bit at being awoken in an unfamiliar place by an unfamiliar person, but quickly rises and takes on the last shift of the watch with zero complaint. Being awoken from her pleasant dream to the dark, depressing cavern does not put her in a cheerful mood, certainly, but... the words that her father spoke to her many decades ago when she was just a small child still ring true in her ears even this morning:
"Those who are unable to keep watch cannot be trusted with anything at all."
So, Sparks does her job well and is on her circular patrol of the room when the others begin to awake.
"You are quite welcome," Sparks replies to Umros before returning to her bedroll against the far wall opposite the room's entrance. She double checks everything else is in its place... but seems to have a moment of doubt as to where her newly obtained sword should go. She first hooks it into her pack, but then tries placing it against the wall before finally laying it alongside her bedroll, within easy reach should it be needed.
"I'd prefer the last watch, if it is all the same. I'd much rather have to only awake to this place once..." the elf comment when she hears the others talking about watches.
Not really waiting on a reply, the weary huntress lays down on her bedroll and has just finished pulling her heavy blanket around herself when Cath asks about the bow.
"The draw is too strong for me. I would only strain myself, or worse, if I tried to make full use of it." she says, looking up at him.
Growing quiet, Sparks watches the others for a few minutes as she lays on her side. Tainesh's constant movement, lost in though while at the same time searching for new clues, reminds the elf of herself to some extent. As does Cath as he inspects his new bow. Then, of course, she is drawn to Umros and the small brewing fire he assembles. For a minute more, she watches the small flames closely as they lick at the oddly shaped pot.
Before too long, however, Sparks finds herself rolling over to face the dark, dreary, dust covered wall, even though she is much too far away to feel the small fire's heat. Not wishing to be a concern to the others, she lays still, pretending she is asleep even as her mind is busy turning through the events of the last couple of days. Slowly, though, her thoughts become more distant and the warm darkness of her blanket hugs her closer and without... really realizing it... Sparks Clearpath falls into a peaceful sleep.
"Even many decades away, the thought of raising a family of my own is appealing and at the same time terrifying. I will certainly give your regards to yours should I ever meet them, though," Sparks replies in between the more delicate moments of collecting the dangerous fluids.
"Once again, your kindness is seemingly boundless," Sparks says as she takes the additional vials of poison from Umros. "I will insist you keep two, however. If one is for some reason necessary, it is always a comfort that you are not using your last one."(Sparks accepts 5 vials bringing her to 10 total.)
"Of course you may borrow them," Sparks says of the oddly shaped cookware. It only takes her a few moments to retrieve the set from her bag. With the pots handed over, she stores the ten doses of poison in a secure place within her pack then continues with what preparations remain for a long rest.
"Flakes? Oh..." Sparks says as she quickly grasps Langblade's... What? An insult? "Why do that?" the elf says in hurt response before she turns her back on the rude, ungracious woman and heads back into the main chamber.
She begins unrolling her bedroll and organizing her things against the wall far opposite the tunnel the group entered through in preparation of sleep when Umros calls her over. Reluctantly, Sparks goes to hear what the Gnome has to say, her foul, frustrated expression brightening as she realizes the kindness Umros is offering.
"I would like that very much. Thank you," Sparks replies. Carefully following the gnome's instructions, she cuts into the most accessible spider and attempts to drain the correct fluid into the flask she emptied earlier.
Survival:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14 Bit of Luck:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
"So, who is Eolande? If you do not mind my asking?" Sparks asks as she works.
"I do not want to be locked in a small room if something should come. And what if it comes from the direction we have not yet explored?" Sparks asks. "Should we not guard the one tunnel we know leads to the surface and only retreat to the room if it for some reason become necessary?"
Sparks stays silent as Umros reads, though part way through, one of her hands finds its way to the old Gnome's shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. Her eyes flick to the collapsed tunnel when the writer mentions it...
Knowledge Engineering:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
...but her search is halfhearted at best.
Stepping stiffly back, the elf wraps her arms worriedly around herself as she weighs Umros' words against her own situation. Finally she closes her eyes tight and let's out a quiet sigh before speaking up.
