Lord of Autumn - Tegid blows with a flourish. "It is always a pleasure to assist such an esteemed client. Yep-yep!"he happily chirps. "One can never have too many friends when traversing the feywild - Chapter 1, Page 10," he says waving his book. Taking out a quill, he starts scrawling in the book, "addendum; this is especially the case if those friends happen to becushywith-- ahh that won't do -- be on an errand for the Summer Court." Tegid smiles to himself before muttering, "every day is a learning day. Yessir."
Flipping frantically to the back of his book, Tegid nods his head stiltedly. Clearly reading aloud from the book, he adds, "and-to-you-kind [Laroove Autumn] may-your-heath-ever-be-fueled-and-heated-to-adequate-levels." With that, he snaps the book shut. "Bes' o' luck in there frien'. Y'gonna need it. Remember, never accept-a kiss from a ghost." Turning about, he scuttles off back into the forest, leaving you very much alone.
Walking boldly through the overgrown streets, the land itself answers your question. Where there was once abundance and life, now there is only rot and decay. Your heavy footsteps announce your presence, yet otherwise, silence reigns. Vines as thick as ropes cling to buildings long abandoned, frequently obscuring your path. Occasionally you find the skeletal remains of those that once called this city home, they are often clumped together and rarely fully intact. It is clear that Cendriane, like Mithrendain before it, is on a path to complete stagnation.
Clearing your mind, you wait for guidance. You do not have to wait long, as a flash of multicolour streaks by in front of you; its brilliance is the perfect foil to the greys and greens of the landscape. As your mind attempts to comprehend the source of this colour, you see it. In the distance, a huge beast with a bright blue and purple feathered mane, leans against a nearby building, its face and body are an array of colours, and it appears to be a combination of avian and reptilian. You have heard of these creatures before for they are known to dwell within fey forests. They are known colloquially as feathered dreams, the iridescent crakes. You know enough to keep your distance, yet this creature looks unwell; it wheezes and claws as its stomach.
As Tommus fades away into the air, Boyd begins to well up and a few salty tears crawl down his apple cheeks before disappearing into his beard. Perhaps unexpectedly to most, Boyd makes no move to clear them from his face.
Stepping out into the warm sunlight, Boyd takes in the enormity of the situation for the first time. "Cor... This place is huge! It's bigger than Monmurg!" He whistles low while turning slowly to see the whole panorama. He points to the nearby building at the top of the hill. "That looks like the house... I don't understand. I thought we was in a-whole-nother place."He looks to Meresaa and Nikita. "What's the house doing here? Did we take it with us?"
As the Lord of Autumn continues pressing deeper into Cendriane, his cheerful expression waned slightly amid the decrepit forest landscape. "Curious... their cycle has ceased, yet not by Winter's hand." he spoke aloud despite being lonesome in the wood. Reaching down, he swabbed a bit of rotten moss and rubbed it between two fingers, studying the resultant grime, then wiping his hands clean on a nearby rock. "For this stasis, I humbly share nothing but sincerest regrets," he spoke in solemnity to the plants as he swept his gaze across the land, "The Lord of Autumn gives his word, I will see to resolve this calamity lest it spread further than it has."
Continuing on respectfully amongst the fallen flora, he takes great care to avoid disturbing the foliage where possible. His transit becomes mostly silent, save for the constant rustling of leaves stemming from the swishing and swaying of his cloak. The crinkle and crackle enlivens the atmosphere despite being surrounded by unnatural decay. After a while, he comes upon the iridescent crake. As if steeled by his previous declaration, and knowing full well the dangers preceding beasts of this nature, the Lord of Autumn stops and stands firm.
Cupping his thumb behind his four fingers, he brings his hand to his mouth and motions as if he is wiping away his beard. He speaks a soft incantation as he does so, and begins to feel a tingling about his lips and cheeks (Speak with Animals). Clearing his throat, he speaks in bold tongue out to the crake.
"Peace, mighty one. This one means no harm. You are seen hurt. Can you share what you know? I will offer aid as this one can."
Nikita thanks Thumbtack and gives the owl a sidelong grin, shaking her head wryly.
"I think you are correct to the point of understatement to advise caution. But 'Forsooth'? 'Verily'? Really my friend? Getting a little carried away with our newfound ability to speak Common... You sound like my lord father. And you know how I always listened to him. Verily."
With Boyd's musing about the strangeness of Asha's workshop on Oerth and mirrored in a strangely similar place here in the Feyrealm, she muses: "I am not certain, Boyd. Lady Meresaa and Asha know far more about portals between planes than I. But I think of it as bringing pinches of two separate pieces of cloth together and folding them into each other so they take on the same shape in one spot, despite their essential distinctness. So perhaps there is a thinness in whatever separates the planes here, and at Prospect, reflected in similar structures on either side."
She addresses the entire group: "The river seems to be there, across Cendriane." She points far to the left across the seemingly abandoned city. "I think that is our path, likely dangerous but perhaps less so than trekking around it through the forest. Still, this seems a dangerous, dead place. You are right to be disquieted, Faila. I do not think all the rest of the Feyrealm is like this. The sooner we leave this place, the better. And there is that." She points at the circular pattern on the floor (see spoiler). The overgrowth of strange plants seems natural everywhere except there, where it seems to recede and die.
She sighs, uncertain. "I could blow the guiding Road Whistle, or perhaps save for the chance we become lost. What do you all think?"
"Well hang about a minute. What's in the house?" He points to Prospect's doppelganger. "Think that one has a secret room full of wood elves and money too? I mean, if no one else is gonna use it, we could use a little cash for these cities and for, you know, hiring boats and what not."
Lord of Autumn - The moss twitches in your hands, like a beast in its death throes. Around you, the plants creak and groan, crying out for aid, though your words have a soothing effect. You know that the floras' cries are due to an unseen and non-native power source, its removal would likely restore natural balance to the area.
As you approach the crake, it begins to adopt a defensive position. You are under no doubt that its movements are laboured, its innate agility and grace hampered by the affliction from which it now suffers. It eases up when you stop your advancement. Though it lets out a shrill shriek, making you fully aware that you should proceed no further.
The mighty beast cocks its head as you speak a language it can comprehend; to the casual observer, this rather unusual exchange would be heard as a series of bird-like calls and whistles, though the speech comes naturally to you.
"Stomach, pain!" The mighty beast roars, using what little strength it has remaining. "Creature came. Many snakes together as one. Never seen before. Stomach infested with young." Even from where you stand you can see movement from within the beast's belly. It claws desperately at its stomach, certainly causing more harm than good. "Parasites need removing, else death."
