Angus's gaze remains fixed on the distant isle for a few moments, "Unfortunately, I was but a child during that time, I didn't witness any of those fleeing the island."
Angus, seeing Rivyre frantically begin collecting her things, calmly blocks the door, "Woah now, you can't possibly think you'll make it through that storm alone. As I told you before, all previous travelers to the island came back sliced into ribbons, experienced hunters and warriors alike. Think of it this way, either your family is already out of harm's way, or they've found somewhere safe on the island to hold out."
"I'll have Feoch to you all shortly then. I'm sure he's as eager to get on the move as you all are."
A strange mist. That didn't bode well. exactly what it might mean escaped Sascha, at least in this moment. Still she could see the discomfort of the soldiers. It clearly troubled even veteran sailors, and that was an uncomfortable thing. Taking a deep breath, she spared another glance back toward the remnants of the druid's crowd. She was glad for a moment that she had a sword by her side, just in case things would escalate if the followers of the Old Gods spotted the monk.
"Well, friends. I'll return shortly. Please tell your captain that Lady Sascha Von Syndow sends her regards."
On that note, Sascha returns to her mount, and begins to ride, her intent is to return to the inn,, and fetch Brother Feoch. As she goes, she murmurs a prayer for peace and safety. Both for her, and the Monk.
Giving Angus a very stern & serious glare, "It has been over century since i've been home! If you think i'm going to stand idly by not knowing if my family is safe or alive after coming all this way, you are sadly mistaken! I appreciate the hospitality, information you've provided, & the respect you've shown me as I know the Sacred Flame is not welcome here. Unless you know another way I can find my family or any information regarding them...,tears start to form in her eyes as any negative thoughts of them being trapped & possibly dead begin to weigh heavy on Rivyre.
A small glimmer of hope comes to Rivyre w/ tears still pooling in the bottoms of her eyes..., "Tell me Angus, does the Abbey of Saint Hugh still stand in Lake Cygnet near Enniskillen?"
"We'll do that, ma'am," the sailor says, bowing his head. As Sascha mounts her horse to ride back to the inn, the two sailors climb back on the deck of the ship, and stand closer together talking as they watch the Druid and his crowd. Shortly after, another man joins their conversation from below deck, but he's dressed in traveling leathers, furs, and is armed, a longbow strung and hung to his back, and a shortsword belted at his waist. That certainly won't be the captain--another passenger, perhaps. He looks extremely well-bundled against cold weather--more like they dress in the far north than anywhere in Westemar.
The Druid and his fur-clad warriors are now moving off of the dock in a kind of procession, the warriors pushing the crowd aside in two ranks on either side of the Druid who holds the crystal. The crew of the longship is unloading supplies now--barrels of mead, weapons, clothing, a few head of Westemaran cattle that are steered straight for the shambles up on the hill amongst the inns. But there is none of the usual loot of gold and silver jewelry or censers and chalices pilfered from a church. Sascha might wonder if all of the usual loot secured by Lochlann raiders was traded for that one shard of delerium. The Druid and his warriors begin to sing one of the savage hymns to Kromac, a kind of heavy, rhythmic chant that pounds in your ears and is difficult not to be drawn into. Two of the warriors pull out frame drums and beat them with their axe handles in time to the chant.
As Solis clambers back up the hill, his breath coming in great clouds of steam, Sascha can tell that the sun is well up, now, though she cannot see it, as the mist acts like a fog, diffusing the daylight and giving it no clear source. The cozy stone inn where she left Brother Feock has lamps lit in its windows, and smoke billows from its chimney from a roaring fire against the cold. While a few stragglers are beginning to appear to occupy their trades at the sawmill and some of the other workshops, the traffic is still much less than Sascha has seen it before. Are they really all that worried about the mist?
Sascha lets her horse back into the livery yard while she goes to look for Brother Feock. The common room of the small inn holds a single long table with an ale barrel on tap. Travelers headed out fill up their own mug as they go. And, Brother Feock is already there, waiting for her, his meager bags packed and his heavy wool cowl covering him warmly over his thinner habit. He smiles. "Flame be with you, Lady Sascha! I've had word that my ship is here. I assume you've been to the docks and can confirm this?"
"Flame be with you, brother. Aye. It's here... We had best be careful though. The followers of Kromac have worked themselves up. We'd best move quickly, and keep our prayers to ourselves. At least until you're at sea."
Sascha knew that the habit was recognizable, but she hoped they might escape with sour looks, or heckling as long as Feock didn't choose this time to play the evangelist. She approaches the monk, moving to collect his bags for him. "The captain seems eager to get going. Apparently the weather hasn't been favorable for sailing and he'd prefer to be away while it's relatively mild."
