Strange Gaze, pt1-Greatwood VP
Log Info
- Title: Strange Gaze, pt1
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Ravenstongue, Shilde, Skielstregar, Telamon, Vaera
- Place: Feypool, the Greatwood
- Time: Sunday, January 23, 2022, 11:00 AM
- Summary: The gnome wizard Kninumpommoeraen is harassing a poor guild bursar as the contracted adventurers arrive at the Kultari Waypoint and prepare for their trip to the Greatwood. The practicality and indulgence of golden statues in ones-own image are debated. Ravenstongue and Telamon would rather have a home to share (Vaera will furnish) and Skielstregar wonders why the gnome would want a demon girlfriend (wait-- who said anything about a demon girlfriend?). Shilde remarks that people always seem to find a way to waste wealth and then wrangles her dog. Disappointed no one wanted to know what gems he'd have in his golden statue, the gnome sends the party to the Feypool without mishap.
Ravenstongue wastes no time in setting off for the digsite lodge, affecting a warface. The others catch her and talk her down, relaxing the half-Sil sorceress before the group finds Ikshama-of-Hers enduring a frustrating reading with one of her assistants. The Llyranesi academic has been blinded by her encounter with the wrathful spirit and is in a sour mood because of it (not that she was particularly fun to be around before). Pleasantries are exchanged and she recalls her tale of woe to the adventurers. Ravenstongue and Vaera display some aptitude with identifying lost languages and the assistant is rudely dismissed.
The group as a whole works through some of the recovered artifacts to try and piece together information on the creature referred to as 'Hope-Blinded.' Shilde is troubled by the mauling of the elf woman and tales of corrupted fey. Skielstregar takes interest in Ikshama's tattoos. Telamon and the Khazadi druid find verse and translate it with Ravenstongue's aid. It seems this creature is a lost forest guardian corrupted by some twist of fate.
Perhaps they can find her lost pieces and restore her to some former glory?
- Encounter 1, social: CR 5 XP1600
- (1) Ikshama-of-Hers, Llyranesi Adept 7 (CR5, XP1600)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- At a glance around PrP Room: Two =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Ravenstongue 5'0" 99 Lb Half-Elf Female Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair. Shilde 4'4" 160 Lb Khazad-Aul Female Tall for a dwarf, long blonde hair in a thick braid, big blue eyes. Skielstregar 7'2" 330 Lb Sith-Makar Male A bronze/silver scale with fangs and empty eyes. Telamon 5'6" 140 Lb Half-Elf Male A platinum-blond half-sil man with dancing dark eyes Vaera 7'0" 262 Lb Sith-Makar Female A tall, dark red Makari with a metallic leg. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The sky is bright and mostly-clear and the air is relatively warm when it sits settled. Mild winds kick up occasionally to remind all it's still winter and the world gleams dazzlingly beneath thin, melting sheets of ice.
The waystop west of Alexandria along the Kultari road has become something of an extra-dimensional travel hub. Much like the Soldier's Defense took on additional duties while the temples were unavailable, the little roadside building has grown in importance.
A small handful of semi-permanent structures have popped up around the simple, squat building, and across from the large firepit on the trail outside the ground has been cleared, leveled, and fixed with runic markings to aid in teleportation.
A guild of explorers record keeper and bursar are on hand as well as society mages and the usual skeleton-crew of clerics and other holy men minding the waystation's main purpose. Well-dressed travelers and all manner of mercenaries await their turn to be magically shifted to whatever corner of the world they seek.
There's even a few first-time arrivals to spot, pale-faced and retching-- or just swaying on their feet and trying to catch their breath or balance.
There's a familiar-to-some gnome (no, not that one) bothering the bursar as he awaits your arrival. He twirls his elaborately curly beard and sits on a massive iron-reinfroced and padlocked chest as he asks things like "what's the most money you've ever seen at once?" or "have you ever sat in a tub of coins and jewels?" and "if you had enough gold would you ever think of making a statue of yourself? If so, what sort of jewels would the eyes be?"
This would be the third venture into the Greatwood thus far for the bronze/silver mixedscale. Though, this time around was seemingly going to be through magical means of getting there rather than that of an airship. The latter he had been growing accustomed to. The former...
