| Logs |
2001 November 03
| Inizii |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Inizii Logs |
Werewolves and Poltergeists
Kyrel and Derleth start down the stairs, intending to exit quietly and then to try to find tracks under Silniya's window. Foolish move. Why go were here if she has control over it? She knows there are people around who don't like her kind.
The pair move outside, unhindered, and find their way to the ground beneath the woman's window. The moon is nearly full, only a day from its peak, and the moonlight shines bright on the ground. It gives enough light for the two to make out bare footprints leading away.
Kyrel nods to himself. "Okay, she's running around out here somewhere. High sentry, Kiri. Listen for fighting." Kiri chirps, winging out into the night.
Derleth looks confused. "An' why woul' she be runnin around in bare feet?"
Kyrel says, "My guess is that she doesn't want to lose her boots if - or when - she shape-shifts. Let's find out, shall we?"
Derleth nods. "Lead on, man."
The footprints are quite deep under the window, making it obvious that the woman had jumped down. Farther out, though the prints continue, they're much lighter, harder to make out in the moonlight.
Derleth squints. "Mayhaps this is where she made th' change...look fer animal footprints...assumin she nae be sommat like a were-eagle." He follows the faint tracks intently, just stopping at the edge of the woods. "She went in there, fer whate'er reason..."
The tracks lead toward the forest, but pass right by the roped off area where the Fairgrounds are setting up. Derleth points this out to Kyrel. "She dinnae go in, but then why'd she leave at all?"
Kyrel says, "A very good question. Shall we follow her and ask, or just camp out by her window and ask later?"
Derleth blinks. "Hold off a min...." He stares at the tents, seemingly concentrating on something. "There's sommat not right innere. A taint that be at the edge o' me senses..."
Kyrel looks at the cleric, and then towards the tents. "You're the one with the spell. Let's get closer, and see what you're feeling."
Derleth nods cautiously, ducking under the rope and creeping into the grounds, trying to get a fix on the evil that lurks within... He pauses a little way in, holding up a hand to the mage behind him, and then motioning him to crouch alongside him.
Kyrel crouches almost before Derleth motions, having been warned by his familiar. Thanks, Kiri. He freezes, trying to remain unseen in spite of the moonlight.
From around a tent, a silluette strides, walking across the way. A glance towards the pair, but he appears not to have seen, nor heard, the two.
Derleth whispers in the half-elf's ear. "The faint taint be in this direction," he indicates to the west. "But there be a much more powerful aura of evil thataway." he jerks a thumb towards the northeast.
Kyrel nods and points to the northeast, waiting for the figure to move away before moving slowly in that direction.
The pair slip onward. Derleth's spell leads him to a high tent, from which grumblings, even an argument, with one distinctive human voice and another that sounds vaguely familiar and quite angry, emerge. The cleric presses his ear to the fabric of the tent, trying to make out words. Kyrel sneaks in toward the tent as well, trying to get close enough to make out what they're saying. Can you make it out, Kiri?
"...will break your bones, and suck the marrow from them!" a deep, horrid, booming voice snarls. The much quieter voice replies,"We have this conversation every night. You're not getting out. Deal with it."
Kyrel glances to Derleth, the voices easily loud enough for him to make out - but he's uncertain whether the cleric did. He raises an eyebrow in a question.
Derleth looks back at Kyrel, his lips forming a silent question. Frost giant?
The voice continues, inside. "I don't care! Release me!" The sound of iron ringing, rattling, comes from within the tent. "Simmer down," The human voice replies smoothly, "Or no ale for you tonight."
Derleth frowns as he listens. Could just be a captive for the freak show...but one wonders where the greater evil lies...in the captive or the captor.
Kyrel leans over to whisper at the cleric. Can you tell which one is evil?
Derleth takes out a dagger, putting it to the cloth as he shakes his head in response. Gonna open a little hole, see what I kin see, he whispers back, waiting for the loud one to speak again so that his bellowing voice will mask the sound of dagger ripping into tent.
Kyrel nods and turns to look outward from the tent. Don't want anyone sneaking up on us, after all.
"Wine? Bah! I want a swine's blood! The bones of halflings to grind to give it texture!" The human chuckles."Want a rat?" The deep voice howls, "No! I want no rat!" The knife is unheard, and the cleric peers within. Inside a very, very large cage, an ogre is shackled, shaking in frustration and rage. Miraculously, the chains and bars hold. A lounging guard, holding a crossbow near by, watches the ogre over a game of solitare.
Derleth grimaces, and looks to Kyrel.
Kyrel shrugs. "Part of the show, then. No problem. Let's track the other trace before your spell wears off."
Derleth nods and leads the way, crouch-walking among the tent-shadows....
As the pair move through the shadows, they come across what seems to be a large number of twigs. A series of snaps hit the air, as boots crunch them underneath. Almost instantly, a high pitched voice cries, "Hey!" and a short shadow moves toward the pair from the shelter of another tent.
Derleth halts and tries to melt into the shadows....
Kyrel grimaces. Oh, crud. He hastily mutters the incantation of invisibility and fades from sight.
The figure comes closer; it appears to be a halfling. "Hey!" He calls again, brandishing a shortsword in his hand. Though he doesn't look like a guard, isn't dressed as one at least, he's still coming forward, looking around. The flaps of a tent open, at the halfling's repeated calls.
Derleth does not even breathe, keeping perfectly still in the darkness...
The newer one, shadowed by the tent, glances around. "What's the hubbub?" The halfling turns on his heel. "I saw some folks! Heard something, too, over here!" He points at the general area, ten feet from Derleth's position. The newer person peers. "I don't see anyone..."
Derleth wonders, absently, if he should also have used his granted power to turn invisible as he cringes under the searching gaze of the two...
The second person glances around, apparently seeing nothing, and shakes his head. "I don't see anything. Lay off the wineskin." The halfling looks utterly aggravated, squeaking with frustration. He then stomps off, away from Derleth, fortunately, but cutting between the pair and the forest side of the enclosure.
Derleth finally lets out his held breath, once the two are outside hearing range. He hisses, "Ye still there, mage?"
Kyrel wanders over to Derleth once the others are gone. "Aye. Sorry, but I'd only prepared the power to do this once. Shall we continue?"
Derleth says, "In a minute. The suspicious short one went in the direction we intended. Let me first borrow yer trick. An' hold me hand. We dinnae need t' be bumpin in t' one another an' attractin' attention." He touches his holy medallion and murmurs a prayer to Lliara. Within seconds, he too becomes invisible.
Kyrel places a hand on Derleth's shoulder while he casts his own spell. Once they're both unseen, they continue onward, following after the frustrated halfling, though not too closely. Derleth follows the sense of his spell, and comes up to its apparent source, a long, large tent. It appears to have a wooden framework supporting the cloth.
Derleth walks carefully up to the edge, listening at the tent wall once more to see if sounds betray what is within. This time, though, there is no sound. He frowns, takes out his dagger again, and as quietly as possible saws at the fabric to open a hole. The inside of the tent is pitch black, and there is still nothing to be heard.
Derleth grunts unhappily. See no evil, hear no evil. He moves from the hole and whispers to Kyrel. "See iff'n ye can see anything wi' that special sight o' your'n."
Suddenly, the tent ripples. It wouldn't have seemed out of place, if there was a wind. But the night is calm, the cloth waving lightly without an obvious cause.
Kyrel mutters the chant to detect magic, wondering what could have caused the billowing, and peers inside. He can make out some of what's there; it looks like a little hall has been constructed within the tent, made with light wooden walls. It's draped in black, with an alcove here or there, but nothing of interest stands out.
Derleth shudders, and then prods Kyrel, his brow knit with curiosity, despite the fact that the mage would not be able to see it. "Anything?" He looks startled at the sound of breaking glass from inside.