Reflecting on the dreary weather, she was a little jealous of the fact Feock was bound for Elyria. She collected the man's baggage and began to head out, to secure his baggage to Solis. She bade farewell to the inkeep, and to any staff they passed. Only speaking to the monk again once the two of them were outside the cozy stone building. She glanced back toward it for a moment. It certainly wasn't opulent, but it had been welcoming, and comfortable. That was more than the soldier had known for a while.
"I can't say I'm not jealous of you. Bound for the warmth and light of Lumen. Would you like to ride, today? It may be prudent, given the circumstances"
She offered this after a moment of hesitancy. The thought was simple. she'd lead the horse on foot, and if there did so happen to be trouble, Feock would have the advantage of being on horseback to get himself away from danger. Not that she expected the monk to be much of an equestrian.
"Ah, have they now? It's very likely the weather. In my years here on Skye I've only seen this unseason come one other time, but the more superstitious folk are quite frightened of it. They say the dead have been seen walking during Vague. Of course, we'll be discrete." The monk smiles as he also bids farewell to the innkeeper, handing over a few coins for his own and Sascha's lodgings.
Brother Feock follows Sascha outside as she secures his baggage to Solis. "There's a good fellow," he says, patting the horse on the nose. He chuckles. "It's a bit soft of me, isn't it? Flying south like a bird in the winter! Still, it will be good to see our Holy City once more as I prepare for my next assignment." Brother Feock smiles. "Ah, but to ride, I, a monk? What a figure I would cut on such a courser! No, I think I will stay on foot, as befits my humble station. And if there is any trouble, I'd rather you be the mobile one, not I! Oh, and my lady, certainly you have done an excellent job accompanying me on this journey. Let me give you your payment now, for I will soon be on my way, and if the Captain wants us to be quick about it, I'll leave not an extra reason to delay." As Sascha finishes with the bags, he counts out 25 gold and hands them to her.
"I'm afraid the activity is beyond me as well, I can't think of anything we did to activate that reaction, it was starting as we came in, and just as quickly stilled." he shakes his head looking at his papers for his notes, not that that did much good at the moment. "I think it best if we step away, the grief here is almost physical, and it would likely be a good idea to report this to.... anyone who will believe that the gates can start up by themselves I suppose."
"Aye, it does...Give me a moment to collect my things and we'll be on our way." Angus turns to hearth and kneels down to the bloodhound, Timber. He pulls a stick of incense from a nearby shelf, the same incense used in the temples of the Sacred Flame, "Go with our guest here and lead her to the Abbey, will you old friend?" The hound lifts his head, sniffing the stick of incense, sneezes, then trots to the end of the porch and sits. The dog turns his head towards Rivyre, expectantly. "I'll follow shortly behind. I was running low on supplies so I need to ready the sled. Timber there will guide you. I'm sure the roads and towns have changed in the time you've been away."
"Yes, let us leave this place and inform the council of the activity at the gates." Valanthe says picking up dropped items and trying to usher the other two out of the dome. "Listening to the council discuss anything is more appealing than staying here..."
As they quietly make their way towards the crying baby, through the frozen woods,Alorin and Ellynel take care to keep an eye on the Emerald Door behind them. He spots the gnome come in behind them, and while he doesn't immediately recognize the newcomer, he expects any intervention at this stage to be more likely related to the Hunt than not. As such, he gives the gnome another keen glance, and tries to discern any oddities or inconsistencies in his behavior (Insight: 10).
He then turns towards the mewling babe, and seeing as he still has the lead in this chase, decides to make sure he is the first to reach the babe. While doing his best to remain hidden, Alorin heads as quickly as he can to pick up the infant.
Thamno looks around and nods. "Yes, we should make mention of this event to those who might know more. I have a feeling that the unseason of Vague has something to do with this, but before we do that I might try something which has yielded some results in the past. Though what it will do for us right now... who knows?
He walks outside and stares at some of the immense trees that stand guard around the dome. Slowly he approaches the one that is close by the dome and he lies down on his back, his head just touching the trunk and his eyes looking up into the canopy. His eyes close and he breathes deeply, slowly and waits for his body to get that rising feeling. Then, just like sap rising in the bark of a tree, he feels his consciousness open and up and slow down at the same time. The giant tree next to him comes alive and he gets the distinct feeling of being held in someone's arms. It is difficult to focus when communicating with a consciousness so different from your own but at last he manages to piece together a single thought. He forms the thought, grows it into a leaf and then drops that onto the soil next to the tree. Whether this is happening in real life or just his imagination, he still does not know. But as he ponders about the reality of this experience he feels the leaf decompose at the roots of the tree and become absorbed into its root system.
"Did you also just feel a huge surge of grief and magic pass through this place? Has this happened before? What could it mean?"
Believing he too is the first on the scene, but not sharing Alorin's cautionary approach, Moz starts trudging through the snow and in between the trees towards the Druid hut. Crouching behind a tree for a moment to catch his breath he looks up at the Imp flying off.
