A moment after the fire's explosive entrance, water begins to pour in and on the entire area. The all-wood construction of the doorframe, the door itself, and the floor are saved from destruction thanks to Branch's quick thinking, as well as the party's own skins, as they charge fearlessly through the flames, hot on the heels of their friend turned quarry. Granted a quickness by his own mastery of the arts, the elf-warrior is the first to catch up, diving for the man's legs, but Myrkfithr Sveinninn is quicker than expected and he falls short. Seeing that his little flame was not enough to deter the party from chasing, the man lifts a hand and draws another sigil in the air. "Uljoss!" He commands, and again the world twists unnaturally around his words to follow that command. In that instant, Myrkfithr Sveinninn disappears.
Still on the porch where they'd been all this time, Alfreid and the two elves stand abruptly at the sudden chaos. "What's going on?" Alfreid calls, while the two elves speculate amoungst themselves.
Brimthenel shouted in frustration and slammed a fist against the ground. "We needed his help, and he got away." His voice was a petulant grumble as he pushed himself.
Still cradling Tik-Tik in his secondary arms, Chatcho reaches into his pouch with one of his primary arms and pulls out a copper piece. Focusing on the coin, the metal amplifies his psionic energy and casts detect thoughts, searching nearby (30 feet) for thoughts not belonging to those visible.
Frustrated, Branch heads up to the elves and Alfreid and asks, "Would any of you happen to know where we can find Myrkfithr Chetowa? Have any of you seen her recently?"
"Uh, No." Alfreid stumbles, still surprised at all that happened. "I haven't seen her since you all ran off into town yesterday." Having answered, he reinstates his question, "Really, though, what was all that? Why were you chasing him?"
Despite his focusing, despite even the use of the arts, Chatcho doesn't sense the man's presence in the immediate thirty feet. If he was still in the area, he'd already made that distance.
"Uh, No." Alfreid stumbles, still surprised at all that happened. "I haven't seen her since you all ran off into town yesterday." Having answered, he reinstates his question, "Really, though, what was all that? Why were you chasing him?"
Despite his focusing, despite even the use of the arts, Chatcho doesn't sense the man's presence in the immediate thirty feet. If he was still in the area, he'd already made that distance.
Archibald looks all in a huff. "Let's just say that we're starting to realize why there are people that don't care for these witchy folk. We saved his life not even a week ago, and he's decided to drive himself directly against our attempts to help protect the people. I think it's clear, they do not have the best interest of the town at heart."
"It can be hard to blame them." Elbthalrod muses. "It's hard to say which came first, their indifference to our plight, or ours to theirs. There was a time we helped each other, that woman's help was crucial in those first days. But, some say she was up to darker things when nobody was looking, people started blaming the disappearances on her." The elf shrugs.
Brimthenel rubbed his chin as he considered where the mage could have escaped to. "He's one of the witches' pupils. Rats always hide in whatever hole's nearest, so they'd be my guess."
"I do wonder, though." Lindinrian muses, "If her apprentice so strongly denied to help you, if there mightn't be a reason for that. If that reason mightn't stem from the witch herself. You may yet track the two of them down, I am certain you all have the wherewithal, but I wouldn't count on the answer changing. Perhaps it is time to consider other avenues? I know of no greater collection of silver than the household of the Sparklebraids, and you've already ingratiated yourself with one of them, I hear."
Branch takes a minute to ponder this and tries to let her anger simmer down. If she ever gets a hold of that boy again....
"Thank you, Lindinrian, that's a good idea." Turning to her companions, "Shall we head back to the farmhouse where we stayed? Lets see what they have as possible material." and she heads off towards the Sparklebraids.
Returning to the farm they'd stayed the night in, and met the creature that was now their quarry, the party spoke with Adrnir Sparklebraid, son of Gimwisa Sparklebraid. After explaining themselves, he is more than happy to help, and leads them down the street, across the strong rope bridge and the river, and through town to the Sparklebraid household. Of stone and mortar, it was a fine building. Extravagant even, compared to the wood and thatch hovels that surround it. This, indeed, was a powerful family in the town.
Adrnir loses no time, stepping up to the ornate doors and pounding upon them. "Ondon thæs dor! Hit sy mec, Adrnir!"
There's a couple minute pause, before they creak open to reveal a woman in a fine gown. "Adrnir!" She purrs, though they both look as if they'd rather not seen the other.
"Mirabelle." Adrnir greets, cooly, "Is Funda home? I wish to introduce the town's newest monster-hunters. They have a favour to ask."
"Do they now?" The human woman looks over the party with a practiced emptiness to her face. "Come then, inside, I'll start on some tea while you explain what kind of favour you need."
Walking forward, Chatcho hits his head on the door frame, angrily clicking his mandibles and dropping Tik-Tik. Holding his head, the Kreen turns to Archibald holding out a copper piece in one of his primary hands.
I had almost cho/lost knowledge/forgotten that I ta/to retrieve/owed you this. Thank you, it has saved our lives at least once.
Chatcho proceeds forward and ducks with superfluous caution, scooping up Tik-Tik in his secondary arms.
