Vast Expectations (Part 4)
Log Info
- Title: Vast Expectations, part 4
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Faranmidahn, Paenitia, Jinks, Razen, Edinaz
- Place: The Vast
- Time: Monday, January 31, 2022, 8:02 PM
- Summary: Adventurers, led by Farland, head to the Vast to meet with the Phurai Dae. They arrive, and are met, but not by the ones they expect. A battle with trolls ensues, and the grasslands are set on fire. Once the trolls are defeated, the adventurers put of the fires and tend to the wounded. They also investigate the face-bag, which turns out to be a handy haversack with lively mouths. It is destroyed. The ones they seek finally arrive, it's a centaur, who takes them to the edge of the vast.
With the last of the trolls deceased or defeated (which you will have the chance to ensure are deceased) you merely have a small, spreading grass fire to deal with. An unfortunate reality of the battle against highly regenerative trolls, it's not exactly something you want to leave alone.
Still, there are injuries amongst the sailors and Farland is getting them separated from the others.
Razen wanders the deck, putting to fire any troll that doesn't seem to be combusting readily enough for his tastes. Which is pretty much all of them. The oruch doesn't particularly have any skill in the art of healing - or putting out fires - so he sticks to what he does best. Destroying stuff. In this case - the trolls.
<OOC> Paenitia says, "I'll go with first aid to help the wounded, 1/2 cav levels, so +5 to heal" GAME: Paenitia rolls heal+5: (2)+15+5: 22 <OOC> Paenitia says, "Can always count on you dice"
"Ramirez, he does not have the water to put that fire out!" Paenitia shouts, as she wipes off her lance then sheaths it.
'Ruaaaaah?' Ramirez squawks at the suggestion. He does not put out fires. No. He starts them, or makes them better.
The little lucht knight twists in her saddle, grabs her medical case and dismounts. She joins Farland, in rendering assistance to help out the crew.
<OOC> Faranmidahn going to alter self to something medium sized to help stack bodies for proper burnination <OOC> Faranmidahn says, "using aam to avoid spell failure" GAME: Faranmidahn casts Alter Self. Caster Level: 9 DC: 16
Faranmidahn shakes her head at her inept strike, too long from the lance, perhaps, as Paenitia must lay low her foe. There is a little sigh as the albino knight looks about, taking stock, then edges Torrent back from the potential source of calories.
And heartache...
She gives the arachnid the belly-down signal, to which the glossy huntsman complies, and she dismounts, "Quick, if we can get them all stacked together I can make sure they don't regenerate!"
Once a couple paces from Torrent, the eldritch knight extends her index and middle fingers before her with a roll of her wrist, ""Path unset, my form revised,w" she begins, then, bringing the digits to alight against her brow, "unlock me, both shape and size!" <halfling>
In a misty cloud of shadowy motes and iridescence, the halfling is replaced with a ivory skinned Jotun woman, who immediately moves to dragging the trolls to a single spot to light them up, proper.
<OOC> Lysos says, "If there is any other fire threatening to get out of control, Lysos will help with putting it out." GAME: Lysos casts Hydraulic Push. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18 GAME: Lysos casts Hydraulic Push. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18 GAME: Lysos casts Hydraulic Push. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18 GAME: Lysos casts Hydraulic Torrent. Caster Level: 9 DC: 20 GAME: Lysos casts Hydraulic Torrent. Caster Level: 9 DC: 20 GAME: Lysos casts Hydraulic Torrent. Caster Level: 9 DC: 20
Lysos also commits to the process of putting out fires, the very thought of grassland wildfires being enough to terrify any tsuran. Every few moments one can hear her uttering, "Soakus!" or even "Soakus Mostus!" as she blasts various patches of burning grass with torrents of water.
Jinks rests his voice as others go about tending the wounded and putting out literal fires, slinging his shortbow and glancing down to count his remaining arrows on the way to assisting Paenitia. A few minutes in and his shadows blink out one after the other, making the world a sadder place as eight Jinks become the one-and-only.
"Who's worst off?" he wonders of the paladina, adjusting his rings and eyeing the assorted airmen. He has a spell or two that'll close wounds and ease some pain.
"This man here, the claws, they cut deep." Paenitia indicates one of the airshipmen.
Edinaz starts helping stack trolls. Lifting and carrying makes sense.
The magic from Lysos definitely helps put out most of the fires. It is hard. The wind, for example, makes it a game of catch up.
