How Much Greatwood

Log Info

• Title: How Much Greatwood Could a Woodchuck Chuck if a Woodchuck Could Chuck Greatwood
• Emitter: Whirlpool
• Characters: Skielstregar, Vaera, Ravenstongue, Knightmare, Randolf, Lyme
• Place: Greatwood
• Time: January 20, 2022
• Summary: There's trouble in the Greatwood, as is becoming usual once the Veil fell. A waterway had been blocked up further upstream for a small border-town. The party learns that a familiar was sent up to investigate, but it was 'torn to shreds'. Worried about this development, the party ventures forth upstream. Only to find a massive, deranged beaver damming up the waterway. Fighting breaks out, the beaver calling forth the wild to ensare the group, only managing to snag one of the group. Lyme bursts in, dealing some heavy blows before being knocked out. Randolf and Ravenstongue blasts it and the beaver swarm with magic, the former hasting the party. Vaera rains lead into it while Skielstregar grows large and crashes his halberd into it. Eventually it is slain, the small beavers scatter, and the party breathes a sigh of relief.

Chaos has erupted in the Greatwood. The Veil of Llyranost has fallen.

For the first time in recorded history, travelers can make their way to the Kingdom of Llyranost unmisdirected and uninvited.

But the Llyranessi have many enemies. Ancient threats that laid waiting for this day have been called into action and alexandria has offered to help. Your services have been volunteered to assist the border-cities thatw ring the Greatwood along the north-eastern Myrrish borders with it.

Airship travel took you several days to reach it, but you can see it clearly now, the towering and majestic trees of the greatwood. Primal nature.

And at its feet, sit small border-towns. The first stop for those who wished to travel, guided of course, into the elven lands.

This would be the second trip that the tarnished bronze/silverscaled makari had untertaekn for the Greatwood. Skielstregar, a massive, fanged sith-makar with a halberd, squints at the massive trees for the first town ahead. "Wonder what it isss thisss time around.." he wonders aloud with a sigh, wincing as he rolls his shoulder from a recently healed wound.

Ravenstongue takes in the sights of the area. There's a contradictory mix of emotions in her expression and eyes--awe, perhaps, maybe even joy, but her jaw seems too stiff and her resting frown too grave to sell on either of those. She casts a glance to Skielstregar over her shoulder and says, "Whatever we do, I will try to handle diplomacy. With any luck, we'll find some people willing to listen to me."

She huffs a little as she offers a handful of nuts to the white raven, Pothy, on her shoulder. "That is, if they'll acknowledge me as I am: a descendant of the sylvanori."

For her part, the journey through the sky has involved Betrys the Knightmare primarily in one of two states of activity.

1)In the hold, caring for her bold destrier, Cysgodawyr.

2)Watching the open skies with an arrow nocked.

As the end of this leg the trek comes within sight, the construct Knight breaks her skywatch to consider the distant townships below.

As her hooffalls come to a stop abreast of the tarnished Sith to remark, "Dealing with raiders, I expect." in that hollow tone of hers.

Randolf has found himself a small crate to perch atop, hands gripping the railing as he leans over to watch the countryside scroll along. His robe billowing and his beard flowing majesstically in the wind as he watches the great trees of Llyranost rise ever higher as they draw closer. "Beards o' me fathers," he breathes softly. "I've never seen the like!" He looks over his shoulder towards Ravenstongue. "What exactly are we meant tae be doin' fer the elves, Raven?" he asks. "I mean, we're a capable bunch, but... there's only a few of us, nay?"

Vaera was relaxed for most of the journey out there, but the closer they got to the greatwood, the more on edge the red sith-makar became. Out on the deck, she had finished with the second maitenance check of her gear that day, and was out leaning over a railing.

"They've relied on passive defence for far too long. Their defences will be tested by those who are used to fighting, and many will seek to capitalize on this. That is not to say they can not rise to the occasion, but there is a reason they are seeking outside aid."

The Greatwood, at least, is not on fire. Perhaps it's a testament to those untested defenses. What they don't seem to be doing, at least, is helping towns like the one down below that exist techniucally beyond their borders.

You're greeted after disembarking by a harried looking human man with greying brown hair and someone who is clearly his daughter.

"Ever since the veil fell, there's been an increase in giant animals. A, uh, DIRE increase if you catch my meaning," says the girl, whose father groans at her word choice.

"I know it's going to sound insane, but the waterways just within the greatwood we've relied on have been dammed all up by *something*."