Kyrel straightens up again. Looks like sleeping quarters... His voice trails off at the sound.
Derleth waits with surprising patience, hoping that the breaking glass might be the event that would reveal more of what lurks inside... but again, there is only silence. After a while, the cleric whispers, "What d'ye think? Press our luck, or cash out?"
Kyrel whispers back. "It's dark - we'd just stumble over something, and if we used a light.... unless you can tell exactly where the evil is coming from?" The mage waits for a little longer, but eventually he gives up and draws Derleth closer. "That seems to be it. Wonder what happened?"
Derleth shakes his head, forgetting that Kyrel can't see the gesture. "Tisnae like the ogre...just a hint, a tremor, that sommat is out o' joint innat tent. Nobbut definite t' say bout it."
Kyrel nods as absent-mindedly as the cleric. "Fair enough. Let's give it up for now and go back to tracking Silniya."
Derleth nods agreement and sets off towards the rope barrier. The trail is easily recovered, at least by the cleric, leading off into the forest.
The two continue into the forest, unhindered. The trail grows lighter, and the woods seem darker, looming. Off in the distance, a symphony of wolven howls fills the air.
Derleth stops in his tracks to listen to the haunting musical howls. "Ah wunner if that be a telling point, meself."
Kyrel says, "And wolves hunt by scent. Shall we continue, or go back and wait?"
Derleth considers the matter. "Ah dinnae know that following further would be fruitful...mayhap we shou' just go back t' the inn and get some rest."
Kyrel says, "Well, we're still following human tracks, so let's continue. We could be wrong about this whole thing, you realize."
Derleth considers. "Ye may have the right o' it. All right, let's press on. We're well rested anyway...."
Some ten feet later, the tracks shift, blurring from bare human feet to canine paws in the space of a few steps.
Kyrel chuckles, a bit ruefully. "Okay, so we weren't wrong. Is that wolf or fox?"
Derleth considers. "Wolf, ah think. Though either would usually be bad news."
Kyrel says, "For a lycanthrope, I think you're right. Let's head back, then, and ask her tomorrow if she comes back."
Derleth blinks at Kyrel. "Are ye mad? Ah'm nae goin' within 20 yards o' her now."
Kyrel says, "Why not? It'll be safe enough in daylight."
Derleth rolls his eyes at the half-elf. "Werefolk can change whenever they want, Kyrel. An' human or wolf, I 'spect she's just as dangerous. There's some lycanthropes ah'd nae be so worrisome of, but the wolves are vicious, o'erthrown by bloodlust. That probably be why she crept out t'night despite the possibility o' bein found by the Selunite. She wants t' taste death in her mouth."
Kiri, perching on a branch overhead, chirrips lightly, a trifle confused.
Kyrel says, "Derleth, we're not exactly harmless ourselves. She won't be able to take us by surprise, and I suspect either of us would make a fair fight against her. Both of us? Hah." He looks up at his familiar. "Yes, we're right here, Kiri, we're still invisible."
Derleth scratches his chin. 'Mebbe. I woul' ha been cleaved in twain by some o' those feral vampires if it were nae for the Lady's favor. Ah'm just saying, ah'm nae sure about directly confrontin' her."
Kyrel says, "Well, you can be backup for me then."
Derleth chuckles. "Ye've got a lot o' grit in ye, Kyrel...be that as it may, de ye see any reason that we cannae head back t' warm beds naew?"
Kyrel looks up at Kiri again. "Find something?""
The bat chirrups back to Kyrel, speaking to his master. I can look for her?
Kyrel smiles to himself. "Are you sure, Kiri? I don't want you getting too close to any wolves if you want to look for her. Derleth and I are going to head back to the inn."
Kiri chitters back to the mage. Oh. Not going to go, then. Thought you wanted to find her out here.
Kyrel says, "I don't think we want to find her and a whole wolfpack at the same time, Kiri. I'd rather talk to her when we don't have to worry about our backs."
The bat seems to give a shrug. Then, letting go of the branch, he takes flight toward the inn.
Derleth says, "Ah'll second that thought."
Kyrel says, "He wanted to scout for her - but the pack howl worried me a bit. We'll wait for her back at the Inn. The other possibility that occurs to me is that she might have stolen a ranger's equipment, in which case she might not come back. We'll have to see."
Derleth shivers, not feeling comfortable with the idea of dispelling the invisible shroud that conceals him until they're clear of the forest. "Aye. We might well see indeed."
The pair return to the inn. They find Christof asleep, sitting in a chair, facing the door, a dagger in the boy's lap. They get him to bed, and turn in themselves.
The night passes uneventfully. In the bright light of early morning, Christof is the first to rise. He stretches, refreshed, almost bouncing with energy, but settles down and starts his morning prayers, the service to Lliara, quite seriously.
Derleth smiles indulgently, proud to see the boy has learned his teachings well as he joins him in prayer, feeling the Lady's holy power flow into him.
Kyrel grins at the boy's antics, and studies his own spells, restoring the magic he'd used the day before. He's just finishing when a knock is heard at the door, and he calls, "Come in!"
Derleth blinks, startled. He's only dressed in his robes, and he looks absently at his weaponsbelt, prepared to draw forth his flail from where it hangs...
The door swings in lightly, and Silniya steps inside. Dressed in a better suit of leather armor, she's wearing her sword belt, but not her quiver, bow or pack. She also looks refreshed; in fact she looks to be nearly fully healed, already. "I heard voices, in the next room; wondered if all was stirring, in here." A curious glance is shot Derleth's way.
Derleth smiles, but it's a half-hearted attempt, as he suddenly feels very vulnerable without his armor. "Aye. Up an' about an' all."
Christof looks up, opens his mouth...and shuts it, putting on his boots instead.
Kyrel says, "You're looking much better today, Silniya. You made an amazing recovery from yesterday."
She gives a light smile. "Mmhm... They were mostly flesh wounds, shallow cuts." A nod to Derleth. "With the aid of his magic, and blessings of Selune, I pulled miraculously through."
Kyrel nods. "Mostly, yes..." He reaches into his pouch and pulls out the silver arrowhead. "All except this one, it looked like."
A brow arches. A hesitation, before the woman nods. "Indeed. Lucky shot."
Derleth takes a moment to pick up the studded leather under-armor, checking the straps. Strangely enough, despite the danger he thinks she encompasses, he's still embarassed about the idea of changing in front of her...but then he blanches as Kyrel takes out the arrowhead, and embarassment is tossed to the wind as he tosses his robe aside, suiting up.
Christof simply looks to Derleth, at a loss, seeming about to blurt out the obvious.
Derleth's eyes widen, and he makes an imperceptible shake of the head, indicating him to be quiet.
Kyrel puts the arrowhead away. "We were talking to one of the fair's performers yesterday. He mentioned that there were a few guards there who were ... overly fanatic about lycanthropes, unable to distinguish between evil ones and good ones. Probably unable to distinguish between true lycanthropes and hairy humans, for that matter - fanatics aren't known for their discrimination."
Silinya can't help but chuckle, at that, but she gives a terse nod. Arms cross. "There are fanatics in any group of people," The woman replies evenly, eyes on the mage. "What of it?"
Derleth tries not to cough, instead devoting his attention to strapping on the metal plates of his enchanted armor.
Kyrel shrugs. "Just wondering if it was the same group of fanatics. You're a ranger, you could have been defending a were-bear or something. Silver arrows may be specific against lycanthropes, but they'll work just fine on normal humans, too."
Silniya mmhms. "And, aren't certain undead sensitive against metals? Fey to cold iron? If one finds a knife of cold iron in someone's back, they may very well be human, and not a sprite." A shrug. "Indeed, it was one of them who shot me."
