Mulligan shrugs to the others still up in the hole.  He certainly doesn't see a reason to not climb down and interact with... whatever they are.  If G'reginald shows reluctance at all then Mulligan will step to the front of the line and climb down first.  Well, second since Rowan is already down there.

     Upon reaching the ground Mulligan faces the newcomers and gives a bow and a sweeping gesture with his top hat as way of introducing himself.  He wears a bit of a smile but otherwise waits on introductions.  It is tiresome having to "speak" to one person after another... and he's not even sure he could broadcast to a bee or a dandelion?

“Oh, you know Queen Zybilna? I’ve heard of her. The witches did something to her, didn’t they? Something to make her quiet. Did they take her voice? One of them seems to like to do that. So is it Sir Amidor then? Did the Queen have to use a smaller sword to knight you? I think it would be dangerous to use a regular size one given the size of your shoulders.” Rowan says.

He keeps moving around, almost in small circles as he talks to Glister and Amidor. Then when he spots Mulligan he pauses for a moment.

”This is Mulligan. He’s the head talker. Head thinker? Head idea placer? Mulligan, this is Glister and this is Sir Amidor.”

Barria gladly follows Mulligan down as she was feeling a bit odd up here so high in the sky.  She grins at the two love birds as they affectionately fawn after each other.  She pays attention when the Queen is mentioned though, wondering what that is all about.

Then giving another glace at Glister, "Weren't you just at the carnival we came from?  Did you come here before or after us?  How peculiar it all is!"

Greg follows the other three making sure nothing is left in his dimensional space and then closing it once he is down, he wraps up and hands the rope back to Rowan, happy they he and the group got a short rest and some introductions of their own out of the way. 

As he hands over the rope and takes account of the new arrivals he watches and listens before asking. "Glister, I had a bit of a run in with the shadow of Gleam, what do you know if the fate of your dear sister?"

Glister warmly greets each of those who descend from the rope-hide, then commences answering questions with his own tale:

I’ve been wandering Yon for some time now. Weeks, I think. And yes, I’m here for my sister, Gleam. She is in Motherhorn. I can sense it. Sometimes I can see her... like she is strolling through a woodland realm... comfortable... but unhappy. That’s not a trick of the eyes, it’s the bond we share as twins, you see.

Endelyn Moongrave has her now. Bitter End some call her. Or Creeping Lyn. You've seen first-hand what she always does: she uses the shadows of those who bargain with her to do her bidding. It seems to be her price for granting requests, though I cannot imagine what could have driven Gleam to agree to any deal with her, or why she would bargain with a hag at all.

But I just can't get inside that castle. You all saw the Welcome Wagon, I take it, and received an invitation... but not I. Still, I will find my way to my sister, whatever it takes.

The talking, sword-wielding, bee-loving dandelion pats his on the ankle with one leaf and says:

Take heart, brave Glister. Though we may not know the full measure of these witches’ powers, nor the fate that has befallen Queen Zybilna, we must not despair. Bitter End may glimpse much of the future, yet I perceive the coven's dark design has been pricked by a thorn, a twist in their schemes that even they did not anticipate. A stubborn blossom of hope endures amidst their shadow.

Then turning to the group, Amidor asks: But what of you, intrepid newcomers? Now that you are here in this dreary land, what wilt thou do?

Rowan listens as carefully as he can but he does keep getting a little distracted by the scenery, looking off towards the castle on the mountain peak in the distance, constantly moving and fidgeting as he does. But through it all, as he moves, flowers that were closed up tight open and bloom when he steps near them.

He pulls out his invitation.

"Yes, we did all get one. To a theatre I think. There might be a hoe, or a voice, or a recipe there that was stolen," Rowan says then gestures to the castle. "Is that the Motherhorn? Do you know why it's called that? Was it the first mountain here? Was it much bigger and all of the other mountains broke off and slid into place. That doesn't sound right, but maybe mountains can move here."

He looks up at the lightning rod tower that was near them.

"Does Creepy Lyn attract the lightning?"

Then he looks at his new traveling companions.

"I think we have to look for Gleam when we're in the Motherhorn."