Well he went through a portal to Am'shere once.
The towering, massive makari carefully steps up to the gnome awaiting for them, him clearing his throat with a rasp. "Thisss one wouldn't make a a statue of themssselvesss. It'd be a wassste," he smoothly enters his way into the conversation, like a granite statue dragging across marble.
"Gods, no. A statue of myself? Even my ego's not that big." Telamon overhears as he comes up behind Skiel, absently checking his hip pack and his dagger. Glancing at Raven, he grins. "Imagine the size of the house you could buy with the money we'd spend on a statue like that. Might as well move everyone into it." He peers at the gnome. "So is this the fast road to the Greatwood? Or have we gotten the wrong terminus?"
"It might be big enough to fit all of Grandfather's birds," Ravenstongue comments in response to Telamon. Pothy maintains his vigil on her shoulder, of course, the pale-feathered bird never really moving from that spot unless he has to. "I just want a house right now. No statues. No big fancy necklaces, no fine gowns, nothing. Just gold, please."
She squeezes Telamon's hand before she returns her attention to the gnome.
"Give it a few more years. Time for your skills to inprove and your ego to catch up to them." Vaera snorts. "But I can't see a need for it myself. wood carving is better, anyways."
"You need a house too? seems like everyone is looking for one these days. Let me know if you need any furniture made, I would be happy to help."
Shilde picks her way over to the gathered guild group, accompanied by her large, too hairy canine companion. Mostly accompanied; Rocky, doing what dogs are wont to do, mostly moves back and forth, sniffing at building corners and crates and parked wagons while the dwarf's rolling gait brings her up to the pair of sith and pair of elves. She grunts, folds and puts away a piece of paper. "Sorry m'late."
"But a golden statue could be practical, too!" The gnome ejaculates, kicking back on the chest and throwing out his hands. "If you expect assassins come to do you in-- say, perhaps, you've crossed a hideous gobber rival on the academy staff and he wants you dead or, another scenario, the demon girlfriend you thought you'd summon for some company on cold nights escapes your control and begins stalking through your house..." The bursar was glad for the distraction but has a look of sheer incredulity as the gnome continues to rant. "So, yes, either scenario," the gnome wiggles two fingers and then pantomimes the following: "you take your statue of you... and you put it in your bed and tuck it in... and then when the assassin arrives and stabs the statue-- dong!-- their knife rebounds and-- KAZAATCH!-- goes the lightning to do them in."
"Plus... it would look really neat and might even impress your demon girlfriend." The gnome wizard drums his hands atop the chest and hops down. He doens't notice the bursar leaning on his elbows and massaging his temples.
"So, yes, the Greatwood again. I believe we've done this before! Elves digging up the past and running into trouble. Spooky ghosts this time. Wooo~OOOoo~ooooh. Sounds like all manner of fun."
"Oh, no, you're just in time. I haven't even warmed up my hands for magicing yet." He starts pumping his arms and wiggling his fingers to get the blood flowing.
"You should do that closer to your circle, Nim-impotence." Suggests the bursar with a continued pained expression.
"KNINUMPOMMOERAEN!" Corrects the wizard, multicolored sparks flying from his fingers as he continues to warm up.
Telamon sotto voce's to Raven, "I wonder how you spell that, anyways. And if there are three or four 'M's' in it. I can't tell." He stretches, rolling his shoulders a bit. "In any case, I took something for the nausea this time around. Hopefully this won't drop us into something immediately dangerous. Then again, with our luck..." He pauses, then mutters, "Akar irhandi," dropping a ghostly field of energy around him that fades.
GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17
"I'll throw my armor up when we get there," Ravenstongue says, followed by a wicked little grin. "So if we get attacked immediately once we're there, you have to be the noble one and take the arrow for me while I cast my spell."
She pecks Telamon on the cheek before she nods to Vaera. "I'm looking at some properties already--so maybe I'll call on you for some furniture. First things first, let's take care of the matter at hand."
Skielstregar chuffs at Vaera, him grinning slightly at her. "Thissss one thinksss a statue couldn't match whatever ego thiss one growsss to," he fires back, jubilant.
