| Logs |
2011 January 04
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Taps Logs |
Willow-Man Goes Walkin'
Suraksha adds softly and thoughtfully, "Poor Froid Jacques! He must have really, really messed up -- for both Damballah to publicly chastise him, and for Roy to leave him behind when heading off to deal with a female bokor." Her voice is a bit anxious, "Hope Roy wasn't harmed by whatever it was Froid Jacques missed... or anyone else, really."
Chanticleer nods as he turns the glamoured stag back to canter back to the caravan. "Well, one of two things would happen if Roy was harmed: it would be news from here to Biloxi, or he'd be damned if he let any injury show. Since we didn't hear about it from other towns, we won't hear about what happened to him except from him, or maybe Pierce... and Pierce doesn't seem to want to be seen with us, or let us be seen."
Suraksha smiles and muses aloud, "Maybe it's not so much he doesn't want to be seen with us... as that he's with Roy? He strikes me as someone you wouldn't go adventuring without, you know? -much the same way we wouldn't go out without Suze, our healer."
The trip back to the caravan takes a little while, and Sna'thaid is not happy about Suraksha and Chanti setting off into the swamps alone. She's a bit mollified when Alg is tapped to go along with them. Ohkwa, Del, and Dom assure Suraksha things will get delivered and the caravan resupplied as discreetly as possible while their leader, the sidhe knight, and the goblin are gone. Suraksha thanks them all, reiterating Pierce's and Damballah's warnings about staying close to and carefully protecting their nomadic homes. She also packs lightly for herself and Alg, and stays out of Chanticleer's way as he packs for himself and Chevrefoil.
Chanticleer brings with him whatever light cloth or leather armor he has. He has none of the old gleaming suits of glossy black leather and mirror-polished brass, but that would be completely unwarranted this time; he's not supposed to be more than a caravaneer. He does bring his sword, however, and a more prosaic crossbow and quiver of bolts for just in case. He never was a walking arsenal; his utility knife is the only other thing he carries that could be called a weapon at first blush. He also ensures the saddlebags and bedroll for an extended campaign -- that is, trip -- are on Chevrefoil. He hopes the stag doesn't mind, but considering in the past he's carried barding, armor, tools, rations, and a lance, as well as Chanticleer, he should be strong enough to carry Chanti, Suraksha, and some extra equipment.
Suraksha checks with the goblin: does he want any extra weaponry? She's got a crossbow and extra quarrels and bowstring, a big steel blade on loan from Ohkwari again, loose light clothing, some food, and the tools and spices to quickly skin and cook anything Alg hunts and brings to them. Alg cackles his goblin cackle, "Alg not need weapons!" He scampers around Chevrefoil's legs while Suraksha and Chanticleer get ready. The goblin knows Roy's scent from his tenure with the king.
Suraksha laughs and leans to give the excited goblin a quick hug when he pauses for a moment to rub happily cat-like up against her. To Chanticleer she says, "Would it be most helpful, weight-wise, if I went in this form or as a tiger, Chanti?"
Chanticleer pauses. "Well," he says cheerfully, "tigers aren't common in this area. I think Chevrefoil can handle your weight, though." Suraksha laughs and happily rides, then. Since she knows she may need to shift shape quickly, she adds her small pack to Chanticleer's saddlebags, if he does not mind, and she is in a light shift and not much else, as she rides pillion on the big, calm stag. Considering how hot it is, she's quite possibly the most comfortable of all of them.
It doesn't take long for Alg to snuffle up the scent of the king and his entourage. The goblin seems familiar with the road they took along the edge of the river, heading into the swampland. There's been too much traffic to make it easy to track by sight, but Alg is unerring as he turns aside onto a nearly-invisible path once they're out of sight of the city. Suraksha curiously says to Chanti, as they clop quietly along after the goblin, "I wonder why Damballah thought Chevre could find Roy? Did Roy like stags or something, Chanti?"
Chanticleer shakes his head, "I'm not sure. It probably has to do with his sense of smell, being a bit better at tracking, and simply not being a normal stag. Er..." He chuckles softly. "Right. A normal stag wouldn't be a mount."
