"Well... fine. Just don't scare them by being all elfy," Sylvia grumps at Caladrel, also keeping an eye out for threats, "Try to act normal."
As Sylvia and Caladrel approach, they can better make out the structure. It is a small log cottage, no more than a few rooms. It is tidy and well kept. The remains of a garden stands beside it, its plants long since spoiled by the blight.
You can hear stirring inside - a moaning or grunting which is somehow both human and animal.
Sylvia confidently strides up to the door and knocks.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
"Who is there?" asks a tremulous man's voice from within.
Sylvia holds up a hand to stop Caladrel from speaking, hoping a woman's voice would be less threatening than a man's to the shaky fellow in the hut. "Hello. I'm Sylvia. We're looking for Constable Barston. Have you seen him? His footprints led this way." She attempts to sound cheerful and friendly, despite the glum surroundings and her last experience with the denizens of the wilted land.
He looks to the others around him; "Think we did the right thing? Sylvia isn't so diplomatic." he looks towards the hut, however Luce rubs her neck against the bark.
After a pause, the door to the cottage cracks open slightly. Through the opening appears the barrel of a hunting rifle, pointed at Sylvia. A man's eye is peaking around the door. "How do I know you are who you say you are? How did you survive this long in these woods?"
Sylvia stares at the end of the rifle in some fascination. "Well, I'm not certain how you'd know I am who I say I am. I mean, not unless you knew me already. Which you don't. At least, I don't know you. That doesn't rule out you knowing me, though. Or unless there was some sort of third-party that we both trusted to verify my identity. And is there anyone really trustworthy? The gods, perhaps. I'm not certain. But I am Sylvia. You have no reason to doubt my plain name, do you? That's not a big stretch, to at least acknowledge somebody else's name. There's no risk in it, right?" She gabbles a bit in alarm, then takes a deep breath and starts over, gesturing at the withered greenery around them.
"As for Constable Barston, well... Lord Wallingham is worried about him and sent us. More accurately, he hired us. I mean, it's not like we'd come in here of our own accord. Your woods are not very, um, scenic at the moment. No offense. And we haven't survived here to speak of. We just walked in this morning. There were some tentacled things that tried to kill us, but only two, and we killed them. I mean, there's more of us than just me and Caladrel. The rest stayed back so as not to bother you too much. See? We're not going to hurt you. In fact, you might want to get out of here. We sent the Smythe family out. At least, I hope they left."
Her head cocks curiously. "That looks a lot like the weapon Smitty has. Does it make a lot of noise, too?"
"Sylvia, don't try to find out." Rhodes says, "We've had kind of a rough go in the woods as it is. Worm things and some kind of dodecahedronapus-thing... I forget what they called it... any way, we got attacked on the way here and made it through alright, thankfully. We're just hoping to find the Constable. You seem like you're a might bit upset about the woods too, what can you tell us about what's been going on around here?"
Rhodes makes with the Diplomacy.
Sylvia flinches and eeps softly as Rhodes emerges stealthily from the trees behind her.
He looks to the others around him; "Think we did the right thing? Sylvia isn't so diplomatic." he looks towards the hut, however Luce rubs her neck against the bark.
Trina, a bit back from the treeline away from the house, shrugs slightly. "We're not exactly overflowing with options, I think. So long as nothing catches fire I trust she'll be fine."
Wooded Glade
With words softened by the underbrush, Jerry doesn't pay too much heed to the antics by the cottage - lest he give away the hiding place. "Well I'm sure she'd be fine even if it did immolate." he adds with a wink; "Seems like lots of things spontaneously combust around her... for a certain value of spontaneous."
"I'm not so sure," Trina offers with a frown, turning to a nearby tree and prodding at the withered leaves. "I imagine, with the state of the vegetation thanks to this blight, this whole forest is like to be a tinderbox if enough of a flame catches."
Caladrel respects Sylvia's request for him to be quiet. He calmly looks at the metal sticks being pointed in Sylvia's direction, unaware of the danger they present.
He starts for a moment when Rhodes emerges from the wood, but tries to hide his surprise and go with the flow allowing events to play themselves out.
After Rhodes finishes speaking, there is a pause. Finally, the voice says, "Well hurry up and get inside. You're all in danger out there." The rifle is lowered and the door opens widely. A man with grey hair, past middle-age, stands in the doorway. "I am Nathan, a ranger. Once upon a time, I protected these woods. Now it seems the task is beyond me."