He raises a scaled brow at the gnome. "... that'sss a lot of excusesss jussst to ssstare at yourssself. Get a mirror inssstead. And why would you have a demon mate? Are you asking for the churchesss to hunt you?" Or me, he doesn't add. "Hm. Ghostsss. Thiss one can deal with ghosts."
A glance to the others, a wave to Shilde as she slips in. He's met her before. Though, to Ravenstongue he mentions, "Pleassse leave the arrow catching to thisss one," he suggests dryly.
"A golden statue is not practical, that's just asking for someone to sneak into your home at night and steal everything there." Vaera chuffs. "I don't think you will have a large ego Skielstregar. "
The hunter was losing a bit of confidence with their chosen method of travel by the moment. "There should be no arrow catching necessary to begin with. Just don't get hit at all."
Shilde's face screws up a little bit; late to the conversation, she's missing what started this whole... statue conversation. Demons? Ghosts? Ultimately she shrugs it off. "People with too much gold'll always find ways t'waste it. Seen enough of it." She gives a sharp whistle... and, nothing. Again, and then she barks a sharp "Rocky!" and finally the dog comes bounding over to her.
"Yes, well, that's fine. You can all live in your boring houses without golden statues of yourselves." The wizard relents, waving everyone into the circle. "My eyes would be diamonds-- not that anyone cared to ask," he harumphs.
"Now just like last time, please. Entirely in the circle. And try to keep still..."
Kninumpommoeraen the Far-Reaching gestures through the spell, concluding the cast with a snap of his fingers.
Once more the world skips and turns to blinding, stretching argent.
Equilibrium and gastric-integrity, both, are test as the sense of falling-without-moving assaults the travelers.
Fantastic crystal architecture-- ancient and ruined-- juts up from the ground. A half-dozen ridge tents are in two neat rows of three to one side. A marvelous building has been formed from trees bent to the will of wilderness magic and it overlooks a circular ravine hosting more of the glittering crystal.
A taller, square tent of heavy canvas has been added since the last visit and sits closer to the arrival point. A thin trail of smoke rises from the layered flap at the roof's center.
Everything is bathed in a mystical silver light.
"Greetings." Offers a voice from the trees once the dust has settled. "Your priests are in the healing tent. Ikshama-of-Hers is in the lodge." The voice is neither unfriendly nor particularly welcoming. The information is simple and direct.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d100: (40): 40 (teleport roll, success)
Telamon lets out a huffing sound as his feet hit solid turf once more, wobbling a little at first before getting his bearings. "That wasn't so bad..." He looks around, eyeballing the trees, before looking to Skiel. "Do we consult with the priests? Or should we get our briefing from her nibs?" He pauses to peer out at the ruined crystalline constructions. "At least the scenery's interesting."
"I'm talking to Ikshama," Ravenstongue says, her voice turning rather solid, like iron, in conviction around each syllable. Her brows and mouth remain neutral on her face, but... Well, there's something in her eyes.
It's a look. And she goes immediately off in the direction of the lodge as she casts protective magic with a mutter and a flourish of her hands.
Pothy looks meaningfully in Telamon's direction with a bit of a panic in his blue eyes. "Shouldn't we talk this over?" he asks in Ravenstongue's voice. But she's not listening.
Skielstregar blinks at the wizard. There was a number of quips that went through his mind, but instead he just shakes his head and he stands up straighter. He was soon to be full silver! He was already a living statue! He pats Vaera on the back as he's instructed to stride forward, energized by this newfound thought. "Yesss, yess, redscale, hopefully not."
A bit of discombobulation from the immediate transposition makes the tall makari falter on his feet, but he the dust off and rubs the side of his head. He makes a hissing sound, something close to a low whistle. "Fassscinating...."
He looks around for the voice, before he cranes his head down to Telamon. "... nibs? This one thought their name wasss... nevermind that. Perhapsss speak with her, then.... the... prie..." The words die off watching the small half-sil storm off. He shrugs, then lumbers after her.
The sensation of falling was much worse when one leg was replaced with a heavy chunk of metal, and on arrival, it takes a minute to rebalance. "The speed of travel is nice. The feeling leaves much to be desired." Vaera grumbles. She looks up, and blinks at the commotion, and Ravenstongue taking off. "Well, our course is set for now, it seems." She offers with a shrug, following after Ravenstongue as well.