"Iago, when you find that baby stay out of sight and let me know if you see anyone or anything." Iago looks back with a thumbs up. "Copy that boss, don't get killed."
Looking down he see some pawprints from a squirrel "Right, Alorin has his little doggie too. Hmmmm the dog could be a problem, but lets see if this works." He thinks to himself. Bending over he picks up a few pine needles from under the tree and with an arcane word, he flicks the pine needles into the air (Casts Prestidigitation) He then continues on his merry way toward the Druids hut and the crying child, softly humming a tune.
(Performance: 19+5=24 for Gnome disguise. Moz is not trying to conceal his approach. He is not running, but moving full movement. Iago is flying ahead as fast as he can.)
Upon seeing the dog sniff the incense, she seems puzzled Angus would keep the same materials the Faith uses knowing he worships the Old Gods. As much as she wants to ask why he has such materials..., Angus has been exteremtley accomadating & non-judgemental! So she feels it's not necessary & unwise to "poke the bear" on the subject. She turns to Angus, "Thank you so much for all your help & accomadations. It has been so long since i've been home & I wan't expecting much kindness & understanding w/ the religion that I serve now. To that end..., I do not wish to burnden you furher by going to Enniskillen & the Abbey of Saint Hugh if that makes you uncomfortable. Should the servents of 'The Faith' not have the answers I wish to know about family and/or the cause of the storm over Almorra, my next stop would be the Starspire Observatory run by the Amethyst Academy. Perhaps the storm is arcane in nature..., i'm not sure. You are welcome to leave at any time & not help me in my endeavor should it conflict w/ your beliefs. I will not be offended." Rivyre waits for any response before follwing Angus's dog to the Abbey.
"Don't worry lassie, you've been no trouble at all." Angus quickly turns to the back window, briefly opens it and shouts a word in Sylvan before continuing his rummaging, "I've been mighty curios about that isle. I knew that, one day, the people of Skye would reclaim that dark island and rediscover its history. I also planned on being among those that did the discovering," The ritualistic totems that adorned the hearth now sit together around Angus'sneck. "Better to rediscover the ancient history and homes of two people's then, aye?"
Angusquickly gathers the rest of his equipment and brushes past Rivyrewith a pat on the shoulder. The usual view from the porch is now blocked by a large and majestic bovine, it's layered white and red coat glistens in the morning light as it shakes off a layer of snow. Angus gives the beast a sritch under the ears before fastening a sled to it.
"This fair lady is Crodh Sith, but I call her Beef. She was a gifted to me a few years back to help me live off the land."With another word of Sylvan, the cow starts trotting down the mountain, with Angus beside it.
"My thanks, Brother. Let's be off then!" Sascha declares as she transfers the coin to her own purse without double-checking the count.. She was determined not to drag her feet given the circumstances - it was for that reason she didn't debate. She was mobile enough on foot, but that wasn't going to convince the monk. Sascha was soon mounted, riding Solis at a slow and stable pace to stick beside She begins the ride back toward the ship, wary at the shouts and chants she had heard earlier. She didn't seek any quarrel with the followers of Kromac but she knew that to such folk, the faith of the Sacred Flame were a foreign, and hostile force. The present threat wasn't wasted on her.
The great tree that Thamnochooses responds in the slow, deep way of trees. Thamno feels the echo of roots below him, spreading out as vast and sensitive a canopy underground as the one that shades Eladria above. Something like a deep sigh resonates in his bones, and despite his smallness next to the tree, he feels a kinship of centuries... both of them have witnessed much.
"Long.... long ago.... you came... tremors...unnatural... of pain and chaos... came with you.... but they faded and decomposed.... we have lived in peace with you... not so long ago.... I felt the tremors again.... but they passed beyond these shores... now I feel.... they have come back here." The image of the leaf slowly decomposing into the roots is halted, arrested, and that same leaf, instead of breaking down naturally, begins to grow in chaotic patterns, in a kind of brutal simplicity, flickering with octarine sparks, having none of the delicacy of the form of a part of a tree. A sensation of pain comes from the tree, like that of taking up poison into its roots. "They are here. Beware!"
The silent half-elf wrapped in dark hood and leathers against the freezing mist cautiously regards the strange gnome as he casts a spell and meanders from the Emerald Door towards Kromac's clearing. Ellynel sniffs the air, as silent as her companion, and possibly Prestidigitation has thrown her off, she seems not to recognize any familiar scent. But Alorin does indeed have the lead---so far as he can see---and he knows he must waste no time. Silently he and El run over the bed of fir needles that layers the forest floor, and onto the white expanse of snow that covers the clearing. Though they cannot help but leave footprints in the snow, the two of them are silent as shadows headed straight for the crying babe.
