Lam has been listening to the conversation, his hand leaving his greataxe as it becomes more clear that they are probably not about to fight. He does his best to follow along to Gōpal’s words. When they mention that the river might speak Primordial, Lam glances at Saoirse, wondering if she is thinking the same as him. His own Primordial is at least on par with his common, and hers is even better. He wonders if they could find anything out by listening together.
Lam grunts in agreement with Saoirse and Hemlock, and says, “I agree. HMC should not get full day to go ahead.”
Saoirsenotices Lamlooking at her, and understanding that glance, she smiles and nods. "Lam and I can speak Primordial pretty well, so we could try speak to the river spirit. Who knows, it might have something interesting to share with us. I'm not really sure how to address a spirit but... let's try".
With that, she approaches the water, saying "Dea-spiorad abhann, logh m'aineolas, ach níl a fhios agam i ndáiríre conas ba chóir dom dul i ngleic leat. Saoirse is ainm dom agus seo iad mo chairde: Lam, Hemlock agus Sha-Gravis. Fiú má thug caomhnóir an droichid cead dúinn trasnú go dtí an taobh eile, bhíomar ag iarraidh beannú duit agus do bheannacht a iarraidh freisin."
- Good river spirit, forgive my ignorance, but I do not really know how I should address you. My name is Saoirse and these are my friends: Lam, Hemlock and Sha-Gravis. Even if we have been granted permission by the bridge guardian to cross to the other side, we wanted to greet you and request your blessing as well.
After she finishes speaking, she looks questioningly towards her companions. If they wish to add anything they have but to ask her or Lam, and they will happily translate the questions and whatever answer the river spirit may give them.
"Certainly!". Saoirserepeats in Common what she's said for Hemlockand Sha to understand (and Gōpal, in case the spectator wishes to particpate)and then relays the druid's question to the river spirit.
“Was the bridge an offense against the river spirit? Can they recall whom may have used enchantment on the bridge guardians?” Sha offers as suggested inquiries. “Thank you Saoirse for your wise effort to speak with the river, you too Lam.”
When you get to the end of the bridge, you begin to smell smoke, and you can see a plume of it rising from a half mile north of you - just inside of what your map calls the Greatwood.
Gopal watches your interaction with the River spirit from the bridge.
When Saoirse adresses the waters in Primordial, a horned helmet of impossibly hard ice rises out of the water, and the vague shape of a face waves beneath the helm. It holds a trident. "You have crossed the bridge. You do not need my blessing, you are not in my waters." The spirit seems uninterested in your show of respect, and begins to recede into the water, until you relay the other's questions. "The bridge is old, does not damage the river. It does not offend. The only offence possible is that which unbalances the natural cycles. To make me a guard, stopping passage rather than maintaining the cycles, this offends."In response to the question about the halfling, it answers "I am not permitted to speak of the one that gave me this unnatural task."
The elemental seems more obviously alien than any creature you have interacted with yet, its motives neither cultural or biological. It begins to sink and dematerialize as soon as it finishes speaking, but slowly - it is intrigued.
Hemlock watches as the river spiritr appears from the water and converses with Saoirse in that same alien tongue that she and Lam speak. When it starts to submerge again, he looks at the Fire Genasi questioningly, unsure what has been said but waiting patiently to be updated.
"... okay?", Saoirseis left a little perpexled after the rather strange interaction with the river spirit. She turns to her friends, translates word by word what the spirit has said, and then adds "It's worrisome to see that the spirit is under the Cr—" she begins to say, but ends up correcting herself, "under the same influence asGōpal. Anyway, now we know what they are angry about, all the more reason to keep going and investigate it, right? We must reach the Grave Fort as soon as possible."
It's not a full-blown forest fire, and it doesn't seem.to be being used to send messages, but that smoke is definitely more than would come from a regular campfire or cook fire. They're burning a lot, and less than an hour's walk away from the river.