Shilde takes a few moments to settle her shaggy friend following the teleport; not that she's all that accustomed nor comfortable with such travel, but the shaken animal needs a little bit of reassurance. Soon enough, however, he's licking her face, and it's a rare moment today where she accepts it without cursing or shoving him away. For a few seconds, anyways. Then she turns away from him, pushing his head aside while she wipes away at her face, taking a good look at the camp for the first time. A harumph in the direction of the voice of 'greeting', and then she's looking towards the closest tent. And then she's following.
Work seems to have stopped in the camp at your arrival. Scattered elves-- Llyranesi and Sylvanori, both-- look up from their work exposing, freeing, or studying the ruins. A few of the llyranesi have tattoos similar to Ikshama's; blue ink on their fair skin in complex shapes and patterns. Two wardens patrol in the open with bows in hand and hard, considering stares leveled from beneath their green cowls.
A brown-skinned Oruch wears the brown-and-green robes of a Hunter. His black hair is jaw-length and feathered. He speaks quietly with one of the academics at the edge of the ravine leading down to the pool and pauses to offer quick salute before pulling the elf away from looking at the group and back into their conversation.
If you draw too close to the ruins you're cautioned and directed around, forced to take a long path on the periphery before you reach the lodge. The building is made entirely of living wood with trunk and branches bent and woven together to form a long hall directly above the frozen lake. There are tables hosting salvaged artifacts: shards of the crystal architecture, loose paper, and even a disintegrating book or two.
Ikshama-of-Hers looks much as she did before, sitting now at one of the tables and holding a small sort of court. Her agent robes are beautiful and teeter just away from being immodest. Her pale skin is decorated with countless circular tattooes in blue, overlapping and cocentric, expanding or arrayed in a serial fashion. She now also wears a silken blindfold in a deep blue.
An assistant sits with her, skinny arms folded behind his back as he bends forward and tries to sound hsi way through unfamiliar text.
Neither seem to notice your arrival.
Telamon catches up to Raven, and lets his fingers catch her hand. "Calm," he whispers in her ear. "As much satisfaction as you'd get from yelling, let's not forget why we're here." He then slaps his usual 'genial welcome' expression on his face, dark eyes striving to show nothing, and clears his throat softly to alert the ... 'court', to their presence, especially those whose eyesight might be... lacking right now.
The look on Ravenstongue's face abates as Telamon's voice snakes into her ear, and she gives a little sigh and a nod. "Right," she replies. Calm. Just as he'd asked her to be. Her steps lighten a little in purpose as she strides forth and stops before Ikshama, standing as tall as she can muster for her height.
"Greetings again, Ikshama-of-Hers," Ravenstongue says. "We have arrived again to heed your call for aid."
Skiel is a bit busy catching up to head-start half elves, though that race is concluded in a mere handful of strides. Dead gaze pauses for a moment to look over the unearthed ruins, him idly curious of what it used to be, but abandons that thought as Telamon executes what he himself was going to do.
His polearm was practically part of his uniform, and he stands off to the side and behind the two sil-touched, tail lazily swaying back and forth like a standing guard. Armor plates on it faintly clacking against one another. He bobs his head once, despite how futile it would be due to the blindfold. He glances behind them, taking stock. A redscale, a Khazad, two half-sil. Okay. Good.
Shilde isn't without at least a small measure of social awareness; the obvious tension Ravenstongue has regarding Ikshma draws a bit of a sidelong glance. But with the other elf cautioning the dark haired woman to calm, the matter seems in hand in the dwarf's opinion. So she settles in beside Skielstregar, one hand in the ruff behind Rocky's head to keep him close.
Vaera catches up and moves into the meeting hall near the back, with the matter seeming resolved for the time being. But it still left a certain awkwardness in the air. She steps into the back and looks around idly, not having anything to say, but a lot to take in.