"My mother is gravely injured and bedridden. My sister is hobbled and a shadow of herself. They are why I am here. But, though miserable, they are also safe," Sparks explains. "The people of Sharlstown, some of whom I have watched grow from children to adults, are not. And seem to have not been since well before I was born."
Pausing briefly once more, Sparks seems to make a decision and with a shaky voice says, "I... I will help end this if we agree to do it together."
"I could burn the whole cave down with this spell"
"Please do not..." Sparks murmurs at Tainesh's enthusiasm.
"As near as I can tell, our journey is over. I would guess that this Adventurer mapped an alternate path that has since collapsed. Even if it had not, it seems that the tunnel beyond this gate simply loops back to the room with the mural." Sparks comments after taking another glance at the Adventurer's map. "Perhaps we could auction off the location of these ruins to some interested party back in town?" she asks, floating the idea to the others in the impromptu group.
Seeing Umros' struggle, Sparks moves to stand beside him and attempts to assist...
Strength:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
...but her efforts prove to be of little help.
"Cath, would you mind lending us some assistance?" she asks.
"I would like to know what is in that journal over there as well," Spark whispers to Umros, flashing him a small, mischievous smile that would seem to indicate that her sense of adventure was not completely driven off by the day's trying events.
"I'll hold onto one," Sparks says as she picks up the other healing potion. "I was never able to make a healing potion on my own, but I have had need to administer them to others every now and again," she says, reassuringly. "...and the sword as well. I trust my ax, but it is not a combat tool."
Sparks continues to study the scene for several minutes. Something about it trouble her. The positioning of the dead, the strange shape of the cookware which she packs away, the apparent difference in age of the well armed individual vs those who carried implements more like farmers or towns people...
"I think perhaps I was wrong. As near as I can tell, we are looking at two incidents here. I believe this adventurer explored a portion of the ruins first and fell to the spiders and then some time later these towns people came, perhaps seeking a stolen child, and happened to... fall... in the same place." she says, outlining her new sense of what happened.
"I wonder though... If they did not find the key to the gate and we did... Did the adventurer come in one way and the rest of us another?"
The talking in the room dies down as each of the... adventurers... begin examining the items they they are most familiar with. Spark, naturally, gravitates to the old bow. It has clearly seen better days, but perhaps not the end of them... It's string has long since decayed away, but the wood is not in terrible shape. Running her fingers over it in the dim light, she determines that in all likelihood it would be useable as-is, once restrung at least. With some minor work, a good sanding, and a fresh coat of paint, it might even be sellable.
Furthermore, Sparks realizes, the shape of the limbs and the distance between them implies that the bow is quite powerful and might have a very high draw weight indeed. Intrigued, she retreats a short way from the rest of so that she has room to work and sits so she can begin the process of tying and anchoring one of the backup bow strings she brought with her.
Craft: Bows:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
The familiar task helps Sparks clear her mind somewhat, and within a few minutes work she is able to bring the old bow back to readiness. What's more, upon notching one of her arrows, Sparks finds that force required to fully draw back is a good bit too much, even for her well toned arms!
"This is a good bow," She reports to the group as she lays the now complete weapon back in line with the other items of interest. "Though it is still in need of some repair and finishing, it is serviceable and can deliver an arrow to a target with a good deal more force than even my own. So much so, that to make full use of it would require more strength than I possess, unfortunately. I've only seen a couple of bows this powerful in all my life," the huntress all but marvels.
With her report given, Sparks turns back to the deceased farmers and adventurer and gives them and their remaining belongings another look with a less troubled mind in the hopes of determining anything she can.
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20(These are mostly just bones and tattered clothes, correct? Is there anything to indicate where they came from, how exactly they died, or how long ago they might have perished?)
She also takes a closer look at the well-outfitted corpse's odd pots and pans, intrigued by their unfamiliar shape.
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15(Can I get a bit more detail about what makes them different? Is it the shape? Or way they fit together? Or something about the metal?)
Once the others are ready, Sparks joins in and helps examine the map.
DungeonGridneering:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14
**********
Sparks too takes a few practice swings with the sword upon hearing Cath's recommendation. Her movements are a little clumsy, like she is trying somewhat to chop at a tree, but show that she is not completely incompetent with a bladed weapon.