Lam had expected to be more help in translating the elemental’s primordial for Saoirse. Instead, Lam is mostly speechless as he beholds the creature. He bows his head in respect to it and tries to help Saoirse translate, but mostly stays quiet. When Hemlock points out the smoke and mentions that they should go, Lam straightens up. “Yes. We should go see.” He follows Hemlock’s lead in bowing to Gōpal.
Saoirse, who hadn't seen the smoke plume before, follows Hemlock's gaze and reaches the same conclusion. "Yes, let's not linger here. There probably is someone in neeed of help there. I hope the HMC folk hasn't caused too much trouble already". The blood hunter prepares to leave and nods towards Gopal. "I hope your wounds are healed when we meet again".
Gōpal nods graciously, a movement of his whole mangled body, and watches you all walk away. The river calms slightly as you leave it, but it is still upset. Moving towards the smoke, you rise from the riverbank up along a gentle slope, and the landscape changes as you approach the greatwood. To your left (to the northwest) you can see a creek that feeds the river - the creek leading from the small lake suggested for Sha's ritual. But the smoke leads you away from that.
The forest is remarkable, a dense collection of skyoaks, all roughly the same age - about 500 years old. The skyoaks dwarf any other tree even in their relative youth, but there's nothing in this forest that approaches village tree's lofty canopy. Hemlock and Lam would both notice an odd contour to the forest, though it may take them several minutes to realize just what it is: the skyoaks are arranged in rows and columns, not in natural randomness. They were planted, en masse. All the other, less long-lived foliage seems more naturally arranged, but it shares the signs of forest cultivation that you saw near village tree - people live here, and encourage fruit-bearing and medicinal plants to.grow along subtle paths through the undergrowth. Still, you are on the outskirts of this forest.
You've barely entered among the larger trees when you begin to hear the many disjointed voices of an HMC group, along with the sorrowful wail of at least a couple of Firbolgs.
To see the people.of the camp, and the source of the smoke, would require getting close enough to risk being seen (and require stealth checks).
Hemlock moves with an urgency the others have perhaps not seen before. The fire amongst the forest a concern to be sure, but mainly it is due to the worry of what the HMC will do with the locals when they come across them. The locals apparently being fellow Firbolgs.
"We need to see what is going on", he whispers to Saoirse and Lam as they hear the wails. His expression is close anger, but he is suppressing for now.
He whispers in druidic, "Mam goedwig, caniatâ i ni eich celu", and the shadows descend around them, concealing them from view and muffling the sounds of their footsteps.
Hearing those sorrowful wails, Saoirsehopes they haven't arrived too late. If the HCM folk have hurt any of these people, they will pay dearly for it. This is what she thinks, but seeing Hemlock's expression - a worried one, that is beginning to look like anger - she doesn't say it aloud. Instead, she places a hand on the druid's shoulder, hoping this will calm both him and her a little. They need to be careful now.
Enveloped in the shadows the firbolg has summoned, she follows him towards the camp.
Lam had been watching the trees very intently. When they hear the voices and wails, he stops moving completely and begins to hold his breath. He slowly grabs his greataxe and grips it tightly. His eyes flare in anger when he registers the wailing of the Firbolgs among the voices of the HMC, and he almost seems like he’s about to act without thinking, but then he notices the shadows that close around them. He looks over at his friends and sees them also concealing anger and moving silently under the cover of shadow that Hemlock has summoned, so he follows suit, keeping his steps and his breathing as silent as possible. He seems more adept to hiding in the shadows than you’d think a creature of his size would be.
The skyoaks are spaced fairly widely apart, but the layers of young forest growing between them makes that less obvious, until you get close to this camp. The underbrush has been cleared away around one skyoak, opening up a large clearing in a radius around it, marked by the small trunks of young trees chopped down, and piles of shredded shrubs. The mood among most in the camp is disappointed, disgruntled, resigned. The HMC workers, all armed now, are leaning on the wagons or sitting around the couple of recently assembled campfire rings. Sha spots one of them who you know well: Billy Beerbelly seems especially dejected. They are generally avoiding looking towards what is happening by the great tree, where a warrior in plate armor stands with a greatsword held ready to strike down two firbolgs if they take a step closer to the trunk. The two of them are wailing in anguish, unable to stop the woman that the armored man is protecting.
