Evergreen Pilgrim
Log Info
- Title: Evergreen Pilgrim
- GM: Telamon
- Place: Alexandros
Gates of Alexandria, midmorning.
The weather is distinctly unpleasant, a cold rain spattering down from gloomy skies. But it's times like this that the light of hope needs to be carried to everyone -- or so many of the priests insist.
The Guild job posting was fairly simple: escort an acolyte and a holy relic to one of the outlying towns, as there was need of healing there. It's just... you might wonder if the qualifications for 'holy relic' might be a bit low these days. The acolyte is a weedy-looking little fellow who looks like he'd be more at home scamming tourists out of a few silvers rather than dressed in the robes of an Althean initiate. And in his hands is... a small potted plant. A cactus, to be precise. Seated in the wagon, he smiles broadly when you approach.
"Good day, friends! Well..." He looks at the sky. "Maybe not the best of days, but any day you're on this side of the Halls is a good day. I'm Hearth-Initiate Gwylln, and, uh... this is Pokey." He holds up the cactus. "Pokey, will you say hello to the nice people escorting us to Vernham's Ford?"
The cactus catches a few raindrops, and suddenly a soft voice comes from it. "I am Pokey."
Gwylln looks a little abashed. "He doesn't usually have much to say."
Aragos, who really in spite of his position as a paladin of Vardama, has never been a terribly faithful man. He stares at the 'holy relic'. Rudely. A lot. Finally he shakes his head and pulls a wooden disk out of his breastplate. He holds it in his hand awkwardly for a long moment before turning to Gramarye and shoving it into her hands. "Here." He says gruffly. It's the only explanation that he gives before he moves off to take the lead position.
A cactus.
Thoth is, admittedly, not very well versed in the extent of magically inclined plant-life. But when it arrives, it is earnestly a bit... surprised.
It doesn't really show on its expression at all. Only to watch Aragos 'handle' a piece of wood and give it over to Gramarye.
"So this is a 'Pokey'." It considers. "This is what we must deliver, is that correct? Very well." It seems to have no problems with this absolutely rediculous proposal.
Which may say something about the culture it comes from.
Gramarye has zero room to talk about the qualifications of a holy relic versus something else. What she is here to do today is simple: accompany Father as they go with the initiate and the potted plant.
"Greetings, Gwylln and Pokey," Gramarye intones. "I am Grace Reason Amity Miracle August Revelry Young Earnest--designation GRAMARYE." She curtsies politely. "I will accompany you today."
She takes the piece of wood offered to her by Aragos. There's a blink of light in her eyes for a few moments before she says, "Inquiry: why have you given this object?"
A long, equine nose interjects. It bumps Thoth firmly. As thanks for a timely rescue at another time, at another place. Nami is pleased to recognize her saviors, giving a stomp of a hoof as if to say hello. Carver, standing a little farther behind, lifts a hand as if also to say hello in a more common manner as befits her station.
She missed the fact that the cactus speaks, but does wrinkle her nose at the strange plant. "Pokeflower. Seems ou' place here."
"He's from Veyshan," Gwylln explains. "It's, ah... a long story, but I guess we'll have time on the way." There's enough room in the wagon for the two golem wizards, as well as Aragos. Once everyone is loaded up, the wagon, pulled by two sedate-looking draft horses, begins to roll as Carver rides alongside.
As the miles begin to roll away, Gwylln continues to talk. "I used to be a bit of a sneak and a con man, but... I found Pokey in Veyshan, and I guess you could say I had a bit of a revelation. I wound up making my way back to Alexandros, preaching and healing people with Pokey. Then I guess someone noticed and was worried I was some kind of demon cultist." He shudders, and reaches up to touch the blue-rose medallion hanging off his neck. "Turns out I wasn't, but some fiends tried to jump me at one stop. Fortunately there were some adventurers there to head them off."
Aragos only grunts in response to Gwylln, his eyes drifting to Gramarye. He'd managed to evade her question by loading into the wagon and finding a place to settle down, but... She was bound to ask him why again. For now though, at least until that happens, he keeps his peace and pretends like he's not avoiding the issues. Maybe he can pretend to fall asleep.