Neither Iago nor Moz spot the pair, Iago's invisible flight circling him around the clearing. He has, however, just spotted a strange movement of the shadows at the edge of the woods that Moz has just left, when the stillness of the icy mist is suddenly broken by the blast of hunting horns---mellow and haunting, but no longer far away. The hunting party is here.
They make no attempt to hide their presence. The terrible baying of the fairy hounds leap into chorus following the blast, and the wild, laughing neigh of a fairy steed comes close behind. Shadows burst forth from the tree line, falling darkly on the snowy ground under the mist, but the figures that are casting the shadows--or ought to be--aren't visible. From above, Iago can see the shadows of three hounds and a rider upon a steed, moving at terrible speed, straight towards the helpless infant, and heedless that his master Moz the gnome is right in their path.
Moz feels only a sudden wind, and an awful chill that sinks into his bones... but he heard the hunting horns right behind him, and knows he's about to be outrun.
Alorin and El, racing towards the babe, have a head start. El leaps forward and throws herself in front of the stone hut by which the swaddled babe lies, and turns to face the foreboding woods, her hackles raised and her teeth bared in a snarl. Gnome and hunting party alike must get through her first, her confident, aggressive stance seems to say.
Brother Feock follows close at the side of Solis, his arms folded beneath his heavy woolen cowl, his breath frosty in the frigid air. The sun shines wanly through the weight of the mist, but even with its morning light, it is hard to see much distinctly beyond a hundred feet or so. As the two approach the docks once more, the procession of Kromac's Druid and his shard of delerium are no longer in sight, though the heavy beat of drums and the distant rhythmic chant still echo from somewhere up on the hill that sits above the confluence of the Cygnet River and the Gadabout River as they trickle out into the bay.
Solis' hooves clop heavily on the dock planks slick with frozen sea spray. The Elyrian ship appears again out of the mist as they approach, and seems to have drawn its own small crowd--besides the two sailors, there are now two armed men standing with them, the one that Sascha saw earlier, and another, both of them bundled well in furs. They gesture animatedly as they have what seems to be a heated discussion with the sailors, and with another man standing on the docks. As Sascha and Brother Feock approach, the men's conversation slowly becomes audible, stark in the silence of the mist.
"As anxious as the Captain is to disembark," the man standing on the dock says, in a thick Elyrian accent, "I think there is good reason to delay. A higher duty calls us to put a stop to this." He hears the warhorse's approach, and turns to face Sascha and Brother Feock. "Hail, now, who goes there?" he calls out. Although he is wrapped in a heavy cloak for warmth, Sascha can see the glint of plate armor beneath it as he moves, and this man too is armed, with a longsword at his waist and a shield on his back.
Brother Feock speaks up. "Hail brother, Feock Fenton at your service! Don't let my entourage fool you, I am but a humble monk who couldn't carry the weight of his own bags. I've a charter with you to return home to Elyria."
"Good, welcome, Brother. Then we're just waiting on one more," one of the sailors says. "If Sir Lorn does not insist on a delay. May we help you with your bags?" Both of the sailors leap off of the ship and approach Sascha and Feock.
"Lead on, replies Rivyre. Come now Syletha. A new task is upon us!" "Meow"as Syletha perches herself & wraps around the back of Rivyre's neck.
Walking beside Angus & Beef & talking, "Perhaps you can tell me what you know of all the local factions that live here on Skye on our way down to the Chapel of Saint Hugh since my parents never taught me while we lived in isolation on Almorra. I would like to know who else i'm dealing with & avoid any complications & hostilities should they arise. You can skip over the Sacred Flame in Enniskillen & the Amethyst Academy @ the Starspire Observatory. I'm well familiar w/ what they're doing here & their interests in Skye."
Perception Check (13) + Guidance (2)= 15 Keeping a watchful eye for any suprises on the road.
Thamno slowly opens his eyes and looks up at the canopy. His senses are still reeling a bit and it feels weird to start moving again, his intuition is to remain here. Forever in one place. But then his mind returns to the subject at hand, and the two people who might still be waiting for him so he gets up and takes a bottle from his pack. He offers his whole bottle of water to the tree in thanks. The experience has left him drained and thirsty but this is more important. Then he gets up and walks over to the other two. "I fear that this is indeed a pressing matter. The tree spoke of tremors, waves of energy that were released just now. They recognized it as a similar event to when we passed through this gate. It gave me an image of their roots being poisoned with something unnatural.Shall we head into town? Who could we speak to about this?" Without skipping a beat he motions for them to start. He seems almost giddy at this point. Grateful and happy that his contact with the tree yielded something important. "I say we walk and talk, this seems of importance."
Angus Lochlan
Angus's gaze remains fixed on the distant isle for a few moments, "Unfortunately, I was but a child during that time, I didn't witness any of those fleeing the island."