With that, the creature lets out a powerful bellow and collapses to the floor with a heavy thud. "Help!"it hisses, fearfully.
Nikita - ((Thinking about it, I should probably not have included Thumbtack's speech within the spoiler!)) Thumbtack turns her head indignantly. "How one chooses to express oneself is surely up to one,"you can tell there is a level of mirth in her voice. "Besides, I thought I would attempt to bring an air of class and sophistication to our party." She lowers her voice, speaking just to you. "Speaking of your lord father. How do you think he would react to some of our travelling companions? We've been with them for several days now and I'm sure I've never seen them wash or undertake any other self-grooming rituals."
Asha interjects while you are musing about Prospect and the link between planes. "It's certainly an interesting theory," she starts. "Certainly, if this was an identical or mirror version of Prospect, I would tend to agree. There have been documented cases of entire cities existing on multiple planes at once. However, in Prospect's case, it is my theory that the truth is a little more mundane. This is to say, I believe that one of the buildings is a copy of the other; though I can only guess at the motivations of the original builders, it could be that this place served as a landmark or perhaps an anchor between planes. Really, without further investigations and surveys, I guess we'll never know."
Meresaa - There is a brief pause before a Tommus' voice responds to your question. From the level of strain, you can tell that it is taking a lot of effort for the Ghost to respond. "Sahmyr Ami? It is not a name I am familiar with. You are familiar with both Seelie and Unseelie Courts... both have actors that have hatched nefarious schemes before... Their relationship is strained at the best of times... If this Sahmyr is responsible for the current blight affecting Oerth, neither court are likely to claim ownership."
You are reminded of the times Asha communicated with the group whilst she was trapped. Her voice strained as though travelling a great distance, blowing on the wind. Tommus softly adds, "the magical ability this Sahmyr would need to communicate across planes is quite... substantial. Could it perhaps be a greater force disguising their identity? Perhaps even..." Rather frustratingly, the voice fades before it can finish the thought, leaving the group alone.
Meresaa lets out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter and shakes her head at the sudden twist of their misfortune.
"Ever the helper to the very end, though whether that end came too soon or too late is a debate for another time. Rest well, Captain."
Following the others outside, she considers this new development with a slight scowl and crossed arms. She absentmindedly chews the tip of one thumb as the listens to Asha before responding.
"Most credible scientists and philosophers believe the various planes exist throughout a spectrum of light and dark, good and evil, law and chaos, etc. But those are the 'outer planes,' so to speak. Some believe them to be more 'concepts' with dubious influence on the rest of existence rather than actual, tangible places. But that's neither here nor there," she trails of for several seconds, large, violet eyes darting around, not focusing on any one thing before moving on.
"The 'inner planes,' as many refer to them, share much more in common as they are not simply the manifestations of various ideals, as I believe the outer planes to be. The theory Ms. Hawkes speaks of is one that I've largely disregarded in the past as it always seemed rather absurd to me. Although now it may seem a bit less farfetched. It is that the inner planes are reflections of each other, as she says, or layers in the folded fabric of existence; distinct from one another but so close as to share much in common."
Smiling as a thought occurs to her, the tall, lanky woman cocks a hip and shrugs one shoulder. "For all I know, my original planar theory AND this reflection or fold theory are BOTH inaccurate." She nods to Asha. "As you say, it's entirely possible these were planned and built as sister cities either for aesthetics, diplomacy, or possibly to strengthen or stabilize the planar connection between them in some way."
A musical laugh escapes her as she shakes her head again. "There's absolutely no way of knowing for now so all of this is just idle musing."
"Well hang about a minute. What's in the house?" He points to Prospect's doppelganger. "Think that one has a secret room full of wood elves and money too? I mean, if no one else is gonna use it, we could use a little cash for these cities and for, you know, hiring boats and what not."
"While I admire your practicality and forethought," she begins. "I'm not certain if raiding someone's house for valuables is a course of action this group would agree upon, regardless of the state or apparent lack of occupation." Glancing around at the others and raising her hands in deference she adds, "But I certainly can't speak for everyone."
She points at the circular pattern on the floor (see spoiler). The overgrowth of strange plants seems natural everywhere except there, where it seems to recede and die.
She sighs, uncertain. "I could blow the guiding Road Whistle, or perhaps save for the chance we become lost. What do you all think?"
With a glance toward the river, she simply replies, "It seems we already have our direction set. No sense in using the whistle without need when it will only point us in the direction we're already heading."
Then she notices the circle Nikita gestured toward and approaches.
DM: Is Meresaa able to glean any clues about the circle's nature or purpose? Arcana/History/Investigation: 15(+2 if Arcana)
Nikita moves initially to help Meresaa with her inspection of the disc-shaped pattern where the ivy recedes and dies, but soon realizes that the tall blue lady does not need assistance. Instead she first responds privately to Thumbtack and then Boyd.
To Thumbtack: I suspect my lord father would express his horror at their (and my) personal hygiene with the slightest raise of his eyebrow. Which endears this group to me all the more. Down in the dirt, striving, is far more admirable to me than always above the fray, judging as he would.
To Boyd: "Lady Meresaa speaks against raiding, and I agree with her, for a different reason. Unless you have suddenly spent much of Lady Isolde's gold while I wasn't looking, we are far from short on coin. Check your pockets. And coin may not even be the currency we will need to convince dwellers of the Feyrealm to help us. As for risk, recall the spiders and insects phasing in and out of existence back in Prospect? What if the plane they were phasing into is this one as seems likely? I think the risks outweigh the rewards, unless there is some very specific item or artifact we are looking for."
Nikita stops, still unsure, but resigned. "I think the best course is to make for the river to the south. It is what the map indicated as well, though who knows how much the Feyrealm has changed since the map was created." She waits for the results of Meresaa'sInvestigation.
Meresaa - Midway through your dialogue, Asha stands, mouth agape. "Exactly... I..."she looks down sheepishly. "I was unaware that you were so well-versed in planar theory,"she gives you a quizzical look. "Where did you study?"she asks as much out of awe as curiosity.
"As you say, I could be incorrect in my assumptions. If this was a mirror of Oerth then there seem to be quite a few differences: the footprint of this Prospect is a little different; the sprawling metropolis of Cendriane does not exist; Prospect has been ruined for sometime in this plane. Unless, could it be that time somehow functions differently here? That this is a future rendition of what Oerth's Prospect is to become?" Asha questions, slumping back down. "In truth, I still feel like I know so little of this place."