There's a few blinks of light within Gramarye's eyes at the explanation of the Pokey-tale, but the war golem doesn't seem to have much to say, other than one polite inquiry. "Is it often that the entity known as Pokey speaks?"
Her bronze hand with perfectly-manicured fingers goes to take Aragos's hand. She's a good daughter. "You may sleep if you wish, Father," she informs him. Whether or not it's real sleep or fake sleep probably doesn't matter much to her.
As Nami's head bumps against it, Thoth looks up at the massive equine, and touches its hand to its nose. "This one offers; There there." It has heard this is what you say to a steed of some sorts. It then nods its beak; "Greetings, Other - Carver." It chirps.
It then takes note of the origin of the creature. It is familiar with Cacti as a general statement. It has traveled in that region after all.
Settling into the wagon, it begins to toy with some small machine parts, trying to work on a series of small cogs and a small crystal to get the cogs to move on their own.
"It appears the one seemed to speak when touched by rainwater. Perhaps it only speaks when further submerged. Have you attempted taking it to sea yet?" Thoth offers up.
Carver and Lambchop canter alongside the wagon, the young girl holding her bow loosely in one hand. She was not expecting trouble. Trouble, of course, can always find you but considering that they showed no great wealth, she expected the most insidious enemy to beset them. Boredom.
The kind that not even the looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong.... yawn can get rid of. She blinks a few time, shoving hair out of her face as she blinks away moisture brought about by the great effort. So, as to not yield, she engages in the conversation. "Conman and a Cactus walk into a bar, oi? Almos' like a funny joke setup, innit?"
Gwylln's face actually lights up a bit at Carver's quip. "Yeah, it does. I mean... I still wonder why it was me that found Pokey. I mean... he changed my life for the better." He plucks at his simple garments. "Being a priest in training beats being in the prisons -- or hung from a gibbet." He grins. "I mean, Coyote does have a great sense of humor."
At Thoth and Gramarye's inquiries, he hmms. "He talks when he wants to. But he's a cactus. I guess if he didn't have these strange healing powers he'd just be a curiosity on some wizard's shelf somewhere." He pauses. "Um. No offense intended." He glances up the road, and frowns. "Hey, does anyone else see that?"
GAME: Gramarye rolls Perception: (20)+6: 26 GAME: Aragos rolls Perception: (20)+1: 21 GAME: Thoth rolls Perception+3: (1)+5+3: 9 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Carver rolls perception: (7)+11: 18
Up ahead, the road narrows a bit, with woods pressing in on either side. And two trees have apparently fallen, blocking the road. There's a man in leather armor leaning against one of the logs, smoking a rather crude-looking cigarette, and he looks up suddenly at the approaching wagon. "Hnnnfh. Alright. I'll make this simple for you. I'm not interested in you, or the wagon." He points at Gwylln. "I just want him."
Gwylln's eyes widen in shock. "...Vargas? What... how?"
Vargas stubs out his cigarette. "Well, hee-rows? What's it gonna be?"
Aragos it seemed, was not going to get his nap. He rose from his position and looked from Gwylln to 'Vargas' and then back again. From the man in the wagon to the one smoking. Idly he leaned back and seemed to consider the situation before uttering loudly. "It's gonna be..." He draws his long black blade slowly from its sheathe and grins viciously. "Either you go back to your 'ma, or I cut you length-wise."
Thoth is quite unaware of the person standing at the end of the road, until the cart begins to slow down. It got so involved in its little toy it was working on. At the end, just as the guy begins to speak, they lift their hand up and the little crystal-with-cogs begins to float lazily in place. And when they lower their hand, it's really slow to lower itself, until it floats a few inches from its hand.
"Hmm." It just remarks, before it pockets it and gets up as Gwylln is getting pointed at and others are starting to stir.
"This one is not designated, 'Hero'. This one requests thee to lower thine expectations of this group." And begins to make its way off of the wagon and forward.
Gramarye rises alongside Aragos, towering over her designated Father by six inches. The bronze mannequin-like woman stares down at Vargas with eye-blinks. Processing. Processing.