Angus, seeing Rivyre frantically begin collecting her things, calmly blocks the door, "Woah now, you can't possibly think you'll make it through that storm alone. As I told you before, all previous travelers to the island came back sliced into ribbons, experienced hunters and warriors alike. Think of it this way, either your family is already out of harm's way, or they've found somewhere safe on the island to hold out."
"I'll have Feoch to you all shortly then. I'm sure he's as eager to get on the move as you all are."
A strange mist. That didn't bode well. exactly what it might mean escaped Sascha, at least in this moment. Still she could see the discomfort of the soldiers. It clearly troubled even veteran sailors, and that was an uncomfortable thing. Taking a deep breath, she spared another glance back toward the remnants of the druid's crowd. She was glad for a moment that she had a sword by her side, just in case things would escalate if the followers of the Old Gods spotted the monk.
"Well, friends. I'll return shortly. Please tell your captain that Lady Sascha Von Syndow sends her regards."
On that note, Sascha returns to her mount, and begins to ride, her intent is to return to the inn,, and fetch Brother Feoch. As she goes, she murmurs a prayer for peace and safety. Both for her, and the Monk.
Rivyre Lightdove
Giving Angus a very stern & serious glare, "It has been over century since i've been home! If you think i'm going to stand idly by not knowing if my family is safe or alive after coming all this way, you are sadly mistaken! I appreciate the hospitality, information you've provided, & the respect you've shown me as I know the Sacred Flame is not welcome here. Unless you know another way I can find my family or any information regarding them..., tears start to form in her eyes as any negative thoughts of them being trapped & possibly dead begin to weigh heavy on Rivyre.
A small glimmer of hope comes to Rivyre w/ tears still pooling in the bottoms of her eyes..., "Tell me Angus, does the Abbey of Saint Hugh still stand in Lake Cygnet near Enniskillen?"
Sascha Von Syndowe
"We'll do that, ma'am," the sailor says, bowing his head. As Sascha mounts her horse to ride back to the inn, the two sailors climb back on the deck of the ship, and stand closer together talking as they watch the Druid and his crowd. Shortly after, another man joins their conversation from below deck, but he's dressed in traveling leathers, furs, and is armed, a longbow strung and hung to his back, and a shortsword belted at his waist. That certainly won't be the captain--another passenger, perhaps. He looks extremely well-bundled against cold weather--more like they dress in the far north than anywhere in Westemar.
The Druid and his fur-clad warriors are now moving off of the dock in a kind of procession, the warriors pushing the crowd aside in two ranks on either side of the Druid who holds the crystal. The crew of the longship is unloading supplies now--barrels of mead, weapons, clothing, a few head of Westemaran cattle that are steered straight for the shambles up on the hill amongst the inns. But there is none of the usual loot of gold and silver jewelry or censers and chalices pilfered from a church. Sascha might wonder if all of the usual loot secured by Lochlann raiders was traded for that one shard of delerium. The Druid and his warriors begin to sing one of the savage hymns to Kromac, a kind of heavy, rhythmic chant that pounds in your ears and is difficult not to be drawn into. Two of the warriors pull out frame drums and beat them with their axe handles in time to the chant.
As Solis clambers back up the hill, his breath coming in great clouds of steam, Sascha can tell that the sun is well up, now, though she cannot see it, as the mist acts like a fog, diffusing the daylight and giving it no clear source. The cozy stone inn where she left Brother Feock has lamps lit in its windows, and smoke billows from its chimney from a roaring fire against the cold. While a few stragglers are beginning to appear to occupy their trades at the sawmill and some of the other workshops, the traffic is still much less than Sascha has seen it before. Are they really all that worried about the mist?
Sascha lets her horse back into the livery yard while she goes to look for Brother Feock. The common room of the small inn holds a single long table with an ale barrel on tap. Travelers headed out fill up their own mug as they go. And, Brother Feock is already there, waiting for her, his meager bags packed and his heavy wool cowl covering him warmly over his thinner habit. He smiles. "Flame be with you, Lady Sascha! I've had word that my ship is here. I assume you've been to the docks and can confirm this?"
"Flame be with you, brother. Aye. It's here... We had best be careful though. The followers of Kromac have worked themselves up. We'd best move quickly, and keep our prayers to ourselves. At least until you're at sea."
Sascha knew that the habit was recognizable, but she hoped they might escape with sour looks, or heckling as long as Feock didn't choose this time to play the evangelist. She approaches the monk, moving to collect his bags for him. "The captain seems eager to get going. Apparently the weather hasn't been favorable for sailing and he'd prefer to be away while it's relatively mild."
Reflecting on the dreary weather, she was a little jealous of the fact Feock was bound for Elyria. She collected the man's baggage and began to head out, to secure his baggage to Solis. She bade farewell to the inkeep, and to any staff they passed. Only speaking to the monk again once the two of them were outside the cozy stone building. She glanced back toward it for a moment. It certainly wasn't opulent, but it had been welcoming, and comfortable. That was more than the soldier had known for a while.