"You have the right of it, Meresaa,"she concedes, "there is no way of knowing, for now."
The pattern looks like some form of magical seal. You are aware that throughout the Saltmarsh region there was once a magical barrier preventing leakage (for want of a better word) between planes of existence. Should it be so farfetched to believe that similar barriers might exist within the feyrealm? You are unsure as to the direct purpose of this particular seal, it could even have once been a gateway of sorts.
High Roll Alert!
However, the ailing plant growth around the seal strikes you as being wholly opposite to the transformation occuring within Oerth. On that plane, the feywild was seeping through in the form of strange and wild magical growth, changing and morphing local fauna and floral. Could the reverse be happening here? If so, what might that look like? Could the chaotic and ever-changing nature of the feywild be changing? Or stagnating? Becoming as static and unyielding as Oerth.
Tommus' words to Boyd echo around your mind: "Now you might imagine how restrictive your world felt... It all felt a little too static, stuck in the mud, so to speak." It is certainly a troubling thought, for how would the denizens of the feywild adapt to such a change?
It strikes you then that this seal, like the barrier within Oerth, appears to be failing.
Nikita - Thumbtack sighs ((wait, can owl's sigh?!)). "Once again, you remind me why I travel with you," she says. "Well, other than the fact that I am magically compelled to," she quickly adds. "You can keep the dirt to yourself, though you are right that action and striving is the more admirable pursuit. Besides, you never know, perhaps we may find an abandoned bathhouse in Cendriane."
The Lord of Autumn listens calmly to the beast, taking in each call and hiss patiently until the beast finishes voicing its distress. Without wasting a moment, he sets himself into motion though not to approach the crake. Instead, he maneuvers off to the side so that the parietal eye can fully take in the massive figure of the firbolg. Swash, swash, swash goes his footsteps as he steps into clear view. The Lord of Autumn speaks once again, though speaking differently now as if adjusting his speech to match the local dialect and accents native to the creature.
"Heard. I will aid as I can,"he pauses to make sure the crake can fully observe him, "I am seen. Might respects might, I will not approach. But, you must be strong for what is to come."
The firbolg brings his left palm out to his side. As if commanded by the breeze itself, a fistful of leaves from the furthest reaches of his cloak separates and flutters towards his paw. They begin to swirl around in an invisible vortex of energetic flourishes. Though these leaves are some of the oldest and most cracked, their firm brown shape holds fast to the wind as they give off a wind all their own. He speaks once more in an elaborate hiss:
"Open your mouth wide."the firbolg states as he prepares to induce vomiting in the crake. (Mage Hand)
Boyd jingles his coin pouch. "Ah... it wasn't really about the money..." he says while looking at Green Prospect with some sort of expectation. "Okay," he says, turning away from the familiar building. "To the south then?"
He catches sight of Meresaa kneeling over the strange engraving. "What've you got there? Magic stuff? A map?"
Lord of Autumn - Unable to put up much resistance, your mage hand gently opens the crake's mouth and attempts to induce vomiting. The crake coughs and wheezes before throwing up this thick, viscous, iridescent purple fluid. Sitting in the fluid is a grey grub, roughly the size of a human thumb, from your vantage point you can tell that it has small barbs along its little body. The parasite, which you do not recognise, begins to squirm and crawl back towards its host.
The crake's eye briefly flickers open and it weakly produces several shrill, high-pitched, screeches (see below):
"Not enough,"the crake manages to say, though the effort is causing it great pain. "Cut them out." The once-great beast's eyes close back up.
As the others discuss acquisitions, planar theory, and navigation, Faila wanders away a piece, standing for a moment on the crest of the hill upon which Prospect looks over the abandoned city. The dizzying web of roads spiraling out makes her head swim, and she sits down on the steps of Prospect, pulling her Skurra cloak around her, and the hood down low over her head. She might remind one of a small animal trying to burrow into the forest floor and camouflage itself.
Meresaa - Midway through your dialogue, Asha stands, mouth agape. "Exactly... I..."she looks down sheepishly. "I was unaware that you were so well-versed in planar theory,"she gives you a quizzical look. "Where did you study?"she asks as much out of awe as curiosity.
"As you say, I could be incorrect in my assumptions. If this was a mirror of Oerth then there seem to be quite a few differences: the footprint of this Prospect is a little different; the sprawling metropolis of Cendriane does not exist; Prospect has been ruined for sometime in this plane. Unless, could it be that time somehow functions differently here? That this is a future rendition of what Oerth's Prospect is to become?" Asha questions, slumping back down. "In truth, I still feel like I know so little of this place."
"You have the right of it, Meresaa,"she concedes, "there is no way of knowing, for now."
Meresaa laughs delightedly.
"Yes, well I suppose we have not yet been properly introduced! I am Meresaa of the Izzet, humbly at your service." She follows with a formal bow and a moment of anticipation as if awaiting some hint of recognition. "That is... of Ravnica..." Another awkward moment. "No? Hrm. I suppose it was too much to hope that another planar scientist would know of my home. Well suffice it to say that I come from a place (wherever it may be) of great learning and industry. My guild is renowned for its continual discovery and ingenuity! I have also made the study of planar rifts my life's work, much as I understand you have. Unfortunately, one can study for several lifetimes, but without the right tools -- or at least numerous strokes of unnatural luck -- come out the other side with nothing to show for it."
She sighs and shrugs. "I've studied and experimented for years but still know little more than what one can learn from the tomes at any of the great libraries. It's still just theory with little certainty or practical application." A hairless eyebrow raises ever so slightly as a smirk creeps across her face. "Perhaps we'll make some groundbreaking discovery along our journey here..."
He catches sight of Meresaa kneeling over the strange engraving. "What've you got there? Magic stuff? A map?"
"No map that I can discern," Meresaa replies absently.
Finally looking up and standing back to her full height, she chews her lower lips as she considers the possibilities.
"I hadn't noticed anything like this back in Saltmarsh, but I didn't take much time to explore. Did you happen to see anything similar while you traversed the town, Mr. Nilsson? I have a feeling this has...or had... to do with the barrier that was put in place." She looks beyond the group at the surrounding vegetation. "I wonder... In a similar way that we witnessed the fey environment spilling into Saltmarsh, choking out the natural flora and fauna, it's possible that the door swings both ways, so to speak. The apparent blight in our present locality could very well be caused by the encroachment of what we consider 'mundane' nature choking out the otherwise chaotic, magical environs of this plane. Most curious!"