Derleth sags a little in relief. That's probably an innocent enough question, he thinks to himself as he checks the metal guards on his thighs and ankles.
Kyrel nods. "Suspected as much. Who else would be tossing around silver arrows as a matter of course? You want it as a souvenir?" He starts to reach into his pouch again.
She holds up her hand, in a gesture of dismissal. "That's quite all right. I needn't be reminded."
Derleth seems more at ease now that he's protected by enspelled metal, and he gestures the boy behind him as he murmurs a soft word, calling once more on the power to sense evil...
Kyrel chuckles. "Understandable." He notes the beginning of Derleth's spell and continues to talk, trying to keep her attention off of the cleric. "So, have you had breakfast yet?"
Derleth blinks faintly after a moment, and then catches Kyrel's eyes and shakes his head negatingly, seemingly quite taken aback.
The woman's eyes shift, peering out the corner of her eye, hand reflexively squeezing. Though, she replies to Kyrel, evenly. "Actually, yes. The cook can do some rather good eggs."
Derleth lowers his hands innocently from his medallion, releasing his concentration from the spell. "All set. The Lady, as they say, favors the prepared." he says, affecting an air of cheer.
Kyrel's eyes widen at Derleth's response. "She's clean?" At the cleric's nod, he glances at the door to make sure it's closed, and lowers his voice to just above a whisper. "Sorry about all that, milady. But ... we tried to visit you last night and then tracked you as far as the place where you shifted. We had to make sure you weren't evil."
Derleth claps Christof on the shoulder, trying to put him at ease with a far more friendly manner. "What d'ye say, Chris? Ye want eggs?"
Derleth just about swallows his tongue at Kyrel's abrupt comment....
The boy's eyes are a tad wide, moving from one, to the other, to Silniya, though he seems a little more at ease after Derleth's proclamation. The smack on his back, however, earns a surprised squeak!
Kyrel looks apologetic as he continues. "I'm a half-elf, and I grew up in a Grey Elven city. I know something about being misunderstood, and I like to think I've learned not to be judging someone by their race."
Silnyia eyes the mage firmly. "I have to wonder if you'd follow me to the baths, to be sure I was clean." A hand lifts, a dismissing gesture. "But, I can understand. It's the afflicted, who earn the pure-breds their horrid name. It seems that many fanatics, or those who don't like to peer into the greys between, cannot grasp this. And I appreciate that fact," she adds, in response to the wizard's last statement.
Kyrel says, "If you need help... I'd be happy to offer it." He grins. "So would Derleth, once he gets his heart beating again."
Derleth coughs nervously. "Warn me th' next time ye're going to do something like that, Kyrel. Ah wasnae gonna say nothing. Some folks aren't too keen on discussing their secrets so blunt-like."
Silniya peers over to Derleth, chuckling. "I can always bite his toes, and get him moving." A too natural growl, before glancing back to Kyrel. "In fact...I think you might be able to help."
Derleth does not make a startled cry, as Christof did, but he does take a step back at the growl coming from Silniya's human mouth.
Christof peeks around Derleth. "So... she's not going to eat me..."
Kyrel chuckles at Derleth. "Aye, but after all those hints, if I'd just let her wander off without telling her what it was all about, she'd likely decide she had to take us out to protect herself - might be we're in league with those wackies." He looks back at the werelady, an eyebrow raised. "Am I right? I'd not blame you, either, you understand."
Derleth pats Christof. "Nae. Didnae ye hear her? She likes eggs, not boys."
Kyrel laughs at Christof and Derleth. "You're studying to be a follower of Lliara, Christof. You have to expect to be lucky sometimes."
The woman nods her head. "I'd have to find out what you knew. And, either run, as I did before, and ended up with an arrow in my flank, or take you out. The latter, unfortunately, stains my already crimson reputation." A playful wink toward Christof. "Can't say I will. Too cute." Turning back to the mage, "Though, your bluntness was surprising, despite the translucent gauze of words."
Derleth says, "Ah'll second that. Me stomach lept up intae me throat in surprise."
Kyrel shrugs. "It saves time, generally. If you're going to be an enemy or an ally, I'd just as soon know right away. If I want to be deceptive, I'm more patient."
She spreads her hands. "Fair enough. I wouldn't want a knife, or spell for that matter, in my back due to uncertainty."
Derleth says, "Hey nae. The spell didnae hurt ye. But considering what we been through, a bucketful o' caution is not wasted when ye don' know what cards yer opponents have in hand."
Kyrel steeples his fingers. "So. I told the fellow yesterday that we'd had a run-in with a lycanthrope somewhere to the north of here, implying that you'd been a member of our group before that, headed south with us. Do the fanatics know your appearance? I can help disguise that, if you want."
A soft sigh. "I'm afraid they do." She gives a shrug. "A disguise would be well, thank you." She tips her head, glancing from the cleric to Kyrel. "After you reach Selegaunt... where is it you're headed? In any paticular direction?"
Derleth shakes his head. "The boy wants t' join Lliara's temple in Selegaunt...mostly, we aim t' head for warmer weather."
Christof pipes up, "Yes! To Lliara's temple! So I can be like Derleth," poking the cleric in the ribs.
Kyrel grins. "Kiri doesn't much like harsh winters."
As if on cue, Kiri chirps in annoyance.
She nods. "Ah, well then. Perhaps you can help me, after things in the city are taken care of. I need information, from there, anyways. We'll see." A glance out the window.
Kyrel chuckles. "I know, Kiri. We're on our way, aren't we?"
Derleth says, "Does sommat besides the Looney trouble ye, lady?""
A shake of her head. "Not at all. The carnival is open, however." At this, Christof seems to perk up. "I forgot about that!"
Derleth chuckles. "Chris, why don' ye get some breakfast?" he says, giving the boy a few silvers. "We'll be down shortly to join ye."
The boy nods, eagerly. "Yessir!" And with that, he scurries out of the room like an excited squirrel.
Kyrel nods. "We had a look around there last night, too. They've got an ogre chained up, and ... something else odd, that we couldn't figure out. We were thinking of heading off that way in daylight, to see what we could see."
Derleth recloses the door as Kyrel talks. "We'd ask ye t' join us, but nae if we canna hide yer identity...the Selunite what used you fer target practice might be lurking about."
She nods. "Agreed. I'll keep a low profile, keep the cloak's hood low; though, likely, I'll need to find me another. Mine is dirty, shredded, and the Silver Stake hunter knows my cloth." She waves her hand, toward Derleth. "There is a crowd, this time. If need be, I can put the throngs of people between us; a zealot who thinks he's on the side of good won't kill innocent people to get at me."
Derleth scratches his chin. "Ah might be able t' add to that, Lady...ah've got some non-magical tricks in me kit...with a little work, ah could change ye into a stunning silver elf."
She arches a brow. "Really... hm." A glance down at her frame. "I think I'm a little too robusk and full, to be considered an elf but..." She gazes at Kyrel, curiously. "Maybe a half-elf?"
Kyrel sketches a bow from his seat. "I'd be honored, milady. And it means much less trouble with the ears. Not all half-elves have obviously elven ones."
Derleth grins. "Aye, coul' be easy. Ah've some face paint t' give ye the color...mebbe dye for yer hair as well...Twould explain yer ears as well, although those could always be hidden..."
Kyrel nods. "Definitely change the hair color. That's an obvious thing from a distance. And I'll give her my winter cloak."
A finger runs through her dark hair. "Moon elves have black, yes?" She touches her cheeks, considering. "Certainly I'd need something to give me a paler complexion..." She pauses, and adds an afterthought. "Though the silver streak down the middle does give me away..."
Kyrel considers. "How about pure white, then? Can your kit handle that, Derleth?"