"Love, for the healing spells at least. Or, that is how it always felt to me when I made use of one," Sparks replies with a faint contented smile before cringing at the thought of being hit by a hot, burning, magical ball of heat and flame...
"Good... The way you stopped after mentioning a dead father... I was worried," Sparks says relieved. She listens to Tainesh's reasoning before saying, "...I suppose..." with slightly strained politeness.
Sparks suddenly finds one of the small bottles interesting, even as she asks in a subdued voice, "He's not... You are not avenging his death, are you?"
"It is not one's gear that makes one an adventurer," Sparks tentatively agrees. "Being an adventurer is... a choice one makes. A free choice of the type I do not imagine these people were given. I think these people were more likely on a mission of anger or revenge or desperation. Perhaps I am just naive, but I do not think one can truly be an adventurer unless what he or she chooses to do has at least some root in happiness..." she concludes.
Sense Motive DC 20:
Ultimately, are Sparks' motives for being on this adventure rooted in happiness? (Hint: No, they are not.)
"An adventurer is one who... goes out... who helps others. For glory or profit or for the cause of Goodness. Or at least is one who tries too..." Sparks answers, trailing off as she looks at the corpses once more. "You know more about it than I, though... don't you?" she asks with a tinge of annoyance in her voice as she shift her gaze to the old gnome.
Sense Motive DC 10:
Though she kinda feels like Umros half tricked her into answering, Sparks' question is genuine. She is looking for reassurance.
"I think I may be sick..." Sparks says as the group uncovers body after body. She covers her mouth and turns away for a long moment but then turns back. "It's like the mural, isn't it? The people rising up against.... what? The shinning lady?"
Already upset at the pile of bodies, the elf gasps yet again as they find the armor clad individual. "An adventurer... Like us... Some of us, anyway..." Sparks whispers quietly, once again on the verge of tears. It is only when one of the others begins emptying the oddly full bag that Sparks wipes her nearly overflowed tear ducts and begins helping identify the items before her.
"Older than any gnome I have known," Sparks replies smartly, relieved that the cleric seems not too worse off for his near death experience.
She steps back to give the old bard room to stand then starts slightly at his snap. The orbs of light, however, do not faze her in the least. In fact they bring a small smile to her face.
Spellcraft:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13(Oh, meh.)
"Goleuadau dawnsio?" she asks tentatively as she tracks the glowing lights across the room and over her... her bow!
Sparks rushes over to her prized weapon and picks it quickly up off the stone floor. She examines it from top to middle to... "Cachu!" she whispers as she reaches the bottom curve and the sizable nick that now mars her pristine bow.
She grimaces and winces and for a moment considers throwing herself back against the wall to spend an hour whittling away the damage, but then she casts a self conscious look at the others in the room. She'd already run from the fight, or at least tried to, and cried in front of everyone present...
Ultimately, she snaps her knife into her hand, crudely cuts out the damaged, splintered edge with two angry, forceful cuts, returns her knife to her side, then slings her bow back across her back all without comment.
Sparks Clearpath continued along the unfamiliar forest trail before her not at all sure of where she was being lead. Dressed in her soft, warm hunting gear with little more than a bow and a handful of arrows in a quiver across her back, she had, two hours ago, realized she was being hurried along to parts unknown during the clear, chilly morning. Ordinarily, she might have preferred a slower pace, but that wasn't an option, not with the Dymestl-aeron siblings keeping pace and goading her onward with her every step.
Somehow, her four Gnomish friends seemed to have no lack of energy, darting in and out of the foliage around her, even though they very nearly had to remain on the run for their short legs to keep up with her brisk walk.They were laughing and fighting and playing little games that Sparks was sure she'd never fully understand, even having observed them for the better part of two decades.
At a little over fifty years of age, Sparks was a good ten years older than Tân, the oldest of the Dymestl-aerons, though one could hardly tell, what with the differences in the two races heights and aging patterns. It was the most unapparent of facts that the four Gnomish brothers and sisters, who were only half Sparks' height, were all nearly considered adults while Sparks herself was only a few short years into her long transition to maturity.
"How much farther?" Sparks asked in elvish, addressing the four gnomes darting and scurrying around her. Even she was beginning to tire despite being as fit and at home among the trees of the forest as she was.
