Menagerie

As everyone is likely painfully aware (some more painfully than others), there are newcomers to Alexandros. Many newcomers. Unwanted newcomers. Just plain wrong newcomers. Even if they are Wight.

Various villages, outposts, and homesteads have been evacuated, though there always seem to be more in need. In this instance, an all-available-hands call has gone out to the Adventurer's Guild (or just anyone who might listen). The Corduroy homestead, comparatively far north and nestled into the foothills of the Redridge, has called for help in getting its members out of harm's way. Unfortunately, they seemed to have waited until harm was already well on its way; unpleasantly undead uninvited in unknown and uncountable number have already been spied in the vicinity.

On the bright side, the notice assures that those coming to aid need not bring rope, chains, sleds, wagons, nor cages as those will be provided!

It's been one of those weeks. If Telamon and Cor'lana aren't dashing in one direction, they're dashing in another. But they can't turn down a call for help, especially from a relatively isolated farmstead.

"All I'm saying is that at least they're in a defensible location. That might be why they waited so long," Tel explains to his lady love as they travel towards the homestead. "Although I'm a bit puzzled over the whole 'don't worry about bringing things like ropes or chains'... was that a joke, or do they get up to weird things out that way?"

The half-elf is dressed in practical clothing for a change, a navy tunic over gray woolen trousers tucked into his boots. He pulls his flask of tea from his haversack, and takes a sip from it, before offering the container to Lana.

Auranar has arrived to be of assistance. She feels a keen sense of obligation and sorrow for the refugees. Many of whom she has little doubt are missing family. Either those lost to the wights, lost because they could not be moved, or lost simply due to the displacement. She stays to the center of the group as they travel, her gaze occasionally tracking out into the area they are traveling through to be on the safe side. There are other dangers after all and the wights themselves might choose to show up at any time. She harbors few illusions as to how she would fare against one of their ilk. "I hope it was a... joke." Auranar answers Telamon, though he's probably not talking directly to her.

Cor'lana's also dressed in practical clothing--in this instance, a knee-length black dress made from a lightly woven cotton fabric that's best for the daytime travel. She nods a little to Telamon as he speaks, and she takes the offered flask of tea and sips from it as well, handing it back to Telamon with a little sigh.

"I mean, it's a homestead. I'm sure they have all sorts of practical uses for ropes and chains. You've been reading too many Crimson Pen novels, I think, if that's your line of thinking," Cor'lana says, teasing her betrothed with a grin. "Either way, doesn't matter to me so long as we can help out the effort and get our wedding back on track." The last sentiment has been made a lot lately.

Eztli was yet again out in the countryside of Alexandria, helping out in villages that were waiting much too long to evacuate. To say that the small makari was unhappy was an understatement. But if there was any chance of Alexandria not being destroyed by undead, it was worth the effort, at least.

"If anyone holds up the evacuation at all, we just knock them out and drag them off on one of the carts. Might be what the ropes and chains are, but I have heard farmhands can have interesting pastimes."

Barclaiigh is overhead somewhere, a tiny black dot against the sky riding the air currents coming up off the foothills. He'd offer to keep an eye on things from above and turned into an auburn-feathered hawk with a pale, off-white breast and yellow-black beak. He never strays too far and the keen-eyed can pick him out as he circles overhead.

Porter, meanwhile, is content to keep Shilde company. The bear is armored and alert and only occasionally distracted at play with Rocky.

Rocky does indeed do his best to distract the large bear with play... leave it to the canine to be completely unable to 'read the room.' But Shilde doesn't admonish the dog; perhaps there's a sense of letting him have his fun while he can, and so long as Porter seems to tolerate it she isn't going to put a stop to it. Instead she lumbers alongside the two animals, completely dwarfed (heh heh) by their presence. "Ropes... chains.. cages. Makes m'wonder why they took th'effort to mention those things."

GAME: Shilde casts Longstrider. Caster Level: 7 DC: 15

The trek is not arduous, and is relatively quiet. There are no signs of threats. In face once away from the immediate vicinity of the walls, there is no sign of other travelers at all. There are also few typical sounds of life the further one moves north, as if the indigenous wildlife knows that something evil this way comes.