"Observation: the pronunciation of the common Alexandria tongue for the word you are attempting to speak is 'heroes'. Not 'hee-rows'." Gramarye's imitation of the drawled-out word is honestly rather hilarious considering her neutral cadence.
She lifts a hand. "Initiating intimidation module: Should you initiate combat, I warn that I will have no choice but to support my Father's tactical decisions. Please reconsider."
"Mur-see-nah-ree." Carver corrects, as Nami gives a shake of her head. "Contract signed, innit, one place to another with robes and cactus in tact, seeing how you're not our contac' an' this ain't the randy-voo, that makes you a droning, dogfaced dingleberry don't got a lick o' sense."
A snort comes from the leather-armored thug. "Figures. Snot nosed punk, couple of clockwork morons, and dimwit on a horse. Well..." He unsheathes a shortsword. "Don't say we didn't offer. GET THEM!"
And then battle is joined!
GAME: Gramarye casts Acid Arrow. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17
At the sign of obvious assailants, Gramarye wastes no time. Her eyes glow red and her voice drops an octave.
"Initiating combat module," Gramarye says. "Objective: Neutralize the threats."
She pivots her head in the direction of Aragos and strides over to join him, drawing on the spark of power within her necklace to cast a spell from within it. "Supporting Commander-Father," she declares, before the magic washes over him, causing his muscles to pulse all the stronger.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)
An elven archer rises up out of the brush, bow drawn, arrow nocked, his eyes narrowed as he sights in on Gwylln. Clearly he's the target of the gang, even above and beyond the heroes or Pokey. A deep breath, and he lets go... just in time for Lambchop to snort and toss her mane, momentarily obscuring Gwylln (who was diving for cover). The result? The arrow goes singing into the woods opposite, vanishing. A vile curse comes from the elf, who begins falling back.
GAME: Carver rolls ranged at -1: (10)+ranged at+-1: 9 GAME: Carver rolls ranged at -1: (20)+ranged at+-1: 19 GAME: Carver rolls ranged -1: (7)+9+-1: 15 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+3: (6)+3: 9 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+3: (3)+3: 6
Carver isn't terribly surprised that the swordsman isn't the lone combatant, so it's no surprise that she returns the favor in a very similiar manner. "That's how you hit a movin' target, idiot."
GAME: Aragos rolls Will: (2)+8: 10 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (1): 1
Coming out from the other side of the road is an elf with a distinctly... predatory look to it. Something in his eyes, or the way he moves, as he hisses out a spell. A wash of something dark and forboding flashes between him and Aragos, and suddenly the paladin is seized with terror, if only temporarily!
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+4: (4)+4: 8 GAME: Thoth casts Blindness-Deafness. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+4: (17)+4: 21
As the crew steps off of the caravan and the assault begins, Thoth spends a moment just... standing there. Taking it all in. Analyzing the situation. Arrows flying, spells being flung. It notices that Aragos is enchanted by a spell while clearly about to be facing off against the main troublemaker.
So, it tries to even the odds a bit for him, drawing complex arcane signets into the air and then sends them like a 'web' at Vargas. But the spell doesn't stick.
Only for Vargas to surprise it as he goes for Carver.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+6: (18)+6: 24 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (4)+2+(5): 11
Vargas staggers for a moment, but glares at the wizards. "Don't worry, we got enough for all of you!" He charges, but changes his direction suddenly, angling in on Carver. While she's distracted with Jock, his shortsword bites into her, drawing blood. "Hah! Not so tough now, are you girly?"
Aragos is so distracted by the thought of ending the man before him, that he doesn't actually realize that there's someone else even there. Until the spell settles on his skin and terror is crawling through his flesh and...
Blood. The scent of it. The thick feeling of it on his hands. Spilling out of his gauntlets.
He can't breathe as he fear turns to fleeing. His legs moving him anywhere, anywhere but here.