The assistant notices you first, trailing off in his strained reading to straighten and scurry out of his chair. The legs scrap across the earthen floor and the furniture topples as he takes a few hurried steps backwards in alarm before introductions are made. He wears a draping, formal garment that looks a cross between a sleeveless, double-breasted coat and holy vestments in midnight blue. The sight of the sith-makar, especially, seems to unnerve him.
By the time Ravenstongue is speaking to her, Ikshama has grasped at the air a few times and found his wrist, squeezing hard to steady him and draw a mild yelp and grimace.
"Ni'essa sing down to you from on high," she responds, forcing the irritation from her voice and pointing for the assistant to retake his seat. Her lips are the thinnest of lines as she lifts her chin and turns her head to one side. "Forgive Pol's rudeness. He's new to study in the wilderness... and forgets that our spirit screams to be heard for miles when she attacks.
"This could be forgiven if his studies to this point had prepared him properly for the work we do today." Both arms rest on the arms of her chair as she does her best to maintain her composure. "Let us hope you are better equipped to deal with this creature than he is to interpret these recovered writings."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Linguistics checks if you like. And let me know if you have Sylvan when you roll." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Ravenstongue knows Sylvan." <OOC> Telamon says, "Do not have Sylvan. Rolling Linguistics." GAME: Telamon rolls linguistics: (4)+4: 8 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Linguistics: (16)+3: 19 <OOC> Shilde has sylvan, but no linguistics. GAME: Vaera rolls linguistics: (20)+3: 23
Telamon places his hands together, "Hopefully, with the grace of the Highest, we can set this right. What are this creature's attributes, its appearance? Such a sudden arrival suggest it was bound here, either imprisoned or as some form of guardian. Does it lair in one spot, or does it roam?"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Oh, durr, and some perception checks." GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (15)+8: 23 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (18)+4: 22 GAME: Shilde rolls perception: (17)+10: 27 <OOC> Vaera has favored enemy elves if it matters GAME: Vaera rolls perception: (10)+11: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (18)+8: 26 <OOC> Jinks says, "The blindfold isn't entirely opaque and everyone can notice the shadowed, empty sockets behind Ikshama's cloth."
"Hold on," Ravenstongue says, her eyes looking down at the assistant's writings. She scans them for a moment, her eyes widening with realization.
"That's Sylvan in form, which I'm fluent in," Ravenstongue explains with a particular emphasis on her talents. "It looks to be either a dialect or... perhaps proto-Sylvan? I could probably decipher it for you if I have time and..."
She clears her throat. "Sorry, I just got excited. You probably would prefer if I just took care of that creature instead of aiding you in your important scholarly work, especially considering... what I imagine it did."
There's a set of dead, lifeless, silver eyes watching the assistant's nerves be rattle from the presence of the two tall makari. Skiel seems to pause, corpselike for a spell before he gives a closed eye smile.
Head tilted down slightly, of course, he knew not to show off all the wicked teeth. No need to unsettled them further, despite how amusing it was.
"Dragonfather'sss light upon you," he greets back just as cordially. Then, muses aloud, "Thisss one wondersss if it isss related to that thing from lasssst time..."
He eyes the blindfold, then Ravenstongue, then back to the elf. That was a lot more honeyed than he was going to put it.
Yes, it is not a one to one translation of Sylvan, whatever it is." Vaera seems to agree. "It is either an offshoot, or Sylvan is the offshoot of that. I saw a few books before thay had Sylvan in them, and it's not quite like that."
Vaera looks at the frazzled assistant, and sighs. "We will see what we can do here. So, we need to figure out what we can actually do."
Shilde's face goes a bit slack when she makes out the hints of what lay behind the blindfold. Or rather, what's not behind it. Being her first meeting with this person, she doesn't have the shared history the others seem to have.. but certain disfigurements don't rest easy on the khazad druid, so she turns away to watch the others fussing over the literature instead while nodding with the last thing Vaera says. "Anything y'know about the beastie so we don't end up like the others, eh? Has a pair of lungs on it y'say.. well.. would wax in the ears help?"
