Looking around a little panicked. Calm down. It'll take to long for me to come out. What can you do? Sucking in a big gulp of air and focusing on calling for help.
Abnaki, just as you think Mr. Pumpkin has stopped speaking, he continues, "Yer in the Grove of Graves, and from yer smell you've come from the Grove of Growth." He chortles. "So many puns around here. Reality is a game, the closer you get to the heart of the Fey. There's no one ruler, sonny, there's only game-winners from day to day."
"As fer the Gems..., well that's complicated..."
Abnaki begins his questioning of the glib spirit known as 'Mr Pumpkin'.
The dead dreams move foward jagged bursts, first stock-still, then a blur of motion.
Samen tosses of chain of thought toward the nearest foe. The dream is entangled by the hard logic of the spell, falling hard among the dry brown leaves.
Gabe takes advantage of the downed enemy, and shoots two arrows-
Qizzlvutz begins a summoning spell.
Wamblee takes a few steps forward, and centers his weight.
Samen focuses on the clump in the black and conjures forth tentacles built from his anxiety.
Meanwhile, I'm assuming the tripped one used its move action to stand up, so the chain will try to trip it again.
As Samen releases energy into the world to affect it to his will, one of the dreams snaps its attention to you. Even though it has nothing but a gaping void where expression and nuance would normally reside, you somehow feel its regard.
With a dream-logic leap forward, the thing seems to teleport on top of Samen, wrapping papery limbs about him. It attempts to bite him,
but his mithril armor protects him.
Gabriel slays the tripped sylph with another two arrows.
Crouching down and wiggling their mobile roots into the ground. Stretching to reach the mycelium underground while trying to ignore Kallik. You have to do something! Just sitting there. At least to do something to keep yourself alive.
Sending out their want for aid on the massive mycelia network. Two little rock elementals rise out of the ground. Running without losing contract with the ground towards the faceless sylph.
"Tell me more about the Gems please."
Abnaki gets another key piece of information:
"Ye want to know where the Gemmies are, aye? Well, the reason it's complicated is because they're everywhere!"
He pauses for effect, as clearly there are no Gems around currently. "What I mean to say is, they're up above the fog, swarmin' around like. Big thunderclouds of gems, blowing where they please, and attacking who they want!"
___
The dreams remain trapped in the migraine-aura fields of Samen's stress. They all clump to one side of the trap, but remain unable to break free.
____
Samen casts his spell (as above)
Gabriel kills one dream (as above)
Wamblee takes one large stride backward and lands a devastating punch upon the dream that attacked Samen. It shatters into several pieces and dissipates (deleted)
Qizzlvutz, please roll for earth elementals if they get to attack this round.
To the southeast, you notice one grave-tree different than the others - this twisted thing is clearly under a curse. Sagging under the weight of its own gnarled limbs, you see new dead dreams being birthed from it, squeezing from knotholes like pus seeping from a wound. Even from this distance, the sounds of their spawning are wet and nauseating.
As he stands by your side, Wamblee quips, "Brother, your magic is giving me a headache." More somberly, he adds, "Will it hold those monsters?"
"Me too, Wamblee. Me too."
"Well then Mr. Pumpkin, who is fighting against these Gem intruders? And where could we find them? Or is the local resistance disorganized and already defeated?"
Gliding around the ground and putting the faceless elen between them both elementals slam into the slyph simultaneously/
Grr, thats not enough. Let me out. Time. Flinching at the noise in their head. Kallik is angrier than they have had to deal with. Pulling their scythe from behind their back, leaving Kalliks white and green axe. Glancing around at the others near them and bracing for the faceless elen to get closer.
The rude solidity of the earth elementals seems particularly effective against the paper-skinned sylph, ripping through it with ease. (deleted)
**
Samen utterly rebuffs the dreams with the power of his mind; the tentacles remain in their migraine-translucent glory, and the dreams have simply torn themselves apart in their frenzy to get loose. (deleted)
Mr. Pumpkin grins and grins. "Everyone is fighting, but everyone is losing!" He coughs loudly, like something is stuck in his throat. A few phlegmy emeralds fall upon the ground.
Moving with jerky puppet-motions, the remaining dreams are suddenly upon you-
(save for one, with a critical misjudgement that lands it in Samen's writhing pool of misery)(map updated)
Qizzlvutz, you may take your action now, since you specifically were preparing your action for them to approach. They both seem to be focusing their attention on Abnaki.
+ acid
+ acid
+ acid
Swinging at the faceless sylph infront of them.
Something of Death and Rot clings to the very fabric of the ghost-keen scythe that Qizzlvutz wields. It slices through the dream quietly, returning the shambling, horrid thing back to silence.
(deleted)
Gabriel lines up one calm shot and slays another dream. Behind his combat focus, one wonders what he makes of this business of murdering dreams and talking pumpkins.