The woman is human, or perhaps half-elf, her hair is dark, and cropped short. She wears a flowing robe that could conceal all manner of things beneath it, and an expression of cold. sadistic malice. She is maintaining a fire in a fresh hollow in the skyoak tree, throwing another bolt of flame into it every few seconds. The smoke you saw from further away is rising out of the fire burning inside the tree, which she is clearly attempting to slowly burn in a controlled, intentional death. "This can all stop. Get your chief, get them to bow down and admit that this forest is a property of the Duchy, and bring me to the temple in the center of the forest. Until you do these things, this tree will burn. And then another, and another. If I do not have what I want by nightfall, the moon's light will pale in comparison to the light of the wildfire I ignite. Am I clear?"
The older of the two firbolgs, a matronly elder, responds slowly, her fists clenched and tears streaming down her cheeks. "I told you, we have no chief. The old temple is sacred, we can not take you there, but please! Do not do this. You are killing a thing of grace and beauty, a life centuries old. Stop this!" She moves forwards, and is immediately knocked backwards by a backhanded strike from the armored man's gauntleted hand.
Lam has been listening to the conversation, his hand leaving his greataxe as it becomes more clear that they are probably not about to fight. He does his best to follow along to Gōpal’s words. When they mention that the river might speak Primordial, Lam glances at Saoirse, wondering if she is thinking the same as him. His own Primordial is at least on par with his common, and hers is even better. He wonders if they could find anything out by listening together.
Lam grunts in agreement with Saoirse and Hemlock, and says, “I agree. HMC should not get full day to go ahead.”
Saoirse notices Lam looking at her, and understanding that glance, she smiles and nods. "Lam and I can speak Primordial pretty well, so we could try speak to the river spirit. Who knows, it might have something interesting to share with us. I'm not really sure how to address a spirit but... let's try".
With that, she approaches the water, saying "Dea-spiorad abhann, logh m'aineolas, ach níl a fhios agam i ndáiríre conas ba chóir dom dul i ngleic leat. Saoirse is ainm dom agus seo iad mo chairde: Lam, Hemlock agus Sha-Gravis. Fiú má thug caomhnóir an droichid cead dúinn trasnú go dtí an taobh eile, bhíomar ag iarraidh beannú duit agus do bheannacht a iarraidh freisin."
- Good river spirit, forgive my ignorance, but I do not really know how I should address you. My name is Saoirse and these are my friends: Lam, Hemlock and Sha-Gravis. Even if we have been granted permission by the bridge guardian to cross to the other side, we wanted to greet you and request your blessing as well.
After she finishes speaking, she looks questioningly towards her companions. If they wish to add anything they have but to ask her or Lam, and they will happily translate the questions and whatever answer the river spirit may give them.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Seeing what Saoirse is doing, Hemlock wanders across and places a hand on her shoulder, helping her in the only way he knows how in the circumstance.
"I am not sure what you said, but perhaps ask it if they remember the Halfling that summoned Gōpal", he says, hoping she hadn't asked that already.
"Certainly!". Saoirse repeats in Common what she's said for Hemlock and Sha to understand (and Gōpal, in case the spectator wishes to particpate) and then relays the druid's question to the river spirit.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
"Oh yes, it is good to show respect, that sounds good", Hemlock replies to Saoirse on hearing what she said originally.
“Was the bridge an offense against the river spirit? Can they recall whom may have used enchantment on the bridge guardians?” Sha offers as suggested inquiries. “Thank you Saoirse for your wise effort to speak with the river, you too Lam.”
When you get to the end of the bridge, you begin to smell smoke, and you can see a plume of it rising from a half mile north of you - just inside of what your map calls the Greatwood.
Gopal watches your interaction with the River spirit from the bridge.