"Hah," barks Ikshama cruelly, as she snaps her finger at her assistant and nods in the direction of Ravenstongue's voice, then Vaera's. "You are as worthless as you are callow and a coward. It took you days to identify the writing and you still can't manage a proper grasp of syntax. 'My eyes,'" the bitter Llyranesi scoffs. "Go," she brushes her fingers through the air. She lifts to fingers to stop the assistant at his "but!" and simply shakes hs her. There's a moment's hesitation where his indignation stuggles against other impulses but he quickly retreats out of the lodge.
Pol isn't gone from the room entirely before Ikshama begins to regret her words. She mutters a half-formed prayer under her breath in Sildanyari, seeking compassion and wisdom from Ni'essa. Shortly she remembers there are other people in the room still.
"The creature is spirit that appeared in the air above the crystal pool. She seemed at first to be the most perfect Llyranesi I had ever seen... I thought the Sky-Singer herself had come to us in this holy place." She grimaces. "And then the creature turned its horrible aspect towards me and began to shriek. It took my sight and then tore through the camp twisting every elf it came across with its terrible screaming.
"Annae and another warden pursued her into the forest that night. None of the three have returned. The priests from Alexandria have been slowly mending the damage done to the others in the camp.
"Some say they hear her in the woods at highsun and midnight. Or in their dreams..."
She relaxes her grip on the chair's armrests, bringing her hands together to rub at her knuckles. "This place was a site of worship for a forest protector. The 'Ceaseless' it seemed to be. But we've found other indications that the protector was killed or driven away by something called 'Blinded-Hope.'" She exhales a humorless laugh.
<OOC> Jinks says, "If folks want to try to get some more information there are some things they can review inthe lodge here. You could ask nice (Diplomacy) or just help yourself (I mean, what's she gonna do?) and then we could do some knowledge rolls." GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Diplomacy: (18)+7: 25 GAME: Telamon rolls diplomacy+3: (20)+10+3: 33
Telamon is well aware Ikshama can't see him, but he puts on a smile, and moves over next to her chair. "Anything else you can remember would be useful. Even the smallest scrap of detail may be the key to unraveling this knot and purging this thing from the world." He's putting forth his best face and voice on this. "Please, Ikshama-of-Hers. There are so many things the sil have lost. Let's not add one more to the list."
Ravenstongue opens her mouth to say something, but then her boyfriend slides in and oozes diplomacy. "Diplomat's son," she mutters under her breath, and she says much more audibly, "And I would love to analyze that work that your assistant was working over. Perhaps I could get more out of it than he managed to?"
She does cast a look over her shoulder, a deep frown. She hadn't quite intended for Pol to get ordered out of the room on account of her ability to speak Grandfather's language.
Skielstregar blinks, him looking between the assistant and the blind folded elf. He mutters a soft, rumbling 'it's okay' to the passing assistant before turning his attention back to the lead-woman.
He coughs into a fist. "Right then..."
He steals a glance to Vaera. "Mayhapsss the twissted are not incorporeal," he offers as a concession. "Thiss one thinksss their Sky-singer may be thankful for it."
He sighs. "A ssspirit that takes sssight. Thisss will be... tesssting. Though, thiss one hasss meansss of, erm, dealing with sssuch ghostly things."
"He's not going to improve if you treat him like that. And the only reason I was able to was due to having seen the language in multiple places before. So if they have not, then you can not fault them for that." Vaera chuffs. "So, it takes sight, and twists people. Whether the two are related is the uncertainty, but it is better to be safe than not."
"I am not prepared to deal with ghostly things, as I have been made painfully aware. But it still needs to be tracked down, regardless. Did it only affect elves, or were there others here injured or changed by it's passing?"
"She was the most perfect thing I had ever seen. I felt a stillness and safety I have never known before... until she turned to face me." The elven academic offers Telamon with a heavy sigh. "She was truly monstrous."
"You may... but you must use the greatest care. Nothing in this room can be replaced if destroyed or lost." Ikshama tells Ravenstongue, leaning forward in her chair, resting her forehead against her fingertips as she attempts to remember the layout of the room without her assistant.
"We have a few crystal figures and loose drawings under glass," she points at a table that hosts a sort of display case. "There are three books that seem to be devotional records and logs of the faithful visiting the site." Same table, next to the glass.
"There are papers and another tome that have not been examined yet," she points to the other side of the room. "As well as the salvaged pieces of we think was a bas-relief in the arches over the crystal pool."