(deleted)
Wamblee leaps like a stone swept downriver,
With a monk's running speed, he vaults off the hilltop, heading straight for the sickened, black tree. He lands with a thud, then retakes his stance, ready to build up toward another attack.
(map updated)
The twisted tree gathers its branches into two bundles that resemble knotted fists. With an awful crackling sound, it smashes into Wamblee,
Wamblee is hurt, but still standing tall. His stance has not been broken.
With everything seemingly under control, Samen directs a few swift mental barbs at the base of the tree.
"What has proven to be effective? Where might we find allies? Can I help you?"
The pumpkin's face contorts in pain. "Lie to me. Tell me a story. Tell me about a young pumpkin with no damn parasites in 'im."
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"I will do so, and you will answer my other questions." Abnaki ponders for a second.
"Once upon a time, there was a pumpkin. Now this pumpkin lived on a farm, and was fed and watered by the farmer. The farmer even protected the pumpkin from gnawing, biting insects, and on occasion would provide a jar of milk to the pumpkin through the stem. It would be no stretch of the imagination to say that this pumpkin was the farmer's pride and joy. The pumpkin on the other hand, while caring distantly for the farmer, would wait for night-time to come, so that they could sneak out through a gap in the fence to go on marvelous adventures."
"And what wild adventures they went on! They rolled down the largest of hills, caroused with the finest, most beautiful of gourds, did battle with the weevil king, and even saved the Princess Butternut from the dastardly Sicilian Vinca-zini. Of course, they would always be back in the garden before dawn."
"Of course, many of the wild plants were envious of the pumpkin, and the cushy life that they led inside the farmer's garden. They didn't have to compete with the trees for sunlight, or worry about rabbits eating their tender leaves. They did not have anyone to care for them the same way that the farmer cared for his pumpkin. They asked 'what right does this interloper have, to enjoy our spoils, but never suffer our hardships?'"
"Upon pondering this, the pumpkin became thoughtful. After all, many of his friends lived outside the fence. All of their fondest memories of rolling through the woods on a moonless night came from outside of the farmer's protection. And so the pumpkin came up with an idea."
"Feeling like an artichoke with a heavy heart, the pumpkin left the garden for one last final time. As they rolled into the forest, they saw a raccoon, attacking a smaller pumpkin. For all pumpkins were now smaller than this one, for it had grown large and powerful under the nurturing of the farmer. With a deft roll, it squashed the raccoon flat."
"The little pumpkin wanted to thank it's great savior of course, but the farmer's pumpkin knew there was no time to spare, for it was already close to autumn. They rolled at a breakneck speed through the woods, smashing all predators of the little plants. They did so tirelessly, earning for themselves a great reputation as a protector of the little people. And all of the Pumpkin's detractors ate their own words, because nevermore did they return to the garden of the farmer."
"The farmer was of course distressed about the loss of his prized pumpkin. He searched for days, looking for his lost gourd, but never found it. Distraught, he returned to his little cabin. Imagine his surprise then, when on the last day before the first frost, he found the largest, most succulent pumpkin seeds that he had ever seen placed on his doorstep. The large protective pumpkin had finally met it's end, growing squashy as the days moved on. But the little plants, remembering how they had castigated it for it's upbringing, decided to bring back to the farmer it's last surviving remnants, the seeds."
"Now the farmer was no fool, and he planted those seeds. And they grew into an even larger pumpkin than the first. And that pumpkin also went forth into the woods, and hearing stories of it's sire, decided also to become a champion of the people. And the seeds of the first pumpkin's child once again ended up on the farmer's doorstep. And so continued the legacy of the great pumpkin, growing larger and larger, year after year, protecting the little folk of the forest from those who would prey upon them."
Abnaki takes a deep breath after finishing his story, but does not look away from Mr. Pumpkin. "I hope that brought you some satisfaction?"
A familiar voice (but from where?) whispers from the dying sylph behind you. "Abnaki...do you remember me?"
"Aye, that's a story I'll be takin' with me." He holds in a cough, and speaks quickly.
"The gems can't tell stories, mate. They're just parasites, feeding off the rest of us, but no real juice of their own. They can't find it!" He laughs, and hacks up a few more tarnished emeralds.
"The Grove of Lies. It's the only place the gems haven't gotten to yet. It's easy! Just tell a story of how you get there, and walk there! But those dumb gems can't-"
One last coughing fit, and Mr Pumpkin is collapsing, as squashy as the brave pumpkin champion at the end of his life.
"Tell a story about me sometime.."
With several slames from Wamblee and the earth elementals, a generous scoop of mental pain from Samen, and one well-aimed arrow from Gabe, the tree withers and falls over. No more ghosts of the past emerge from its greasy bark. Some undefinable vitality leaves it, and it is still.
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"Of course I remember you Ohzna," Abnaki says, not looking back. It didn't even trouble him that he wasn't even certain that it was Ohzna who had asked him the question. Or maybe a part of him was troubled, but it was disconnected from the rest of him, trapped in the library of his mind by toppled shelves. He stands, and addresses his colleagues.