Suraksha smiles, leaning a bit to pat one smooth-furred flank, "Chevre's too beautiful to be just 'normal.'"
Chanticleer laughs softly, "That he is."
Alg seems to be glorying in being in the undergrowth. He scampers around and actually flops over to wriggle about in some of the flora at the verges of the path. It's not long before he's got twigs and leaves tangled in his fur, and he seems to like that just fine. The trail they're following is a little easier to see than it was by the river, but not by much. Someone has clearly made some effort to obscure how many people have gone down it. Suraksha laughs as she watches Alg, calling to him, "Disguising your scent, dear, or just having fun?" More seriously she adds, "Can you tell how long ago the party went through here, or how many there were?" Chanticleer is at least a little surprised Alg is so comfortable in the bayou. After all, he had known the goblin for a good year or more. Then again, after seeing Alg not in armor for the past six months or so, he shouldn't be surprised.
Alg tips his head on one side and says, "Both. Two days. They sloooooooow...."
Suraksha beams, "Excellent! If we hurry, we may catch up with them by the end of today, or midway through tomorrow. Alg, sweetie, do be careful -- they may be trigger-happy, and I don't want you to get shot by accident, all right?"
Alg snorts and says, "They know Alg! Better not shoot!" and then he's off again, loping down the path ahead of Chevrefoil and the bipeds. Every now and then he brings something back to show them; it's like a cat bringing home presents. Some of them used to be alive. Some of them are botanical. He is equally proud of all of them, as if he's showing off his home. If Alg brings something that can feed all three bipeds, Suraksha will happily ask to have it for dinner tonight. Otherwise she examines the objects curiously (sometimes from a careful distance!), thanks him cheerfully for sharing, and tells him she loves seeing him enjoy himself so. She's quite sincere.
There aren't a lot of large critters in the swamp, but there are enough rabbits and possums to supply them for at least a couple of days by the time they make camp for the night; they have already passed the spot Roy's party obviously used for their first night's bivouac. Suraksha has a carefully guarded collection of both spices and coal briquettes she'll use for making food quickly, and she asks Alg to collect a few handfuls of edible greens as they go. By the time they stop to make camp she has the makings of a fast, tasty rabbit stew. She doesn't build a big, visible fire, instead having Alg (and Chanti, once Chevre's been seen to) make a quick lean-to, and nearby she digs a small pit for the coals to rest in, using one of the rabbit skins to line it so the stew can cook within it.
Suraksha also makes sure Chanti gets most of the stew. As she explains, she can go kill a small swamp deer or javalina tonight, Chevre's got some high-energy oats, and Alg is constantly nibbling as he goes. She grins, adding, "You and I, Chanti, should likely split the watch, so Chevre and Alg can get their sleep. I can start, if you want? I'll go hunting now, and likely be back by the time you're done eating?"
Chanticleer is a little uncomfortable at first, at getting the lion's share of the stew, but accedes to Suraksha's logic; he can't argue with that. He nods. "That sounds like a good idea, Lady. Do you want several sleep shifts, or just one for you and one for me?"
Suraksha frowns consideringly, glancing around... then looks to Chanticleer, "What works best for you, dear?" She's already stripping out of her shift as she speaks. A moment later she's in tiger form, stretching luxuriously front and back like the giant cat she is, yawning and working her claws. She grins as Alg gives a delighted squeak and bounces up to roll in play down her back as she does so, turning her head to give him a couple of affectionate tongue swipes when he eventually falls off and rolls up under her. He tastes like swamp: green and muddy and rich with life.
Chanticleer considers. "Let's do two shifts, one with you awake and one with me. That should work, all in all. On the way back we can try... something different, if it might be better." He paused when he saw her shift to the tiger; it always made the fine down on the back of his neck stand up when she does that. "Besides, I suspect we'll be rather filled with adrenaline on the morrow."
Suraksha rubs her cheek ruffs against Alg, having a sudden instinctive urge to get that scent on herself too. She nods to Chanti, then lifts her head and inhales the wonderfully rich swamp scents for a moment before she turns and starts padding off into the night. Over her shoulder she growls relaxedly to Alg, "S'dhay or come wi'?"