Stacking the trolls is not the easiest thing in the wordl. They have twitchy, gangly bodies. Even burnt to death as they are, their bodies are still struggling to return to life even if they can't quite manage it. It's pretty awful to see.
Eventually, with the crews help, the bodies are stacked, brush is cleared, adn they are safely burnt.
Covered in soot and dirt from stacking bodies and burning them, Razen lifts his gaze skyward and looks at the man in charge. "Farland... Do you think that those we are expecting saw the fire and turned back?" He has no idea when they were expecting the horse riders, but dislikes the thought that they might have decided to come some other day.
In scant minutes, time flies when you're serving up supine trolls, after all, the over-starched giantkin are piled in a section of the recently cleared patch, when the transmogrified Jotunmidahn waves everyone back.
Just to make sure....
Her hand goes through it's motions, manifesting the golden spark of light that evolves into a sphere of mystical wrath with her chant.
"Ravenous warmth and piercing light, I free thee now from Order's Cage, yield yon power to mortal fight, and Unleash now thy deadly rage!" <halfling>
The constrained conflagration should still the stubborn wigglings of the regenerating monsters at last. Necessity itself, but still, the Purple Rose watches the bodies burn with a bleak, subtly rueful expression.
Edinaz steps back, watching the trolls burn. "Well, if anyone else wanted to know we're here, they do now."
Paenitia, with Jinks' assistance, continues to tend to the injured. The mercies of Tarien take a while to bring about, and seem suspiciously like mundane healing efforts. Some analgesics, some poultices to absorb blood and quell infection, and bandages. Lots of bandages.
She works with a careful diligence that is undermined by her crazy mask. Many wounded have a fixed expression to stare at, one that seems to mock their pain. "We can still make the grand fireworks in the sky."
With a nod and a kneel, Jinks takes to quiet humming as he considers the wounded man. He pushes his decorated fingers through the Weave, gneading and searching until he's laced through the right threads and can stretch them aside. The worst of the wounds close and the bleeding stops without the warmth of a god's blessing.
"I have more than a few of these if you want to take Ramirez to look for our contacts, Dame Paenitia." His voice is cool and smells strongly of the mint he's chewing on. All the talk of burning trolls and the black-eyed gnome can't help but look past the Lucht and smile grimly at the finishing work. Gnever a bad day to see the Enemy put to a torch-- though a grand pyre would be preferable.
GAME: Jinks casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 10 DC: 18
At least, there's still that face-satchel bag to check out, right? Probably nothing anyone *wants* to check out, though.
Farlan is inspecting the trolls. "I wonder if they were sent here on purpose?" he asks, curiously. Concerned. Paranoid.
"Probably not," says one of the sailors. "trolls are notoriously violent. Just showing up above was enough for them to track us."
"Either way," agrees Farland, "We should move a bit as soon as we can. The Phurai Dae can find us just as easy."
...which, of course, right on cue.... the distant sound of a horn.
Fighting fires is is dirty business, but.. magic. Once her magic is exhausted, hopefully having been enough to make a difference, Lysos uses minor cantrips to clear the soot out of her clothes and hair. She ends up near Edinaz, hearing his comment.. and then hearing the distant horn. "Well. I'm sure that's the sound of friends, right?"
Razen rather purposefully kicks the face-satchel bag into the fire. Because magic. Magic is _bad_. And he wants nothing to do with it trying to suck his companions souls out or whatever else it was meant to do. Surely troll magic would be destroyed by fire yes? He hopes no one notices and tries to save the wretched thing.
...the face satchel bag starts screaming as soon as it enters the fire.
Razen kicks it again... further into the fire.
GAME: Jinks casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 10 DC: 18 GAME: Jinks casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 10 DC: 18 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+10: (12)+10: 22 <OOC> Jinks says, "Razen" GAME: Jinks casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 10 DC: 18 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8+5: (2)+5: 7 GAME: Jinks casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 10 DC: 18 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8+5: (8)+5: 13 <OOC> Jinks says, "22 for Ed and 20 for Raz"
At the sound of the horn, the Red Knight looks up and over the beam. "Ah, maybe they come to us then."
At the sound of the screams, she looks towards the fire and the burning bag. Any expression is hidden by the wide, fixed grin. "Well, that the option."
"... it seems a bit wasteful," Jinks chides. He's wrapping up his healing of Razen when the kick happens and his dark eyes go wide with surprise. A grumbled curpse and he shoves his hands into the flame in the hopes of quickly plucking the grotesque-thing free. The gnome tosses the yelling pouch clear of the flames and rushes to pat it his leather sleeve before it can come fully alight.