Her gaze finds Asha as she continues. "Would you suppose restoring the barrier could not only stop the flow between the realms but, with the source cut off, allow the native ecology to heal itself from the harm already done?"
Wrapping up in your Skurra cloak, you hide away from the sprawling city.
Other than the usual sounds and noises of the forest, there is silence. As you are about to contemplate your current predicament, you hear a low grunting, followed by a more high-pitched buzzing. Looking up, you attempt to locate the origin of the sound and find that it is coming from a nearby street.
What the... CRIT!
Closing your eyes, you realise that the sounds are not random but resemble speech. Though you are unclear on the language used, you realise that you can strangely, understand it.
"We was promised golds," the low voice grunts. "She saids there would be golds. Why is there no golds?"
The buzzing high-pitched voice responds. "Shut it, cretin, and do your job. You'll get your gold in due course."
"No! No golds here, only old stuff! Not interested in old stuff, want golds,"the low voice grunts, becoming increasingly more disgruntled.
"Fool!" the high-pitched voice shrieks. "Old stuff can be traded for gold!"
You hear the low voice humpf. "Should be golds now, that was deal."
"We -- well I -- was tasked with getting a special item for her. Now are you going to help me or not? Or do I need to tell Maud?" the high-pitched voice threatens.
"No, no, tell Maud," the low grunting voice sighs, "I help... just remember, I owed golds. No need to tell, don't want to be burneded."
A small, goblinoid creature pops into view at this point; it carries a laden rucksack, with golden rings and piercings decorating its body and large, floppy ears, and it stands roughly 3ft tall. You hear the creature grumbling in a low grunting voice, muttering about the lack of gold and gold-related items. Unfortunately, you cannot, from where you sit, locate the owner of the high-pitched voice.
Meresaa - You see Asha's face light up, getting the distinct feeling that you might well become her next area of study. "Fascinating, truly fascinating,"she mutters. "Ravnica must be a wonderful place, I would love to visit sometime." Her excitement only increases when you inform her that you too are a planar scholar. "You've experimented? Wonderful. That is exactly how I was able to create my device -- a healthy dose of trial and error, but in the end, the experiment was a success!"
"Tell me, Meresaa. Have you travelled much? I mean, how many planes have you visited?"Asha takes out a blank notebook and pencil. "Theory is always a good place to start. Though in time, theories have to be tested."
Asha coughs a little uncomfortably when you pose the question. "Of course, I would defer to your expert opinion. However, my assumption would be that once the links between planes have been stabilised, then the properties of each realm should normalise -- whatever normalisation looks like for each plane. That said, who knows? Perhaps the encroachment already experienced will be more permanent. Certainly, you cannot deny that even when the barrier was originally established it mustn't have completely separated the planes. For otherwise, we would not be here and none of the events of the last few years would have transpired."
Closing her eyes and listening to the voices, Faila opens her eyes in time to see the strange, bent little creature come into view down a street. Feeling as out of place as she does, a sense of identification hits her unexpectedly. This is a little monster, probably nobody likes him, he's a monster just like me. But he's been one for longer, and he isn't trying not to be one. It's easy to give up and only care about gold, or food, or whatever petty thing you could latch onto, your heart has to harden to being cast out, though, and then the little devils and imps like Maud can have their way with you. At least, at least I'm still weeping over it, my heart hasn't hardened yet. I hope it doesn't. Then I would really be giving up to being a monster. Sometimes I almost feel like I'm about to. But I really don't want to...
She glances up the hill towards the workshop where her friends are still discussing, and then, as quietly as she can, wrapped in the cloak, she slips down the hillside towards the goblin creature on the street. As she does, she puts her hand into the pouch at her side, and as she approaches the creature, she pulls out a handful of gold coins, and holds them out where the creature can see, about 10 or 15 gold pieces clutched in her fabric-wrapped fist. Maybe the monster needs friends to help it not be a monster.
"Hello there, friend,"she says, hoping the creature will understand her as she was able to understand it, even if they aren't speaking the same language. "I have gold. Would you like some? I don't think you should work for Maud. She's not very nice. You can come with us instead. We have a lot of gold for you."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Lord of Autumn - Unable to put up much resistance, your mage hand gently opens the crake's mouth and attempts to induce vomiting. The crake coughs and wheezes before throwing up this thick, viscous, iridescent purple fluid. Sitting in the fluid is a grey grub, roughly the size of a human thumb, from your vantage point you can tell that it has small barbs along its little body. The parasite, which you do not recognise, begins to squirm and crawl back towards its host.
The crake's eye briefly flickers open and it weakly produces several shrill, high-pitched, screeches
Drawing a mighty glaive from its holster along his back, the Lord of Autumn swiftly slams its blunt end onto the grub, spraying grey viscera amongst the decaying moss. Maneuvering his hand further up the haft towards the bladed end, the firbolg approaches the crake. His cloak of leaves lets out dull rumble as he kneels down beside the beast. Looking into the eye of the crake, he speaks once more with reverence woven through every hiss, whistle, and shriek:
"It shall be done. Know that this may not be enough. But,"the firbolg breathes deeply and continues, "this one promises the pain will stop."
Drawing the bladed edge of the glaive close to the scaled belly of the beast, the Lord of Autumn places his other hand right on its flesh. The vibration in this hand from earlier returns, though the hand holding the weapon remains as serene and still as his stoic gaze on the creature.Pressing the shuddering hand deep into the belly to check for the best point to begin, a look of confidence grows on the firbolg. (Guidance: Medicine/Animal Handling [both have same modifier])
He whispers under his breath, "May your cycle not be halted short." and carefully plunges the glaive into the flesh of the crake so as to make a small, precise incision for his arm to fit through.
Faila - As you draw close, getting a better look at the creature, you locate the source of the high-pitched buzzing noise. A tiny creature, only a few inches tall, with wings like ragged cobwebs crusted with past meals, flies a few feet behind the goblinoid; a reddish trail stains the air in her wake (see below).
She glances up the hill towards the workshop where her friends are still discussing, and then, as quietly as she can, wrapped in the cloak, she slips down the hillside towards the goblin creature on the street. As she does, she puts her hand into the pouch at her side, and as she approaches the creature, she pulls out a handful of gold coins, and holds them out where the creature can see, about 10 or 15 gold pieces clutched in her fabric-wrapped fist. Maybe the monster needs friends to help it not be a monster.
Initially regarding you suspiciously, as you hold out the gold pieces the goblinoid's demeanour changes: his face lights up and his eyes greedily stare at the gold in your hand.