"The constable is here, but he is in a dire state. Please, step in." He gestures into the main room of the cabin.
Gently tapping Luces' flanks, she pads forward towards the house. Cautious of frightening the man with his large predator, Jerry slips from the exotic saddle. "A fine day to you, I am Sir Jeremiah Roberts. Your appointed task is too much for a single person, you shouldn't feel rebuked for what has befallen." he attempts to be florid and gives a stiff formal bow.
"And I thank you for your gracious hospitality. Mayhaps we can help the Constable and fine the cause of all this mischief." he crosses the threshold. Keeping his fingers entwined in Luces' mane, he tries to effect the air of domesticity and peace with the animal.
'Indoor bad, but better than diseased ground.' she looks around the room carefully, feeling Jerry's mollifying hand upon her side. She glances around and sees a fire.
Butting her head against the nobles thigh, he undoes the strap upon the saddle by reflex. Walking across the room, she flops down before the hearth with a slight thump and curls up. The saddle slides from her back.
Seeing the group moving toward the house, Trina tugs her hood back up over her head and follows, keeping her head bowed, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Let the others do the talking. Get in, have a look at the injured and the ill, try not to draw too much attention.
Caladrel follows the man inside. The dim light inside is no hindrance to his elven eyes as they quickly adjust to the lower light level. He takes a quick scan of the cottage.
Picking up the saddle with one hand Jeremiah turns back to the ranger; "May I introduce, Milady Eichmann, a healer of some renown and Caladrel, the emissary of The Keeper."
"I take it you are Nathan, the woodsman and ranger of the forest? Lord Wallingham told us about you." he adds with his smooth overbearing manner.
"Yes, yes. He said he was Nathan," Sylvia grumps, annoyed by the trivial chatter of politeness, "Now, what happened to the constable and where is he? One of us might be able to heal him up. We need to find out what's happening in these woods and stop it."
She pushes past Jeremiah and crouches near the fireplace to warm up, ignoring the recumbent lioness.
Opening an iris blue eye, Luce regards the elf crouched nearby. With a slight sniff of her damp nose, is quickly followed by a snuffle as the acerbic lady's scent irritates the cat.
However she closes her eyes again, satisfied that the elf is of no harm to her.
The fire is warm, and this little cabin is a welcome respite from the bleak forest without.
"I feared Lord Wallingham would not be able to send further aid. He means well, but I do not think he is equipped to handle... whatever this is that is happening." Nathan looks somewhat pained as he says this. "I feel it - in my dreams. There is a presence in this forest that taints it. It is all I can do to continue, but I must. The constable is not in a condition to travel, and..." He trails off, as if there is something he does not want to share.
Caladrel turns to the Ranger. "Nathan, your dedication to the protection of this forest is profoundly gratifying. We are indeed here to help expunge whatever evil is harming the natural order of things. You seem like something is bothering you. As two who share a reverence for nature, let us work together."
'Dreams, it's always about dreams. The Smythes were having bad dreams, I wonder if something could be infecting the thoughts of the people as they sleep - something that has lain dormant for years. Something that has awoken, corrupting that around it. It's vileness so powerful that it can be felt by the people as they rest.' Jerry thinks solemnly, then brusquely waves away the thoughts concentrating on Nathans' reply. Though he tries not to show eagerness for knowledge, just concern for the woodsman.
"Where is he?" Trina asks, quietly, still keeping her head bowed slightly and hood raised. "At the very least, I should like to examine him." She looks and listens about, trying to determine where the sounds that came from the building earlier had originated.
Sylvia mutters something under her breath, but does not stir from the fireside. "╚Θ£... mollycoddling....╤║▓ waste of time....º«╣"
"What was it you were just saying about the constable? We're looking for him, actually. Something happen to him?" Rhodes says to Nathan.
"I fear that whatever is infesting this forest has tainted the constable's mind. He grew more and more agitated. For his own safety, I have had to confine him to the rear stable. The poor man can only rant and rave, pacing like a wild animal. You can see him if you wish."
"There is also..." he clears his throat. "There is one who has been in my care for a number of years now. Gindel had been my companion for many years. His health has failed him - he is not a young man anymore - and he no longer tends to the wild places as he once did. I fear, however, that this new taint is hastening him to his end." Tears well in the aging ranger's eyes. "He is bedridden, and wasting away."
Caladrel's eyes soften with concern when Nathan tells him about Gindel. He says to the others, "Please go tend to the constable. I wish to speak with Gindel, and given his current state, too many visitors may place a great strain on the elderly man. Nathan, may I accompany you to visit with Gindel?"