The minstrel pads over and produces his waterskin, uncorking it, and holding the bladder between his side and elbow. He's wincing through the screams as he squeezes, directing the flow with his un-singed fingers.
Another horn.
And then another.
This time, a single horseman in the distance, on his way towards you. With the horn, it would appear. Given the speed and excellence with which the horse is moving seamlessly towards you, one can not doubt that this is one of the Dae.
'RUUAAAAH!' Ramirez answers the horn. He hears a challenge. He is here.
Paenitia turns towards her Ivory Steed, then looks at Farland, "Is there the horn you bring to answer with? Shall we take our place in the burn grassland or they are to stand in the ash."
Most of the wounded seem addressed, she packs her supplies away.
Razen looks at Jinks in confusion. "Why did you do that?" His question is full of frank curiosity and he make his way hesitantly to where the screaming book lies. "It is obviously a thing of fell magics. We should destroy it while we can."
GAME: Jinks rolls Reflex: (7)+11: 18 GAME: Faranmidahn casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 9 DC: 14 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "The bag is in fact magic."
"There might be something worthwhile inside." Jinks responds after squirting out the last of the water from his 'skin on his burned hand. "Sure, it's horrifying on the outside but why throw out the baby with the bathwater?"
The gnome shakes out his digits gingerly before blowing on them, taking a place opposite Faranmidahn as she inspects the satchel. Hopefully it's time in the blaze didn't leave it too... de-faced.
It's still screaming.
With Razen's act of cleanup adding screams to the mix, Faran is startled out of whatever reverie had taken her. Her movement toward the acoustic protest is curtailed slightly by the time limit being reaches by her transformative spell, returning her to her normal state in mid-stride and throwing her closure well out of joint.
By the time Jinks has the pouch out and is working to extinguish it, she starts a new incantation, "Magic forces sweeping earth to sky, reveal your flow to my focused eye." and her eyes are filled with pink light, which are turned toward the gruesome party favor.
Her head cocks some at the sound of the horn, almost losing concentration on the spell right off, but she holds it, listening to what replies are put forth.
Balefully, she stares at the troubling thing and absently reaches for her traveller's knife, "It's... definitely magical... Gods... I need a few moments to discern what sort of powers are at work, here."
Lysos stays well away from the screaming bag. That's a big Nope for her, and her expression doesn't hide that fact. Instead, she finds a good place to keep watch for the approaching rider.
The figure in the distance is looming closer, now, and it does become clear that he's not4 merely a rider.
Yes, he is in fact a centaur. His top half is armored with a breastplate, and his lower fully decked out in a light, leather barding.
He calls out.
"Ho! You folks! We saw you land and I came to greet you. Seems like you've had a spot of trouble with our local troll infestation."
Jinks is stuck between curiosity carried by character-defining avarice and every bit of good sense warning him that inspecting the awful thing is a terrible idea...
"Ack!" The gnome complains, snatching his hand back away from one of the mouths when it makes to bite at him. He curls his index finger and flicks the offending face on the nose. Hard. "I'm already tired of your lip... and that goes for all of you," he assures the the conglomerate with a waggled finger. He reaches carefully to the top of the bag and eases it open, narrowing his eyes inside...
The minstrel chokes out a retch, lifting his sleeve to stifle a sickened belch as he takes a few quick, stumbling steps away. "Ugh... agh... ew, blech," he spits out the bile-and-mint concoction and spits again for good measure. He gags again from a hunched position and then stands, putting both fists into the small of his back as he closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.
"If anyone ever wondered what some kind of troll potion kept in topless skulls would look like we have abundant examples ready for inspection." He takes another breath and exhales it with a slow "hoooooooo" as his guts dance without him.
"Can I throw it in the fire NOW?" Asks Razen, striding the last step toward the baleful item. He looks at Lysos, then Jinks, and a few of the others for good measure to make sure that no one else had any inclinations to try and save the thing.
Razen stands guard over burning the World's Worst Handy Haversack. Plenty of Thulites who would love an animated-skin-sack, after all.
"Ramirez! I mount!" Paenitia calls, standing where her peacock-andalusian can sweep her up into the saddle. Thus she is swept away. Seated, she adjusts her shield and ensures her banner is raised, so her identity such that it is, is on display.
"Come, Sir Faranmidahn. We meet the one approach."
With a swoop and whoosh, Ramirez takes to the air, gliding down to land in the wet, former fire and spread his tail in profligate pride. His red rider calls out to the approaching Centaur, "Hola! We greet you also! The trouble was had but is finish now."