"Hey!"the pixie (hereby known as a pyske) shrilly interrupts the unspoken exchange.
"Hello there, friend," she says, hoping the creature will understand her as she was able to understand it, even if they aren't speaking the same language. "I have gold. Would you like some? I don't think you should work for Maud. She's not very nice. You can come with us instead. We have a lot of gold for you."
A wicked-looking grin spreads across the goblin's face as he turns to the pyske. "Oh ho, golds you says? Lots of golds?"he walks towards you, non-threateningly. "Golds are better than old stuff!"
"I quits!"he declares stubbornly at the pyske.
The pyske, in return, gives you a murderous look. "You lost me my SERVANT!" she says venomously. Pointing her tiny sword at you, she advances on your location.
"You shall not harm golds-giver!"the goblin yells, placing himself between you and the psyche. Holding his arms outstretched, a previously hidden power ripples from the goblin's hands at the pyske, pushing it back and knocking it down.
The pyske exaggeratedly dusts herself off and turns to leave."Maud will hear about all of this,"she hisses, pouting at you. "You're nothing but a... but a... meddlesome fool!" she utters as she speeds off through the air.
No sooner than the pyske leaves then the goblin's head spins back to the gold in your hand. "Golds?" he says desperately. You swear you see the gold pieces reflecting in his greedy eyes. "For me?!"
He off his hat and performs a sweeping bow. "Aruum at your service, golds-giver,"he says fawningly, holding his hand out to receive the gold pieces.
Lord of Autumn - Tegid blows with a flourish. "It is always a pleasure to assist such an esteemed client. Yep-yep!" he happily chirps. "One can never have too many friends when traversing the feywild - Chapter 1, Page 10," he says waving his book. Taking out a quill, he starts scrawling in the book, "addendum; this is especially the case if those friends happen to
becushywith-- ahh that won't do -- be on an errand for the Summer Court." Tegid smiles to himself before muttering, "every day is a learning day. Yessir."Flipping frantically to the back of his book, Tegid nods his head stiltedly. Clearly reading aloud from the book, he adds, "and-to-you-kind [Laroove Autumn] may-your-heath-ever-be-fueled-and-heated-to-adequate-levels." With that, he snaps the book shut. "Bes' o' luck in there frien'. Y'gonna need it. Remember, never accept-a kiss from a ghost." Turning about, he scuttles off back into the forest, leaving you very much alone.
Walking boldly through the overgrown streets, the land itself answers your question. Where there was once abundance and life, now there is only rot and decay. Your heavy footsteps announce your presence, yet otherwise, silence reigns. Vines as thick as ropes cling to buildings long abandoned, frequently obscuring your path. Occasionally you find the skeletal remains of those that once called this city home, they are often clumped together and rarely fully intact. It is clear that Cendriane, like Mithrendain before it, is on a path to complete stagnation.
Clearing your mind, you wait for guidance. You do not have to wait long, as a flash of multicolour streaks by in front of you; its brilliance is the perfect foil to the greys and greens of the landscape. As your mind attempts to comprehend the source of this colour, you see it. In the distance, a huge beast with a bright blue and purple feathered mane, leans against a nearby building, its face and body are an array of colours, and it appears to be a combination of avian and reptilian. You have heard of these creatures before for they are known to dwell within fey forests. They are known colloquially as feathered dreams, the iridescent crakes. You know enough to keep your distance, yet this creature looks unwell; it wheezes and claws as its stomach.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
As Tommus fades away into the air, Boyd begins to well up and a few salty tears crawl down his apple cheeks before disappearing into his beard. Perhaps unexpectedly to most, Boyd makes no move to clear them from his face.
Stepping out into the warm sunlight, Boyd takes in the enormity of the situation for the first time. "Cor... This place is huge! It's bigger than Monmurg!" He whistles low while turning slowly to see the whole panorama. He points to the nearby building at the top of the hill. "That looks like the house... I don't understand. I thought we was in a-whole-nother place." He looks to Meresaa and Nikita. "What's the house doing here? Did we take it with us?"
As the Lord of Autumn continues pressing deeper into Cendriane, his cheerful expression waned slightly amid the decrepit forest landscape. "Curious... their cycle has ceased, yet not by Winter's hand." he spoke aloud despite being lonesome in the wood. Reaching down, he swabbed a bit of rotten moss and rubbed it between two fingers, studying the resultant grime, then wiping his hands clean on a nearby rock. "For this stasis, I humbly share nothing but sincerest regrets," he spoke in solemnity to the plants as he swept his gaze across the land, "The Lord of Autumn gives his word, I will see to resolve this calamity lest it spread further than it has."
Continuing on respectfully amongst the fallen flora, he takes great care to avoid disturbing the foliage where possible. His transit becomes mostly silent, save for the constant rustling of leaves stemming from the swishing and swaying of his cloak. The crinkle and crackle enlivens the atmosphere despite being surrounded by unnatural decay. After a while, he comes upon the iridescent crake. As if steeled by his previous declaration, and knowing full well the dangers preceding beasts of this nature, the Lord of Autumn stops and stands firm.
Cupping his thumb behind his four fingers, he brings his hand to his mouth and motions as if he is wiping away his beard. He speaks a soft incantation as he does so, and begins to feel a tingling about his lips and cheeks (Speak with Animals). Clearing his throat, he speaks in bold tongue out to the crake.
"Peace, mighty one. This one means no harm. You are seen hurt. Can you share what you know? I will offer aid as this one can."
Nikita thanks Thumbtack and gives the owl a sidelong grin, shaking her head wryly.
"I think you are correct to the point of understatement to advise caution. But 'Forsooth'? 'Verily'? Really my friend? Getting a little carried away with our newfound ability to speak Common... You sound like my lord father. And you know how I always listened to him. Verily."
With Boyd's musing about the strangeness of Asha's workshop on Oerth and mirrored in a strangely similar place here in the Feyrealm, she muses: "I am not certain, Boyd. Lady Meresaa and Asha know far more about portals between planes than I. But I think of it as bringing pinches of two separate pieces of cloth together and folding them into each other so they take on the same shape in one spot, despite their essential distinctness. So perhaps there is a thinness in whatever separates the planes here, and at Prospect, reflected in similar structures on either side."
She addresses the entire group:
"The river seems to be there, across Cendriane." She points far to the left across the seemingly abandoned city. "I think that is our path, likely dangerous but perhaps less so than trekking around it through the forest. Still, this seems a dangerous, dead place. You are right to be disquieted, Faila. I do not think all the rest of the Feyrealm is like this. The sooner we leave this place, the better. And there is that." She points at the circular pattern on the floor (see spoiler). The overgrowth of strange plants seems natural everywhere except there, where it seems to recede and die.