"Dammed--" Ravenstongue presses her lips together as the look of realization comes alive in her eyes. "I... Do you normally have beavers here? Giant beavers, maybe?"

Skiel glances to the construct beside him. He blinks. "We ssshall sssee..." he rumbles, his dead gaze swinging to the others until it ends on Vaera. "We ssshall be fine. Sssshaman Ravenssstongue, Vaera, and thisss one have done more with lesss.

He disembarks, grunting as he gets himself and his armaments situated. He listens, and tilts his head to the side. "... yesss..." he rumbles, glancing to Ravenstongue and her insight.

Randolf disembarks from the airship, tugging the lapel of his robes as he goes. As they're greeted by the man and his daughter, he puffs up his burly chest, clasping his hands behind his back. Until the lass drops that particular chestnut on them. His shaggy red brows arch like astonished caterpillars, and he looks between the pair. "Isn't tellin' awful jokes usually the dad's job?" he asks, reaching up to rub the back of his head with a sheepish chuckle. He looks up and around at his comrades. "Giant... -beaver-. Hunh. Well, could be worse. Could be giant bats. I've had about enough o' -that- manner o' bullshi--" He cuts himself off, turning bright red under his beard. "Er. That... stuff."

"How droll." the Knightmare remarks, a hand gently stroking the coal furred neck of her barded mount as their contacts begin with the wordplay.

Her grim countenance turns to regard her fellows, "Ah, yes... beavers." she intones, "A giant beaver would certainly cause such mischief, I expect."

The red makari disembarks the airship quickly. They look around, and bow their head to the villagers who came to address them. "Dire beasts, or dire amount of beasts? Or dire amounts of dire beasts." Vaera asks, but they don't expect an answer, really. "It does not sound insane, really. sounds like you rely upon this water supply, so it could be something blocking it off so the town runs out of water, or it could be a beast moved in that wishes to do so for various reasons."

"Yes," is the girl's answer to the red makari. "Wow, a Makar! We don't see too many of your kind out here." There's a glance between Skiel and Vaera because, well, they're here and that's how it is.

Even the Construct that is Knightmare is less weird to them than that.

"So, anyway, the wizard in our town sent a summon up to check out the waterways for us, since we were concerned, and it didn't come back. He's fairly sure it was violently dismembered, so ... that's where you come in!"

Very helpful descriptions here.

"Huh. I'm not sure if beavers, even if they are... dire beavers... dismember things." Ravenstongue looks at the other rag-tag adventurers in the group with her. "I think that's really all we're going to get here. Should we head on out?"

"Snacks," Pothy says. Very helpful, Pothy. Ravenstongue hands him some nuts from her snack pocket, and this placates him.

Randolf nods his head. "Aye, that waterway won't unblock itself! Not tae fret, lassie, we'll get this beastie problem o' yers sorted out, nae bother!" He looks back at his comrades. "Well! Shall we, friends?"

Skiel blinks at the surprise, and he finds himself standing up straighter beside Vaera. First impressions are important! "Yessss, we are Makari," he rumble hums, bowing his head slightly to not a) smile with wicked teeth sto scare them and b) look at them because everyone is short. "We can go insssspect it."

Knightmare swings up into the saddle, "Perhaps it is protecting it's young." She clamps her shield in place, then comments, "Let us go, before we lose too much daylight."

There is a wicker from the russet maned monster she's riding, but the pair seem reasonably patient.

"...no tracks near the village, at least nothing out of the ordinary we can't explain. The dire creatures are real, but nothing that'd block the waterways, I think.."

Still, you're able to move along the way up the street through the town and out of it to follow the waterways for irrigation that they've set up. It's all dry at the moment, which tracks with what they've said. Also, there are no tracks. You make your way further into the border of the greatwood and it's just .. .strange here. Almost immediately, it's strange. Like stepping into a whole other kind of world.

"No, we do not normally come out this way, yes." Vaera seems to agree. "But if the familiar is dismembered, this is concerning. I would ask if any have seen signs of and creatures near the riverways, so we might have an idea what it is?"

Skielstregar frowns as they move along, his halberd used like a walking stick. No tracks...?

Then he steps, strangeness creeping in. He nudges closer towards Vaera, him squinting about. "... iss thisss... normal..?" he asks aloud, confused.

Talk of a dismembered familiar didn't help in the slightest. Pothy better watch himself.

Ravenstongue catches her breath as she looks around. "Hey... Pothy... We're not suddenly in Quelynos, are we?" she asks the white bird. Ravenstongue puts a hand over her heart, as though to center herself.

