With Vast Love (Part 1)
Log Info
- Title: With Vast Love (Part 1)
- GM: Carver
- Place: The Vast
We Roved Out In Search of Family Lost:
Welcome to the Vast. In truth, only a peek of it. The Great Plains of Arcania, host to the last and some of the greatest battles of the Daemon Wars, where Skald became twisted and faded into legend. Those are long-ago 'halycon' days, and now, it is home to a great host of thriving cultures despite its dangers. The adventurers follow in the wake of the Caravan Aguay, as the behest of a Joybringer, and in the days of tracking the caravan they are introduced to many sights.
In the distance, tearing down the remains of an ancient castle, a great giant with a stony demeanor works with tools so massive as to be fit to be called siege weapons. Another day, in passing, they hear the roar of the Centaur tribesman at hunt. They break bread with a small family of Lucht Siuli, who share with them food and drink and the safety of their camp for stories and games. These are hints of things of the Vast. It would require vastly more time to discuss what else they could find if they were not for a purpose. The first of their planned stops is a watering hole. By the third day march into the shifting lands of the Vast, signs of the Caravan's passing are noted. A few hour's later they cross a wagon, in fine condition except for a broken wheel. Strange to see something of sentimental and objective value to the adventurous small folk so readily tossed aside. Wasteful is the word that comes to mind.
The occasional marker gets stranger, the footsteps begin to show signs of irregularity. Of difficult to explain changes of gait.
As they march to toward the heartlands, they spot a clue. A tattered, blood-stained slip of a pink coat with red flower stitching, half-hidden beneath a rock. It is not the direction of the Five Shires, where the Caravan's second stop should have been. It's instead in the direction of a descending trail into a valley, with short trees blocking line of sight what lay beyond.
Harshad is not an outdoorsman. He's a city boy at heart. But he's got good instincts, and the abandoned wagon bothers him. With a pipe firmly clenched in his teeth, he stops to inspect the lost coat. Cautiously lifting the hem with the tip of a curved dagger of black iron, he glances at the others.
"Got a bad feeling about this one," Harshad says grimly. "That Joybringer may want to pray a little harder." He puffs out a stream of smoke, before straightening up again, the dagger vanishing back into a belt sheath.
"Well.." Skyler has throughout the days of travel been... well... *Skyler*. Playing games with the Lucht Siuli, throwing himself with the enthusiasm he does everything into the caravan they are travelling with even if he is quite a bit too big to fit in the wagon. To honor their hosts, he's taken to tying scarves on his sword hilt and buckler, making him quite the sight to behold.
And probably most infuriating? He looks as well groomed and clean as if he were attending a gala at the Society's manse. He squats down by the coat, squinting down at it, "That *does* look ominous. Her blood, you think? Or maybe she defended herself? I once saw a lucht siuli disembowel a pirate with one of their cute little knives."
Haggerty rides his sleek destrier Leif. He observes and uses his magnifying glass regularly. The wizard smiles when the coat piece is found. "We may be able to use this to track the rest of the coat once we narrowed down the area, unless there is too much interference. The nature of the blood I cannot discern. Does anyone have a symptom analysis set, please?" He smiles to the sith, the slicer dicing man with the greenish eyes, the half oruch.
GAME: Cuemoni rolls Heal: (16)+13: 29 GAME: Skyler rolls perception: (1)+12: 13 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Harshad rolls perception: (7)+9: 16
Cuemoni, a turquoise-scaled sith-makar, is dressed for the Vast. She's donned protective leather armor and a cloak to protect from the elements. The druid has remained relatively quiet, except for the occasional prayer and offering given to the spirits of nature. She's made sure everyone gets food and water. No one will be left unattended for on her watch.
"Ay." Cuemoni's golden eyes nictate as she looks at the coat. "This one does not like the added color. More accurately, the nature of it." She then looks at Harshad and Skyler. "Before the walking, this one can give the both of you spells to strengthen the body, to protect you. But this one will do the healer's assessing."