She sighs, uncertain. "I could blow the guiding Road Whistle, or perhaps save for the chance we become lost. What do you all think?"
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim
"Well hang about a minute. What's in the house?" He points to Prospect's doppelganger. "Think that one has a secret room full of wood elves and money too? I mean, if no one else is gonna use it, we could use a little cash for these cities and for, you know, hiring boats and what not."
Lord of Autumn - The moss twitches in your hands, like a beast in its death throes. Around you, the plants creak and groan, crying out for aid, though your words have a soothing effect. You know that the floras' cries are due to an unseen and non-native power source, its removal would likely restore natural balance to the area.
As you approach the crake, it begins to adopt a defensive position. You are under no doubt that its movements are laboured, its innate agility and grace hampered by the affliction from which it now suffers. It eases up when you stop your advancement. Though it lets out a shrill shriek, making you fully aware that you should proceed no further.
The mighty beast cocks its head as you speak a language it can comprehend; to the casual observer, this rather unusual exchange would be heard as a series of bird-like calls and whistles, though the speech comes naturally to you.
"Stomach, pain!" The mighty beast roars, using what little strength it has remaining. "Creature came. Many snakes together as one. Never seen before. Stomach infested with young." Even from where you stand you can see movement from within the beast's belly. It claws desperately at its stomach, certainly causing more harm than good. "Parasites need removing, else death."
With that, the creature lets out a powerful bellow and collapses to the floor with a heavy thud. "Help!" it hisses, fearfully.
Nikita - ((Thinking about it, I should probably not have included Thumbtack's speech within the spoiler!)) Thumbtack turns her head indignantly. "How one chooses to express oneself is surely up to one," you can tell there is a level of mirth in her voice. "Besides, I thought I would attempt to bring an air of class and sophistication to our party." She lowers her voice, speaking just to you. "Speaking of your lord father. How do you think he would react to some of our travelling companions? We've been with them for several days now and I'm sure I've never seen them wash or undertake any other self-grooming rituals."
Asha interjects while you are musing about Prospect and the link between planes. "It's certainly an interesting theory," she starts. "Certainly, if this was an identical or mirror version of Prospect, I would tend to agree. There have been documented cases of entire cities existing on multiple planes at once. However, in Prospect's case, it is my theory that the truth is a little more mundane. This is to say, I believe that one of the buildings is a copy of the other; though I can only guess at the motivations of the original builders, it could be that this place served as a landmark or perhaps an anchor between planes. Really, without further investigations and surveys, I guess we'll never know."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Meresaa lets out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter and shakes her head at the sudden twist of their misfortune.
"Ever the helper to the very end, though whether that end came too soon or too late is a debate for another time. Rest well, Captain."
Following the others outside, she considers this new development with a slight scowl and crossed arms. She absentmindedly chews the tip of one thumb as the listens to Asha before responding.
"Most credible scientists and philosophers believe the various planes exist throughout a spectrum of light and dark, good and evil, law and chaos, etc. But those are the 'outer planes,' so to speak. Some believe them to be more 'concepts' with dubious influence on the rest of existence rather than actual, tangible places. But that's neither here nor there," she trails of for several seconds, large, violet eyes darting around, not focusing on any one thing before moving on.
"The 'inner planes,' as many refer to them, share much more in common as they are not simply the manifestations of various ideals, as I believe the outer planes to be. The theory Ms. Hawkes speaks of is one that I've largely disregarded in the past as it always seemed rather absurd to me. Although now it may seem a bit less farfetched. It is that the inner planes are reflections of each other, as she says, or layers in the folded fabric of existence; distinct from one another but so close as to share much in common."
Smiling as a thought occurs to her, the tall, lanky woman cocks a hip and shrugs one shoulder. "For all I know, my original planar theory AND this reflection or fold theory are BOTH inaccurate." She nods to Asha. "As you say, it's entirely possible these were planned and built as sister cities either for aesthetics, diplomacy, or possibly to strengthen or stabilize the planar connection between them in some way."
A musical laugh escapes her as she shakes her head again. "There's absolutely no way of knowing for now so all of this is just idle musing."
"While I admire your practicality and forethought," she begins. "I'm not certain if raiding someone's house for valuables is a course of action this group would agree upon, regardless of the state or apparent lack of occupation." Glancing around at the others and raising her hands in deference she adds, "But I certainly can't speak for everyone."
With a glance toward the river, she simply replies, "It seems we already have our direction set. No sense in using the whistle without need when it will only point us in the direction we're already heading."
Then she notices the circle Nikita gestured toward and approaches.
DM: Is Meresaa able to glean any clues about the circle's nature or purpose?
Arcana/History/Investigation: 15(+2 if Arcana)
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne
Nikita moves initially to help Meresaa with her inspection of the disc-shaped pattern where the ivy recedes and dies, but soon realizes that the tall blue lady does not need assistance. Instead she first responds privately to Thumbtack and then Boyd.
To Thumbtack: I suspect my lord father would express his horror at their (and my) personal hygiene with the slightest raise of his eyebrow. Which endears this group to me all the more. Down in the dirt, striving, is far more admirable to me than always above the fray, judging as he would.
To Boyd: "Lady Meresaa speaks against raiding, and I agree with her, for a different reason. Unless you have suddenly spent much of Lady Isolde's gold while I wasn't looking, we are far from short on coin. Check your pockets. And coin may not even be the currency we will need to convince dwellers of the Feyrealm to help us. As for risk, recall the spiders and insects phasing in and out of existence back in Prospect? What if the plane they were phasing into is this one as seems likely? I think the risks outweigh the rewards, unless there is some very specific item or artifact we are looking for."
Nikita stops, still unsure, but resigned. "I think the best course is to make for the river to the south. It is what the map indicated as well, though who knows how much the Feyrealm has changed since the map was created." She waits for the results of Meresaa's Investigation.
Mud(Paladin2):Frandal's Scourge/Inge(Barbarian1):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Shin(Wizard2):Dimir_MTG's Surviving
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric3):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard2):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter5):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Rel(Warlock2):Uhtred's Phandelver/Xarian(Fighter1/Wizard1):ShieldHero's Drakkenheim
Meresaa - Midway through your dialogue, Asha stands, mouth agape. "Exactly... I..." she looks down sheepishly. "I was unaware that you were so well-versed in planar theory," she gives you a quizzical look. "Where did you study?" she asks as much out of awe as curiosity.
