Elfpostrophe

It's worse than a disaster.

It's worse than a catastrophe.

It's an ELFPOSTROPHE.

Namely, an excessively apostrophed elven dignitary from the Mythwood has gone missing. He's actually important, apparently bearing some information of use to the government of Alexandria. Urgently.

...which is why his going missing is not exactly great news. He was supposed to arrive two days ago. A day's delay is not unusual in cases of weather or, well, elven dikstractions. It's not like they view time in quite the same way as others, after all.

...but by the second day, the government was a little worried and you'vbe been dispatched to track him down along the route hwe was intended to take, alongside his mythwood warden escort.

You're approaching the borders now, where you're to be contacted by a Mythwood Warden guide, one who will help track his bretheren and the missing dignitary, whose name is frankly obscenely along and almost unpronounceable to non-elves.

Olek goes along with this as his first adventure since receiving his new gear from home, and he's all sorts of stoked. He's almost cheerful, which will startle those who knew the sour dwarf well. He keeps his eyes on the surrundings, and tries to remain alert.

Erendriel smiles and consdiers the group. "I should be able to help put the warden at ease. I can speak the language if it'll help. It's fitting we have such a varied group from Alexandria to meet them though."

GAME: Erendriel refreshes spells.

"Leave'ta syl ta get 'emselfs lost 'r missin..." Ilmig doesn't have anything against them, per se. Not personally. There's the personal edification of finding them and them knowing he found them, though. He keeps his eyes and ears open as they walk. His mouth, too, to be filled from his aleskin by way of his mug, both tied off at his hip.

Wings rustle as Nasirri tends to an idle feather along her wing. "That is good," she returns, voice a soft, warbling chirr. "Though with fortune, he too could speak and understand us. It would not do for a dignitary of foriegn lands to have no way of communicating with us." Bright eyes gleam as she hums to herself, a whistling song. Wings quiver; deft fingers work with care and quickness, a slender pin of thick steel piercing the thick stem of the offending feather before she bends the needle around, curving it back into place.

Iskandar marches along with a seemingly tireless gait. He carries a shortbow in one hand. He doesn't keep an arrow readied. But he wears a quiver at his hip, in easy reach. "That would be wonderful!" he booms to Erendriel. "I can't speak a word of Sildinyari!" He rubs his bearded chin. "Though if he speaks common, I'd rather you did so. That way we can all understand!"

Erendriel snickers when Ilmig speaks. She doesn't say anything in response, but she does cough, and rub one of her ears a few times. Nasirri and Iskandar are nodded to. "Right. It just seems to me our first job is to gain their trust, and then to help them find their people. We can't do our jobs if they blow us off." She then pauses. "Anyone good at tracking? Flying seems like it might be useful for that."

Olek says to Ilmig, "He's probably not lost. Elves don't get lost in a forest. They do get distracted. Trees, flowers. That sort of rot." He's not disparaging elves at all. Just, his interests lie elsewhere. "Hopefully he hasn't fallen down a rabbit hole or whatever hazards they get out here."

Tirol'soth is the name of the elven warden that you're intended to meet, and indeed, the wild elf finds you as you'd expect him to.

Stepping beyond the trees with his bow clenched in his hand, he grunts amiably towards the Alexandrians. "I found his trail heading out of the Mythwood proper." he adds, scartching the tattoo along his cheek. APparently, he doesn't have much time for pleasentries. Then again, he's not even wearing a shirt. And its cold.

"I would not imagine a tree fell on him?" Nasirri says, eyes focused on her wing as she flaps experimentally. Judging the pin good, she clicks her beak together, turning back to tucking the odd collection -- healer's kit -- back into its thick leather roll, returning it to its case. Starting at the elven Warden's appearance, she listens to his words with a final, unspoken nod. "We are grateful," she returns, bending her head. "Let us find him swiftly, the better to be unfrozen before cooler winds setle in.