"Thank you for defending me. I've learned where we might find some allies, and where the Gems are coming from. Beware things that fall from the sky."
He looks at the chaos around him. "Goodness! I'm glad I didn't miss anything interesting!"
Krz says, in a clear voice, "May I have those pumpkin seeds, Abnaki?"
Kallik loud. [i]I'm sorry.[/smaller] Nodding to themselves.
Bubbling out brown and blue, "Faceless elen." Moving their fingers in a wiggly motion, "Darkness."
Samen glowers at the grove. With fresh eyes, he sees the wrongness of it.
The corruption that has seeped through the very soil. This would be more challenging than expected.
"Alright everyone, check for any hangers-on amongst your self or stuff. If we're going to the one pure place left on this plane, we don't want to be the ones to introduce the infection there."
Samen gives himself a once over to make sure no errant gems are hidden away, then looks to Abnaki. "Alright, honorable orator. I believe it falls to you to get us there with a story."
Abnaki, Qizzlvutz spots a few glinting yellow topaz-ticks behind your left ear.
"Hold still, Abnaki. I can shake them loose for you, but it's going to hurt just a bit."
"Thank you Samen. Are you sure you don't want to try your hand at telling us a story? A good performer knows to share the spotlight."
Gabe is smiling; a rare sight. "We need to be quiet. I know a quiet story." He speaks in a hushed voice, barely above a whisper.
There was an ifrit boy born to a noble's family. He liked dancing. His family didn't understand the boy very well.
The unloved boy was kidnapped by priests. Another second-born son no one would miss. They infected him with Darkness.
Through the pain, the boy learned to dance around the Darkness. It never took him completely.
The young el died. Free of the Darkness...but now we need to be quiet again.
"We're here." The young el has a trace of shadows upon him once again.
Fey. Fairy. Fairy tales. Lies.
Through the blurry, vague trees, all seemingly the same, you suddenly come to a large clearing, containing a fairy-tale village. That is, a village populated by fairy tales. You see the witch from the Apple Undying; the three sylphan Brothers of Time; the Fool who wished for pearl teeth; wizened elders aplenty; medicine eles; and a multitude of monsters and heroes. It seems that every whimsical Fey story of old has gathered to this place.
And they are all fighting. Arguing. The sound of shouts, insults, tirades, and even the occasional yell of pain washes over you as you take in the scene.
Habitually looking upward now and then, as you did earlier, you see this:
The "sky" here in the Grove of Lies is a painted ceiling (perhaps 100 feet tall) of bright blue. There is a yellow circle in the middle. You can tell from here it is nothing but a lie of paint and wood, but it is curious to find recorded evidence of Sun here, of all places.
Samen takes a moment to give Gabe an approving look of respect. "You never cease to surprise, Gabe."
He turns to Abnaki. "I don't have a plan myself, do you? I expect you could rally them to follow you, but unless we have a plan, we're not much better off than they already are."
With a moment to rest and discuss, you notice a few odd details about the place - the grass appears to be made of green yarn, for instance, and the village's light is coming from a swarm of fireflies meant to mimic peaklight (yellow, now orange, now yellow). The food upon the feasting table is made of brass.
Burly giants from beanstalk tales insist on a direct attack - the giants will throw everyone into the air and then leap into the clouds themselves. This is met with scoffs.
Delicate Fey magic-users try to work up fairybubbles to encase everyone and float up, but they cannot find a way to lift up the strongest and heaviest monsters of the group. They are shouted down for leaving most of the army's strength behind.
More and more are arguing in favor of everyone going their own way - spiders can use silk, the giants can throw whomever they please, and the bubbles could work for many as well.
There is no sense of teamwork here. No one leader emerges from any of these factions, and no one tries to mediate. They seem stuck in their own routine thinking, unable to reach compromise across the gap of culture and legend.
"I know some sonic attacks myself Samen, crystalized words to shatter crystalized ideas." Abnaki, in a state of increasingly rare lucidity, turns towards Samen and whispers, "I suspect I can get them to listen to my ideas, and do what I say, but I have very little in terms of military expertise, and I've forgotten much about the laws of magic. Will you be my advisor, so that I may lead them well?"
Samen snorts at Abnaki's comment. "You haven't forgotten the laws of magic Abnaki, you've rewritten them. I'm no grand strategist either, but I can see good sense when it's right in front of me. Gems aren't stronger than this assembly, just more organized. If you can get everyone here unified behind a single strategy, or behind a single personality even, they'll go far. I would recommend a story duel with whoever seems to be winning the argument at the moment."
"You've already got the hero's angle going on, coming in from another plane to unify and motivate. If you can tell a tale of what you've lost and what you've gained, they'll nearly be compelled to follow you."
"Kallik said harmony use" waving their hands in an all-encompassing guesture, "strenghts. But leadership important."Qizzlvutz points to Abnaki with the word leadership.