"As you say, I could be incorrect in my assumptions. If this was a mirror of Oerth then there seem to be quite a few differences: the footprint of this Prospect is a little different; the sprawling metropolis of Cendriane does not exist; Prospect has been ruined for sometime in this plane. Unless, could it be that time somehow functions differently here? That this is a future rendition of what Oerth's Prospect is to become?" Asha questions, slumping back down. "In truth, I still feel like I know so little of this place."
"You have the right of it, Meresaa," she concedes, "there is no way of knowing, for now."
Meresaa's Arcana check:
The pattern looks like some form of magical seal. You are aware that throughout the Saltmarsh region there was once a magical barrier preventing leakage (for want of a better word) between planes of existence. Should it be so farfetched to believe that similar barriers might exist within the feyrealm? You are unsure as to the direct purpose of this particular seal, it could even have once been a gateway of sorts.
High Roll Alert!
However, the ailing plant growth around the seal strikes you as being wholly opposite to the transformation occuring within Oerth. On that plane, the feywild was seeping through in the form of strange and wild magical growth, changing and morphing local fauna and floral. Could the reverse be happening here? If so, what might that look like? Could the chaotic and ever-changing nature of the feywild be changing? Or stagnating? Becoming as static and unyielding as Oerth.
Tommus' words to Boyd echo around your mind: "Now you might imagine how restrictive your world felt... It all felt a little too static, stuck in the mud, so to speak." It is certainly a troubling thought, for how would the denizens of the feywild adapt to such a change?
It strikes you then that this seal, like the barrier within Oerth, appears to be failing.
Nikita - Thumbtack sighs ((wait, can owl's sigh?!)). "Once again, you remind me why I travel with you," she says. "Well, other than the fact that I am magically compelled to," she quickly adds. "You can keep the dirt to yourself, though you are right that action and striving is the more admirable pursuit. Besides, you never know, perhaps we may find an abandoned bathhouse in Cendriane."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
The Lord of Autumn listens calmly to the beast, taking in each call and hiss patiently until the beast finishes voicing its distress. Without wasting a moment, he sets himself into motion though not to approach the crake. Instead, he maneuvers off to the side so that the parietal eye can fully take in the massive figure of the firbolg. Swash, swash, swash goes his footsteps as he steps into clear view. The Lord of Autumn speaks once again, though speaking differently now as if adjusting his speech to match the local dialect and accents native to the creature.
"Heard. I will aid as I can," he pauses to make sure the crake can fully observe him, "I am seen. Might respects might, I will not approach. But, you must be strong for what is to come."
The firbolg brings his left palm out to his side. As if commanded by the breeze itself, a fistful of leaves from the furthest reaches of his cloak separates and flutters towards his paw. They begin to swirl around in an invisible vortex of energetic flourishes. Though these leaves are some of the oldest and most cracked, their firm brown shape holds fast to the wind as they give off a wind all their own. He speaks once more in an elaborate hiss:
"Open your mouth wide." the firbolg states as he prepares to induce vomiting in the crake. (Mage Hand)
Boyd jingles his coin pouch. "Ah... it wasn't really about the money..." he says while looking at Green Prospect with some sort of expectation. "Okay," he says, turning away from the familiar building. "To the south then?"
He catches sight of Meresaa kneeling over the strange engraving. "What've you got there? Magic stuff? A map?"
Lord of Autumn - Unable to put up much resistance, your mage hand gently opens the crake's mouth and attempts to induce vomiting. The crake coughs and wheezes before throwing up this thick, viscous, iridescent purple fluid. Sitting in the fluid is a grey grub, roughly the size of a human thumb, from your vantage point you can tell that it has small barbs along its little body. The parasite, which you do not recognise, begins to squirm and crawl back towards its host.
The crake's eye briefly flickers open and it weakly produces several shrill, high-pitched, screeches (see below):
"Not enough," the crake manages to say, though the effort is causing it great pain. "Cut them out." The once-great beast's eyes close back up.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
As the others discuss acquisitions, planar theory, and navigation, Faila wanders away a piece, standing for a moment on the crest of the hill upon which Prospect looks over the abandoned city. The dizzying web of roads spiraling out makes her head swim, and she sits down on the steps of Prospect, pulling her Skurra cloak around her, and the hood down low over her head. She might remind one of a small animal trying to burrow into the forest floor and camouflage itself.
Faila - Please make a Perception check.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Perception Check (rolled in game log): 26
Meresaa laughs delightedly.
"Yes, well I suppose we have not yet been properly introduced! I am Meresaa of the Izzet, humbly at your service." She follows with a formal bow and a moment of anticipation as if awaiting some hint of recognition. "That is... of Ravnica..." Another awkward moment. "No? Hrm. I suppose it was too much to hope that another planar scientist would know of my home. Well suffice it to say that I come from a place (wherever it may be) of great learning and industry. My guild is renowned for its continual discovery and ingenuity! I have also made the study of planar rifts my life's work, much as I understand you have. Unfortunately, one can study for several lifetimes, but without the right tools -- or at least numerous strokes of unnatural luck -- come out the other side with nothing to show for it."
She sighs and shrugs. "I've studied and experimented for years but still know little more than what one can learn from the tomes at any of the great libraries. It's still just theory with little certainty or practical application." A hairless eyebrow raises ever so slightly as a smirk creeps across her face. "Perhaps we'll make some groundbreaking discovery along our journey here..."
"No map that I can discern," Meresaa replies absently.
Finally looking up and standing back to her full height, she chews her lower lips as she considers the possibilities.
"I hadn't noticed anything like this back in Saltmarsh, but I didn't take much time to explore. Did you happen to see anything similar while you traversed the town, Mr. Nilsson? I have a feeling this has...or had... to do with the barrier that was put in place." She looks beyond the group at the surrounding vegetation. "I wonder... In a similar way that we witnessed the fey environment spilling into Saltmarsh, choking out the natural flora and fauna, it's possible that the door swings both ways, so to speak. The apparent blight in our present locality could very well be caused by the encroachment of what we consider 'mundane' nature choking out the otherwise chaotic, magical environs of this plane. Most curious!"
Her gaze finds Asha as she continues. "Would you suppose restoring the barrier could not only stop the flow between the realms but, with the source cut off, allow the native ecology to heal itself from the harm already done?"
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Mis'tuv (Halfling Fathomless Warlock) - The Voyage of the Fallen Star
Meresaa (Vedalken Artillerist Artificer) - Destination Unknown
Hutton Crowcreek (Human Fighter) - Curse of the Crimson Throne
Faila's Perception Check:
Wrapping up in your Skurra cloak, you hide away from the sprawling city.