<"Somewhat!"> the white haired Gwynt answered with unhelpful cheer in Gnomish as she, and her long, hair breezed by.
<"It's too late to turn back now..."> Blue eyed Dŵr gushed.
<"You promised you'd help!"> Tân said, almost accusingly, so quick to anger, as always.
"Why do you care?" Galon asked sincerely in return, the only one of the four to reply in elvish, even though they had all learned to speak it years ago.
"We're getting pretty far out..." Sparks answered. <"And I will help, Tân, but I told my parents I would be back by nightfall.">
<"They will understand you had to keep moving forward,"> Dŵr insisted.
"Will they? I would think they would worry, they lov..." Galon inquired of his sister, his tone ever kind.
Here, it turned out, was a curious clearing that seemed to have no place so deep in the woods. There was no stream or river or solid, growth-impeding rock jutting out of the soil to block plant growth. It was only as she passed out of the tree line and into the bright sunlight that Sparks got her first hint as to the cause of the clearing. A dozen steps closer and she had her answer for sure. Though it was still a good twenty feet in front of her, she could now make out the rounded rocky lip of what had to be a massive vertical drop off. It was a large depression, at the very least, or maybe even a deep, deep sinkhole of some kind. Slowing her movements to careful, creeping steps, Sparks edged closer, eager to know more.
"Whoa..." she exclaimed as she reached the edge. Before her was no depression or minor sinkhole. No, somehow the Dymestl-aerons had found a huge, ten foot wide shaft of a cave that dropped almost one hundred feet straight down. Along the way were a multitude of outcroppings, divots, and patches of rock covered in moss or vines, but beyond a very good grip and a whole lot of rope, there was seemingly no safe way down... which is why Sparks was entirely unsurprised when she turned around to find her four smiling companions all holding one of the longest lengths of sturdy rope she'd ever seen.
"No." Sparks told them at once. "Very much no... and where... how did you keep that rope hidden all this time?"
<"Magic?"> Gwynt asked, as if she too were unaware of the true answer. Her brothers and sister all nodded in tentative, unconvinced agreement.
"Fine, keep you secrets..." Sparks said, knowing she had no choice but to relent, at least on that point, "but there is still no way I'm going down there. Even with the rope. One false move and I'd be killed!"
"But look!" Dŵr replied, moving over to the cave's mouth. "Can you see it? At the very bottom?!"
"See what?" Sparks asked. She walked around the circular opening until the sun was at her back and shielded her eyes from the bright, cloudless sky, but even then the deep shadows that covered the lowest parts of the cave made discerning much of anything impossible. Except... Sparks squinted harder and angled her head and... yes, there was something there. Something... "Glowing?"
"It's glowing fungus!" Galon explained.
<"It is a pool of moldy water."> <"No! It is a firebug,"> <"A mirror!"> the other three Gnomes disagreed all at the same time.
"So none of you know what it is but want me to risk going to find out?" Sparks asked once their explanations ceased.
The four Gnomes looked to each other for a moment, then in unison nodded and begged in their best Elven, saying: "Please? We just have to know!"
Sparks sighed. She turned back to the cave and began tracing a route from crag to outcropping to handhold. It looked...doable, and her friends had helped her with more and required far less... It was only fair that she try.
<"Okay, I'll do it,"> she answered in Gnomish, causing a small cheer to pass between them. "I want this tied double tight," she indicated as the four Gnomes jumped into action. Tân and Galon helped her with the rope while Gwynt and Dŵr scouted around for the best place for their Elvish friend to begin her descent.
<"There's a smooth patch of ground over here for the rope to slide over!"> Dŵr called out a few moments later.
When everyone was ready, and her four small friends had taken their positions in a line holding the rope, Sparks carefully lowered herself over the edge and began her long climb down. It was a slow, trick process, dealing with unyielding rock, crumbling dirt, and thin unhelpful plants. She'd spend minutes just testing her weight on the next ledge or next set of roots before proceeding. She slipped twice, but each time only dropped a few inches as the uncharacteristically quiet Dymestl-aerons did their jobs holding the rope. After nearly an hour of slow, tense work, Sparks was finally a few feet from the bottom.
"Let go, give me slack!" she called up. A second later she felt the tension on her safety rope fall away and was free to hop down to the cave floor. "I made it!" she called.