She nods her head, once, pleased with her ability to recollect the layout. Then she shakes her head at Vaera. "The boy has no business here. His father is a maneuvering idiot with too many friends in high places-- but that's not his fault. I will apologize." She waves. "We only had Sildanyari in the camp. The oruch, Acanian, and golem came from your city after the attack."
<OOC> Jinks says, "So y'all can have Kn.Nature or Kn.History rolls here are a juicy +5 as you look through the salvaged stuff." GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Nature: (8)+9+5: 22 GAME: Skielstregar rolls knowledge/nature: (9)+2+5: 16 GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/nature+5: (17)+8+5: 30 GAME: Vaera rolls knowledge/nature +: (3)+6+5: 14 GAME: Shilde rolls knowledge/nature: (17)+9+5: 31
Don't touch the artifacts. That's something Skielstregar does quite well at: not touching a damn thing. One razor talon with some twenty five odd pounds of muscle behind it could upset a whole archelogy team.
He instead peers over shoulders, scratches his head, and steps back and away.
He does try some idle talk. "... thisss one hasss seen the tattoos you have, and they are the same as others. What do they mean? They are very lovely today." See? That assistant had nothing to be worried about. He was a nice guy!
Telamon pages carefully through translations, letting Ravenstongue work through some of the proto-Sylvan while he analyzes documentation in other languages. Sitting with Shilde at one point, he furrows his brow. "Are you sure it's a nymph? This is pretty horrible behavior even for a nymph gone out of control." He examines another document. "Hrm. Shilde, look at this. 'A moon at night, the sun, the day. Both are gone and lost her way. The windows closed, caverns empty. Hollow-faced, sorrow plenty. Restore the lost, passions arouse. Moonlight lake, sun's light in boughs.'." He pauses. "I... am not even sure what that means, though. Maybe she can be... cured? Healed?"
Khazad are supposed to be hardy. Stoic. Implacable. But between the description Ikshama gave and tidbits uncovered in the writings Raven translates, clues offered from the various relics.. and pieces of lore picked up amongst her colleagues... Shilde is visibly shaken. Having found herself with her head together with Telamon, she shakes her head at him. "Not for knowing. Those hussies are dangerous t'begin with.. when the corruption gets to them?" Shilde shrugs. "Never heard of one being saved. Unless by curing you mean killing. Might not be worth the risk of trying." She goes on to clear her throat. "An' she's probably just a symptom of whatever got to her in the first place."
Ravenstongue handles the texts gingerly, slipping on a pair of gloves to handle them as though they were strands of silk spun from the first tears of the fey countless eons ago. After a while of handling them and relaying the bits she translates to Telamon and Shilde, she sighs and returns them to a safe spot. "If I were to prepare this for a poetic translation, which is what the text deserves," she says, a certain amount of admiration in her voice despite the contents, "I would call her the Ceaseless indeed, but 'All Hours' is the literal translation--it would be difficult to choose. There are multiple metaphors of time within the text that tie into the name..."
She pauses for a moment. "The 'Unyielding' might work better... Either way, she's described alternately as an eldritch spirit and a nymph who had ascended to something like demigodhood. 'The Unyielding who yielded for none, even mortality...'"
Vaera was not actually much of a scholar, which was not much of a surprise. So the red makari only dealt with some of the more obvious things, which led to not turning up too much. "I am more used to lore regarding the mul'niessa. When dealing with hostile creatures, they're usually a lot more obvious about it with their documentation. This is, much less to the point." Vaera sighs. "You think we are dealing with a nymph? I do not know if this is similar to how they act, or what they are capable of."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Could also just entertain a straight INT roll from folks." GAME: Skielstregar rolls intelligence: (8)+0: 8 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Intelligence: (17)+2: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls intelligence: (14)+3: 17 GAME: Vaera rolls intelligence: (17)+1: 18 GAME: Shilde rolls intelligence: (8)+2: 10
"Take it from me, Vaera--nothing about the fey is straightforward," Ravenstongue says with a wide smile. Almost too wide. Then she looks thoughtful again.