All told, this makes the homestead in question somewhat easy to identify, as it is the the first witnessed with any signs of life. A low and wide home of timber and sod almost blends into the hill it abutts. Two ponies move uneasily in a small paddock, which a third (which much more resembles a donkey) is being hitched to a small wagon. Even smaller than either is a gnomish woman in a simple dress: workwear, presumably, though its skirts are flared wide just by sheer number. Each layer is a different color, making them easy to discern as the woman moves, and there are no less than a dozen colors.

The woman finishes up in time to turn to the approaching buffet of adventurers (is that not what a group is called?). She takes a moment to observe, seeing that they are walking normally, hearing that they are talking normally, and don't appear to be doing anything unusual. Only then does she lift a hand to wave and beckon all over. "Bless the hills! We've not time to spare!"

Telamon furrows his brow at Eztli, but then shrugs. "I can't blame people for not wanting to abandon their homes, but I've yet to see or hear of more than a few hardened enough to withstand these wight attacks. I really don't like having to drag people off in chains though." He sighs. "You're not wrong, just... ugh."

He smiles at Lana and Auranar, and gives Lana's hand a squeeze. "I know, dear. It's really quite inconsiderate of Heth to try this sort of thing -now-. With any luck we'll get the chance to ... express our displeasure with the state of affairs."

As the party approaches the homestead, he catches sight of the gnomish woman, and raises a hand in greeting to her. "Is everyone ready to move? Let's not tarry here, I find undead to be highly disagreeable and poor conversationalists."

Auranar gives Eztli an odd look at the suggestion that they might need to _literally_ cart people away. "What?" She says sounding horrified, and when Telamon indicates that he might be willing she hopes that it is some kind of joke that she doesn't understand. "I don't know if I could do that..." She says quietly and mostly to herself. At least she has the greeting of the woman ahead to distract her with and she offers a lifted hand in her own greeting.

"Greetings! What's going on?" She hurries her steps a little, feeling the woman's need for urgency in the thought that the undead could well be on their way this very second.

"Please, my starborn prince, we are /not/ going to cart anyone away in chains. Goodness," Cor'lana replies with a roll of the eyes, although she can't help but address Telamon with her usual Sylvan pet name for him.

Once they spot the woman, Cor'lana gives a quick message up into the air to reach Barclaiigh that the homestead's nearby and there's someone on the road they're speaking with. "Yes, we're ready to aid," Cor'lana informs the lady. "We're here and we're ready to leave."

GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Perception: (10)+15: 25

Shilde presses two thick fingers against the side of her head, massaging it a little bit a the troupe from the Guild is met with seems to be a representative from the Corduroy homestead. Since it's apparent that the elfs have all the pretty words, she instead looks beyond the gnomish woman. "Where's everyone else?" Why aren't they out 'ere already?"

"What? It's not something new. Nearly an entire group of Oruch died because they waited too long to evacuate. There have been other towns with stubborn villagers. If it happens again, then we're getting out of here while we still can." Eztli shrugs. "Look, I know it sounds bad. But if they stay, they die, and if they wait too long, they get the people going out to get them killed too. And evacuation makes a lot of noise. I'm not putting everyone here at risk if someone doesn't want to leave, but if they stay, it's another wight to attack other people."

She's polite enough to at least stop such talk before they actually reach the farmstead. "Good day, and yes, there is not much time. The small makari greets. "So please, get everyone ready to leave, if there is anything you need to bring with you that can be carried or taken on carriage or pack animal, point us in the direction and we'll load it up."

Hawclaiigh issues a cry from above, piercing the still countryside and echoing through the hills. "comin' back," the anxious whisper finds Ravenstongue. "handful on th'way, half-hour if we're lucky, I reckon." There's a pause, the dot above is getting larger as the tiny bird descends in a wide circle. "whole load out maybe double that. Git that fire lit under'em, miss cor'lana."

Porter sweeps his head from Shilde to the gnomish woman, then cranes his neck up. His wet, black nostrils flare as he looks for other folk nearby.