Alg wriggles like an indecisive cat, and then romps off after her with a happy cackle. "Show where to hunt!"
Suraksha chuffs a quiet laugh, following the excited goblin. She too rolls luxuriously in the thick mossy undergrowth, then bounces to her feet and pads silently onwards. It's almost funny: the two of them don't go far at all before they nearly trip over a huffy young stag indignantly following the scent of a strange deer. Both the goblin and the tiger eat quite well. Suraksha comes padding silently back into camp a short while later, after she's had a moment to wash off her paws and chest and jaws. Sniffing around, she first carefully makes sure the firepit is completely extinguished and covered over -- then she stretches out with her head on her paws and rumbles to Chanti, "Slee'bh, yah? I wa'chsh now." Alg bounds over to curl up against her, yawning and then falling asleep as well. Chanticleer smiles to Suraksha -- trying to keep from panicking at the sight of the tigress looming silently out of the darkness -- and nods, curling up in his bedroll. He too is shortly sleeping.
Chanti sleeps soundly for four hours, then manages to wake up to take over the watch. There's a certain trick to standing watch, he's found; mostly it's to focus on the now. Looking forward to when the watch ends just makes it drag and drag and DRAG on forever. But focusing on the now, not thinking about when it ends, and being more concerned with being alert (and not jumping at every little sound -- that makes it drag too) tends to make it go a bit faster. Besides, he's a sidhe. Long epic vigils are a staple of his peoples' genre -- even in the middle of a swamp.
It's during the wee small hours of the night, when it's hovering on the edge of morning and Chanti is on watch, that something startling happens. There's a slight lightening of the darkness around the campsite that might at first be taken for the first hint of dawn, but then Chanticleer realizes the color is wrong. Instead of the soft, washed-out blues and roses of sunrise, the light is a slightly sickly green and is coming from the south. Chanticleer frowns, narrowing his eyes at the lightening. At first he thinks it's dawn -- then he realizes it's too early and too far south. Then he thinks it's a forest fire... but the bayou is too wet, and then he realizes it's too green. Fire isn't green. At least, not any normal, healthy, non-magical, non-face-melting, non-soul-scorching fire. First things first. "Suraksha," he says, not turning from the glow, "Suraksha, you may want to wake up." He knows better than to jostle a tigress as she sleeps.
Suraksha's eyes flick open at her name, although she doesn't move initially. When Chanti doesn't seem in immediate danger she raises her head and sniffs carefully for anything hostile nearby. Alg is already up and sniffing around interestedly as well. Once the big tiger has determined nothing dangerous is in their immediate vicinity, she rises and pads to Chanti's side. Staring at the creepy green fire, she growls softly, "Moun'dh u'bh. Moo'fhin' ou'dh." The only thing Suraksha really notices at first is that the scent of the swamp seems stronger somehow... more present. She doesn't like that change in scent -- if the "swamp-ness" is stronger here, then what is it like there, where the green glow is? This isn't natural. She glances around to Alg, "Lea'dh, yah?"
Chanticleer looks at the green light for several moment, while he translates what Suraksha said from "mouthful of armor-piercing teeth" into "English." He nods. "Right." He moves backwards, not taking his eyes off the light -- as if it'll suddenly gather up and try to stab him in the back if he turns away from it. He wakes Chevrefoil apologetically, replacing their gear on his saddle tack.
Alg is crouching, nearly quadrupedal as the light grows almost imperceptibly in brightness. He's snarling low and menacingly at the light, "King past that." Suraksha is already padding silently and cautiously forward. She gently nudges the goblin onwards -- they can eat once they've found Roy and/or dealt with this strangeness. She's breathing through her nose and mouth, catching as much scent as she can.