"Straightforward... Of course. Metaphor upon metaphor... Windows closed, caverns empty... Both are gone... lost her way... hollow-faced... The nymph lost her eyes, too."
Ravenstongue looks at the group. "What if we just find her eyes?"
Telamon looks at Raven. "Of course, the sixty-four platinum question is 'how do you find a nymph's eyes in the Greatwood?'." He looks around, thinking, before getting up to inspect the various objects and artifacts located by the excavating teams. Too easy, but it might be a good idea to check here first before moving out into the ruins proper.
"Aye. Keepin' our eyes out for a pair'f eyes." Shilde grimaces. "Assuming they aren't long since been eaten, or returned to th'forest. Might be better off offerin'er a pair of ours. If that'd even work."
"There is a lake nearby." Ikshama offers, half-turning in her chair as she listens. "Clear and calm. It holds the moon's reflection so we use it for holy days; the Feast of Nenyan and Sky Dancer's Song. The Gathering, too."
She gestures generally towards Telamon. "You said 'moonlight lake.'"
The search through the room reveals no eyes, sadly. Be they stray bits of meat or carved from the curious crystal.
Ikshama, distracted by the influx of information, returns to an earlier question asked by the sibilant sith-makar. She holds up one hand and traces the expanding ring of concentric circles with a light touch, smiling faintly. "This is one of the ways our sect worships Ni'essa. We indulge in ritual substance and couple our mates, then sleep and dream in love together." Her smile grows as she continues to blindly follow the memorized patterns with a casual grace. "When we wake we put our marks on the other to share our inspirations from the goddess."
<OOC> Vaera says, "could I make a roll to see what I know about nymphs?" <OOC> Vaera has know/nature and know/geography, if either might help <OOC> Jinks says, "You can roll a nature, sure, Vaera." GAME: Vaera rolls knowledge/nature: (6)+6: 12 <OOC> Vaera says, "lol" <OOC> Jinks says, "Very sexy forest fey."
"I am speaking of whoever wrote these things, not the people they speak of. But I have heard that fey are fickle people and creatures, on good days. And, if they are incensed, they are even worse. Like if, for example, they may have lost their eyes to something."
Vaera shrugs. "Could be the cause of what they're doing, or it could not. I do not know if it's worth trying to find the eyes or not. Sounds like something happened."
Ravenstongue's eyes almost bug out of her head at the description of the Ni'essa sect... umm... ritual. She somehow manages to keep her decorum as she looks up at Telamon and shakes her head. Apparently that's not one she's interested in doing herself.
"Well, I think we ought to investigate that lake," she says once she recovers from the obvious embarrassment. "It sounds like a step in the right direction."
Telamon looks slightly taken aback as well, though he immediately hides it, his voice even. "Agreed. The lake is probably a logical starting point... we'll have to take care to avoid the nymph, though." He pauses, then his lips curl up faintly. "Try to avoid looking at anything really pretty, maybe?"
Skielstregar hums a rumble in his chest at the answer. "That sssoundsss sssplendid and inssspiring," he honestly agrees, leaning against his halberd. "Oruch tribesss have a sssimilar practice, but inssstead of tattoosss, there isss a lot of paint."
He glances to Vaera, then coughs.
"R-Right. Lake. Thisss one could investigate the watersss if need be. Makari and what not."
Shilde rubs at her eyes with her knuckles, then slaps her hands together. "Sounds like a good place t'start t'me," she agrees. "An be on guard... whatever got t'this forest protector, might've gotten t'other things as well."
"The lake is to the west." Ikshama-of-Hers advises, settling back into her chair and lowering her arms to rest. She has a notion and adds, "Just beyond where you reported the yrchtaint camp."
The Llyranesi scholar takes a steadying breath and prepares to sit in quiet loneliness. Realizing her dismissal of the assistant was perhaps premature.
Telamon studies Ikshama, and walks over to her. "Is there someone I can send in to assist you here? We tried to keep things neat but I suspect we've got some of these documents out of order." Yes, making sure everything's organized. That's why, instead of not wanting to leave the blind woman alone in the tent with her thoughts and regrets.
OOC
Map: https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=mgjlzw872jf
<OOC> Jinks says, "You guys pop in over by 15,12"