"Well met!" Iskandar greets the warden with gusto. "Lead the way! We'll find your wayward dignitary - and return him in one piece!" Despite his bluster he examines the elf with a practiced eye, and also studies the surroundings with the sort of competence any adventurer who lives through his first few years in the life seems to acquire.

Ilmig lifts his mug to their arriving guide. "Ye find 'im for us?" That'd be the easiest trip. After drinking down the last and stowing the cup, he looks to Olek. "Could be bandits round 'ere ,too. Bandits, brigands, rogues, thieves... always somethin on the roads."

Olek nods about finding the trail. "Good job," he says. "We'll run him down pretty quickly, then, I expect. Hopefully he hasn't been eaten by bugbears. That's never pretty." He nods gravely. He agrees with Nasirri, "Probably not a tree. Not unless someone rigged it as a deadfall." He hrms to Ilmig, and sounds a bit too enthusiastic about bandits. "Could be, could be. ALways a threat, your basic bandit..."

Erendriel bows to the warden, and greets him in Sildinyari. She then smiles. "So you know who we are already, and why we're here. I'd like to ask you some questions. What's he wearing, that we can identify him more quickly, and from a distance? And is he carring any sorts of magical items, that might be detected by those who can detect magic? The more we know, the sooner we can help find him and get you back to your important business." Every word she tries to tone in the nicest, most Elvish Diplomatic way possible.

"He was accompanied by two of my bretheren. If a tree fell on him, I think it would have had to fall on all three of them, which would be... highly... unusual, to say the least."

Tirol'soth's tone is grim and dry. This elf does not have seem to hqave much of a sense of humor. Indeed, his expression seems frozen in a grimace of perpetual disdain.

"I will attempt to follow the trail but I do not think I will be 'finding him for you'. That implies a degree of labor that won't be shared. I assure you we will all be laboring very hard 'ere long."

His eyes turn and he squints at Erendriel before sighing. "...he was dressed in the traditional garb of my people, moving swiftly and silently in garb woven by the finest of our weavers, with a cloak so finely woven wso as to blend seamlessly into the background should it be required and boots of the softest of leathers. Also, a tunic."

His tone is extremely dry.

"Come." ANd with that, he strides purposefully in another direction, clearly expecting you to follow.

Ilmig rolls his eyes after the syl turns and begins tromping after. "Maybe he just fell on the path. Sounds like we could be steppin on 'n over 'im and never know it."

Olek says to the others, "We have his trail, we can just follow it til we find his boots, with him in them." No telling what'll happen if he lost his boots. Olek's not the worst tracker, though. He will watch the ground as much as our surroundings.

Nasirri 's eyes brighten, a cheerful click of warm cere as she practically beams. "He barely moves his features," she remarks, half to herself as she follows after. "And here I thought all beings were more 'animated' with their features and feelings." She waves her hand in front of her face, moving after the others. Bright eyes are sharp, flicking from tree to pine to oak to forest and lloam and back again. Curiosity. "Are all forests so.... different as this oone? I know the jungles of far off home are much more... entangling?"

Erendriel smiles "I dind't travel THAT far, going from Sendor to Alexandria, but I saw that there are many different kinds of forests in the world, at least in that stretch. The furhter you go, the more different they get. But I'm not an expert on forests. Or Tracking." She says the lastpart quietly just to her companions. "I feel like my job may be to fireball anything that gets in our way or threatens the warden."

GAME: Nasirri rolls Perception: (12)+14: 26

GAME: Olek rolls perception: (4)+15: 19

GAME: Erendriel rolls perception: (9)+15: 24

GAME: Ilmig rolls perception: (14)+13: 27

GAME: Iskandar rolls perception: (18)+12: 30

Aaaand so you're in the forest.

It's a thick one, old growth and well protected by the elves of the Mythwood. Of course, the elf travelling with you could well be older than the trees. How would you know? It's hard to tell given that they aren't exactly likely to share the number in the first place.

Still, it's not exactly a short walk from Alexandria to here. In truth, even with the help of the airship that initially delivered you further on, it could be a day or two before you find anything...

... at leasat until your guide stops with a sudden halt.