Chanticleer murmurs, "Of course he is," not sarcastically but in a tone which suggests the king would not be anywhere else but past the strange, green, unnatural light. Alg bares his teeth and his nose wrinkles. The goblin is bristling, and Chanti finds Chevrefoil is extremely reluctant to go that way. The stag doesn't actually refuse to move, but he does walk as if it's only his training as a war mount that keeps him going the way his rider seems determined to go. The tiger can feel whatever is down that way is wrong. The rich, earthy smell of swamp has an element of decomposition in it, by its very nature. This scent, whatever it is, smells more strongly of death -- and not just death, but corruption. Chanticleer tries to calm Chevrefoil. "It's all right," he murmurs as soothingly as possible. "Don't worry, I'll be here with you."
Suraksha sneezes, then growls unhappily, rubbing her nose with one paw. She sticks close to Alg, not wanting him to have to face possible zombies alone. She takes a moment to roll again, getting the proper swamp smell all over her. She doesn't want to alert whatever is there of her approach... then she hastens after Alg. Her hackles are starting to raise unconsciously, and her senses feel hyper-alert as she pads silently through the pre-dawn fog. Chanticleer frowns. The night birds have gone silent. Not just agitated -- they're terrified; they don't want to be noticed. They weren't even this quiet when Suraksha and Alg were hunting. He lets the others know this, adding, "Even Chevrefoil doesn't want to go closer. The only time he's ever been this reluctant was... was when there was a lich we were fighting against, long ago."
Suraksha nods with no surprise at the comment about the lich. They are away from the river itself here, but they are near a sluggishly running stream. It wanders here and there along the path, heading more deeply into the swamps. Willows and cypress grow down to the banks, and in some places right into the water. The overhanging branches of the old trees make for an effective screen -- but not effective enough. On both sides of the path, creeping forward, are four craggy, moss-covered shapes with eyes like sickened stars. The light comes from them, emanating from the long streamers of Spanish moss and the willow-like fronds that make up the hair of the mucky, unnatural creatures. They move like a diseased tree might.
Chanticleer gapes. "What in the hells?" he murmurs. Suraksha glances around intently, sniffing for any sign of the king's party as she stays carefully back from the strange creatures. She sits up on her hind quarters next to the unhappy stag, so she can whisper to Chanti, "May'kh fire." Chanticleer thinks, then nods as he gets out a torch, striking flint and steel upon it to light it. There's no sign the king's party is close enough to be in danger from the creatures. In fact, the things are moving north -- toward the small party. Perhaps it's the fact that they've obviously been spotted, but the sneaky shamble speeds up. It's still a shamble, but it is a purposeful one -- and now there are sounds like wet roots being torn.
Suraksha looks distinctly worried -- if these are coming to them... what's happening to the king's party? She drops down to all fours next to Alg, murmuring, "Where crea'dhor? You smell 'er, I figh'dh 'em, yah?" She steps between the monsters and her companions, bristling with angry disgust but waiting silently. She doubts somehow these things will listen to a warning snarl, after all. She looks around carefully for any trees low and strong enough for her to leap into, or perhaps to be used as a weapon.
Alg is rubbing his nose and snorting unhappily at the smell, "Just smell them! Bad! Wrong!" He snarls and snaps in the direction of the creatures.
Suraksha nods silently to the goblin -- she quite agrees. She thinks a bit, wishing Froid Jacques were here. What might ground such unnatural entities? Salt, maybe? She glances over her shoulder at Chanti, growling, "Sal'dt sdh'op 'em?" She wonders: maybe running water?
Chanti's flint and steel catch to the torch and it flares into flickering life, throwing crazy shadows but alleviating the unnatural green light. The sidhe blinks and murmurs as if quoting,
Elm, he do brood[Oh, hells and blast,] he thinks. [Maman used to tell me that to keep me in the manse and not go gallivanting about the mushrooms. Every young sidhe must have been told that. But is the willow-man real?]
And oak, he do hate,
But the willow-man goes walking,
If you stays out too late.
Suraksha glances back at the murmured verse, then nudges Alg back. To Chanti she growls, "Tdh'row some fire onnem; see." Chanticleer takes a spare torch, lights it, and with only slightly shaking hands he lobs it at the nearest of the willow-men. Alg doesn't want to be pushed back and tries to dart around the tigress to growl at the shambling willow-men. Suraksha grins ruefully, gently blocking the goblin with a huge paw, "Alg'h, ba'ghk -- no burn!"