Derleth winks. "Ah have the touch for disguise, Silniya. Give me a handful o minutes an her own sire wouldnae recognize ye." He then blushes, suddenly reverting to type. "Er, if ye'll allow such familiarity on me part to help ye with it..."
She blinks. "White? Hm. Then they might suspect drow in me!" She gazes at the befuddled cleric with a light grin. "No, I'm not going to bite you if you rub that into my hair. But, surely, we'll need a water basin to wet it, and get the dye in?"
Derleth snaps his fingers. "Ah have th' magic touch, Lady. Such things are easy enou' t' get. Kyrel, c'd ye get the attention of the tavern servants while ah get started?" He gives a small list of things he'll need as he digs his disguise kit out of his pack.
Thirty minutes later, Christof having returned, full and curious as to where the three had been, they finish. Silniya looks rather impressive, the dark hair now turned a silver, streaked with natural grays. Putty applied to the ears gives them a slightly defined point. The cosmetics give her a pale, almost pearl-like undertone. She's now draped in Kyrel's winter cloak, and seems appreciative of the effort.
Derleth grins. "Excellent. Now, come down and watch us eat breakfast. Gettin' a new face don' mean shucks iff'n ye can't show it off a bit."
She chuckles gently. "Keep the leers to a minimum, gentlemen." With that, she slips down the stairs.
An hour later, the four find themselves within the fairgrounds. It had cost half a gold piece each for the entrance fee, and one silver for Christof, but the carnival is a big one, and despite the relatively small community here, it seems that many have come to see it. Lining the first 'road' within the carnival are booths set up with games and food. Scents of delicious pastries and smoked meats waft through the air.
Christof peers at the two wooden coins in his hand, given in admittance. He hmms, peering about. "I think...this gets a free something?" He holds up the wooden token.
Derleth glances at the tokens. "They're fer the games, lad."
The boy hmms again... and then starts bouncing down the lane, looking about. Silniya glances toward the two. "He's going to disappear for a while, you realize."
Kyrel says, "He'll be back. He's had some rough times; if he can enjoy himself, I'll be happy for him."
Derleth nods solemnly. "An' me doubly so." He looks about for the tent that they'd found last night.
She nods her head, and rubs her chin, glancing about. Several signs seem to stick out. The closest says, 'Fortune Telling'. Past the first 'street', nearer the fairground walls, is dark tent marked 'Side Show'."
Derleth grimaces as he passes the sideshow tent. "To folk such as these, this be the extent of the monsters they see. May th' gods grant it stay that way."
The three wander throughout the grounds, noting that the first, main strip is simply food and games. The corners, however, hold other attractions; the Sideshow, the Fortune Teller's booth, a 'Haunted Manor', and a nondescript tent on the corner, apparently more housing then anything.
Kyrel says, "They've got an ogre around here somewhere, Derleth. And perhaps other creatures that don't deserve enslavement. We should look."
Derleth's gaze alights on the Haunted Manor. "That be the tent, methinks. Shall we dare it, Lord and Lady?" he says slyly.
A grin pulls at the wolf-now-half elf's lips. "And, this morning, I thought I was the one terrifiying you." A shrug. Then, oddly enough, a call towards them from one of the booths. "Hey!"
Kyrel snorts. "Didn't you have enough spooks dealing with that damned vampire?" He grins at Silniya. "That's different. He's terrified by warrior-women in general, methinks." He looks up at the call.
Derleth's face erupts in red, not having heard the shout himself. "That's nae true!" he protests.
A familiar face resides behind one of the booths. Zamshin gives a slight wave, from his position behind a table. Several people beside him, on the other side, are throwing daggers at various targets along the back of the booth.
Kyrel smiles at the familiar face. "Ah, Zamshin. So this is what you do when you're on duty? How's business?"
The man nods. "Aye. This, or play in rythmn over at the dancer's tent. Business is good," He replies, giving a grin. "The lad you were with came by, gave a toss. Rather good, actually..." He pauses, eyes sweeping Silniya. "But... I hadn't remembered seeing you, at the gentleman's table, last night."
Derleth seems relieved that the conversation was interrupted by Zamshin. "A recent aquaintance, Sir Bard. Milady, this be Zamshin Shee, a player and a thrower of knives."
Silniya simply arches a brow, and doesn't reply, only letting her smirk answer. She nods to Derleth, though, in the introduction. "A pleasure." The bard starts to reply, but, then, something odd begins to happen. One of the knives implanted in a target behind him, starts to wiggle in its position. Another board rattles, the knives clinking. A third simply splits in half, the blades in it falling to the ground. The man turns, curious and confused, at the invisible assault on his booth.
Kyrel realizes he has no idea if the carnie Selunites have any idea of Silniya's name. "Our injured companion, Zamshin. A healing spell and a night's rest have done her a world of good..... " He trails off, frowning at the sudden activity on the part of the knives, and muttering the Detect Magic spell while everyone else is distracted.
Derleth blinks. "What in the name of Lliara's hand..."
The spell gives the mage no information - whatever is happening is not a spell. But, undeterred by this, the boards begin to rattle. The wobbling blade is the first to launch, simply hurled through the air to sink into Zamshin's lower chest, a grunt as the bard jerks against the blow. Two more daggers launch, striking those simply playing the game, taking one right into the throat, the other across the cheek. A fourth whizzes past Derleth's nose, a fifth connects solidly, scoring a wicked stab into Kyrel's shoulder. Even as the wounded cry, or sink to the ground in twitches, the knives waiting at the front of the stand begin to wobble.
Silniya, at first simply stunned, drops hands down to her belt, yanking her blades free, letting the longsword's weight settle into her left hand, her sure grip on the shorter blade in her right.
Derleth's eyes widen in shock as a dagger very nearly carves a piece of his face off. He calms quickly however, and grabs his medallion, calling on the first prayer he thinks will stop this madness....
Kyrel yelps as the knives start to fly, losing concentration on his spell as the one sinks into his shoulder. His good hand fumbles for his own dagger, in a faint hope of parrying any more that come his way.
All around, screams kick in. A guard, a simple carnival worker in leathers and holding a crossbow, rushes towards the scene. However, a jerking motion comes over the guard, a struggle, a shudder. The crossbow then comes up and fires, the quarrel taking down an aging woman in the gaping crowd.
Even as the cleric's spell goes off, the knives still continue to wobble, those yet to be thrown moving violently. However, as the guard lurches, limbs now stiff, the knives' motions are more subdued.
Derleth curses. "What in th' naem o' Lliara's Locks be goin' on 'ere?!"
Kyrel grimaces as he removes the dagger from his shoulder. "No idea. Looks like either a poltergeist or some kind of spell, but I've not seen the like before."
The guard drops his crossbow, and yanks the shortsword from his hip, before starting to advance towards the panicking crowd. Some flee, some just stand in shock, a few even try to advance.
Derleth blinks as he notes the mage has been wounded. "If it be a spell, the caster be more powerful than me. Ye need healing, man?"
Kyrel shakes his head. "It's just a flesh wound. There are other folks hurt worse. Let's see now...." The half-elf mutters arcane syllables again, trying to determine whether the self-willed weapons are magically driven.
The spell sets to glow items here and there within the carnival's equipment, minor dabbles of magic, but no spells seem in effect. Silniya, gritting her teeth a moment, stalks towards the guard, joined by another tough sporting a self-made cudgel.
Kyrel frowns, peering around the carnival area. "Nope. The usual magical equipment, but no spell driving this mess. Maybe it is a poltergeist."
Derleth looks about helplessly, wishing that he'd asked for some area protective prayers this morn...but seeing the advancing guards, he tries another spell, calling upon his goddess to freeze the men in their tracks...
The guard's form goes utterly ridgid, halted. However, the tough, not noticing, or caring for that matter, brings the cudgel around, striking the troublemaker in the temple. He simply falls over, leaving bloody smears on the blugeon.