"Be ware," he says.

Indeed, all of you feel it. A tingling sense of something wrong in the air. Something fel. It's enough to give rise to gooseflesh or, you know, make some feathers stand up on end if you're a bird-person or something. Something is wrong here indeed, though just what isn't yet clear.

GAME: Erendriel attempts to cast Spider Climb but fails due to ASF.

GAME: Nasirri refreshes spells.

Iskandar draws an arrow now, knocking it and raising his bow halfway. He turns slightly to one side and takes a few steps forward, then turns to the other side. "Have you ever felt anything like this before?" he asks the warden.

Olek will heft his shield and axe, since things are looking a little dicey now. He squints warily.

Nasirri slows as the others do so, a quiet tilt of her head as she glances from one to another. Paused as the group stops, she lifts her head with a glance; sharpness shows the arc of her gaze, scaled talon tightening on the bronzewood staff as breath whistles across her nares. "Something different?" she asks, voice a soft chirr.

"Aye. Somethin 'ain right..." Ilmig informs all of the obvious as he draws his axe. "Le's go learn what it be." He tromps on ahead, to take a look-see.

Olek will advance with Ilmig, in stride, shield up, axe out.

"...a few times. Far closer to the border of the forbidden lands," replies Tirol'soth. He kneels down to touch the earth, sampling the soil. He brings it up to his mouth to taste, spitting the dirt back out a second later. "Something wrong came this way, something which ought not to be."

He glances over his shoulder. "Steel yourselves. Such horrors that roam not only the Felwood but also the hidden passages and lost lands that once lead to Morduzum. We had best hope that one such horror did not escape the bindings and the notice of our wardens." He rises back up. "I see nothing watching us, yet..." A glance back and forth, "This way," and then he stalks further into the forest, grave concern written across his features.

You sense nothing beyond that unease, that feeling of wrongness, like you're being watched even though there's nothing *there*. Nothing visible. Perhaps it's simply a sign of the presence that Tirol assigned to it.

Olek looks alarmed at the elf's prononucement, but he'll hurry along. If something like this is loose, we'll need to be ready for anything. He follows as quick as his stubby legs will take him, which is surprisingly fast, considering.

Ilmig rolls his shoulders, limbering up and shrugging at the same time. "If'n it ain s'posed to be, we'll make sure it don't be anymore, eh?" He looks aside to Olek, then ahead and around. Then his voice raises. "When't's bold enough ta show itself!" Master level tracking: bring it to you. Easier to find that way.

GAME: Olek rolls knowledge/history: Trained Use Only: 0

Erendriel stays to the back of the group. Keeping her eyes open, looking around. "I'm sure there's something very strange going on. I have no means of detecting magic though. IS there any reason I shoudln't climb a tree and see wfrom above what's going on around us?"

Nasirri glances at the elven warden, a blink on her features. He... eats dirt? She quickly glances away from the elven, shivering as she shakes her head quickly. So much for being civilized--! Focusing instead upon the area and the surroundings, she closes her eyes, thoughts flowing one into another as she breathes. "What is Mor--" She pauses, considering the strange woird. "--this place. Is oit dwarven? Elven?"

Iskandar lets the Khazad draw ahead of him, a bemused smirk on his face. Then when he notices Erendriel staying back he slows even further, until she passes him as well. He gives her a small 'after you' gesture then turns until he is half-backpedaling. He continues to turn as he walks, so that every few steps he is facing a different direction, but always watching behind the party.

GAME: Iskandar rolls knowledge/local+2: (12)+5+2: 19

GAME: Erendriel rolls knowledge/local: (17)+6: 23

Iskandar barks a small laugh. "Morduzum! Now I remember. An ancient Khazad kingdom, long since collapsed. This is wonderful news! We'll be exploring where few Alexandrians have managed to go!" He pauses and then adds, "Well, after our rescue mission is complete, of course."

Erendriel looks to Iskandar. "Okay, so what should we know about that place? Could that be related to what's going on now? Could the ambassador be trapped there?"