Reverently, she dips her head and comes close to the jacket with her healer's kit, murmuring a prayer on the behalf of the jacket-wearer and to allow her access. She uses an instrument to help her examine the fibers without touching them with her bare claws. "The jacket is not cut," she says. "Perhaps beaten and stomped, dragged on the ground. The blood is on the fibers in the front, near the collar--streaked as though it was used to wipe the face..."
Her golden eyes nictate as she extracts a hair follicle. "Dark color," she says. "It matches the quarry we seek."
"Whatever hit her, did it from behind." Skyler adds, taking a few hopping steps backwards to squint down at the ground. "Can't tell if it was an ambush or chase though." He spreads his gloved hands helplessly, "Truth be told, tracking isn't my strong suit." He frowns, and glances down at the trees. "I mean, it's obvious that the next step is to investigate down that way. Hags, maybe a summoned dog we can send down there to draw attention and trigger any traps?" Beat. "Do your summons feel pain?"
Harshad scowls, rubbing his tusk. "Someone jumped her, then. Kicked the crap out of her." He reaches behind his back to a pair of handles in a sheath there, and pulls out a paired set of hand scythes. Hefting them in his grip, before nodding to Cuemoni.
"Might be a good idea, as we're probably walking into trouble. Hopefully we're not too late."
GAME: Skyler rolls knowledge/arcana: (12)+1: 13 GAME: Haggerty casts Summon Monster II. Caster Level: 6 DC: 18 GAME: Haggerty used a Rod of Lesser Extend. GAME: Cuemoni casts Barkskin. Caster Level: 6 DC: 16 GAME: Cuemoni casts Barkskin. Caster Level: 6 DC: 16 GAME: Haggerty rolls 1d3: (3): 3
Haggerty takes the cue of tobacco consumption and hits up a dose of snus/snuff with a resounding snort. He coughs and sneezes when an extra dose of dust finds his inner cavities and the arcanist tastes grime at the back of his mouth. "Magnificent finds, good Unionist! Secure the hair, please. It may be useful in a magical trace, but I am not capable of this type of magical search myself. Besides, I can provide short term shelter to the vagrancies of this area for one person. I should be reasonably safe for the moment, because I wear a set of protectives, so please focus your curatives and bolstering energies on our martial group members, if you were to be so kind." The wizard, who also carries a tiny black doge in a shoulder pouch. He sighs and furrows his brows, "Yes, yes they do feel pain. They are my friends. I would prefer not to use them this way! I can call some other being, though, even if it would feel similar hurts." The Aesir hops off his horse, kneels and summons a small gaggle of felines from a strange place, because the rift opens to a celestial back alley of sorts, if such even exists! A few not that merry sounding sounding words in celestial after the mandatory Eldritch along with a bit of fancy stick waving over a ritual candle, and off they scoot. If not without a "Phhhht!" of presented tongues!
"Then this one will cast the spells of protection for our warriors," Cuemoni intones in response to Haggerty, approaching Skyler and Harshad both. She intones a few words, waves a hand, and then touches Skyler on the shoulder... followed by a touch on Harshad's shoulder.
The skin feels a little tighter somehow. Tougher.
"This one hopes it is of help," Cuemoni says, before her golden eyes turn onto the gaggle of cats. "Ay. Cats. Will they be wanting the fish-snacks?" Her own cat at home is fond of dried fish flakes that Cuemoni makes from fishing in the river near their house--once, of course, the rest of the fish is consumed by herself and Zeke.
"I mean, her sister *is* a cleric." Skyler points out to Harshad, frowning thoughtfully, "It's been a while since I brushed up on it, but when I was a kid my theology and arcana teacher claimed resurrection rites could be performed with just a few bits and bobs." He scratches the scar on his jaw consideringly, grey-green eyes thoughtful, "I dunno what the percentage of body needed is, though. Or if they have to be intact." He shakes his head, waving gloved hands to banish the thoughts. "Gah! Anyways."