Brimthenel held his hands together behind his back as he entered, moving with his typical stiffness of posture. The Sparklebraids had been here as long as he could remember. Besides a few foggy memories of Brimthenel's life before the village, there had never been a time where they hadn't loomed large. It was a strange feeling then, to be a guest in the home of such influence. He felt like he was treading ice, with an audience eager to see him fall into the cold waters below.
The young elf gave a wide look around the room, taking in the richness of their host and quietly cursing himself for his slow tongue. "Tea would be lovely. Thank you."
Branch wasn't one for show, or riches or luxuries. They didn't mean much to this water genasi. Honestly, when she needed something she just took it - and that was only when necessary, she didn't consider herself a criminal. So when they entered the Sparklebraids domain, the audacity of it didn't impress her. They had a mission to complete. And then hopefully more of the mystery of their situation will be revealed? She hoped they weren't doing this for nothing, but at least it was something to focus on.
"We need silver, ma'am. There is a creature that has been killing off livestock in the area and is getting dangerously close to doing the same to people. We would like to assist with taking care of the situation. We need silver in order to accomplish this."
"Oh-ho, silver, is it?" Mirabelle does nothing to hide her mirth, clearly not taking the strange people seriously.
The main room of the Sparklebraid household was decadence beyond recourse. A massive fireplace large enough to stand in hosted an equally large fire. Furs covered the seats such that the elegant craftsmanship and detailing was hardly visible, with more furs as rugs in the center of the room. Elegant ironworks make up tables and a chandelier, and trim the wood-paneled walls and fireplace. A younger gnome than Adrnir is sat on one of the chairs, idly watching the bonfire in front of him.
He looks up at the commotion, but before he can speak Adrnir beats him to it. "Is your grandfather in, cild?"
The younger gnome seems none-too-pleased by the address, but reigns in the flash of temper that shoots across his face. "He's with Enitix."
"They're after our silver." Mirabelle comments as she passes, going further into the building, still mirthful at the idea.
"Yes, yes, I heard. But, why should we give it to you?" The younger gnome asks, eyeing the party up-and-down. "What can you give us in return?"
Brimthenel pursed his lips. The wealth of his aristocratic childhood was a distant memory. Most of what he owned, he made himself. "I have little to offer beside a debt of gratitude, which I would rather die than default upon." He spoke with a fatalism that could only be explained by youthful brashness, but the knight had always made a point of living up to his word, to the point of senselessness.
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Branch Dex: 21
A moment after the fire's explosive entrance, water begins to pour in and on the entire area. The all-wood construction of the doorframe, the door itself, and the floor are saved from destruction thanks to Branch's quick thinking, as well as the party's own skins, as they charge fearlessly through the flames, hot on the heels of their friend turned quarry. Granted a quickness by his own mastery of the arts, the elf-warrior is the first to catch up, diving for the man's legs, but Myrkfithr Sveinninn is quicker than expected and he falls short. Seeing that his little flame was not enough to deter the party from chasing, the man lifts a hand and draws another sigil in the air. "Uljoss!" He commands, and again the world twists unnaturally around his words to follow that command. In that instant, Myrkfithr Sveinninn disappears.
Still on the porch where they'd been all this time, Alfreid and the two elves stand abruptly at the sudden chaos. "What's going on?" Alfreid calls, while the two elves speculate amoungst themselves.
Brimthenel shouted in frustration and slammed a fist against the ground. "We needed his help, and he got away." His voice was a petulant grumble as he pushed himself.
Did he truly get away?
Still cradling Tik-Tik in his secondary arms, Chatcho reaches into his pouch with one of his primary arms and pulls out a copper piece. Focusing on the coin, the metal amplifies his psionic energy and casts detect thoughts, searching nearby (30 feet) for thoughts not belonging to those visible.
Frustrated, Branch heads up to the elves and Alfreid and asks, "Would any of you happen to know where we can find Myrkfithr Chetowa? Have any of you seen her recently?"
"Uh, No." Alfreid stumbles, still surprised at all that happened. "I haven't seen her since you all ran off into town yesterday." Having answered, he reinstates his question, "Really, though, what was all that? Why were you chasing him?"
Despite his focusing, despite even the use of the arts, Chatcho doesn't sense the man's presence in the immediate thirty feet. If he was still in the area, he'd already made that distance.
Branch rolls her eyes at Alfreid and responds, "Like Brimthenel said, we needed his help. You weren't helping us, so we moved on."
She turns to Brimthenel, "Any ideas where the two of them might be? Or where we might be able to secure some silver?"
Archibald looks all in a huff. "Let's just say that we're starting to realize why there are people that don't care for these witchy folk. We saved his life not even a week ago, and he's decided to drive himself directly against our attempts to help protect the people. I think it's clear, they do not have the best interest of the town at heart."
Paladin - warforged - orange
"It can be hard to blame them." Elbthalrod muses. "It's hard to say which came first, their indifference to our plight, or ours to theirs. There was a time we helped each other, that woman's help was crucial in those first days. But, some say she was up to darker things when nobody was looking, people started blaming the disappearances on her." The elf shrugs.