GAME: Gramarye casts Acid Arrow. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17 GAME: Gramarye rolls ranged-4: (18)+3+-4: 17 GAME: Gramarye rolls 2d4: (4): 4
Gramarye is unconcerned with the threats made to her personage. Instead, she is more concerned with the individual who came out swinging at Carver.
"Spellcasting initiated," Gramarye announces to everyone in the vicinity as she begins to gather magic in her hands. "Distributing acidic ordnance."
The magic is loosed in acid at the uncouth man, and Gramarye makes her exit, rejoining her fleeing father. "Commander-Father. I am joining you in your tactical maneuver," she informs him. As though he's not terrified out of his mind and is doing this on purpose.
GAME: Telamon rolls 2d8+3: (9)+3: 12
The elf archer writhes as two arrows from Carver slam into him, and he staggers around a tree. Fishing out a metal vial from his belt, he pops the cap off and downs the contents, letting the empty bottle fall from his fingers as the arrows imbedded in him work their way out and fall to the forest floor. Panting, he glares at Carver murderously.
GAME: Carver rolls 8+2: (18)+8+2: 28 GAME: Carver rolls ranged -1: (14)+9+-1: 22 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+3: (7)+3: 10
Carver catches movement out of the corner of her eye, just as Vargas drives his sword into her side. Bright, personal red. She bites down against the pain and gives a command, "Hup-Hup!" Nami simply bulls into the swordsman, tossing him to his backside as she twists against the wound on her side and shoots the archer twice again. She does not taunt back. The swordblow did more than hurt her, it made her angry.
GAME: Carver rolls will: (8)+4: 12 GAME: Carver rolls will: (8)+4: 12 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (1): 1
The sorcerer sneers, but the sight of Carver knocking his confederate sprawling. "Alright, that's enough out of you." Another incantation, a gesture, and a chilling wave of fear that sinks into Carver like sickening cold, worse than the chill of the rain as they do battle.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+4: (20)+4: 24 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+4: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+2+1d6+2: (2)+2+(2)+2: 8
Jock screeches as the acid burns him, and he blindly lunges forward. "Stupid wizards! Gonna KILL you!" Evidently not realizing it was Gramarye who hit him and not Thoth, he's unimpeded by logic as he lunges at the golem bird-wizard, his sword slamming into the relatively fragile frame but fortunately not doing as much damage as it could have.
GAME: Thoth casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 4 DC: 18 GAME: Thoth rolls Ranged: (7)+5: 12 GAME: Thoth rolls Ranged: (20)+5: 25 (THREAT) GAME: Thoth rolls Ranged: (9)+5: 14 GAME: Thoth rolls 8d6+4: (20)+4: 24
With its previous spell failed, and Jock rushing it, the avian War Golem makes a little surprised chirp of a sound! It spreads its wings instinctively - which causes some of the spokes to snap and feathers to awkwardly rearrange. But it fails to take off, of course. It backpedals a bit, but the hit goes straight through its arcane barrier.
The small War Golem's frame is torn into, creating a nasty gash through its chest, revealing some of the inner workings on the little thing. It squawks and scrambles back, but declares; "Re-assessing threat parameters..." Staring at the jock for a bit. Vargas...
"Rerouting to highest threat. Dismissing melee combattants." As it hobbles back and then suddenly points its beak towards the sorcerer and opens it...
Followed by a sudden massive flash of flame that bursts through the Sorcerer, burning them and crisping them entirely with that scorching ray that flares through them, before closing its beak and looking to its other foes.
"This one believes your turn is next. Please hold."
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+6: (18)+6: 24 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+2: (5)+2: 7
Vargas is knocked sprawling by Lambchop, narrowly avoiding being trampled. When his sorcerer comrade puts the fear into the ranger, he grins. "That's it! Keep 'em scared! Keep 'em--" Whatever else he might say is choked off as Thoth turns and simply incinerates the sorcerer. "SHIT!"
The brigand scrambles to his feet, snatching up his sword, and lunges for Thoth, slashing into the smallish golem savagely. "Clockwork freak! I'll turn you into a chamberpot, see if I don't!"