Derleth calls out. "Leave 'im be! He's taken care of, an nae acting of his own will!"
A moment later, the tough himself simply jerks, before turning. He stares at Silniya, in her half-elven appearance, before simply turning away and walking towards the other bystanders.
Derleth adds, uncertainly, "Ah think..." He grimaces in frustration. "What d'ya know about poltergiests, Kyrel? How d'ye stop em?!"
Kyrel hisses. "Whatever it is seems to have migrated. Some kind of possession, maybe?"
Derleth blinks. "Mebbe... but what abou' those flyin' daggers, then?"
Kyrel says, "Whatever it is, though, isn't showing up under a detect magic. I don't know."
Silniya, however, having been lost in the chaos, snaps out of it, and lets her shortsword leading, stabbing the tough in the side. Futily, he swings the cudgel...before he nearly goes limp, and then begins screaming in confusion and pain.
Derleth shouts out, "Silniya! Donnae close with him! Keep away and attack at range if ye have to!"
The man slides off her blade, clutching his wound and bawling. The woman steps back, looking over her shoulder in confusion. There seems to be no problem, in the exact area... and, then, screams hit the air. Not in the nearest point, but at the entrance to the carnival.
Derleth curses under his breath and charges towards the entrace, to see what new problems have developed.
Kyrel starts to follow, wincing as the quick movement disturbs the gouge in his shoulder. He stops short, and looks back toward Silniya. "Are you still with us, or did whatever it was get you?"
The woman shakes her head. "I'm well...as well as I could be," She follows, blades at the ready. Gone is the playful tone, the ranger now grim and in the mindset for violence, but somehow eager, almost as if excited by the chaos and the scent of blood in the air.
Kyrel nods. She's not moving like the others were, at least. He turns to follow the cleric. "Let's go see what's happening now..."
People are now scrambling to try and get out... but there is someone standing in the way. Armor, turned black and bloody, covers the very slight frame, and it holds a wickedly curved scimitar, glowing in unholy light. The helmeted figure cuts open a human as they come onto the scene, while a half-elf runs past the armor-plated warrior unmolested.
Derleth's brain absently notices something which he ignores for the moment...he concentrates on the warrior, trying to determine if he's under control of the force they saw earlier...
Kyrel moves up to confront the warrior, stopping about twenty feet from him. "That's enough of that."
The blade, aimed at a youngster too close and not quick enough, halts, as the armored fighter turns it's head. There is a momentary pause.
Silniya, following at Kyrel's heels, suddenly stops, uttering a curse that could make a sailor blush.
Derleth takes full advantage of the pause, and thrusts his palm outward, invoking his Goddess. The sunbolt streaks over the small killer's shoulder. It misses, but it certainly does get its attention. Blade brought to the ready, it begins to advance towards Derleth, its intent obvious. The spectators, of course, take this time to flee the grounds. Above the clamor, a call to Selune pierces the air, and an arrow pierces the dark knight, stabbing through two plates of armor over the ribs, but then emerging from the back, apparently without effect. Seeming unfazed, though surprised, the knight looks up. Silniya hisses, "The Loonie."
Derleth blinks, distracted a moment, even as he moves to put Kyrel between himself and the armored assailant. "The one in black is the Selunite?" he says unbelievingly.
Into view comes a rather oddly dressed human; the robes of a holy man, worn over what looks to be leather armor. He has bow in his hands, and mace looking like the full moon at his waist. Silniya points towards the figure, growling towards Derleth, "Him."
Derleth ohs. "Okay, so just....keep out of view iffn' ye can." He draws his flail from his belt, keeping a wary eye on the armored man, waiting to see what he'll do...
Kyrel sighs as the armored figure advances, and mutters another incantation. Green bolts of magical energy strike the black warrior. The green projectiles streak in, impacting on the seemingly solid form, the armored figure lurching slightly. Helmet rattling, it continues to advance towards Derleth, weapon at the ready. Silniya steps up beside Derleth, her weapons at the ready.
Silniya takes the front rank, not moving between Derleth and the offending armor, but giving a wide enough angle to allow him to come in as well. Her longsword leads, coming forward in a sharp stab which the nimble fighter easily dodges.
Kyrel repeats his first spell, since the armor - Is there even anyone in there? continues to advance and there isn't space for most of his more effective spells. Again the green bolts streak out from his hands, and again they strike into the armored figure.
Derleth weaves his hand and chants as he tries something he's never done before....summoning a creature from the Upper Planes of Good.....
The Selunite drops his bow, and taking up the mace at his belt, advances on the figure. However, it seems set on a different path, first letting its blade move toward Silniya. Her longsword comes up, parrying the blow. Even as the metal rings from the clash, the armored figure looks towards the southeast again, then simply begins to fade from sight.
Moments later, a flash, like warm glowing light, spreads over the area. From its source, bobs a ball of gaseous light, hovering in the air. Although it has no face, or any distinguishing markings, it seems to look at Derleth.
Silniya seems a tad stunned, at the disappearance of the fighter. She turns on her heel, glancing at Kyrel for explanation.
Kyrel shakes his head. "I'm not getting any indication of magic. Something very strange is going on."
A musical, light voice rings out from the ball of light. "I have been summoned?"
Derleth seems momentarily stunned by the warrior's disappearance. As the archon appears he looks squarely at it. "Seek a warrior in black armor, and inform us if ye find it."
The featureless glowing ball somehow seems to shrug and simply flies off.
The loonie turns, mace in hand, looking a little dumbfounded, and a tad awed by the presence of the Archon appears. "So...you're going to stand idly by and let that fiend do its destruction, while the Archon simply looks?"
Derleth looks at Silniya and KYrel. "Mayhap we shoul' go find tha tent again...." He glares at the other priest. "Ye cannae smite what ye canne find, man. I meant t' have 'im help us in our battle, but that was before th' foe disappeared!"
"Agreed!" he cries back. "But we should be searching, and nay simply letting it search! The fiend could be gone, by now!"
Silniya stalks closer to Derleth and Kyrel, her visage one of restrained anger, directed at the Selunite.
Derleth glances at Silniya. "Not nae." he says aloud, leaving the priest to wonder.
Kyrel frowns, looking toward the southeast. "This was all very strange. What was that all about?"
Derleth says, "Ah say we go t' that tent an see if the source be there. Are ye' with me?"
The loonie replaces the mace on his belt, and retrieves his bow. "I was guarding the freakshow, and the Selune cursed Lycanthrope blood, and I heard the commotion. If it had left tracks, I could have tracked the fiend..."
Kyrel says, "We were headed in that direction when things went wild. Can't hurt to look."
Silniya simply nods, the knuckles on her weapon hand having turned white.
Derleth says, "Right. Let's move then."
Derleth glances at the Selunite. "If ye're gonna come, then follow." He charges off then, not wanting to waste time. Kyrel drifts to walk between Silniya and the Selunite priest as they head toward the tent.
The four move down to the tent at the southeastern corner of the fairgrounds. Indeed, it was the tent that they had looked at the night before. The front is now abandoned, the podium and moneybox shattered by some unknown force. Silver and copper coins litter the ground amid the destruction, just outside of the tent.
Derleth grunts. "That be more'n a little suggestive..." He unhooks his flail and moves purposefully into the tent.
Inside, the first room seems to be set up like a torture chamber; a makeshift one. A stump, axe buried inside of it, is stained red, a basket sitting in front. Over in one corner is a rack, made out of furniture frames, hemp rope, and rotating tabletops. Chains hang from the ceiling, a skeleton that seems too rigid and colored too lustrous a white to be bones hanging from them. All seems a tad distorted or eerie, for a purple light illuminates the room from a half-hidden lamp, amethyst cloth over it. Derleth jerks off the cloth, so things can be clearly seen, studying carefully to make sure everything in here is just decoration.