"Orange Marmalade Lavender Chartreuse Corduroy," the woman offers as introduction. "I'll brew y'all a spot of tea... once the family's out safe 'n sound. C'mon!" Just because death may be descending doesn't mean one can't be polite.... though it does mean one can expedite! She gives the donkey a pat before lifting her skirts (at least the outer few) to toddle along the fence to the door. "Oh!" She motions to the ponies. "That's Winnnie", who promptly introduces herself by name, "Ninny," she motions to the one moping at the fence, " and Jinny," the one hitched.

"They can walk a spell easy enough. Now lets get the rest going!" She opens the front door, and an immediate cacophony blasts out of it. Any at the door (which is broad and tall enough to let the ponies enter, much less a biggin) are also greeted with a flurry of motion to go with the sounds.

Three beagle pups bark and bay as they chase each other across the main room. A cockatiel on a perch immediately starts greeting "TWEET! TWEET! TWEET!" A cockatoo croons, "Lovers!" followed by a two-tone whistle, and repeats. A tiny Dachsund yips shrilly as she rounds the corner after the beagles. There look to be no fewer than eight cats on various elevated perches: mantle, shelving, chandelier, top of the door that was just opened. A trio of mice swing on the pendulum of a large artifice timepiece, while a fourth clambers up the chains holding a counterweight.

Just inside the door, and thankfully not in front of it is what looks to be a bear rug. Save that it is snoring. And it is not a bear. The paws and muzzle that can be seen are canine, despite the fact that it may be as large or larger than Porter.

Above it all, on a regal bejeweled roost that is the hilt of a mounted ancestor's weapon is perched a flawless Stellar's jay with royal purple highlights in addition to the bright blue. Telamon sighs again at Lana. "Look, I wouldn't -want- to, but better that than leaving them to the tender mercies of the wights." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "Alright... let's just get this..." As the group approaches the door and it opens, he stops dead at the cacophony and the... well, menagerie. "...moving?" he says a bit weakly.

He looks around in utter confusion, before turning to stare at Lady Corduroy. His mouth works. But all that comes out is, "Thank the gods we brought two druids."

Suddenly, the note about 'cages' suddenly makes much more sense as Auranar follows Telamon into the woman's home. "Oh, my." She looks around at the various animals and coughs. "Well. We best set to it yes? I assume you have... accommodations for everyone ready to go?" She smiles faintly. There was mention that cages were NOT necessary after all!

Cor'lana just... blinks. "That's a lot of names," she says, in regards to the lady with as many names as she has beasts. "Well, cages make more sense now, at least...?"

She looks at all of the birds--they're just what she looks for first. Pothy, who has been on her shoulder the whole time (bribed into silence by offerings of peanuts), looks at them, too. Before she can open her mouth, however, Pothy tweets aggressively at them: "Okay, let's go! Let's go! You're all in big danger unless you follow me and my mistress out of here! Tell your friends! Tell your family! DANGER, DANGER!"

...That's what he says in birdspeak, anyway.

"Good day, miss Orange Marmalade Lavender Chartreuse Corduroy." Eztli greets back, pasing just a moment to wince from the bird noises, and the sheer multitude of animals in the home. "Ah, right. Alright, Make sure no animals get out of the door or windows unless properly contained or restrained, we don't have time to go find them if they run out. If you have cages for the birds, get them into those, otherwise you'll need to use tied up sacks and be very careful on the way back, stay with them in the back of the carriage." She begins. "Are there any animals outside you know of, or are they all in here?"

If there wasn't an immediate threat of bodily harm, it would be nice to play with some dogs and birds, but there was no time for that.

Porter follows behind Shilde until they reach the door. There he pauses and considers the frame. He leans a shoulder against one side and presses a paw into the other, making the portal creak. When it doesn't get wider he just backs out and sits down. Air's fresher out here, anyway!

Hawclaiigh's arrival is announced by tiny talons scrabbling on the roof and a chorus of 'dang ol',' 'ack,' 'ope,' 'nope,' and the sound of swearing in Khazdul with furious wing beats as he flounds off the roof and towards the ground.

The dwarf-turned-bird manages to skip and stop without injury, hopping and flapping over to the door to have a look inside. Nevermind the loose shingle stuck to one of his feet.