He glances at Haggerty and shrugs one shoulder, "I mean, surely if they get kicked..." And he mimes kicking a cat, "They just kinda poof back into existence in their alley, right?" He coughs, and adds, "Not that I'm suggesting we kick your cats. But, like, they'd make good scouts and flankers, y'know?" He holds up one arm, and walks two fingers along his forearm before suddenly grabbing his arm, "Who wouldn't be surprised and caught off guard by celestial cats falling out of the tree onto their faces?"
He shudders as Cuemoni's sorceries flash over him, wincing slightly but patting the scaled hand in thanks even as he continues to ramble, "I got some fish jerky! I keep it for Jarik's owl, but she won't know if I share. Accidentally ate some, and it's pretty good. Salty."
GAME: Harshad rolls stealth: (19)+13: 32
As they descend down the trail, and past the shielding trees, they find the first of the ruined wagons. It, like the one they found the day before, has been abandoned but this one has been ravaged. Not scavenged. Ravaged and wrecked and ripped for parts and bits without rhyme or reason, some of the valuables left to rot amongst them trade goods that the Lucht no doubt meant for the Shire. The horses are nowhere in sight but all their noses are tickled with the smell of smoke and meat cooked so harsh as to be charcoal itself farther ahead. Looks as if this is as far as these brave Lucht Siuli got.
One of Haggerty's celestial cats happen to be perched on the driver seat of the lead caravanner wagon, grooming itself. The orange one in this case, almost the shade of the wizard's own hair.
The VOID cat though, is slightly more aware, posed and staring at something in the darkness beneath the tarp of the aforementioned vehicle. The Tuxedo instead returns to Haggerty's side to rub against his leg. Cats, even summoned ones, behave in their own strange ways.
Speaking of strange, they get their first view of activity. No attacks. The cats determined that first, but still bizarre. Small folk in their bright colors, stomp and dance and jerk about awkwardly in small groups. They pay the arriving adventurers no mind. They are lost in their simple merrymaking. Something bugs you. Something is absent but difficult to pinpoint exactly what.
GAME: Skyler rolls perception: (6)+12: 18 GAME: Harshad rolls perception: (17)+9: 26 GAME: Harshad rolls knowledge/local: (15)+9: 24 GAME: Haggerty rolls perception: (15)+7: 22 GAME: Haggerty rolls knowlegde/local: (13)+knowlegde/local: 13 GAME: Cuemoni rolls Perception: (2)+13: 15 GAME: Cuemoni rolls Knowledge/Local: (9)+3: 12
Haggerty shrugs to the kind druid, "They like fish, but also grasshoppers, beetles, tiny arachnids which are not too poisonous, mice and such. Rather like their Ean counterparts. I have to say I typically only call for canines." He cants the pointy hat to view Skyler, "That sounds likely, but it is sure to be some form of mighty ritual which also costs a pretty gold piece by which I mean a huge pile of dragon bedding." The freckly man gestures encouragingly to the others.
As the group descends down the trail, Harshad keeps to the shadows, slipping in and out of them like the cats as he follows, sickles in hand. When he catches sight of the dancing folk, though, he comes to a stop, and hisses at the others. "Hold it."
The rogue points with one sickle at the dancers. "I've seen lucht partying. This ain't it. There's no music. And they don't -look- right. That one in the blue -- do they have an extra arm or am I seeing things?" Harshad's brow furrows. "I hate the Vast."
Harshad may be moving shadow to shadow, but Skyler is making no attempt at stealthy movement. Decked out like some fetishized version of a pirate with rainbow silk scarves hanging from his sword and buckler, and so much magical geegaws he looks like he fell into a display case and said 'i'll take it!'... He's never going to be stealthy. "That is fucking *creepy*." He mutters in agreement to Harshad before squaring his shoulder and glancing at the wagon. "Think she's under that tarp? Hey, Haggy, can you get your cats to jerk the tarp off? It's too far for me to reach."