"I can't say I'm not jealous of you. Bound for the warmth and light of Lumen. Would you like to ride, today? It may be prudent, given the circumstances"
She offered this after a moment of hesitancy. The thought was simple. she'd lead the horse on foot, and if there did so happen to be trouble, Feock would have the advantage of being on horseback to get himself away from danger. Not that she expected the monk to be much of an equestrian.
Sascha Von Syndowe
"Ah, have they now? It's very likely the weather. In my years here on Skye I've only seen this unseason come one other time, but the more superstitious folk are quite frightened of it. They say the dead have been seen walking during Vague. Of course, we'll be discrete." The monk smiles as he also bids farewell to the innkeeper, handing over a few coins for his own and Sascha's lodgings.
Brother Feock follows Sascha outside as she secures his baggage to Solis. "There's a good fellow," he says, patting the horse on the nose. He chuckles. "It's a bit soft of me, isn't it? Flying south like a bird in the winter! Still, it will be good to see our Holy City once more as I prepare for my next assignment." Brother Feock smiles. "Ah, but to ride, I, a monk? What a figure I would cut on such a courser! No, I think I will stay on foot, as befits my humble station. And if there is any trouble, I'd rather you be the mobile one, not I! Oh, and my lady, certainly you have done an excellent job accompanying me on this journey. Let me give you your payment now, for I will soon be on my way, and if the Captain wants us to be quick about it, I'll leave not an extra reason to delay." As Sascha finishes with the bags, he counts out 25 gold and hands them to her.
Vaelorn
"I'm afraid the activity is beyond me as well, I can't think of anything we did to activate that reaction, it was starting as we came in, and just as quickly stilled." he shakes his head looking at his papers for his notes, not that that did much good at the moment. "I think it best if we step away, the grief here is almost physical, and it would likely be a good idea to report this to.... anyone who will believe that the gates can start up by themselves I suppose."
"Aye, it does...Give me a moment to collect my things and we'll be on our way." Angus turns to hearth and kneels down to the bloodhound, Timber. He pulls a stick of incense from a nearby shelf, the same incense used in the temples of the Sacred Flame, "Go with our guest here and lead her to the Abbey, will you old friend?" The hound lifts his head, sniffing the stick of incense, sneezes, then trots to the end of the porch and sits. The dog turns his head towards Rivyre, expectantly. "I'll follow shortly behind. I was running low on supplies so I need to ready the sled. Timber there will guide you. I'm sure the roads and towns have changed in the time you've been away."
Valanthe Autumnfall
"Yes, let us leave this place and inform the council of the activity at the gates." Valanthe says picking up dropped items and trying to usher the other two out of the dome. "Listening to the council discuss anything is more appealing than staying here..."
Alorin Vonsin
As they quietly make their way towards the crying baby, through the frozen woods, Alorin and Ellynel take care to keep an eye on the Emerald Door behind them. He spots the gnome come in behind them, and while he doesn't immediately recognize the newcomer, he expects any intervention at this stage to be more likely related to the Hunt than not. As such, he gives the gnome another keen glance, and tries to discern any oddities or inconsistencies in his behavior (Insight: 10).
He then turns towards the mewling babe, and seeing as he still has the lead in this chase, decides to make sure he is the first to reach the babe. While doing his best to remain hidden, Alorin heads as quickly as he can to pick up the infant.
Thamno looks around and nods. "Yes, we should make mention of this event to those who might know more. I have a feeling that the unseason of Vague has something to do with this, but before we do that I might try something which has yielded some results in the past. Though what it will do for us right now... who knows?
He walks outside and stares at some of the immense trees that stand guard around the dome. Slowly he approaches the one that is close by the dome and he lies down on his back, his head just touching the trunk and his eyes looking up into the canopy. His eyes close and he breathes deeply, slowly and waits for his body to get that rising feeling. Then, just like sap rising in the bark of a tree, he feels his consciousness open and up and slow down at the same time. The giant tree next to him comes alive and he gets the distinct feeling of being held in someone's arms. It is difficult to focus when communicating with a consciousness so different from your own but at last he manages to piece together a single thought. He forms the thought, grows it into a leaf and then drops that onto the soil next to the tree. Whether this is happening in real life or just his imagination, he still does not know. But as he ponders about the reality of this experience he feels the leaf decompose at the roots of the tree and become absorbed into its root system.
"Did you also just feel a huge surge of grief and magic pass through this place? Has this happened before? What could it mean?"
Moz Crowthorn
Believing he too is the first on the scene, but not sharing Alorin's cautionary approach, Moz starts trudging through the snow and in between the trees towards the Druid hut. Crouching behind a tree for a moment to catch his breath he looks up at the Imp flying off.