Brimthenel rubbed his chin as he considered where the mage could have escaped to. "He's one of the witches' pupils. Rats always hide in whatever hole's nearest, so they'd be my guess."
Branch turns to the knight, "So where do you want to look first? I'm not just going to sit here and wait."
Perhaps this is a sign. Maybe we should focus somewhere else.
"We should ask among the militiamen. They have strong ties to the witches."
"I do wonder, though." Lindinrian muses, "If her apprentice so strongly denied to help you, if there mightn't be a reason for that. If that reason mightn't stem from the witch herself. You may yet track the two of them down, I am certain you all have the wherewithal, but I wouldn't count on the answer changing. Perhaps it is time to consider other avenues? I know of no greater collection of silver than the household of the Sparklebraids, and you've already ingratiated yourself with one of them, I hear."
Branch takes a minute to ponder this and tries to let her anger simmer down. If she ever gets a hold of that boy again....
"Thank you, Lindinrian, that's a good idea." Turning to her companions, "Shall we head back to the farmhouse where we stayed? Lets see what they have as possible material." and she heads off towards the Sparklebraids.
Returning to the farm they'd stayed the night in, and met the creature that was now their quarry, the party spoke with Adrnir Sparklebraid, son of Gimwisa Sparklebraid. After explaining themselves, he is more than happy to help, and leads them down the street, across the strong rope bridge and the river, and through town to the Sparklebraid household. Of stone and mortar, it was a fine building. Extravagant even, compared to the wood and thatch hovels that surround it. This, indeed, was a powerful family in the town.
Adrnir loses no time, stepping up to the ornate doors and pounding upon them. "Ondon thæs dor! Hit sy mec, Adrnir!"
There's a couple minute pause, before they creak open to reveal a woman in a fine gown. "Adrnir!" She purrs, though they both look as if they'd rather not seen the other.
"Mirabelle." Adrnir greets, cooly, "Is Funda home? I wish to introduce the town's newest monster-hunters. They have a favour to ask."
"Do they now?" The human woman looks over the party with a practiced emptiness to her face. "Come then, inside, I'll start on some tea while you explain what kind of favour you need."
Walking forward, Chatcho hits his head on the door frame, angrily clicking his mandibles and dropping Tik-Tik. Holding his head, the Kreen turns to Archibald holding out a copper piece in one of his primary hands.
I had almost cho/lost knowledge/forgotten that I ta/to retrieve/owed you this. Thank you, it has saved our lives at least once.
Chatcho proceeds forward and ducks with superfluous caution, scooping up Tik-Tik in his secondary arms.
Brimthenel held his hands together behind his back as he entered, moving with his typical stiffness of posture. The Sparklebraids had been here as long as he could remember. Besides a few foggy memories of Brimthenel's life before the village, there had never been a time where they hadn't loomed large. It was a strange feeling then, to be a guest in the home of such influence. He felt like he was treading ice, with an audience eager to see him fall into the cold waters below.
The young elf gave a wide look around the room, taking in the richness of their host and quietly cursing himself for his slow tongue. "Tea would be lovely. Thank you."
Brimthenel hated tea.
Branch wasn't one for show, or riches or luxuries. They didn't mean much to this water genasi. Honestly, when she needed something she just took it - and that was only when necessary, she didn't consider herself a criminal. So when they entered the Sparklebraids domain, the audacity of it didn't impress her. They had a mission to complete. And then hopefully more of the mystery of their situation will be revealed? She hoped they weren't doing this for nothing, but at least it was something to focus on.
"We need silver, ma'am. There is a creature that has been killing off livestock in the area and is getting dangerously close to doing the same to people. We would like to assist with taking care of the situation. We need silver in order to accomplish this."
"Oh-ho, silver, is it?" Mirabelle does nothing to hide her mirth, clearly not taking the strange people seriously.
The main room of the Sparklebraid household was decadence beyond recourse. A massive fireplace large enough to stand in hosted an equally large fire. Furs covered the seats such that the elegant craftsmanship and detailing was hardly visible, with more furs as rugs in the center of the room. Elegant ironworks make up tables and a chandelier, and trim the wood-paneled walls and fireplace. A younger gnome than Adrnir is sat on one of the chairs, idly watching the bonfire in front of him.
He looks up at the commotion, but before he can speak Adrnir beats him to it. "Is your grandfather in, cild?"
The younger gnome seems none-too-pleased by the address, but reigns in the flash of temper that shoots across his face. "He's with Enitix."
"They're after our silver." Mirabelle comments as she passes, going further into the building, still mirthful at the idea.
"Yes, yes, I heard. But, why should we give it to you?" The younger gnome asks, eyeing the party up-and-down. "What can you give us in return?"
Brimthenel pursed his lips. The wealth of his aristocratic childhood was a distant memory. Most of what he owned, he made himself. "I have little to offer beside a debt of gratitude, which I would rather die than default upon." He spoke with a fatalism that could only be explained by youthful brashness, but the knight had always made a point of living up to his word, to the point of senselessness.