Above her, four small heads poked out over the edge of the drop off, each casting a comically large shadow on the sunlit section of the cave wall some seventy feet above Sparks' head.
<"Well? What is it?"> Tân's voice echoed down in impatient irritation.
<"Fungus?">
<"Water?">
<"A mirror?">
<"A fire bug??">
"No, none of those..." Sparks called back as she stooped down to inspect the glowing object before her. "It's... like a torch, alight... but not on fire...It seems about done for..." She smiled at the distant, excited chatter that filtered down from the Gnomes back up at the surface.
Taking a moment to really examine the dimly glowing torch, Sparks put it in her quiver along with her arrows then began her climb back up. In truth, she should have taken some time to rest, but the Dymestl-aerons' joy was so infectious that she'd forgotten just how much her arms and legs had been aching just a few minutes before.
Some twenty feet up, Sparks stretched to reach the next obvious handhold, only to find her her other fatigued hand unable to keep its grip. For a long, desperate moment, Sparks felt her fingers slipping and slipping and slipping free, and then she was falling. One of the Dymestl-aerons must have remember their job though, because a moment later the rope went tight, causing her head and body to slam painfully into the cave wall. Dizzy, and in pain, Sparks felt herself being lowered back onto the cave floor. She shifted to lay on her back but when she clutched at her forehead her hand to came away wet with blood!
Sparks stared up at the circle of light coming in from the surface, but could hardly seem to move. Distantly, she was sure she could hear the cries of her friends, but answering them... it seemed... but she couldn't... to her thoughts... line up properly...
Then, far above, she saw a small shape, complete with hands, feet, and long blowing hair, jump out over the mouth of the cave. Despite her throbbing, dizzy head, Sparks managed to sit up in terror as she watched Gwynt... jump over the cave edge?! For seconds Sparks watched the insane Gnome fall down the center of the shaft, only to have a sudden gust of wind kick up along the cave floor. Sparks shielded her eyes from the sudden gust and a moment later there Gwynt was, kneeling by her side.
"Sparks? We're so sorry! Are you ok?"
"No... Not really," Sparks answered. "How..?"
"Magic." Gwynt replied, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "Can you hang on to the rope? We are going to pull you up."
Sparks nodded and, placing one hand above the other, weakly gripped the length of rope stretching upward before her.
<"Ok! Pull!"> Gwynt called up to her brothers and sister.
Inch by inch, Sparks felt herself being lifted out of the cave, even as Gwynt remained on the floor below. Sparks helped where she could, stretching out a hand or foot to push herself out away from the cave wall when it was necessary. At the cave's mouth several pairs of small hands helped pull her back up over the edge, and then...
...she must have walked back home along with the Dymestl-aerons, but Sparks could remember very little of the return trip. It was almost as if one minute she was being helped back into the noonday sunlight and the next, it was night time and her mother's worried arms were encircling her outside of their forest home.
"My child, you must not be so reckless! If you had hit your head any harder..." her mother scolded before trailing off. Not even she wanted to speak the dreadful words that would have finished the sentence. Instead, she placed a firm palm on her daughter's gashed forehead and closed her eyes.
Sparks shuttered slightly as her mother's powerful magic flowed into her. She sobbed her apologies softly into her mother's shoulder and then was sent to her room for bed without supper as a punishment for putting herself in as much danger as she had.
It was only late into the night, when the memories, good and bad, of the past days events kept playing out in her head, that Sparks realized one of the Gnomes had swiped her hard won magical torch!
It was going to be fun getting it back, tomorrow.
Commentary:
If you haven't guessed it by now, The Final Scene is an ongoing series meant to peak into the past and reveal more about events that Sparks may recall or talk about in the present.
In this story, I wanted to try and give the Gnomes this sense of inexhaustible energy and strange and almost delightfully comical magical powers that don't make much real sense. I see elves as mysterious in their age and wisdom and ability to remain calm, but I tried to give the gnomes a magical quality that was completely different and bewildering.