"Birdie cages're right there," Orange points and two larger ones, "but Sweet hates hers and Tweet thinks he's too small for it. Oh!" She steps around a stack of bric-a-brac and pulls out a smaller cage. This one, at least, has a bird already in it. A hummingbird buzzing with 'Go! Go! Go! Fly!' (for those speaking bird). "Here," she offers it up to the nearest person. "Just mind Yeet. She'll knock the door open and fling herself out to gods know wheres. I've got sacks for the cats, though!" She grabs up a few burlap bags to hand them out, keeping one for herself. "I'll chase down Huey, Louie 'n Dewey, maybe grab Banshee when she catches up. Somebody see if they can wake up Rhad?" She motions to the very large pile of dozing doggo before starting the beagle chase.

Incidentally, Sweets may not like her cage, but she seems to like Pothy. Or Cor'lana? Or both? She alights just enough to land on the same shoulder as Pothy and proceeds to nuzzle at him, and 'lana both. "Hugs! *whistle*"

"Lucky we bringed the druids," Shilde mutters to herself as she squeezes around Porter to get a better look in the abode. And she sighs. "Wish I'd known... would've had differ'nt magiks ready." She takes one of the sacks from the gnome woman, but looks at it dubiously. "Oh, aye. Kin see th'kitties likin' this trip already."

Telamon rakes his hand through his hair. "Alright. Alright, this is not impossible. Let's move the small and medium sized animals into the wagon first..." He pauses to find himself eye-to-eye with one of the cats, who peers back at the half-elf curiously. "...How do you keep the cats from chasing the birds and the mice?" he asks in befuddlement. Cautiously, he reaches down to pat the hulking doggo -- is it a dog, or a dire wolf? He's not sure.

Tel then picks up one of the birdcages, and starts trying to coax Tweet into it. "Come on, birdy, there's some nastiness enroute. I brought a bag of peanuts, if that helps."

Auranar takes the birdcage from the woman a bit uncertainly, looking at the bird itself quizzically. She doesn't speak bird so she's unaware of the danger it's trying to warn her of. Still she moves toward the door with the cage in hand, trying to keep one hand on the door to it so that she doesn't let the hummingbird out incidentally.

Both Cor'lana and Pothy blink as they're nuzzled by Sweets the bird. "Yes, we don't have long. Barclaiigh said the wights are half an hour away," Cor'lana says. "Let's get /moving/. Much as I'd love to light them all up with lightning, we have too many innocents here to rescue!"

She aids Telamon and Auranar in the further urging of birds. Maybe there's truth in the phrase "birds of a feather flock together"? At any rate, Pothy's continuing to tell the birds to get with the program and get in cages for transport.

"Darn tootin'!" Hawclaiigh exclaims from the door, standing in Porter's shadow until he hops over the threshold, bobs a few steps, and flaps up to perch on the back of the chair. It's not the most graceful of acts but the bumbling Khazad-aul is still in there, after all, just wrapped up in a different bag of meat.

The hawk puffs up his chest and clears his throat (in a very dwarfy way), then begins to squawk and caw and gesticulate with one wing. Much like Pothy, Barclaiigh is hip to the lingo in this form. 'Y'all like berries? Nuts? Bugs? Smaller critters? Flowers? Nectar? Fresh rainwater? More treats than y'can shake a tailfeather at! Pretty mates? Warm nests? Sky's the limit!'

How do you do, fellow birbs?

Eztli sighs and looks around for a sack big enough to keep a cat in. "Half hour away? Shit, Ravenstongue is right, we need to go, we can't fight and get all these animals out of here at the same time. "So we need to get out of here with enough distance, and keep that distance.

"Do you have any tricks for moving the cats around? Treats you use to coax them in or something like that?"