Other than the usual sounds and noises of the forest, there is silence. As you are about to contemplate your current predicament, you hear a low grunting, followed by a more high-pitched buzzing. Looking up, you attempt to locate the origin of the sound and find that it is coming from a nearby street.
What the... CRIT!
Closing your eyes, you realise that the sounds are not random but resemble speech. Though you are unclear on the language used, you realise that you can strangely, understand it.
A small, goblinoid creature pops into view at this point; it carries a laden rucksack, with golden rings and piercings decorating its body and large, floppy ears, and it stands roughly 3ft tall. You hear the creature grumbling in a low grunting voice, muttering about the lack of gold and gold-related items. Unfortunately, you cannot, from where you sit, locate the owner of the high-pitched voice.
Meresaa - You see Asha's face light up, getting the distinct feeling that you might well become her next area of study. "Fascinating, truly fascinating," she mutters. "Ravnica must be a wonderful place, I would love to visit sometime." Her excitement only increases when you inform her that you too are a planar scholar. "You've experimented? Wonderful. That is exactly how I was able to create my device -- a healthy dose of trial and error, but in the end, the experiment was a success!"
"Tell me, Meresaa. Have you travelled much? I mean, how many planes have you visited?" Asha takes out a blank notebook and pencil. "Theory is always a good place to start. Though in time, theories have to be tested."
Asha coughs a little uncomfortably when you pose the question. "Of course, I would defer to your expert opinion. However, my assumption would be that once the links between planes have been stabilised, then the properties of each realm should normalise -- whatever normalisation looks like for each plane. That said, who knows? Perhaps the encroachment already experienced will be more permanent. Certainly, you cannot deny that even when the barrier was originally established it mustn't have completely separated the planes. For otherwise, we would not be here and none of the events of the last few years would have transpired."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Closing her eyes and listening to the voices, Faila opens her eyes in time to see the strange, bent little creature come into view down a street. Feeling as out of place as she does, a sense of identification hits her unexpectedly. This is a little monster, probably nobody likes him, he's a monster just like me. But he's been one for longer, and he isn't trying not to be one. It's easy to give up and only care about gold, or food, or whatever petty thing you could latch onto, your heart has to harden to being cast out, though, and then the little devils and imps like Maud can have their way with you. At least, at least I'm still weeping over it, my heart hasn't hardened yet. I hope it doesn't. Then I would really be giving up to being a monster. Sometimes I almost feel like I'm about to. But I really don't want to...
She glances up the hill towards the workshop where her friends are still discussing, and then, as quietly as she can, wrapped in the cloak, she slips down the hillside towards the goblin creature on the street. As she does, she puts her hand into the pouch at her side, and as she approaches the creature, she pulls out a handful of gold coins, and holds them out where the creature can see, about 10 or 15 gold pieces clutched in her fabric-wrapped fist. Maybe the monster needs friends to help it not be a monster.
"Hello there, friend," she says, hoping the creature will understand her as she was able to understand it, even if they aren't speaking the same language. "I have gold. Would you like some? I don't think you should work for Maud. She's not very nice. You can come with us instead. We have a lot of gold for you."
Lord of Autumn - Unable to put up much resistance, your mage hand gently opens the crake's mouth and attempts to induce vomiting. The crake coughs and wheezes before throwing up this thick, viscous, iridescent purple fluid. Sitting in the fluid is a grey grub, roughly the size of a human thumb, from your vantage point you can tell that it has small barbs along its little body. The parasite, which you do not recognise, begins to squirm and crawl back towards its host.
The crake's eye briefly flickers open and it weakly produces several shrill, high-pitched, screeches
Drawing a mighty glaive from its holster along his back, the Lord of Autumn swiftly slams its blunt end onto the grub, spraying grey viscera amongst the decaying moss. Maneuvering his hand further up the haft towards the bladed end, the firbolg approaches the crake. His cloak of leaves lets out dull rumble as he kneels down beside the beast. Looking into the eye of the crake, he speaks once more with reverence woven through every hiss, whistle, and shriek:
"It shall be done. Know that this may not be enough. But," the firbolg breathes deeply and continues, "this one promises the pain will stop."
Drawing the bladed edge of the glaive close to the scaled belly of the beast, the Lord of Autumn places his other hand right on its flesh. The vibration in this hand from earlier returns, though the hand holding the weapon remains as serene and still as his stoic gaze on the creature.Pressing the shuddering hand deep into the belly to check for the best point to begin, a look of confidence grows on the firbolg. (Guidance: Medicine/Animal Handling [both have same modifier])
He whispers under his breath, "May your cycle not be halted short." and carefully plunges the glaive into the flesh of the crake so as to make a small, precise incision for his arm to fit through.
Medicine/Animal Handling Check: 26
Faila - As you draw close, getting a better look at the creature, you locate the source of the high-pitched buzzing noise. A tiny creature, only a few inches tall, with wings like ragged cobwebs crusted with past meals, flies a few feet behind the goblinoid; a reddish trail stains the air in her wake (see below).
Initially regarding you suspiciously, as you hold out the gold pieces the goblinoid's demeanour changes: his face lights up and his eyes greedily stare at the gold in your hand.
"Hey!" the pixie (hereby known as a pyske) shrilly interrupts the unspoken exchange.
A wicked-looking grin spreads across the goblin's face as he turns to the pyske. "Oh ho, golds you says? Lots of golds?" he walks towards you, non-threateningly. "Golds are better than old stuff!"
"I quits!" he declares stubbornly at the pyske.
The pyske, in return, gives you a murderous look. "You lost me my SERVANT!" she says venomously. Pointing her tiny sword at you, she advances on your location.
"You shall not harm golds-giver!" the goblin yells, placing himself between you and the psyche. Holding his arms outstretched, a previously hidden power ripples from the goblin's hands at the pyske, pushing it back and knocking it down.
The pyske exaggeratedly dusts herself off and turns to leave. "Maud will hear about all of this," she hisses, pouting at you. "You're nothing but a... but a... meddlesome fool!" she utters as she speeds off through the air.
No sooner than the pyske leaves then the goblin's head spins back to the gold in your hand. "Golds?" he says desperately. You swear you see the gold pieces reflecting in his greedy eyes. "For me?!"
He off his hat and performs a sweeping bow. "Aruum at your service, golds-giver," he says fawningly, holding his hand out to receive the gold pieces.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)