Everything does seem in order...except for the two bodies laying in the room. One appears to be an unfortunate civilian, the other, what Could be described as an illithid, or was. Dirty robes over purple gloves, the tentacled face half off, exposing human hair underneath.
Derleth checks to see if the fallen are dead or alive.
Kyrel says, "An actor and a customer, I think."
The illithid seems simply to be unconcious, but the civilian, who's head was cracked by an iron rod in the actor's hands, is less fortunate.
The selunite frowns darkly. "And a murderer, it seems."
Kyrel says, "Aye..." He steps to the exit, looking into the next chamber. "Unless it was part of whatever possession came over the guards outside."
Derleth shakes his head. "Something were wrong here..some unnatural force that took control of folk...." He closes the civillian's eyes, murmuring a prayer for the dead. "Come on, then. Got t' check th' other rooms."
The next chamber looks like a hallway, the walls made of simple, quickly constructed wood. However, the wall nearest Kyrel begins to shake, a moment, before something seems to hit it, a rending crack echoing in the air as the wall begins to fall over. Kyrel jumps back, swearing in several languages as the wall collapses. "It's still around, whatever it is."
Derleth hmmphs. "That's one bit o luck, if ye have the right o' it. That mean we dinnae have t' go looking for it."
Another crack, less loud, is heard. The axe wedged into the stump begins to shake, before it's yanked from the wood, hanging in the air from some invisible support.
The Selunite turns towards Derleth, a little panicked. "Call the Archon!"
Derleth curses. "The Archon's already gone, by naew. Tis all up t' us." He lashes out with his flail, trying to knock the axe from the air.
The flail comes in, cracking against the blade. It spins, lightly, before sagging in the air. A moment later, the blade comes up, launched solidly back at the cleric. Propelled by some unseen force, the axe flips through the air and strikes against Derleth's breastplate. It bites through armor, into skin, a painful though not nearly mortal wound. Its force expended, the weapon drops.
Derleth grunts and stumbles back from the blow, feeling the warmth of the blood flowing under his armor. "This is gonna be a tough fight, dammit..."
Silniya steps up, hefting her weapons in both hands, and sends the longsword down onto the axe.
Kyrel says, "Weird. They each seem to have one shot and then nothing..."
Derleth says, "Tha's certainly a relief, a think...." He looks around the corner in the direction of the fallen wall....
The blade bites into the hilt, cutting but not breaking. Moments later, two sounds enter the air, chilling. First, breaking glass. Then, a boy's scream. A familiar boy.
Derleth stiffens. "Christof!!" he calls out, charging further into the tent...
Kyrel says, "I'd hoped he'd gotten out of here." He follows close behind the cleric, wondering what spells he'll be able to use safely in the close confines of the tent. "We're coming, Christof!""
The hall leads into a smaller room, darker. As Derleth rounds the corner, it's almost as if he is staring back at himself... except the one staring at the cleric has spidery lines going through him, and a wooden skull at the base. Kyrel's double hurries in beside it, cracks running through him, too. The two images wobble as mutters, mumblings, and a slight whine come from behind them.
Derleth unhesitatingly lashes out with his flail, trying to shatter the mirror....
The blow lands, simply, and cracks into the glass. Pieces of it shatter, bigger ones fall to the ground. A small curse echos out behind it, a grumbly, lisped voice, "I jush replashed that mirror this morning!"
Silniya and the Selunite come up from behind, weapons at the ready. "Where's the boy?" From behind the mirror, a voice murmurs, "S...Silniya?"
Derleth calls out. "Chris! Step back, ah be comin through!"
Derleth lashes out with his flail once again, trying to batter his way tthrough....
Kyrel says, "Derleth... don't break anything else you don't have to. Are you all right, Christof?"
Derleth stops in mid swing, considers, and then looks to see if the mirror can be moved.
"I'm scared..." He calls out. White hair, with a head attached, peeks around the mirror, the gnomish face peering at the flail-wielding cleric. "Could you spare the glass friend?"
Kyrel says, "It's been a rather trying day." He peers around the mirror himself to see how Christof looks. "That's no surprise, son. Are you hurt?"
Christof crawls out. The knees of his breeches look torn, his knees scraped. The boy appears dirty, afraid, and clutching what could be described as a wooden flail, about the size of a dagger, with bone-white knuckles. "No..."
Derleth assures the gnome that he'll do no further damage by putting his flail down and crouches to look to the boy. "What happened t' ye, lad?"
The gnome, looking bedecked in wizards robes, brushes himself off. "What in the Wand is going on, here?" He exclaims, more to himself. Christof peers up at Derleth. "Well...I paid my way in...and then the squidman sent me running...and I went down the hall, and this beholder glared at me, and then...the drow..." He chews his lip. "I ran. And, that skeleton," He points to a pile of wooden bones, "It moved, and I hid behind the mirror...and he was there." He looks at the gnome.
Kyrel snorts. "Sounds like you missed all the real excitement." He looks at the gnome with sharper interest. "You're a practictioner of the Art?"
The gnome nods. "Mmhm. Performer of the Misseen! Confusion and apparitions, at your service." He plays with his hair a moment. "I swear... the whole thing just came alive!"
Derleth says, "Alive in what way, good fellow? Like magic? Or sommat else?"
With a sigh, the Selunite cleric glances about. "This is not getting us to the cause of this problem. Shall we keep moving on, or continue to dawdle and let that armor plated menace continue to cause havoc?"
Derleth says, "Ye can doe what ye like, man. Ah'm nae convinced that the force behind the one in the back armor is gone from here..." As if on cue, the larger shards of glass rattle, before starting to rise.
Kyrel nods to the gnome. "The whole fair came alive. Weapons were the worst, plus one creature that may or may not have been an animated suit of armor. If you find out anything, let us know." He nods to the Selunite. "I doubt it's still here, but we should keep looking.... or maybe it is...."
Derleth curses as he sees the rising shards of glass. "Ah hate it when ahm right. Duck an cover!" He grabs the boy and tries to get away from the glass, behind a barricade if possible...
Christof, seeing the glass hovering, squeals, and moves instinctively behind Derleth. The Selunite comes forth, mace in hand, and, cracking one of the pieces, finds himself meeting the points of the others.
Kyrel says, "Uh-oh...."
Most of the glass simply misses, or is cast aside by the armor under the priest's vestments. However, one slips past his guard, gashing horribly across his cheek and down the side of his neck, a gasping cry.
Christof rubs his face into Derleth's back. "The drow...it felt bad!" He announces, clinging to Lliara's faithful.
Kyrel looks at the gnome. "Was there a drow in your exhibit?"
Derleth would ask what Christof means by 'the drow' but he sees the priest is down, and he hesitates a moment before going to the Selunite's side, calling up healing magic to stem the flow of bloow as he pulls the glass free...
The gnome peers at the boy. "It's just a wax figure!" Glancing up at Kyrel. "Oh, yes." Pointing down the hall, "I bought a few wax figures from a seller in Selegaunt. With some wax figures I had, I set up a drow raiding party, decimating elves. Unless the boy means the man in a dark elf mask..."
Kyrel says, "It was a wax figure. The Bright Lord alone knows what it was doing today."
The bloody wound clears up, but the stains of the Selunite's lifeblood still smears his robes. Sitting up, "Thank you, good sir..." A groan comes from the back of the party, Silniya's grip tightening on her sword, as she shudders.
Kyrel spins back to the werelady. "What's wrong?"