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+6+2: (20)+6+2: 28 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+6+2: (2)+6+2: 10 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+6+2: (8)+6+2: 16 GAME: Aragos rolls 2d6+7+2: (6)+7+2: 15 GAME: Aragos rolls 2d6+7+2: (3)+7+2: 12
Fear fades.
The memory dissipates in the flash of an instant and rage replaces the faintest remnants of terror. The sorcerer who did it is gone. Flash-fried into oblivion. Now, only a few remain and one is close enough to strike. "On my six Gramarye."
The words are laced with anger and the paladin moves forward in a flash of black armor. He strikes decisively, laying low the man with daggers in a manner not unlike what he had promised to do to the leader of these foolish bandits. His purple eyes turn on that self-same leader with deadly promise. "Flee now, or my mistress will see you home."
GAME: Gramarye casts Burning Hands. Caster Level: 4 DC: 16 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+4: (3)+4: 7 GAME: Gramarye rolls 4d4: (9): 9
Gramarye does what her father expects of her. To provide aid and support. Mostly to set him up in knocking down that which opposes them.
"Initiating spellcasting. Distributing flame. Allies, please stand back."
It's the only warning Gramarye gives before flame goes out from Gramarye's hand and into Vargas, scorching the man but not taking him down for the count.
"Finish the combat, Commander-Father," Gramarye intones. It's very nearly done.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)
The elven archer shudders as he takes two more hits. The whole ambush is falling apart, and it's clear it's not going their way. He tries to fire one last shot at Carver... and his bowstring breaks. The expression on his face is one of complete fury and disgust, as he suddenly turns, vanishing into the brush and the treeline, making an escape.
GAME: Carver rolls 8+2: (1)+8+2: 11 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+4: (17)+4: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6+2: (4)+2: 6 GAME: Carver rolls 7-2: (5)+7+-2: 10
Carver gave the command to Nami, so she obeyed, rushing down Vargas. What the horse was not expecting was for their rider to suddenly launch themselves at the target and in the confusion of the moment, wisely backs away. The ambush had gone terribly, obviously so. As the defending party, they had the right to bear arms in defense of themselves and clients.
Now it looks more like a bloodbath. Carver thought to take the man down with a flying tackle. What she gets is a scrape of steel against her spine and the taste of dirt and iron as she rolls through her momentum.
The demand to surrender falls a bit flat right about now.
GAME: Thoth casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 4 DC: 18 GAME: Thoth rolls Ranged-4: (4)+5+-4: 5 GAME: Thoth rolls Ranged-4: (19)+5+-4: 20 GAME: Thoth rolls 4d6+2: (10)+2: 12
Another blade! Thoth raises an arm to protect it, only for it to come down upon its body with a fierceness it didn't expect. Tearing through its arcane barrier, it almost rips its entire arm off, and hews another rip through its chest.
Had it been a biological entity, no doubt it would be dead now. But instead, it stares at the one before it. Considering how badly it has been hurt in the past.
"This one has been requested not to let any harm come to it. This one fears, since you have violated this requirement, this one will now be taking action."
Followed by it stumbling back and sending a ray of flames at him from its fingertips. Though really, it's more a 'hobbling' retreat more than anything else. Gears exposed.
Vargas is a slippery one, that's for sure. He sidesteps Nami barrelling down on him, slashes Carver as she tries to pile into him and even dodges away. But his luck runs out as heat washes over him and another ray of fire scorches him, yielding a scream of agony. His sword clatters from his fingertips, as the brigand wobbles--
And then finally Gwylln pops up from the wagon, holding Pokey. "Wait! WAIT! Stay your hands! Stop, please!"
Gramarye sees her father holding out his blade ready to dispatch the man, and she decides to follow suit in her course of action, crimson eyes trained on Vargas.
"Warning: please do not run." This is not a comforting sound, given that Gramarye's voice in combat mode is a whole octave lower than her usual register. "Should you run, I will immediately dispense arcane ordnance that will blind you for a temporary amount of time."
Carver spits out a clod, wiping her mouth clean with the back of an arm. Slowly, stiff from the fall, she rises to her feet and collects her bow from where it fell to the soft earth alongside her. She holds it in one hand as she turns to face Vargas. She doesn't draw her axe, but she does seem to be holding for something, free hand balling into a fist.