The torch, despite Chanticleer's shaking, flips end-over-end and lands amidst the foliage of the first of the willow-men. There's a low, eerie moan of pain and it stops, batting at the flames with vegetative concentration. Were it a less accurate throw the creature might have brushed it off; instead, it accidentally pushes the torch deeper into the tangle of Spanish moss and begins to smolder. Suraksha looks relieved, grinning back over her shoulder at Chanti, "Ghoo'dh! Again, yah?" She rears up and pulls down a pawful of Spanish moss, which she brings over to Chanti. To Alg she growls, "Bh'ranchsz?"
Chanticleer lets out a breath. [They burn! Okay, that's good; they're not some invincible childhood boogeyman!] After a moment he adds to himself, [I am so never going to try to scare my kids with stories like that! But gods, that moaning sound!] He nods and slips from Chevrefoil to gather a branch, attempting to make -- ah, perfect! With the moss Suraksha gathers, he can make an ersatz torch. Suraksha hastily helps Alg break a few branches, and yanks more moss. She's careful to keep a close eye on the monsters -- she won't let them get past her, and she tries to keep her friends carefully backing away from the creatures.
When the first one of them stops to try and put itself out, the other three speed up. One of them moves almost as fast as a human going at a fast walk; it closes the distance until it's almost within touching distance as the group tries to gather burnables. The moaning is louder and seems to echo through the swamp, coming from every direction at once. Chanticleer murmurs, "I'm starting to worry about how that moaning is coming from everywhere!" The glow is dimmer now, or their eyes are adjusting to it. Suraksha snarls, shoving her friends back with a shoulder, and grabs the first torch in her teeth. She turns towards the swamp thing and tries to leap over it so she can shove the burning torch in through its back.
The leap isn't quite high enough -- or maybe not quite fast enough. Whichever it isn't, it means the thing gets a tendril around Suraksha's back leg as she tries to get behind it. The others turn toward her as well and start to close in around her. The first one to catch fire is coming to join its compatriots, screaming in mindless pain as it smokes and smolders. Suraksha takes a deep breath and simply shoves her head -- torch and all -- into the monster's back. Chanticleer blinks as Suraksha shoves him back. "What -- wait! Lady, stop!" Alg screeches furiously, grabbing a double handful of flaming Spanish moss as he darts towards the monster in front of Suraksha. He leaps onto it, slashing with the claws of one hand and stuffing the burning moss as deeply into the monster's form as he can -- then springing for Suraksha's back.
Chanticleer isn't quite sure what he can do to these things, but if he thinks Suraksha is going to be in trouble he's going to charge right in. Then he gets the damn brilliant idea of putting lit Spanish moss on the crossbow-bolts. He starts to quickly gather up discreet piles of the stuff, making a regular camp-fire as quickly as he can.
Suraksha releases the torch and yanks her head back, then slashes her claws through the tendril around her hind leg before she darts lightly around the monster and back to Chanti. Alg clings tightly to her, snarling triumphantly over his shoulder as they leave the creatures behind. The creatures, aside from the leading one, aren't very fast; Suraksha and Alg are able to get out of their attempted circle. Perhaps it's being inspired by the fear of a childhood boogeyman, but Chanti finds making fire goes extremely quickly! He soon has a stockpile of clumps of moss and a roaring fire in which to light them. When the flames leap up, lighting the path, the creatures actually stop their advance, throwing their arms up to shield themselves from it. The one Sura shoved the torch through, and the first one of them damaged, are starting to fall apart from the fire.
Chanticleer hurriedly rolls the moss into balls around the tips of the crossbow bolts, loading the crossbow and igniting the moss moments before firing at the nearest willow-man. The big tigress pauses in front of Chanti, guarding again, and shakes her head hard to get the muck off it. She wonders unhappily how they can help ground these poor unnatural things... she thinks a moment, then pads to the side of the path, dipping a paw into the water. She glances over at the monsters, then prays internally, [Great Lady of Life, Death, and Rebirth... bless this water, please? Help us release these poor creatures from whatever wicked, unnatural compulsion binds them.] She closes her eyes for a moment in reverence over the water... then with her broad paw she swoops the water up and out, splashing it over the closest monster.