Olek wonders if the ambassador ix trapped there also, but he'll move along and track and we'll find out when we find out.

Nasirri glances back, feathers slickened against her head as she looks at Isakandar. "We would not..." she begins, a shiver in her voice. "...these things would not be beneat the earth?" she manages, a breath racing as she tightens her words to a short, sharp clip. "I would not.... Enjoy such. Very much."

"Could be why he got lost," Ilmig chuckles. "Ain' no trees under the ground." He continues on ahead, looking to follow whatever trail there be; natural or unnatural.

Tirol'Soth gives Iskandar a flat look.

"We will not walk those barren paths unless we absolutely must. That is not your place. But it is possible that something has escaped from the blighted lands and come for the dignitary, though one would suggest that seems like an awfully great coincidence, would it not? For one such a creature to escape and to pursue a dignitary with important information for your peoples?"

He smiles.

It is an unpleasent smile that seems almost physically painful for him to offer, even if its intention isn't to be a genuine smile anyway. He sniffs once, then pulls a small rawven from his tunic and throws it into the air after whispering something into it. It seems to suddenly become a very real raven and zips off into the distance.

"I have alerted the wardens," he adds, before stalking off further into the forest.

"Ah, yes of course." Iskandar seems just the slightest bit subdued. No spelunking in ancient underground ruins today. But then he perks up again. "Then perhaps a monster has escaped the realm? Some demon-tainted Oruch, or an Iron Dwarf legion? And we are to deal with the threat!"

Ilmig acknowledges the unlikelihood and shrugs. "Er he met some unnameable critter t'was hungerin. Let's find out, eh?" He tromps off after the stalking one.

Olek helpfully points out to the elf, "This is Alexandria. Awfully great coincidences happen every day. And twice on Gildays. We're just lucky it's not Gilday." ACtually, is -is- Gilday. Olek's spending too much time in the cloister.

GAME: Erendriel rolls fortitude: (14)+3: 17

GAME: Olek rolls fortitude: (13)+12: 25

GAME: Nasirri rolls fort: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)

GAME: Iskandar rolls fort: (3)+10: 13

GAME: Ilmig rolls fort: (11)+11: 22

It's tiring, this marching.

You're heading off the beaten trail, now, the well groomed and carefully crafted-with-respect-to-nature paths of the Mythwood proper giving away to what is at first barely indistingushable natural pathing followed by harder and harder marching. The trees get thicker, the forest darker. If you weren't heading in the opposite direction and it was free from Mist, you'd almost feel as if you were heading into the Felwood with its ever present miasma of misery.

Still, this is simply natural, thick forest and it's unpleasently tiring, though so far only Nasirri is suffering from it.

Thick brambles and blackberry vines are becoming a problem, though the elven guide is cutting away at them carefully for the rest of you, even though it seems he'd have no problem moving amongst them himself.

"Keep your eyes open," he whispers, "I sense we are near..."

It's not quite out of nowhere. You had to know there was certainly an excellent chance that something was watching for /you/ as you were searching for it. The deeper into the forest you went, the greater the risk, right? Of animals, or example, or of finding what you seek.

...and there it is, at least one answer to the riddle. Being lead by two goggle-wearing Khazadi, is a red-skinned Oruch, who is bound, chained, and the plate-clad dark iron dwarves, as that's who they clearly are judging by their appearance.

...no, not oruch.

Legends tell of the first Oruch who came, dark fae corrupted by the blood of monsters and demons who sought to bring war and chaos to the realm. They called them the Mogareg, and they're known for their rage and the touch of the demon in their blood.

The oruch growls, sniffing, nostrils flairing...

...and then the wings spread from his back. A mogareg, to be sure.

Ilmig can follow a trail, and the curling hairs of his beard. Who needs an elven guide? When there's not an easy path, there's an axe.

And then they're officially not alone. He peers, eyes narrowing. "Aye, be lots 'ere that don' belong... Fret not. Ain' gonna be 'ere fer much longer." His grip tightens on his axe.