Ramirez glitters. His barding is Mithril.
A hand rises toward Faran's mouth at the display, finally closing her eyes and shaking her head as she declares, "It's.... a haversack... but... more ghastly." in a slightly nauseated tone.
She looks to Razen as he makes clear his desire to incinerate the cursed thing, then, "Best it be destroyed." is her vote.
One not quite overturned as Jinks notes it's contents, "Have we anyone skilled with alchemy? perhaps we can discern what purpose these things would have served had we let them. Then.... destroy them, of course."
Her attention turns then, to her fellow Knight's call, and she scurries over to mount Torrent once more to ride toward their local caller, "Hello! Yes, thank you, we had some trouble, but we seem to have it handled for the moment."
Lysos is very deliberately not looking at the bag shenannigans. The scrams, the shouts, the strange noises. Nope. So she doesn't offer an opinion one way or the other when Razen seeks to destroy it. Instead she keeps her eyes on the centaur instead, raising her hand in a hail, though leaves it to the more forward of the group to initiate talks with him.
Jinks steels his tiny gnomish frame and takes a breath. He returns to the pouch and carefully collects one of the culled and mauled skulls full of awful, viscous fluid. The color drains from his already somewhat-fair features only to shift subtly into the green spectrum as he eases it to one side and sets it down for later inspection.
"Go for it," gnods the gnome to Razen, loosing another awful-tasting belch. "... forewarned for further screaming to commence," he prepares the others and then steps away to fan his face.
Edinaz lifts his hand towards the centaur as well, asiding to Lysos. "That was a good trick back on the ship. Thank you."
Lysos beams a smile at Edinaz. "Was it? I wasn't sure if it would work! I'm glad you didn't get eaten by the troll instead."
Edinaz nods to Lysos, and cracks a grin. "Me too. Me too. But it worked, so..." He shrugs happily. "Thank you." He points his chin at the approaching centaur. "Hopefully, this is better."
"Impressive little bird you've got there," says the Centaur, yes, "Seems like you've done well. Right, then!" He klops over more carefully, catching his breath. "I'm Av-de. Good to meet you all. Now that it's ascertained you're safe, I'll be calling in the rest of my party and we'll escort you to the edge of the Sea of Sundered Time's most active locale in the area."
"He is Ramirez. I am Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Haranna," the little lucht introduces herself with a slight bow in the saddle. Her hippogryph's height brings her close enough to Av-de's height she can meet his eyes with her mask holes, and shadowy eyes past them.
"My companions have the organizing to do, to bring out the mounts, and the airship will lift. Farland, he is the big boss man. He lead the expedition."
She makes a second bow in Faran's direction, offering her fellow knight the opportunity to provide introductions. After which she gazes at the airship, waiting to see what further preparations are in order.
Drawing up astride her spider, the albino Lucht offers the friendly centaur a salute, "I am Sir Faranmidahn Waywalker of the Order of the Purple Rose."
She smiles fondly and reaches down to gently stroke the arachnid's carapace, and, "And this is my brave friend Torrent, well met Av-de. We thank you for your kind welcome."
"Well, they're not snarling and trying to eat us, so I'd say it's better already," Lysos tells Edinaz, before elbowing him good naturedly and then hiking up her skirts to get closer to the diplomatic exchange.
Edinaz laughs, and approaches as well, lifting a hand in greetings.
Farland hops off the airship, at last, floating down to the ground once more. "I can figure out what that substance is," he offers, thoughtfully.
Av-de squints, and after some questioning about the substance in question, explains, "Ah! Yes. The Troll-rot. The trolls throw it on their enemies. It contains troll matter in an alchemical substance. It congeals and comes to life, attempting to regenerate a new troll over the unfortunate victim. It doesn't work, of course, but it tries. I think you can imagine what that might do to a soul unfortunate enough to be exposed to enough of it. It is not pretty. Be glad they never had the chance to use it on you."
"Good thing nobody thought to try and drink the stuff..." Jinks mutters from the deck of the ship having overheard the explanation. The gnome makes a detour past his pack to re-fill his quivers and swap out his waterskin. He buckles the thing back up and grunts his way into it.
Humming to himself, the gnome makes his way to the deck railing and looks out and over at the centaur. He's trying to remember if he's seen a centaur before. Probably more easily recognized by their smell; they're not a seetaur after all. He smirks and makes his way over to Paenitia. "Room for one more?" Enness is being pampered back in Alexandria, after all.