Trina nods somberly to Caladriel. "Good luck."
She then follows Nathan's direction toward the stable, exiting the house and heading in that direction. She waits a moment at the door to see if anyone else chooses to accompany her before attempting entrance.
Sylvia grimaces and glances at those who are departing. When Trina hesitates at the door, Sylvia rises, stretches, and follows her out. "I need a walk. And that cat kinda s-t-i-n-k-s, if you know what I mean."
Rhodes follows as well.
Luce remains sat happily infront of the hearth, enjoying the warmth. She starts to lick her paws and preen.
Placing the saddle over the back of a chair, Jerry nods in commiseration as Nathan talks about his friend. "Buck up old chap. We'll solve this turmoil of the forest, then he'll be tickety-boo."
He looks to Alastríona; "If I may accompany you?" he follows her out to the rear barn, to see if what he's learned of the healing art can be of any assistance.
"I wonder if this Nathan is going to be like that little girl we saw," Sylvia remarks to Rhodes as they depart, "What can turn people into animals like that?" As Jeremiah joins them, she explains, "The little girl was like a wild animal, growling. There was no light of humanity in her eyes."
"Well, that's what we're here to find out, or at least attempt," Trina replies doubtfully, then looks around the small gathered crowd before settling on Rhodes and Jeremiah. "I might need the two of you gentlemen to restrain him so I can examine him more closely. Even if there is nothing we can do for him at the moment, at the very least I'd like to get a good look at the symptoms of the malady. Especially since I missed the opportunity at the Smythes' home."
She turns and removes the restraint on the door then prepares to enter, both looking around for the constable and for a light source - she can see in the dark, but she's pretty sure her companions can't.
Nathan nods and leads Caladrel through a door into another chamber.
"This is Caladrel - a druid," Nathan says in a soothing voice.
Gindel looks upon you with some wonder. "Welcome," he says in a faint voice. "I would stand to greet you, brother, but that has become difficult."
Inside, the ambient light creeps in through many gaps in the timbers, illuminating the space in patterns of milky light.
An aging man crouches in the corner upon a bale of straw, clad in nothing but his undergarments. A uniform, torn and tattered, has been discarded along another wall. When you enter, he regards you with wide eyes and looks ready to pounce at this new threat. He says nothing.
"Yup, he looks a lot like the little girl. Why would some people be affected like this, but not others? Nathan seems fine," Sylvia muses, not approaching the man.
He then pauses and looks to the constable, he crouches down keeping 10 or so feet in front of him. "Hello, I'm Jerry. How are you?" he says to the fellow slowly, in a slightly patronising manner as if talking to a child.
As she walks, she tugs at her gloves, though not yet quite removing them.
"Well, this is new. The little girl never said anything, only growled."
He moves immediately to the old druid's side and grasps his hand. Speaking in Druidic he continues. "Salutations Brother. I wish we could meet under better circumstances. My name is Caladrel Inthesial. I am with the The Keepers. Brother Rhaelnnine has sent me to investigate and expunge what plagues this forest. Nathan is concerned that whatever is mutating this forest is affecting you as well. May I examine you to see if this is true and also to see what I can do to bring you comfort?"
If Grindel agrees, Caladrel will examine him.
Talking in a low voice, "Where are the seals?" he asks simply trying to to put too much stress upon the unhinged fellow.
'Black Son? Could it be that which awoke? Held locked away in the prison, now it's broken free. Entering dreams and corrupting peoples minds.'
"'Black Sun Reach Prison Deep Old'," she repeats quietly, beginning to pace, though she makes sure to keep an eye on Jeremiah and the constable. Her tail swishes softly through the hay and debris on the ground as she walks. "Black Sun - whatever that is - reaches or reached a deep, old prison? And 'the seals do not hold', something in the prison is going to break out... or already has?" She shakes her head, one hand rising to grab her hood and hold it in place. "It would be consistent with finding deep-earth creatures like the two in the forest on the surface."
She continues searching through her memories, scanning thought after thought looking through the countless folk tales, myths, mysteries, legends, and such like she's heard over the years, hoping something will click....
"Seals can be magical as well as non-magical, of course," Sylvia frowns, "I certainly hope we don't have to go underground to find the answer. Lord Wallingham's going to have to pay a lot for this."
However his rear leg does subtly slide under the trunk of his body, allowing him to spring into action if the poor constable tries anything.