When Saoirse adresses the waters in Primordial, a horned helmet of impossibly hard ice rises out of the water, and the vague shape of a face waves beneath the helm. It holds a trident. "You have crossed the bridge. You do not need my blessing, you are not in my waters." The spirit seems uninterested in your show of respect, and begins to recede into the water, until you relay the other's questions. "The bridge is old, does not damage the river. It does not offend. The only offence possible is that which unbalances the natural cycles. To make me a guard, stopping passage rather than maintaining the cycles, this offends." In response to the question about the halfling, it answers "I am not permitted to speak of the one that gave me this unnatural task."
The elemental seems more obviously alien than any creature you have interacted with yet, its motives neither cultural or biological. It begins to sink and dematerialize as soon as it finishes speaking, but slowly - it is intrigued.
DM: Heavy is the Head
Hemlock watches as the river spiritr appears from the water and converses with Saoirse in that same alien tongue that she and Lam speak. When it starts to submerge again, he looks at the Fire Genasi questioningly, unsure what has been said but waiting patiently to be updated.
"... okay?", Saoirse is left a little perpexled after the rather strange interaction with the river spirit. She turns to her friends, translates word by word what the spirit has said, and then adds "It's worrisome to see that the spirit is under the Cr—" she begins to say, but ends up correcting herself, "under the same influence as Gōpal. Anyway, now we know what they are angry about, all the more reason to keep going and investigate it, right? We must reach the Grave Fort as soon as possible."
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
"Concerning indeed", Hemlock agrees. "And they will say no more? Perhaps why the locals were allowed to pass back and forth?", he asks.
It is then that he notices the plume of smoke, and turns to focus on it, trying to determine how big a fire would cause it.
Perception: 2+6=8 (Passive: 16)
It's not a full-blown forest fire, and it doesn't seem.to be being used to send messages, but that smoke is definitely more than would come from a regular campfire or cook fire. They're burning a lot, and less than an hour's walk away from the river.
DM: Heavy is the Head
Hemlock points at the smoke, "I believe our time here is up, something does not sit right with that smoke. I fear for the people of the forest".
With that, he turns to Gōpal and bows his head, "We will be back".
Lam had expected to be more help in translating the elemental’s primordial for Saoirse. Instead, Lam is mostly speechless as he beholds the creature. He bows his head in respect to it and tries to help Saoirse translate, but mostly stays quiet. When Hemlock points out the smoke and mentions that they should go, Lam straightens up. “Yes. We should go see.” He follows Hemlock’s lead in bowing to Gōpal.
Saoirse, who hadn't seen the smoke plume before, follows Hemlock's gaze and reaches the same conclusion. "Yes, let's not linger here. There probably is someone in neeed of help there. I hope the HMC folk hasn't caused too much trouble already". The blood hunter prepares to leave and nods towards Gopal. "I hope your wounds are healed when we meet again".
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Gōpal nods graciously, a movement of his whole mangled body, and watches you all walk away. The river calms slightly as you leave it, but it is still upset. Moving towards the smoke, you rise from the riverbank up along a gentle slope, and the landscape changes as you approach the greatwood. To your left (to the northwest) you can see a creek that feeds the river - the creek leading from the small lake suggested for Sha's ritual. But the smoke leads you away from that.
The forest is remarkable, a dense collection of skyoaks, all roughly the same age - about 500 years old. The skyoaks dwarf any other tree even in their relative youth, but there's nothing in this forest that approaches village tree's lofty canopy. Hemlock and Lam would both notice an odd contour to the forest, though it may take them several minutes to realize just what it is: the skyoaks are arranged in rows and columns, not in natural randomness. They were planted, en masse. All the other, less long-lived foliage seems more naturally arranged, but it shares the signs of forest cultivation that you saw near village tree - people live here, and encourage fruit-bearing and medicinal plants to.grow along subtle paths through the undergrowth. Still, you are on the outskirts of this forest.
You've barely entered among the larger trees when you begin to hear the many disjointed voices of an HMC group, along with the sorrowful wail of at least a couple of Firbolgs.