Another fun part of the story was making the gnome's prize something mundane. They drag their more physically capable friend miles away from home all for what they think might be some common glowing fungus at the bottom of a deep cave! I loved writing them and their reasons. :)
Even though she is sure the falling stars are a result of Umros' actions, Sparks cannot help but tense up at the strange sight... at least until the motes of light begin to land on her still aching shoulder. Within moments the pain and stiffness begin to fade, and the ranger is sure they will be gone altogether just as soon as her body fully grasps that it is no longer injured in the slightest. (Sparks is back to full health.)
"Not Eolande, it is Sparks...Remember?" the maiden replies with gentle concern.
"Ok..." Sparks says. She hesitates a moment, her relationship with the warrior having not been the smoothest, but then says, "That was a spectacular kill, by the way. Something out of a fantasy book, for sure..."
"Coming," she answers Cath, her tentative compliment having been made. Sparks arrives by the gnome's side and investigates his situation for herself.
Sparks nods her thanks to Tainesh for the bag and the light, then before too long comes away with a fairly standard looking healing potion and a curious small, thin vial of liquid. Curious, since the glass twists and curves, somewhat, making the vial look like a remarkably artistic version of a small green garden snake.
The elf holds the larger bottle with her knees and works the stopper free with her good hand. Once opened, she adjusts her injured arm so it hangs extended by her side, then takes a long, sad look at the healing potion in her other hand.
"Asante, mama," she says quietly before downing the red liquid.
Cure Light Wounds:1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8(Sparks is now at 12/15hp)
Sparks lets out a contented sigh as the magic flows through her body and seeks out her greatest injury. The feeling of closeness and connection to her mother being imparted by the potion is far too strong to ignore, and Sparks feels herself being drawn into her memories. For a few short moments she is home again with nothing worse than a twisted foot or cut forehead, and her mother is there too, ready and able to mend her and scold her for not being careful. But then, the worst of the damage to her shoulder is healed and Spark again finds herself deep underground with a bruised shoulder, a badly injured gnome and three others that she hardly knows. Not to mention several dead spiders of varying size.
"Do you know of anything about the treatment of injuries?" she asks Tainesh off handedly as she stores the empty bottle then again reaches deep into her bag and pulls out bandaging. "Let's tend to the others so we can leave before something worse happens."
(Tending to Umros is next but I'll need the GM to weigh in on his condition first.)
Sparks forces her eyes open at the sound of Tainesh's worried voice. Before her, both the giant spider and the small gnome lay on the floor injured, dying or dead. Sparks winces and shudders as she foolishly attempts to move to help Umros. Planted firmly against the wall again, she notices the rise and fall of Urmos' chest, and the empty glass container beside him.
"Bag..." Sparks finally replies. "Would you please bring me my bag?" she asks, her voice choked by pain. She gives a glance to the entryway tunnel where her large, heavy pack still sits... from back when the plan was to dart into the room, wound the two spiders, then retreat back into the tunnel unharmed.
(It may not always be pointed out, but Sparks almost always sets down/drops her heavy pack before moving in to combat.)
The silence that fills the room once more as the normal sized spiders disperse is quickly broken again by a sharp, loud impact as Sparks' prized bow drops out of her hand and clatters to the stone floor. A moment later, she lowers herself gingerly down to a sitting position against the nearby wall and reaches across her body to clutch at her crushed shoulder. After a moment, the eleven maiden begins to sob and cry as the fear she'd somehow managed to repress during the battle is multiplied by the intense pain of her injury and finally overwhelms her.
Sparks hears the sickening, meaty sound of the massive spider's attack behind her and turns just in time to take the strong jolt to her shoulder. Her shoulder is broken, she is sure, but scared as she already is, the spider's magic does little that being badly injured while fighting for her life underground far from home had not already accomplished.
Too off balance to turn back towards the tunnel, Sparks steadies her feet then fights her bow shakily up through the severe pain emanating from her badly battered shoulder. With a anguished yell, she fires a desperate point blank shot into the creature.
The eleven ran ranger takes a deep breath and fires a carefully placed arrow at the giant spider... then spits the multitude of smaller spiders moving towards the group.
"What reward could be worth this?" she exclaims as fear and practicality get the better of her and cause her to turn and hurry towards the tunnel they entered through.
Another barely perceptible change sweeps across the room, and Sparks notices she had somehow tried to notch her arrow backwards onto her bow. Casting a quick glance to the others she expertly flips the arrow back round and begins to line up her next shot.