Pothy immediately looks excited. "Grandfather snacks?" he asks.

"I don't think so, Pothy, although it'd sure be nice to find out it's just one of Grandfather's birds gone rogue," Ravenstongue replies, patting Pothy on the head. "That'd be too easy, though."

Knightmare looks about as the group makes it's way into the uncanny expanses, though this not being Dragonier, her understandings about the behaviour of local fauna is slightly.... curtails. Still, she is on alert, just in case.

... you do find it, eventually, after some hunting. Largely because it's hard to miss. It's a giant beaver.

...a giant beaver with very wicked look teeth, curled into almost lengthy fangs instead. It's flat tail is coveerd in spikes. It's *definitely* some kind of horrible monster from the look of it, and it seems to be chewing through the trees with reckless abandon. In fact, the chewing sounds are what lead you to it. You heard *them* first. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH. After that, it was just a simple matter of finding the source.

...and the source is a ... giant ... beaver.

Skielstregar's maw clicks softly a few times as his mouth hangs. "... let'ssss hope thisss thing isss all bark and no bite..." he murmurs. Do makari sweat? No, they don't, but the massive man would be right now.

Knightmare has disconnected.

Ravenstongue murmurs some words under her breath, and a subtle wave of magic energy washes over her. "I agree," she says to Skielstregar. "I, for one, don't want to go back as a gnawed-up corpse on account of a dire beaver."

Pothy looks horrified. His snack giver, dead? Where would he be if /that/ happened? "Snacks," he says sadly, hanging his head.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15

Randolf lumbers along with his comrades, his wand in hand and a darkening scowl on his face. One that grows more and more dour the stranger things become. Until his ears perk at the sound of that massive craunching. "What the -hell- is that?" he grumbles. As the giant beaver comes into view, he slaps a hand to his face, dragging it downward. "Och. Reos' bloody blue balls, we were right. It -is- a giant beaver." He looks over at RT as she works her will. "Brilliant notion, lassie." He lifts his wand, sketching a brisk pattern. "Re ex re su scutus!" A ring of silver-blue hexagons whirls out around him, locking into place before vanishing with a flash. "Well... I'm -told- beaver's good eatin'. Bet ye could get plenty o' stew out o' -that- bastard!"

GAME: Randolf casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 7 DC: 15

GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4: (5)+4: 9

Well, finding a giant beaver was a possibility, but still unexpected. Sensing that it would likely deal with them like the familiar before, Vaera takes up her thunderbelcher, and quickly looses a pair of rounds, one following the other pulled from her belt in the blink of an eye. One goes wide, but the other hits the creature well enough.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 2d4+2: (4)+2: 6

"Okay. Let's just get it over with." Ravenstongue lets magic gather in her hand before she sends it out at the dire beaver in the form of small arcane darts. She quietly rejoices as they meet their mark as expected. It's not much, but it's honest work.

It's a beaver. A giant beaver. It turns around towards you after being blasted, done with chewing on the tree, and curls back its ...blood ... stained... lips. And it's teeth are ... well, it has WAY more of those than it should. ...

... and then it talks.

"FRIEND TO THE ELVES, I SHALL REND YOUR FLESH AND FEED IT TO MY CHILDREN. YOU WILL NOURISH THE ROOTS OF THE TREES THAT WILL BECOME OUR HOME. IF YOU ARE FORTUNATE, YOUR SOULS WILL BE REBORN AS ONE OF US."

And then it smashes its spiked tail into the ground and the roots of the trees immediately seek to grab you. <sildanyari>

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Reflex: (15)+3: 18
GAME: Vaera rolls reflex: (4)+9: 13
GAME: Skielstregar rolls reflex: (20)+3: 23 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
GAME: Randolf rolls Reflex: (19)+3: 22

GAME: Randolf casts Ice Storm. Caster Level: 7 DC: 18
GAME: Randolf rolls 3d6+2d6: (9)+(6): 15

Randolf scowls furiously as the beaver chatters at them. That tail-smack to the ground has the burly dwarf staggering slightly. But it's those tree roots that has him skipping side to side to avoid their grasp. He turns his furious glare on the great beaver. He doesn't understand what it said, but that doesn't stop him from baring his teeth in a furious snarl. "OH YE THINK SO, DO YE?! WELL HAVE SOME O' THIS!" He snaps his wand out imperiously, sketching a complex sigil in the air. "RE EX RAYA AN GLACIA TEMPESTOS! HAH!!" He works his will, and leaden gray clouds whirl into being above the beaver. A column of frigid sleet and snow whirls down, along with numerous shards of razor-sharp ice. They slam into the creature, shattering like glass and leaving a smoking field of icy rubble to slow its steps.