All heads turn attentively to the woman. She seems in a struggle, her face contorting in concentration, her teeth gritting, a cry. "Something else's...trying...to overcome me!" The woman's words are halted by a snarl. Flesh begins to pull, to grow, a horrid ripping sound, as her leathers begin to split. The lines of her face changing, pushing outward into a muzzle. Dark hair begins to simply come up like a wave, her frame growing five inches out, muscles rippling under the tatters of clothes and dark fur; the only distingusihing mark the silver streak going down the now hybrid form. The selunite lets out an angry scream. "YOU!"
Kyrel shouts, "Fight it!" He glares for a moment at the Selunite priest. "Not now. She's not an evil were, normally, and we need to find out what's going on with this thing or it'll just grab someone else."
Derleth is more or less above the other priest, so he bears down upon him. "Ah'll nae say this more'n once." he growls. "She's nae the enemy. Ye attack her, an I'll burn yer face off with Lliara's Searing Light. Clear?"
Kyrel says, "If it's a possession... " He starts the guttural chant of Remove Curse.
Weapons still in gloved hands, the items stretching to fit her form. The only things surviving the change are the winter cloak Kyrel offered, and her boots and gloves. Everything else seems reduced to tatters. The gnome now is once more behind the mirror, and Christof's eyes are as wide as saucers. Panting, Silniya falls to a knee, "Almost...overpowering... I fought it off." Words gutteral, almost growled out, strained.
Kyrel says, "Any idea what it was?"
The selunite shakes under Derleth. "You harbor a thing of evil?" He hisses, pointing at the woman, "I was unaware Lliara's faith succumbed to the wiles of creatures black in heart and spirit!" He reaches for his fallen mace, ignoring the cleric on top of him.
"A force... Like something trying to get into my head, move my limbs... It hit resistance, but the conflict..." She gestures her weapon to the form she's now taken. "Contests of will often have this effect; otherwise, such changes are under my control."
Derleth slaps the priest across the face with a gauntleted hand, leaving Kyrel to face the posessing spirit alone for now. "Ah summoned a being of pure good nae five minutes ago, ye Loony. Stop thinking with yer mace an just do as ah say before ah'm forced ta hurt ye!"
Kyrel nods to Silniya, and then turns to glare at the priest. "She's not evil, you blithering fanatic. Get over it."
The priest spits in Derleth's face. "I'll not have another beast slaughter innocents! Family, friends lost to such devilspawn animals! She'll not be spared the wrath of Selune, for embracing the beast and giving to carnage!"
Derleth growls at this priests idioticy. "An did ye even bother t' try an cast the spell t' detect evil on her once? Or did ye skip that lesson when ye were out kicking puppies, ye daft fool? Ah did, and there's nae more evil in her than there is in th' high preist of Lathander!"
Kyrel says, "I'm sure Selune will be terribly impressed that one of his priests slaughters his own adherents. Are you all right now, Silniya?"
Silniya, finally getting herself back together, walks over to the gathering above the selunite. Feet stepping on either side of the priest's head. Glaring down at him, "If I wasn't civilized, I would've ripped your throat out two nights ago. I stilled my blade, and my teeth." The tip of her longsword finds the hollow of his throat, poised. "Now, if you're not willing to open up a bit of your skull to tolerance, then, push up on my sword, because I so desire to open that mind for you."
The woman-now-beast glances up at Kyrel. "Yes, but I seem to have pests at my boots that I can't step on."
The selunite, so overwhelmed with threats on either side, and seeing no other path out of this except on the werewolf's sword, lets his hands drop. Glaring daggers up at the beast above him, then turning his gaze onto Derleth, "Then, by the dark side of the moon, get your hide off of me, and let us quench the fiend that's here! We're wasting time." Of course, his bluster doesn't hide the sweat rolling down his forehead, and the blood lost from his cheeks.
Derleth glances up at Silniya. "Move yer sword, lass. Ah'll deal wi' him if he get out o' hand, ah promise." He gets up off of the man as well, helping him to his feet.
Kyrel nods. "We can use his help if he'll behave himself."
She simply nods with a growl, and removes the blade. "Come on. I'm tired of being here, among the slime and falseness." The gnome, peeping around the mirror, exclaims, "Hey!"
Grumbling, and swearing like a pirate, he takes up his mace. Shooting a glare at the werewolf, the priest looks on down the hall.
Derleth blinks, and turns to see what the gnome is on about...
He waggles his finger at the werewoman. "Illusions are real! They jush appear to be shomething else," the little wizard admonishes, his large nose whistling.
Derleth blinks. "What are ye talkin' about? She really looks like that."
"She called this place slime and falseness. I'll have you know it's colored porridge, and illusions, thank you!"
Kyrel chuckles and points to the furious Selunite. "I think she was referring to him."
Derleth blinks, and then laughs in spite of himself. "Seriously, good gnome...d'ya have any idea what this might be about? Anything strange like this happen before today?"
The gnome shakes his head. "Can't think of a thing. I bought the drow in Selegaunt. Hrm... the warrior was bumped up against a corner, yesterday, a wax seal broke off. I didn't know what it meant, so I threw the seal out."
Derleth blinks. "What did th' seal look like, man? An' what color were the armor?"
Kyrel spins. "A seal? Where'd you throw it?"
The gnome shrugs his shoulders. "I couldn't tell you...I didn't recognize the markings, and thus simply tossed it into a trash heap. Armor? Er...dark, of course! Drow don't wear shiny armor. I gave him a bauble, a simple magic sword I didn't have any use for, so it'd glow eerily. Nice curvy one."
Derleth facepalms. "By Lliara's locks....."
Derleth says, "Where be the warrior naew? Quickly, man!"
The gnome points down the hallway. "Display's that way."
Kyrel says, "Show us. I have a feeling that your drow armor is wandering around loose."
Derleth gets up. "Anyone what's coming, follow..." he grunts...
Silniya has already started down the path, and everyone else follows except Christof, who holds back, afraid. The gnome leads around a bend, and a dark, reddish blue glow comes into view. Along the wall, a scene of carnage stands frozen, wax figures of dark skinned elves capturing and abusing surface elves, a wizard in the back with fingers poised for a spell. All is lit by the glowing scimitar pressed against an elven throat. Its holder is decked out in dark armor, white hair spilling out from the top of the helmet like a plume, and the open visor displays the dark-elven face. Intense emotion, sorrow, despair, hatred flows from the figure like a cold stream. As the group comes in, so too does the figure from earlier materialize, standing between them and the display. The only differences between it and the drow in armor is that the visor is down and that no hair escapes the helm.
The gnome's eyes bug. "Well, I'll be."
Derleth sets himself to attack the armored figure. "An 'ere we go again..."
Kyrel says, "Well, there it is. Now, what stops enchanted armor?"
"Hopefully breaking it," Silniya replies with a growl, and nearly leaps to the attack. Her longsword, gripped by both gloved hands, is brought to bear, sweeping in a vicious overhead chop.
The blade swings down, cleaving into the armor. The figure inside recoils, shuddering. A piece of the shoulder is ripped off, exposing translucent body beneath, covered in green cloth. "I will not be sealed in skin of my prey!" Echos forth a voice from the armor, like the wind across dry leaves.
Derleth grunts, thrusting out a palm. "Huntin' season's over, blackguard..." he growls as he once more calls forth Lliara's Light....
The bolt streaks in, and hits the armored figure square in the head. The helmet is all but disolved by the holy light, the face beneath exposed, as the figure staggers back. An elven face, a moon elf infact, seems to be within the armor, flesh as transparent as wet paper. A brand of Lolth's holy symbol burned into his cheek. The sorrowful, and pained face turns towards the wax figure, "Shell...of enemy, no..." It attempts to throw the blade at the wax figure, but both blade and elf simply dissolve.
Derleth blinks, and whirls, looking around for the armored elf. "Annyone else make any sense o' that?"