"Iago, when you find that baby stay out of sight and let me know if you see anyone or anything." Iago looks back with a thumbs up. "Copy that boss, don't get killed."
Looking down he see some pawprints from a squirrel "Right, Alorin has his little doggie too. Hmmmm the dog could be a problem, but lets see if this works." He thinks to himself. Bending over he picks up a few pine needles from under the tree and with an arcane word, he flicks the pine needles into the air (Casts Prestidigitation) He then continues on his merry way toward the Druids hut and the crying child, softly humming a tune.
(Performance: 19+5=24 for Gnome disguise. Moz is not trying to conceal his approach. He is not running, but moving full movement. Iago is flying ahead as fast as he can.)
Upon seeing the dog sniff the incense, she seems puzzled Angus would keep the same materials the Faith uses knowing he worships the Old Gods. As much as she wants to ask why he has such materials..., Angus has been exteremtley accomadating & non-judgemental! So she feels it's not necessary & unwise to "poke the bear" on the subject.
She turns to Angus, "Thank you so much for all your help & accomadations. It has been so long since i've been home & I wan't expecting much kindness & understanding w/ the religion that I serve now. To that end..., I do not wish to burnden you furher by going to Enniskillen & the Abbey of Saint Hugh if that makes you uncomfortable. Should the servents of 'The Faith' not have the answers I wish to know about family and/or the cause of the storm over Almorra, my next stop would be the Starspire Observatory run by the Amethyst Academy. Perhaps the storm is arcane in nature..., i'm not sure. You are welcome to leave at any time & not help me in my endeavor should it conflict w/ your beliefs. I will not be offended."
Rivyre waits for any response before follwing Angus's dog to the Abbey.
"Don't worry lassie, you've been no trouble at all." Angus quickly turns to the back window, briefly opens it and shouts a word in Sylvan before continuing his rummaging, "I've been mighty curios about that isle. I knew that, one day, the people of Skye would reclaim that dark island and rediscover its history. I also planned on being among those that did the discovering," The ritualistic totems that adorned the hearth now sit together around Angus's neck. "Better to rediscover the ancient history and homes of two people's then, aye?"
Angus quickly gathers the rest of his equipment and brushes past Rivyre with a pat on the shoulder. The usual view from the porch is now blocked by a large and majestic bovine, it's layered white and red coat glistens in the morning light as it shakes off a layer of snow. Angus gives the beast a sritch under the ears before fastening a sled to it.
"This fair lady is Crodh Sith, but I call her Beef. She was a gifted to me a few years back to help me live off the land." With another word of Sylvan, the cow starts trotting down the mountain, with Angus beside it.
"Come Sister, no time to waste."
"My thanks, Brother. Let's be off then!" Sascha declares as she transfers the coin to her own purse without double-checking the count.. She was determined not to drag her feet given the circumstances - it was for that reason she didn't debate. She was mobile enough on foot, but that wasn't going to convince the monk. Sascha was soon mounted, riding Solis at a slow and stable pace to stick beside She begins the ride back toward the ship, wary at the shouts and chants she had heard earlier. She didn't seek any quarrel with the followers of Kromac but she knew that to such folk, the faith of the Sacred Flame were a foreign, and hostile force. The present threat wasn't wasted on her.
Thamno, Vaelorn, and Valanthe
The great tree that Thamno chooses responds in the slow, deep way of trees. Thamno feels the echo of roots below him, spreading out as vast and sensitive a canopy underground as the one that shades Eladria above. Something like a deep sigh resonates in his bones, and despite his smallness next to the tree, he feels a kinship of centuries... both of them have witnessed much.
"Long.... long ago.... you came... tremors...unnatural... of pain and chaos... came with you.... but they faded and decomposed.... we have lived in peace with you... not so long ago.... I felt the tremors again.... but they passed beyond these shores... now I feel.... they have come back here." The image of the leaf slowly decomposing into the roots is halted, arrested, and that same leaf, instead of breaking down naturally, begins to grow in chaotic patterns, in a kind of brutal simplicity, flickering with octarine sparks, having none of the delicacy of the form of a part of a tree. A sensation of pain comes from the tree, like that of taking up poison into its roots. "They are here. Beware!"
Alorin Vonsin and Moz Crowthorn
The silent half-elf wrapped in dark hood and leathers against the freezing mist cautiously regards the strange gnome as he casts a spell and meanders from the Emerald Door towards Kromac's clearing. Ellynel sniffs the air, as silent as her companion, and possibly Prestidigitation has thrown her off, she seems not to recognize any familiar scent. But Alorin does indeed have the lead---so far as he can see---and he knows he must waste no time. Silently he and El run over the bed of fir needles that layers the forest floor, and onto the white expanse of snow that covers the clearing. Though they cannot help but leave footprints in the snow, the two of them are silent as shadows headed straight for the crying babe.