The fastest of the willow-men -- the one in front -- finds itself splashed by the blessed water and faced by a leaping fire. It turns its head to the sky and howls in its water-and-roots voice. When the first bolt hits it square in the chest, it explodes in gobbets of rotting vegetation and smoldering moss. Suraksha shakes her head, pitying the poor creatures. Still, best to dissipate them quickly if at all possible. She bows her massive head over the water and prays again as she waits for the next monster to come within splashing distance... then does her best to douse it as well with holy water. She growls to Alg after that, "Wa'chsh bh'ehine, yah?" The goblin nods, bounding off her back to leap and scramble to the other side of the stag, sniffing carefully and making sure nothing can creep up on them down the north side of the trail.
Chanticleer's aim is excellent, and soon the remaining two muck-creatures are also burning. While the tiger's splashing of water isn't precise, it does help finish the job. After that Suraksha does a swift check, making sure all the monsters are dissipated completely, all the fires are put out, and nothing is creeping up on them. When she's done she returns to the sidhe -- who has been taking care of his fire too -- and shifts shape for a moment. She's muddy, nude, and soggy, but utterly uncaring as she says quickly, "Gentlemen, it worries me the monsters were sent to us. I fear the king's group may be in worse straits. I would like to hurry carefully to catch up with them as soon as we can, to make sure they're not all enchanted into sleep, or desperately coping with yet more of these poor unnatural swamp creatures. Shall we?"
Chanticleer frowns, then nods resolutely. "Yes, we should. I'm surprised they were sent after us specifically, but I see what you mean. We shouldn't tarry much."
Alg snuffles over to the pile of muck that used to be one of the creatures. Then, with a look of pure triumph, he puts out the smoldering with a stream of goblin urine. "Bad things. Try to hurt pretty lady and rooster-man! Bad!"
Suraksha covers a giggle as she watches the goblin -- then she turns back to Chanti and nods, "Excellent. I'm going back to tiger form, but right now I'm all icky and my scenting capabilities aren't in good condition. Alg will lead; I want you and Chevre to tailgate, all right?" She adds, just before her shape blurs and softens into the tiger form, "Careful and swift, please, my dears!"
No one wants to stick around the site of the attack of the willow-men, although after some thought it occurs to Chanti to pour some salt around them for just in case. After that, the group heads down the trail. If they had been humans, travel in the swamps in the pre-dawn night would have been impossible. As it is, it's slower than any of them would like. When they reach the bivouac of Roy's troops they find the campfires all going and a wide-eyed and nervous guard on the trail. Luckily, the guard is John and he recognizes them. Suraksha pauses before they head in to be spotted by the guards, though, taking a moment to rinse off, shift shape, and pull on her tunic. She clambers up onto Chevre's rump, then adds softly, "All right, I'm ready -- let's go meet 'em!"
Chanticleer nods, and has Chevrefoil canter towards the guard. He raises his hand. "John!" he calls out. He doesn't bother asking how the man is; he can guess by the look in John's eyes -- and by the willow-men the sidhe left behind them.
Suraksha leans to peek out past Chanticleer and grins shyly, waving, "Mr. D'Amato, hello! How are you all?"
John shakes his head as if the question was asked anyway, "Get inside. Roy made us put salt all around the camp and we've been listening to some damn thing making..." He comes to attention quickly, "Ma'am! We're nervous as a couple dozen cats in a warehouse full of rocking chairs."
Suraksha laughs, pushing wet hair out of her face, "Surely it's not that bad, Mr. D'Amato?" She glances at the fires, and her grin is teasing as she adds, "How are you all planning to find this female bokor when you're all being so... subtle?"
John smiles wryly, "There was a lot more subtlety until we started hearing moans like dying... I don't even know how to describe it." He calls to the next guard inside the circle, "These two go straight to the king!"
Suraksha cheerfully calls, "Three, please! Alg is with us too." She adds curiously, "Have you all been attacked yet?"
John nods, "Three, then. Not yet. Roy made us put down the salt when the light started looking wrong." Suraksha nods, relieved.
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