Shilde takes a breath as she leans against the door frame. "Hate this part," she says to herself. She's not so proficient in the forms as Barclaiigh, and it looks like there's a bit of a struggle as her body begins to shift. Bones popping, muscles moving. Hair receding in places, but growing everywhere else. It really is unpleasant to watch. But shortly in place of the yellow haired druid is a spotted leopard instead. She gives her head a shake, back and forth, taking a moment to get accustomed to the smells and the vision. Then she pads in, eyes on the cats. *Alrights. Time to go. Nasties are coming. But I promise you, plenty of milk and fish and treats if you play nice, and hop on the back of my drooling dog friend. No, not the one in here. The one outside.*

GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+7+1: (4)+7+1: 12
GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Handle Animal: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Telamon rolls diplomacy+5: (20)+19+5: 44

Sweet nuzzles PAST Pothy now, nudging him out of the way. To give all the loves and nuzzles to Cor'lana. "Hug. Loves. Kisses" Even Tweet seems to ignore Telamon and head for her. Until Sweet eyes him and adds, "Die." She is immediately back to "Hugs. Kisses," as Tweet decides to hop onto Telamon's shoulder. "Tweet." He might think he's a chirping little bird, but is is fairly big. Also, he isn't tweeting the sound, but saying the word in tradespeak. Pothy is running out of perches?!

The cats stare at Shield as if she had just grown whiskers and spots. Which she has. Otherwise, they are ...cats. Which Shilde can relate to. The only bird not caged or enthralled is the jay, who fluffs up in response to Hawklaiigh's fluffing and peers down at him.

"Oh for flyin feathers sake, Princess Petunia Periwinkle Preposterous, he's not tryin' to take yer crown!" spouts Orange as she emerges from the other room with two puppies wrestling in a sack and one under her other arm.

"The Third!" P4 corrects her indignantly.

That is three pups in hand, two birds on shoulder, and one in cage. This leaves mostly the cats, one ear-piercingly loud tiny dog, one doggo of unusual size (who is STILL snoring) and one pretentious princess to go.

Telamon looks startled as Tweet hops on his shoulder, but doesn't argue. "Alright, fair enough," he relents. "But hang on, because once we get everyone moving, we are -leaving-." He stops next to the snoring dog again, and gently rubs behind his ears. "Come on, my oversized friend. We need to go for a trip. A ride, perhaps. You'll enjoy it, and there'll be a place to nap at the end of it." He pauses. "Please don't make me give you an impromptu bath."

The tiny hummingbird is desperately trying to escape, and Auranar is glad she put her hand in front of the cage door lest it succeed in escaping. She puts the bird into the cart and puts a piece of wood on the other side to prevent the cage from moving around so easily. The tiny bird hopefully will not get into too much trouble while she sees to the rest. Then she returns to the house. "Okay. Who's next?"

"Please, no death threats, let's get along," Cor'lana insists, bewildered that she's being loved on so thoroughly by a bird that's not Pothy. "Just... Hold on tight. We'll get through it together."

She also looks at the big doggo that Telamon's trying to convince. "Aww, I think he'd be fun to bathe. Maybe we can trim his nails and clip the fuzz around his pawpads."

Apparently Cor'lana's contemplating a second career in dog grooming.

"Awright, y'all got this but good," Hawclaiigh chirrups and bobs his head, noting things are well in hand. "I'll holler if things get close." He pops off the back of the chair and flits outside, taking back up into the air to keep an eye on things.

"Neat spellwork, just don't get catty with me, Shilde." Eztli chuckles as she's left holding the non metaphorical bag. "She's a smart lady, and she's a druid, so she knows a lot about animals. If there's anyone you can trust to take you out off here safely, it's her, and that hawk who was just here."

But we need to leave, so you can either ride on her animal companion, or take a nap in one of these bags in the back of the cage. Or if there's other arrangements you need, tell Shilde now and we'll do our best to accommodate."

Telamon chuckles in spite of everything. "Oh, I'm sure he's a good dog. But... he's also very sleepy, and we can't have him sleeping." He continues to rub the dog's ears, trying to wake him up and get him moving. Not really wanting to annoy the dog, but he does need to rouse the four-legged friend. After all, what's on the way isn't very friendly at all to man or beast. "Is this an unsubtle hint that in the future, I will need to secure a dog for our household, Lana?" he teases.

Well, Shilde tried to be nice about it. But.. cats are going to be cats. So, her mastery of shifting falling short of being able to make words like Barclaiigh can, she turns and looks at Eztli.. uses one paw to gesture at the sack in the makari's hand... then proceeds to do what she can to herd the stubborn felines off of their perches and towards the bags.

-TBC