Haggerty briefly things with his darkly coated and eyed familiar. Both seem very worries which the cute-sized paws owner stresses with a low whine-snort. As if his large black eyes would not tell enough. Haggs inhales sharply and looks for signs of understanding in the others, "Did.." The robed man shuts up and nods to the half oruch sneak. He nods quietly and crouches, "You are correct. Feet are clubbed, too. This is horrible." A scratch to the side of his bent nose. "I can have them try, but those are smaller felines, not even snow leopards or thylacines." The spellsy guy focuses his thoughts and commands the kitties to claw and pull at the tarp.
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20-5: (6)+-5: 1
They all watch with baited breath as the VOID and the Orange cat receive their mental command, and then very carefully go to obey. They wiggle in prep, then leap gracefully up to the blocking tarp to pull it away. They dangle comically as the Lucht dance in quiet madness, before dropping to soft little paws.
The orange cat goes to sniff at a nearby rock. The black cat though has its hackles visibly rising.
Cat strength was not enough this day.
GAME: Harshad rolls stealth: (16)+13: 29
Harshad restrains a sudden sigh as Haggerty's cats attempt to tug the tarp down. He just shakes his head, and glances at the others. "Cover me. I'll take a look." And then the half-orc is slipping through the shadows again, using the trees for cover, avoiding sticks on the ground until he finds himself next to the little black cat.
"Alright," he muses almost silently to himself. "Let's see what's got you riled.." Carefully, he lifts the edge of the tarp, peering inside...
The others see Harshad appear, and rip back the tarp. The Dancers do not suddenly enrage at this. They hardly seem aware of the world outside their little 'joycircles' and if anything, perfectly horrifically blissful unaware. They just giggle and stomp and gurgle at a festival macabre.
The smell of the meat hits them and they realize what it is. It's their horses.
Cuemoni's nostrils flare at the smell. "Ay, the horsemeat," she whispers in complaint. Makari aren't so picky about the origin of their meat, but she is aware that, among many softskin cultures, horsemeat is not considered proper food. She readies herself for action, lifting a hand. "This one will prepare fire."
A beat. "Not for the meat." Cuemoni would rather not make anyone sick with the smell of cooking horse meat.
Haggerty grunts at the sacrilege. "This is an inversion of lucht culture. They rely on their ponies. This is an offense to the Lady of the Lance!" The redhead's features are a study in exasperation. He shakes his hat once more. "Only complete despair would cause a sane lucht to butcher their drafts."
Skyler, for his part, gags at the reveal, wrinkling his nose. "That's unsettling and disgusting and doesn't make this the least bit less creepy." The swashbuckler curls his lip, glancing over at the dancing little people. "What do you think would happen if we interrupted them? Isn't there some sort of spell that makes people dance against their will? Think Bryn or someone mentioned it once." He glances at the wizard of the group, "You sense anything weird?" He considers that, and then adds, "Besides the obvious, of course."
GAME: Haggerty casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 6 DC: 15
Harshad put one of his sickles away to lift up the tarp, but what he sees there causes him to recoil in shock. He doesn't fall down, but he does stumble back a pace, putting his arm across his nose and mouth, his eyes wide. He shudders, glancing around, but the dancers haven't even reacted.
After a moment, he shivers again, and moves back towards the others. When he gets there, his greenish skin has a pale cast to it, and his eyes are a little wild. "There's a Lucht in there... well, I think it is. They've got one of those funny lutes, whatcha call it, a shamisen, but... they're all messed up. They got sores and scales and shit growing out of 'em."
Harshad does not even sneak back, perhaps too rattled to remember. The dancers pay him no mind in their perturbed fumblings. One falls down, its weight too much for a weakened ankle and they watch as it is stomped and kicked about. Not maliciously, but just as a victim of its own weakness.
The crunch of bones and a soft whimper makes for terrible music.