Kyrel says, "I'm not sure... I think we may have killed it, whatever it was. Somehow... a drow spirit was trapped in the armor, and got loose when the seal was damaged. I hope we destroyed it, at least."
Derleth frowns. "We shoul' search the rest o the tent, ah thinks."
Silniya squints at the spot where the figure was, then at the wax figure. The selunite looks over at Kyrel. "Aren't drow...generally dark skinned? The face in the armor didn't look like a drow."
The gnome shakes his head. "Nono, not the armor. The seal was on the wax figure Itself. Sort like molded onto the body."
Derleth says, "We'll hash it out later, 'Niya. Lets make sure naeone else is in danger, first.""
Kyrel says, "No, but the dummy inside was just pale wax. That's why it was complaining about .. oh, the dummy was? Well, it was complaining about being trapped in the shell of an enemy. Maybe not a drow, but something that doesn't like elves."
Kyrel nods. "It didn't look like the last time, when it vanished on purpose. But you're right, we should check."
"Or, maybe something that doesn't like drow," The ranger offers.
Derleth nods. "Right. Good gnome, if ye'd show us around..."
Kyrel says, "Either way. As long as it's gone." He sighs. "I hope it's gone.... but I doubt it. We'll have to find out what it wants, and either help it finish whatever's making it uneasy, or exorcise the thing."
The gnome rubs his nose. "Now that I think about it...the seal looked elven, but...not."
Kyrel turns on the gnome. "How long ago did you throw away the seal? Where did you throw it? Maybe we can find it and reconstruct it."
Derleth studies the armor, to see if it holds any secrets...
The gnome says, "Er... yesterday? I threw it in the trash cart that was wheeled through."
The armor seems unremarkable, but as the cleric inspects, he finds that one of the wax arms underneath is chipped, badly, a deep groove gouged into it.
Kyrel sighs. "Well, I suppose we can find out where it was dumped, but..."
Derleth says, "Well, this arm appears t' be slightly damaged...c'd that be it? It seems the most important part were the seal itsel'...."
Silniya glances at Derleth. "It seemed to me the armor was just on over the spirit."
The gnome nods. "Aye; it got knocked over, last week, fell on it's hands. I need to get some candlewax and fill it in."
Kyrel says, "This may sound odd.. but could there be a body sealed in the wax? The ghost-thing seems to have the gear that's on the dummy... and revenants usually have their grave-goods as gear."
Derleth blinks....and then shrugs. "Yer the smart one in this group. Ah'll defer t' yer powerful intellect, mage. let's get th' armor off then..."
Kyrel looks at the gnome. "Is it possible? Or did you make this wax dummy yourself?"
Derleth starts removing the armor as Kyrel talks, deciding to be careful rather than fast and removing the armor without breaking it.
Silniya blinks. The gnome's mouth pops open. "Huh... Well, it's possible... I think they generally sculpt statues... Or dip frameworks in large vats of wax..." He shakes head. "Oh, no, I bought it in Selegaunt, with some of the others. When I got them, I had some of the others recast," He points to the elven ones. "So that I could make the display.
The armor is easily removed; it seems like humanmade, only painted with a black, lustrous sheen. Beneath, simply black wax as skin.
Kyrel nods. "Let's recast this one, then. Just in case..." He takes a dagger and sticks it into the torso of the figure.
The blade spears into the wax, a slight crack, and then the dagger meets instant resistance.
Derleth considers. "The ghost said he didnae want t' be in the skin of his enemy...could we melt the wax..." He stops talking as Kyrel just thrusts the dagger in. "Or we could do it the direct way, aye." he adds without missing a beat.
Kyrel says, "Hmm... doesn't feel like it's wax all the way through." He tries chipping some of the black wax from the surface of the dummy.
Christof seems to have found his courage, creeping into the room. The Selunite simply glares at Silniya, while the werewoman sheathes her longsword at her belt, the only other item that had survived. She tears the tatters off her body, not wanting to be restricted. "I hate losing good clothes."
Derleth gets out his own dagger and starts helping Kyrel. "Ah naew the feeling, 'Niya..." he says absently....
As the wax is shaved off, pale white can be seen underneath, and with a little more scraping, it's source becomes obvious: bone.
Derleth whistles. "Ye called this one, Kyrel."
Absently, the werewoman takes the longest of the cloths, and fashions a makeshift skirt, tying it about her waist. "Does anyone have a brooch?"
Kyrel straightens up. "Okay... we've discovered a body. Likely a murder to go with it. Step one is to bury the body with proper rites. If that doesn't work, then we at least have something to talk to the revenant about, and we can help it solve its death."
The selunite offers an alternative. "Why not talk to the dead spirit? I can pray for such spells, at moonrise."
Derleth says, "Mebbe just gettin him out o this drow wax body might 'elp...""
Kyrel nods. "As I said, step one. Get the wax off the body." He looks to the Selunite. "That would be very helpful, yes. Thank you."
The gnome rubs his nose again. "Hrm...wouldn't it be easier to melt the wax, then, then try and file it off?"
Derleth nods. "That was mah earlier thought, aye..."
Kyrel chuckles. "I certainly would think so. I was just checking with the knife. No need to have melted it if I was wrong, after all."
With a nod, the gnome hmms. "Well...then we place it close to a large fire? Or pour oil on it?"
Kyrel says, "I think the fire would work best. Melt the wax off without torching the bones."
Derleth says, "A fire might be better, aye. Well, let's get to it then. Actually, why don' ye get t' work on that. Ah want t' make sure the townsfolk are all right, first, aye?"
Silniya turns to Christof, who's still been staring at her in wonder and awe, and just a hint of fear. Kneeling, "Christof, be a helpful boy, and run to my room in the inn." She rifles through what was left of her breeches, handing him a key. "This should go to my room; now, in my pack, should be a spare shirt and leggings. Bring them here." The boy nods, and looks to Derleth, as if for permission.
Kyrel nods. "You're both healers. Take care of the injured while Silniya and I deal with the body."
Derleth chuckles at Chrisof. "Do as the lady says." he flushes slightly then. "Dinnae want her t' be parading around in th' altogether.
Silniya shoots Derleth a grin, the expression looking simply predatory, with her muzzle and teeth. Christof gives another nod, and scampers off.
The Selunite grumbles a few more foul oaths, then turns. "Well then, to the townspeople," He announces, in none too friendly a tone, stomping after the boy.
Derleth can feel the grin, but doesn't meet her gaze out of embarassment. He sighs after the Selunite. "Well, at least he's calmed down..."
Kyrel snorts. "With any luck, Selune will tell him he's being an idiot. We noticed your amulet, milady ranger."
It seems a little more had survived the change, the leather strip around her neck has much less slack, almost a collar, but it is whole. She puts a furred hand on the holy symbols. "Indeed."
The gnome claps his hands. "Well then! I'll find a torch." Gazing around the place. "Dear, dear dear... This is going to cost a pretty silver... Ghosts can be so destructive."
Derleth clears his throat. "Right, well ,we better be about our business..." He seems to refuse to look at Silniya, even clothed in fur as she is. He nods to Kyrel. "Ah'll be ack soon. Take good care o' me boy, Chris, naew."
The werewolf, glancing at Kyrel, offers in tones out of Derleth's earshot, "I think my femininity scares him. Or my teeth." A grin.
Derleth manages to nod to Silniya without looking at her, gathers himself up, and heads towards the tent entrance.
Kyrel grins. "It's the former. He's acted like that with all the lady warriors we've ever met."
She aaahs, and flicks her ears. "I wonder if that could be cured."
Kyrel chuckles at the wolf's ear-flick. "I have no idea. If you want to try, then I won't stand in your way." Kiri chirrips agreement from under the mage's cloak.
"It's a challenge." she replies.
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