Gramarye sees her father holding out his blade ready to dispatch the man, and she decides to follow suit in her course of action, crimson eyes trained on Vargas.
"Warning: please do not run." This is not a comforting sound, given that Gramarye's voice in combat mode is a whole octave lower than her usual register. "Should you run, I will immediately dispense arcane ordnance that will blind you for a temporary amount of time."
Thoth, worried even though it's being told to halt, remains a bit back and away from the formerly-smoking swordsman. It puts up another magical shield in the hopes it will protect itself better in the near future as long as that is up. It doesn't want to take further damage, and it would rather have removed the threat to its own existance than taking a chance on this. But it's taking the lead from the people who - earnestly - are far more experienced than itself.
Vargas stares a bit blankly, dazed, badly injured. He's not in any way able to defend himself at this point.
Gwylln straightens a bit, the skinny little thief-turned-acolyte resting a hand on the wagon's side. "There was a time I could've been in his shoes," he says quietly. "Oh, I wasn't near as much into rough stuff as Vargas was. But it could've been me. Doesn't he deserve the same chance I did, to find redemption in the eyes of the gods?"
He holds up a hand. "I'm not saying 'let him go'. He still has to answer for what he's done, here and in the past. But better that than to deny him the chance to find any kind of peace at all. We can bind him, and you can take him back to Alexandria, have him put on trial. Maybe he'll find what I did, in some way or another." Gwylln looks ruefully at Pokey. "Salvation comes in many forms, after all."
Aragos looks down at the man. Too-vivid memories flickering through his mind. He lowers his sword and then sheathes it. Wordlessly he sets about tying the man up, he doesn't need to threaten further. Carver stands obviously ready to dispense further punishment should it be necessary. So he's bound and put in the back of the wagon. "Will you sit with him Gramarye?"
He moves to Thoth then, pressing a hand onto the constructs shoulder and sending healing energy into the small one. Enough perhaps. "Wouldn't want to leave you broken." He says, then nods to Carver and her horse. "Think you can get that horse of yours to give me a hand with the trees? I don't want to spend all day here."
Maybe the manual labor will help him begin to forget.
Thoth has, until now, not experienced the healing power of one such as Aragos. It lifts its hands in surprise when that healing energy passes through it, knitting up metal. It is so used to the more arcane touch of mending spells. This feels... different. Like it's touching something else within it.
When Aragos is done, it looks up at him and clacks its beak twice, before noting; "Thank you." Before looking to the man who should probably be getting slapped in cuffs.
"So... why did this one desire to steal Gwylln?" It inquires to the group at large. "Did the Other wish to steal Pokey to make money?"
The request from Aragos, and the lowering and sheathing of his sword, causes Gramarye's red eyes to flicker back into obsidian as she says, "Exiting combat module."
Her voice returns to its original register as she says, "Yes, Father. I will sit with him."
So the very tall war golem woman pads her way across the grass to sit down next to Vargas. Her head pivots down to look at him.
Her eyes are dark and blank... until they blink with her words. "I am sitting with you. Please do not resist."
So comforting.
Carver exhales, pressing a hand to the wound in her side and bringing it back with a little red. Cleaning that is going to be a pain. Her whistle to Nami is a pleasant lilting trill, and her steed falls into step with her as she follows Aragos.
Gwylln shakes his head at Thoth. "We... were part of the same gang at one time. Except I had to cut and run when the Watch came looking for me." He looks down at Vargas. "Guess he held a grudge over it."
Before the others scatter to get things moving again, he beckons for everyone to stand close. "Pokey, we have some people who are hurt. Can you help them?" Speaking softly to the cactus like a friendly pet.
And the cactus speaks again. "I am Pokey! YES." Suddenly, a flare of golden light that washes out and over the heroes and even Vargas, wiping away injury and damage. Then the cactus makes a yawning sound. "Pokey is happy."
The rest of the trip is uneventful, and considering the strangeness that is life on Ea, perhaps that in itself is something to be cherished.