GAME: Harshad rolls perception: (19)+9: 28 GAME: Cuemoni rolls Perception: (7)+13: 20 GAME: Skyler rolls perception: (11)+12: 23 GAME: Haggerty rolls perception+2: (15)+7+2: 24
Haggerty pointedly nods, "The Xian lute? That is of the person we are looking for!" Ahum. He quiets, breathes low, and observes with glowing blue eyes to search for active magical auras. "Yes, Sky, I am viewing." A few slow breaths later, "Transmutation also known as alteration or mutation magics. Not too strong. The dance is voluntary after a fashion. I would normally say the music makes them want to dance, but I do not see any mana tendrils, Eluna be blessed. Or.."
They all perk up at a noise behind them. Three voices. Just as Haggerty points out the lack of music. One voice, reedy and thin, another voice, deeper and commanding of presence. A third chilling in languages not of this world. When they turn to look behind them they see a figure standing with hands extended to the sky and singing.
Just one body. Three mouths. The reedy voice has a pattern. In Lucht. They repeat something over and over.
The commander's hum serves as the base. Between and around and amongst the high and low notes, dredge and sickness and madness.
The dancers slowly began to walk by, streaming in one and twos past the adventurers, shambling to the music.
"W-What? Did you see..." Harshad finds himself pointing at a spot that's... well, empty. The weird, three-voices-from-one-guy sets his teeth on edge, and the half-orc glares at the figure. "...nevermind. We need to shut that fucker up. Bet you a gold he's at the center of this."
He glances at the others. "We may not be able to save the others, but at least they won't be suffering any more."
"Okay, this is not just creepy, it's *fucking* creepy." Skyler declares to no one in particular, biting his lip as he considers the crew of dancing Luchts and the sound of the voice. He takes a deep breath, letting it out in a huff before he shakes his head, and asks, "You guys hear that singing? Maybe if we drown it out..."
And rather than waiting to see if someone can cast silence or the like, Skyler instead begins to bang his sword against his buckler as he screams out as he rushes towards the man Harshad indicated. He's... off key. And the lyrics are certainly *not* for polite company as he sings lustily. Bryn, wherever she is, would be proud though:
- "I rise at six and then I feed the chicks,
- And I’m feeling lonesome and blue,
- And when I milk the cow it seems, somehow,
- My thoughts keep straying to... You!"
GAME: Skyler rolls perform/sing: (16)+4: 20
"We must act quickly," Cuemoni whispers, an edge to her voice. "This one can shoot out a flame at the three-voiced one. But this one is..."
She'd been about to express her concern about shooting fire at the voice. Then Skyler is singing. Cuemoni's golden eyes nictate once.
And then she leans into it. "Go!" she whispers! "Go, go forth, Warrior Who Sings!" Song accompanying war is honorable.
Haggerty rummages in one of the pouches on his belt, pulls forth a roll of parchment and gets into range which is eight long steps. Next thing is to read the Eldritch and do the ridiculous motions with the free hand: toss little nothings and wave a tiny thing pinched between thumb and index finger.
GAME: Haggerty used a Scroll of Hideous Laughter. GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+4: (15)+4: 19
The monstrous creature, whose headpiece conceals their eyes, but not the three singing mouth is explicitly hideous. The open wounds on their neck match and merge the timber of the compelling eldritch song together, three mouths and one body and who knows how many twisted souls. Haggerty draws from his scrolls and weaves cues of magic as the song tapers off, the Singer absolutely distracted by Skyler raising and matching in pitch. No matter how strange and bizarre there seems to be enough of a human soul there to be surprised and distracted.
The fanged mouth, the speaker of eldritch tongues begins to laugh as the magic takes hold and at first the woman's lips and the commanding male's hum matches. Then they fall flat. The stained, cracked lips twist in a hideous snarl as they fight off the enchantment.
The many many many dancers turn and stare down at the adventurers.
Welcome to the Vast.