Neither Iago nor Moz spot the pair, Iago's invisible flight circling him around the clearing. He has, however, just spotted a strange movement of the shadows at the edge of the woods that Moz has just left, when the stillness of the icy mist is suddenly broken by the blast of hunting horns---mellow and haunting, but no longer far away. The hunting party is here.
They make no attempt to hide their presence. The terrible baying of the fairy hounds leap into chorus following the blast, and the wild, laughing neigh of a fairy steed comes close behind. Shadows burst forth from the tree line, falling darkly on the snowy ground under the mist, but the figures that are casting the shadows--or ought to be--aren't visible. From above, Iago can see the shadows of three hounds and a rider upon a steed, moving at terrible speed, straight towards the helpless infant, and heedless that his master Moz the gnome is right in their path.
Moz feels only a sudden wind, and an awful chill that sinks into his bones... but he heard the hunting horns right behind him, and knows he's about to be outrun.
Alorin and El, racing towards the babe, have a head start. El leaps forward and throws herself in front of the stone hut by which the swaddled babe lies, and turns to face the foreboding woods, her hackles raised and her teeth bared in a snarl. Gnome and hunting party alike must get through her first, her confident, aggressive stance seems to say.
Sascha Von Syndowe
Brother Feock follows close at the side of Solis, his arms folded beneath his heavy woolen cowl, his breath frosty in the frigid air. The sun shines wanly through the weight of the mist, but even with its morning light, it is hard to see much distinctly beyond a hundred feet or so. As the two approach the docks once more, the procession of Kromac's Druid and his shard of delerium are no longer in sight, though the heavy beat of drums and the distant rhythmic chant still echo from somewhere up on the hill that sits above the confluence of the Cygnet River and the Gadabout River as they trickle out into the bay.
Solis' hooves clop heavily on the dock planks slick with frozen sea spray. The Elyrian ship appears again out of the mist as they approach, and seems to have drawn its own small crowd--besides the two sailors, there are now two armed men standing with them, the one that Sascha saw earlier, and another, both of them bundled well in furs. They gesture animatedly as they have what seems to be a heated discussion with the sailors, and with another man standing on the docks. As Sascha and Brother Feock approach, the men's conversation slowly becomes audible, stark in the silence of the mist.
"As anxious as the Captain is to disembark," the man standing on the dock says, in a thick Elyrian accent, "I think there is good reason to delay. A higher duty calls us to put a stop to this." He hears the warhorse's approach, and turns to face Sascha and Brother Feock. "Hail, now, who goes there?" he calls out. Although he is wrapped in a heavy cloak for warmth, Sascha can see the glint of plate armor beneath it as he moves, and this man too is armed, with a longsword at his waist and a shield on his back.
Brother Feock speaks up. "Hail brother, Feock Fenton at your service! Don't let my entourage fool you, I am but a humble monk who couldn't carry the weight of his own bags. I've a charter with you to return home to Elyria."
"Good, welcome, Brother. Then we're just waiting on one more," one of the sailors says. "If Sir Lorn does not insist on a delay. May we help you with your bags?" Both of the sailors leap off of the ship and approach Sascha and Feock.
"Lead on, replies Rivyre. Come now Syletha. A new task is upon us!"
"Meow" as Syletha perches herself & wraps around the back of Rivyre's neck.
Walking beside Angus & Beef & talking, "Perhaps you can tell me what you know of all the local factions that live here on Skye on our way down to the Chapel of Saint Hugh since my parents never taught me while we lived in isolation on Almorra. I would like to know who else i'm dealing with & avoid any complications & hostilities should they arise. You can skip over the Sacred Flame in Enniskillen & the Amethyst Academy @ the Starspire Observatory. I'm well familiar w/ what they're doing here & their interests in Skye."
Perception Check (13) + Guidance (2)= 15
Keeping a watchful eye for any suprises on the road.
Thamno slowly opens his eyes and looks up at the canopy. His senses are still reeling a bit and it feels weird to start moving again, his intuition is to remain here. Forever in one place. But then his mind returns to the subject at hand, and the two people who might still be waiting for him so he gets up and takes a bottle from his pack. He offers his whole bottle of water to the tree in thanks. The experience has left him drained and thirsty but this is more important.
Then he gets up and walks over to the other two.
"I fear that this is indeed a pressing matter. The tree spoke of tremors, waves of energy that were released just now. They recognized it as a similar event to when we passed through this gate. It gave me an image of their roots being poisoned with something unnatural. Shall we head into town? Who could we speak to about this?"
Without skipping a beat he motions for them to start. He seems almost giddy at this point. Grateful and happy that his contact with the tree yielded something important.
"I say we walk and talk, this seems of importance."