"Well. That's gross. Why do people do this again?" Lysos has to ask upon hearing Av-de's explanation of the Trolls' motives.
Edinaz glances at Lysos. "Marinating their food?" He shrugs. "Nasty stuff, that.
"Of course. Ramirez! Jinks to mount!" The Red Knight orders, and with a flourish of feathers her ivory steed sweeps the gnome up behind the halfling. She twists and indicates a few things, "here, the new straps to help stay, and extra pouch."
Paenitia sits tall, and nods to Av-de's observations. "That sound the horrible thing. You have the many troll troubles?" Persistent as they are, she'd believe they simply pop out of the ground.
"On occasion. They're hard to get rid of forever," says Av-de, shaking his head.
He wheels about, tail swishing. "Right. Let's get a move on, shall we?"
With everyone set to go, and Farland having summoned his own mount in the form of a giant ostrich that he's clinging to, it's time to get under way. A trip through the grasslands, apparently, is in order!
"My thanks, paladina," Jinks mutters once the conversation has come to a natural conclusion and they set to ride out. He shifts, preparing to ride pillion and affixing the straps as indicated; they're becoming old hats at this.
"... and thanks to you, too, noble Ramirez," the gnome adds once settled. He half-turns in his seat and gives a few friendly pats to the mount's white-feathered hide. A little more re-jiggering of his pack and he's comfortable.
"Ready," he informs the dame.
Faranmidahn brings Torrent about with subtle tugs at the reins, and taps of her feet against the arachnid's shell, then spurs him to a decent pacing speed.
She glances to the paladina, noting, "I've used all my fireballs, if we encounter more trolls, I won't be much help on that front. I have a few febs left, and some... admittedly weak acid spells." <halfling>
'Rawk!' Ramirez responds, pleased at being petted, happy to prance. He bears his riders along, keeping pace with the centaur until the need to move a little faster overcomes him.
"Ok! Hold tight." Sensing the change in her mount's manner, Paenitia angles him to the side then pulls back so he launches in the air. She banks him back and forth up to a height of thirty feet, enough to pass over riders below without dangling hooves and talons being too close, and then flies a zig zag pattern as she scans the horizon.
"We are fortunate you have as many as you do. If the spells run dry, concentrate on the hard hitting and hope the others will follow with torches." She answers the knight of spiders. On her next pass she adds, "it may be the new foe entirely that we encounter next. The surprises are great!" <halfling>
"Well, it's a good thing these new boots of mine were made for walking," Lysos comments as most others start mounting up and she sets to follow along.
On your way, then.
It's been a long trip, after all, and now it's going to be an even longer one given the ride through the grasslands. Hours of riding, actually, that's going to further wear on you after the frenzied fight against the trolls. Farland clings to the mount's neck.
The Centaur, of course, seems casually glad to be on the move. He enjoys the feel of the grasslands under his hooves.
"The Sea of Sundered Time. Do any of you know much about it? The way we tell it, the Sea began with the Demon Wars -- a conflagration so destructive that it broke the flow of time itself. Did you know, no one is quite certain how long the demon wars actually lasted? Historians gauge a hundred years, but ... that's relative. With the flow of time itself broken, it applies ... unevenly. A hundred years is just how they make sense of disparate stories. In the Sea, in the right conditions, you can see into a past or into a future. They don't even need to be *our* past, or *our* future. Some people have been snatched up and deposited in another time, only to find their way back decades later into a future they don't recognize -- our present, of course, and there's no telling if they're even from *our* past."
The grass here grows taller, but then, you can see an odd melding of patterns amongst them, a sort of unevenness, as if they grass and the blades next to it are growing at uneven rates.
"We're near it. You can see the grass here. The damage to time spreads out from the center of the sea, and none but the Dae dare travel it. The paths of safety are known only to us, and even they are dangerous. The hope is to learn what Farland needs to learn for his aims, yes? The return of Animus?"
"More than that," answers Farland, quietly.
"A time ago," he begins, "a group of our scholars sought to reach into the past, to uncover a mystery. But they didn't find it. I don't mean to say they failed -- they succeeded... but the *past* was missing, as if we had been severed from that moment in our history somehow. Like something itself cut away a piece of time."
OOC
<OOC> Paenitia says, "oh, was that the fire in the Resurrectionist residence?"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "TIME BEING BROKEN? NO, PAEN, SAY YOU HAVE NO EXPERIENCE WITH THAT"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Yes, it was :)"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "Most experienced! Least equipped to deal with it. :)"
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "that's the best way."