GAME: Skielstregar casts Enlarge Person. Caster Level: 4 DC: 13 (Begin casting)

Skielstregar flinches as Vaera gets the first shot off, him ducking some as spells begin to fly. He readies the spear tip of the halberd to charge in, feeling the affliction roiling forth as-

Ice and snow suddenly assail the space in front of him.

He kills his momentum, taloned feet dragging into the dirt. He looks back, blinking as Vaera gets entangled. "Don't worry! Thisss one will help with that!" he assuages, clenching his jaw.

Black miasma starts to seep from between his scales, coating the massive makari.... "Come on..." he growls.

GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6: (15)+6: 21
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+1: (5)+1: 6
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12: (4): 4

Vaera tries to move out of the way once the fighting begins in earnest, but quickly finds their path obstructed by the plants grasping at their legs. The red makari growls, and without much else in the way of options, she shoulders her thunderbelcher again, taking aim in spite of the plants trying to pull her off balance. Another two shots break the quiet of the forest, one veering off into the distance again.

"I will be fine Skielstregar." She shouts back, already working on clearing the weapon again.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 2d4+2: (5)+2: 7

Ravenstongue sends more darts flying at the large beaver. "I'm thinking that's /definitely/ not just an overgrown beaver! These 'ancient enemies' take some really odd forms," she grumbles.

GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (2)+11: 13

Well, then.

There's skiel out there, casting some magic. It's time to put a stop to that. The giant, eldritch beaver rolls closer, it's massive fangs seeming to grow ever-larger as it opens it's many jawed mouth (what?!) and then proceeds to attempt to snatch Skiel up in its grasp befopre he can finish enlarging himself.

Skiel is fortunate, however, in that he's able to avoid it.

However, smaller beavers are beginning to come out of the .. woodork, gathering together in a swarm.

... a swarm of beavers.

Oh, sure, they have red eyes and horrible teeth too, so it's not like they're natural.

Behind the beaver swarm and the direction they're coming from, now that your eyes are called to it, is a large wooden structure made of freshly chewed timber. It's definitely stopping up the waterwork, and boy, it's big.

GAME: Randolf casts Lightning Bolt. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17
GAME: Randolf rolls 7d6: (18): 18

Randolf's jaw drops and his eyes bug out as the beaver starts gnashing it's -disturbingly large- number of fangs. And they get wider still when the smaller beavers start swarming out into view. "Oh, piss up my -arse-!" he cries in a strangled tone. "Well, I'm nae eatin' -that-, fer -damn- sure!" Grumbling angrily at the notion of being robbed of a hearty supper, he grips his beard and rubs it briskly over his wand, before whipping it out. "RE EX RE INCARDO LEVINTAS!" ZRRAAAKKKOWWWW! A thick coil of lightning explodes from the tip of his wand, crackling over the Bigger Beaver and a number of the Bitty Beavers, sending arcs of electricity to poof up their fur (and hopefully cook their innards as well).

GAME: Skielstregar RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 8 temporary HP
GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12: (8)+11: 19

Skielstregar is focused on trying to get this magic right. It takes time to do it, and commitment. Seeing that Vaera says that everything is fine, he nods to her and keeps going. The large beaver almost makes him lose his attempt thus far, but he leans back out of the way just as the black miasma finishes covering every inch of his body. "Get. Off. Thissss one!"

And then he swells. And swells. Growing to eight feet. Nine. Ten. Fourteen and some change.

The black miasma coating him >pops< like a soap bubble. Oh look. It's Skielstregar, but absolutely massive and towering. That gentle giant doesn't last for long, as soon the aura of dread rips outwards. A second set of fangs appear, eyes gleaming red, black ichor coating his weapon and dripping from his maw. "LET HER GO!" he bellows, tone an octave lower and shaking the branches of trees nearby his halberd comes up.

And cleaves down with over a ton's worth of muscle behind it. He just barely whiffs, the axe plunging into the ground and shaking the earth around him.

GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+16: (10)+16: 26
GAME: Lyme rolls 2d4+10+6: (5)+10+6: 21

Lyme comes out of the woods -- he must have gotten separated before -- rushing towards the mighty beaver. It's not headlong, because he's working hard to get his feet right, but still hits it hard with a downward cut. There's blood, so the curved blade at least managed to get through the thick fur.

GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+10: (10)+10: 20

Vaera attempts to take aim again, but the plant growth is proving too distracting to properly focus. there is a sound of whirring gears from the metallic leg until it pulls free of the overgrowth, and the hunter stumbles out of the patch before it can tangle up again. They prepare to strike again, but the thunderbelcher loses momentum just as it reaches the beaver, and thuds harmlessly off of its hide.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Glitterdust. Caster Level: 4 DC: 16
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+1: (9)+1: 10

"Getting out of hand. Guess I better do something about it." Ravenstongue concentrates, and glittery magic forms in her hands, shimmering like starlight. She sprays it out at the large beaver and the pack of smaller beavers, and she looks satisfied when they seem not only covered by the glitter, but that they look somewhat incapacitated.

GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (12)+11: 23
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d8+9: (11)+9: 20
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+15: (5)+15: 20

The swarm of beavers that was arriving is now disoriented, chewing their way around blindly and screecbing. Have you ever heard a horde of eldrtich beavers scream? Now you have. It's enough to make the hackles rise on just about anyone, really./ It's not a natural sound even in the slightest. 5r

Meanwhile, the large beaver can't scream because it's got its mouthful of the Lyme that just arrived and hacked a bloody chunk out of it. It wheels around, smashing his teeth into him while it raises it's massive spiked tail again. Seems like it intends to slap someone with it.

GAME: Randolf casts Haste. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17

Randolf boggles as Lyme comes crashing onto the scene. "Well, it's about gods-damned -time-!" he grumbles. Seeing Vaera get free of the root tangle, he nods his head. He marks the position of each of his comrades, then lifts his wand. "Re ex raya zos allegros!" he booms, pointing at each one in turn. A golden rotating clock face appears over everyone's heads, the hands whirling speedily as they turn before vanishing. The party will find their movements quickened as the magic takes hold. "There ye go, friends, make it count!" he calls, before squaring back up with the Beaver Pack.

GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+15: (3)+15: 18
GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+15: (19)+15: 34
GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+10-2: (20)+10+-2: 28
GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+15: (2)+15: 17
GAME: Lyme rolls 1d20+10-2: (8)+10+-2: 16
GAME: Lyme rolls 2d4+16: (7)+16: 23
GAME: Lyme rolls 2d4+16: (5)+16: 21

GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12+1+1: (4)+11+1+1: 17
GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12+1+1-2: (1)+11+1+1+-2: 12 (EPIC FAIL)

Skielstregar is swooping with his axe, trying to shove the creature off of Lyme. "Look at THIS ONE!" he shouts at the beaver. His large head flicks back for a moment, checking on Vaera and the others and nodding to Randolf before looking to lance them with the spear tip of the halberd, but can't find purchase. "Stay sssstill so thiss one can END THIS!" he snarls.

GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+10+1-2: (7)+10+1+-2: 16
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+5: (1)+5: 6

Vaera steps closer to the fray once out of the entangling plants, keeping a wide berth of the area with the help of the hastening magic. She has just enough time to fire off a shot from her thunderbelcher, barely grazing the creature, but the sheer force of the shot at least making it an open wound.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 2d4+2: (6)+2: 8

More magic missile darts are sent to the big dire beaver. "I hope that glitterdust continues to slow down the little beavers," Ravenstongue murmurs. She looks satisfied with the punch of her arcane magic--comparatively speaking. She's no Randolf, but she'll get there.

GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (18)+11: 29
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+6: (20)+6: 26
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+6: (8)+6: 14
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "No crit."
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d8+9: (6)+9: 15
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d6+12: (3)+12: 15
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+15: (15)+15: 30
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Lyme is grappled."
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 2d8+9: (9)+9: 18

...so the beaver whips Lyme with its tail. Hard.

...really, really hard. Then it snatches him up in its many-toothed, incomprehensible jaws and starts trying to bite him into smaller Lymes so he can devour him. It must need more vitamina C in its diety.

With a horrifying crunch, Lyme is badly, perhaps mortally, wounded.

GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13 (Scorching ray from Randolf) GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+5: (14)+5: 19 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 4d6: (13): 13 GAME: Whirlpool rolls 4d6: (11): 11

GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12+1+1: (19)+11+1+1: 32
GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12+1+1-2: (15)+11+1+1+-2: 26
GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage12+6: aliased to 2d8+11+6: (12)+11+6: 29
GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage12+6: aliased to 2d8+11+6: (11)+11+6: 28

The towering bronze/silverscale kicks at the massive beaver to knock it off Lyme. "Pay attention to your betters!" he hacks out as its scorched by Randolf. He winds the halberd faaar back, him stepping wide before giving it a tremendous sideways swing. The axe end buries itself into the creature, a lot of things cracking and breaking like dull thuds of twigs. He pulls it free, flip the weapon over, and skewers the spear end into its shoulder, jamming it in and slamming the them against a tree. "Die already!"

GAME: Lyme rolls constitution: (18)+2: 20

GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+10+1-2: (6)+10+1+-2: 15
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+10+1-2: (15)+10+1+-2: 24
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+1-2: (1)+6+1+-2: 6 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+5: (3)+5: 8
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+5: (1)+5: 6

Vaera winces when she sees Lyme goes down, but seeing their breathing at least stabilize a bit, She turns her attention back to large beaver. Spurred on by randolf's magic, she looses a salvo of shots. Too fast for the weapon to keep up with, as there is an unpleasant grinding from the thunderbelcher, and a spray of shredded metal flies out of the loading port for the firearm on the final shot. The first buries itself in the beaver's shoulder, and the second seems to carry on past the beaver's head, until the bleeding reveals it had severed something vital in the beast's neck.

Vaera turns around to the other, smaller creatures, tucking the weapon underneath one hand as she attempts to figure out what to do.

The beast tries to say something, but thenit slumps. The smaller beavers seem freed from the madness, momentarily, and then scatter, even if they're still changed by it. That may be a problem going later.

Either way, it's body seems to begin decomposing rapidly.

GAME: Vaera rolls 1d8+6: (5)+5: 10 (CLW)
GAME: Skielstregar rolls knowledge/nature: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Vaera rolls knowledge/nature: (7)+6: 13
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Nature: (4)+9: 13

Seeing the beavers scatter, but their group in no shape to be chasing after them, Vaera sighs and tucks the firearm under one arm to jog over to where Lyme was lying on the ground. She offers a short chant and one hand placed on their shoulder, at least ceasing the bleeding so she could safely pull them away from the swiftly decomposing corpse.

"Well, the worst of it is passed, it seems. We should check the area after Lyme is taken care of, to make sure that there are no more like it. And, perhaps set some traps for the smaller beavers before we leave, and alert the village about their presence. There is something unnatural about their presence, and I would not wish them to fall to magic."

Skielstregar snarls at the beast as it goes down, even as its trying to speak. Yet Vaera puts the finishing touches on it. He pulls the spear-like weapon out with a slurch and lets the anger recede. The scary parts cease. Though, he was still huge.

He shakes his head free of the fog, now filled with just fatigue. "Good... good shot, Vaera. And nice work everyone. Thisss one can... can undam the waterway and carry Lyme back..." he rumble mumbles, unable to help Lyme at the moment as he was a bit too big.

He eyes the quickly decaying corpse. "That'ssss.... not normal. And yes, that isss wise, Vaera "

Ravenstongue breathes a sigh of relief as she witnesses the beavers dispersing and the large beaver fall down and die, decomposing rapidly. "I'll aid in whatever way I can," she says to Skielstregar and Vaera.

She looks around the Greatwood again and says, "At least this time, I wasn't informed I am not of elven blood."

Then she closes her eyes. She listens for the whispers if they are there. After all, she has her father's blood--Grandfather's blood--running in her veins.

Well, it's definitely not a natural decomposition, that's for sure, but then this thing was never natural. It was perhaps some kind of spirit that took the form of a beaver and hated the elves? Truthfully, it's hard to say.

... but it did leave a physical form ,and that physical form DID decompose like it would left unattended by even the insects.

.. it was very fast. And now it's a big pile of ooze.

"Well, we're dealing with something magical, I can at least say that for certain, as little as that is." Vaera chuffs. "And it's a bit unpleasant now. But something was not happy with us being here. We should make the villagers aware. And if those further in the forest can't be spurred to action out of a sense of duty and compassion, perhaps news of such events will at least convince them to send those learned in the lore of these forests to investigate, as this could be a problem for them, as well."

"I can do that," Ravenstongue replies, opening her eyes. "We can do that."

Pothy nudges his face into Ravenstongue's hand as she draws up some snacks from her pocket to the raven to eat. She just looks on at the landscape for just a moment longer.

-End Scene-