Brave or not, Sparks scrambles for some sort of cover as the spider of unusual size charges.
(Hey, GM, think I can get some partial cover from what remains of the boxes?)
Raising her bow, Sparks takes aim but with two friends... well acquaintances... so close to the line of fire she hesitates but then does her best to swallow her concerns and fires anyway.
Subtly, as if sensing some more in seen change, Sparks takes hold of her next arrow and flips it round so its sharp, hand carved head is facing the wrong direction.
Sparks cringes and turns her head and body away at the long awful sound the giant creature makes. But then, as the creatures roar ends and Umros' song resumes, the fear that should grip her is pushed aside.
"This thing... we can't run from this thing... it will just follow us up..." she says to the others, her choked voice barely above a whisper. Readying her bow once more, Sparks' hand shakes so much that her first shot doesn't even reach the large target.
Sparks hears Tainesh's seething declaration and turns to see her cutting haphazardly at the webbing around her.
"Hey... Be careful! Sparks says as she moves to assist.
Strength:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
With just a moment's consideration the elf grabs hold of two points of the silk wrapping and gives a small tug. It immediately parts, freeing Tainesh. What little webbing sticks to Sparks' hands is removed as she rubs them together and rolls the silk into a delightful, pea sized ball.
"Something is burrowing up through the floor!" Sparks says as the shaking worsens beneath her feet. She retreats towards the tunnel the group entered from.
Sparks' face contorts as the wave of heat from the alchemist fire briefly heats the room. When the blast is finished, she turns back to see the final spider dead and the its webs slowly burning.
She takes a deep breath, turns to the others, and says, "Rarely have I been so frightened, or accurate with my bow! I know in stories characters often perform better while under stress but I never really believed it until now!"
Clearly somewhere between being rattled and elated, the elf looks to her companions and reminds herself to ask, "Are the rest of you o..." she pauses mid sentence and places the tips of her fingers to the ground then looks around the room again, this time fearfully.
"What is that?"
Knowledge Dungeoneering:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24 Knowledge Nature:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 (In case the cause of the rumbling isn't a mountain of loot rumbling towards us.)
Sparks' quick motion allows her to turn to find the next spider and let loose an arrow before she turns away again. She drops to a knee, shuts her eyes tight and covers her head against the impending fiery blast.
Sparks tracks her target behind the obscured obstruction as she readies her next arrow, only to hear an unexpected sound very close to her right. Not waiting to be bitten or clawed or whatever it is an oddly massive spider might inflict, she flinches away and takes aim. Sure enough, a spider is right where she expected it to be, and at this range she can hardly miss!
"Blast?" Sparks asks as she readies her next arrow. She gives the Gnome a quick glance and the object in his hand, similar to the one he'd thrown at one of the attacking bears, causes her forget about her next shot...
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
...and miss the fourth spider hidden in the room's elevated shadows. :(
By the time Sparks has her next arrow readied the dimly lit forms of Cath and the final spider have already merged. The shot really is not all that difficult, but the risks of hitting the wrong target cause her to hesitate all the same. She lowers her bow slightly, unsure of what to do, and it is fortunate that she does as Cath's warning comes just a moment later.
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21
"Where?" Sparks asks, turning in a counterclockwise circle until she spots the two new creatures.
"Somebody... I'm going to need some assistance over here," she calls to the group, her voice audibly shaking. The conflicting emotions of courage and fear fight a brief battle inside the Elven maiden with courage winning, for the moment. Determined to make every shot count, Sparks takes a single graceful step towards the nearer of the two spiders and lets loose her next two arrows.
Sparks takes aim at the nearer spider only to watch it be cut down by Langblade's impressive martial skill. Slightly taken aback, the elf shrugs off the fighter's skill, for the moment, and shifts her aim to the second spider.
Sparks takes a small step back as she tracks the spiders closer and closer. In a way, it is almost fascinating to watch as the first ensnares Cath. It's like being able to truly see a spider's way of life for the first time... But, like them or not, her companions are thinking creatures, not flies, not animals, and certainly not spider food!
She looses an arrow towards the one preparing Cath...
...then, with decades of practice ingrained in her hands and motions, she swiftly readies a second arrow and takes aim at the spider near the unhappy human fighter.