To see the people.of the camp, and the source of the smoke, would require getting close enough to risk being seen (and require stealth checks).
DM: Heavy is the Head
Hemlock moves with an urgency the others have perhaps not seen before. The fire amongst the forest a concern to be sure, but mainly it is due to the worry of what the HMC will do with the locals when they come across them. The locals apparently being fellow Firbolgs.
"We need to see what is going on", he whispers to Saoirse and Lam as they hear the wails. His expression is close anger, but he is suppressing for now.
He whispers in druidic, "Mam goedwig, caniatâ i ni eich celu", and the shadows descend around them, concealing them from view and muffling the sounds of their footsteps.
"Mother forest, grant us your concealment".
He then moves carefully towards the camp.
Stealth (with Pass Without Trace): 7+2+10=19
Hearing those sorrowful wails, Saoirse hopes they haven't arrived too late. If the HCM folk have hurt any of these people, they will pay dearly for it. This is what she thinks, but seeing Hemlock's expression - a worried one, that is beginning to look like anger - she doesn't say it aloud. Instead, she places a hand on the druid's shoulder, hoping this will calm both him and her a little. They need to be careful now.
Enveloped in the shadows the firbolg has summoned, she follows him towards the camp.
Stealth: 15 + PWT = 25.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Lam had been watching the trees very intently. When they hear the voices and wails, he stops moving completely and begins to hold his breath. He slowly grabs his greataxe and grips it tightly. His eyes flare in anger when he registers the wailing of the Firbolgs among the voices of the HMC, and he almost seems like he’s about to act without thinking, but then he notices the shadows that close around them. He looks over at his friends and sees them also concealing anger and moving silently under the cover of shadow that Hemlock has summoned, so he follows suit, keeping his steps and his breathing as silent as possible. He seems more adept to hiding in the shadows than you’d think a creature of his size would be.
Stealth: 15, plus PWT is 25! Thanks Hemlock!
Sha quickly climbs a skyoak to get a better look…
perception 23
The skyoaks are spaced fairly widely apart, but the layers of young forest growing between them makes that less obvious, until you get close to this camp. The underbrush has been cleared away around one skyoak, opening up a large clearing in a radius around it, marked by the small trunks of young trees chopped down, and piles of shredded shrubs. The mood among most in the camp is disappointed, disgruntled, resigned. The HMC workers, all armed now, are leaning on the wagons or sitting around the couple of recently assembled campfire rings. Sha spots one of them who you know well: Billy Beerbelly seems especially dejected. They are generally avoiding looking towards what is happening by the great tree, where a warrior in plate armor stands with a greatsword held ready to strike down two firbolgs if they take a step closer to the trunk. The two of them are wailing in anguish, unable to stop the woman that the armored man is protecting.
The woman is human, or perhaps half-elf, her hair is dark, and cropped short. She wears a flowing robe that could conceal all manner of things beneath it, and an expression of cold. sadistic malice. She is maintaining a fire in a fresh hollow in the skyoak tree, throwing another bolt of flame into it every few seconds. The smoke you saw from further away is rising out of the fire burning inside the tree, which she is clearly attempting to slowly burn in a controlled, intentional death. "This can all stop. Get your chief, get them to bow down and admit that this forest is a property of the Duchy, and bring me to the temple in the center of the forest. Until you do these things, this tree will burn. And then another, and another. If I do not have what I want by nightfall, the moon's light will pale in comparison to the light of the wildfire I ignite. Am I clear?"
The older of the two firbolgs, a matronly elder, responds slowly, her fists clenched and tears streaming down her cheeks. "I told you, we have no chief. The old temple is sacred, we can not take you there, but please! Do not do this. You are killing a thing of grace and beauty, a life centuries old. Stop this!" She moves forwards, and is immediately knocked backwards by a backhanded strike from the armored man's gauntleted hand.
"You will do as I say."
https://www.owlbear.rodeo/room/5nRs1L_uFdxM/HeavyistheHeadPBP
DM: Heavy is the Head