     You have been here a while, surely you leaned some things?  Any information could help.  Is the lightning important?  Would knocking over the rods disrupt the collection of their power?  What are the dangers between here and Motherhorn?  

     As he asks the questions he idly pulls his banjo around from his back and starts plucking out a tune.  Something upbeat but gentle.  This place could use some brightness but he doesn't want anything too loud or raucous so as not to draw attention...  (Performance: 4)  It seems the mood of this place is resistant to his subtle musics though and his fingers just feel numb and bulky.  

"well this is most definitely done sort of trap, of course if like to go and find Gleam as it was her shadow I believe who stole my hoe, but walking in the front door with invitations in hand seems too much like playing into theirs. How have you tried to gain entrance, Glister?" The gnome asks with a frown not liking being out here when it has been made abundantly obvious that Endelyn already knows of their arrival.

Best we keep moving!

Amidor beckons the group to follow, and leads the way along the path. Meanwhile, Glister does his best to answer the questions of the newcomers, but it's clear he is out of his depth in this strange place.

I think maybe that peak was called Motherhorn because it's the tallest, and now the castle is also called that. The lightning powers a machine inside the castle. I've not seen it, but it's some kind of contraption that amplifies Creeping Lyn's ability to predict the future. You could try knocking over the lightning rods, but they look quite sturdy... and there are so many of them!

As for dangers... Getting lost is easily done here - directions don't seem to work like they do in the real world.... What else? Well... you have to watch out for the occasional storm... and some of the fey creatures can be a bit odd, but you can mostly avoid trouble as long as you mind the rule of three. You do know the Rule of Three, right?

Noticing the blank looks, Amidor bows low, his petals rustling like silk, and makes a sound like he is clearing his throat:

Three are the pillars upon which Fey honor stands. First, the Rule of Hospitality: offer warmth to all who cross your threshold, until they show themselves unworthy. Second, the Rule of Ownership: take not what is not yours, for theft is a stain that no dew may wash away. Third, the Rule of Reciprocity: accept every gift with grace, and repay it in kind, lest your debt grow thorns. Keep these three, and the land shall smile upon you; break them, and even the grass may turn against your tread.

Mulligan's upbeat tune ends up sounding disjointed, as the notes echo off the rocks and reflect back discordantly. Mulligan could swear that one of the flowers blooming in Rowan's wake says "Nice try" as Mulligan passes.

Glister continues to elaborate on questions asked:

So far I've only tried knocking on the front door, but no-one answered. I'm pretty good at climbing, if I do say so myself, but those walls are too much of a challenge without climbing gear, of which I have none. Perhaps there are other ways to gain admittance. The korreds and the brigganocks are the two great peoples of Yon - I suppose you could seek for their counsel. There has been some conflict between the korred clans and the brigganock tribes, however. I'm not sure why - apparently they used to be friendly to each other.

     And Endelyn Moongrave follows the rule of three?  

     Mulligan ponders how different people may interpret the rules differently even as he asks the question.  He suppose one could offer warmth by putting the guest in the stew pot or one could have a funny idea of what is theirs for the taking...  And there is of course many ways to repay a debt, not all are acceptable to the one owed.

     Mulligan does a bit of a double take trying to spot who said "Nice try" but is unsuccessful and so carries a bit of a grump on his face for quite a while...

"fairy bullcrap..." The gnome hisses. "Ok so what I'm understanding is that she predicts the future and takes things unfairly by twisting the rules. You don't have an invitation and so you won't be able to get in regardless, because even if you follow our lead you'll end up not arriving due to fairy bullcrap reasons. I suggest we could get either some information or assistance from these korreds and brigganocks, whatever those are! And we'll go from there. Agreed? Hm!" 

Barria at first looks quite pleased when Mulligan pulls out his banjo, but when he starts playing, she covers her mouth while uttering under her breath, "oh dear" wondering if he was just learning to play or...

But her attention is drawn back to the two brief guides at their disposal as they try to answer and help the group as they move away from the lightning.  She takes a mental note of the three pillars of this world, happy that there appear to be decent people here that adhere to such things.

Barria then frowns at G'Reg, "Fairy bullcrap?  How do you even know that they are unfairly twisting the rules?  Yes, things need some help here, but do not assume the worst of people before you've even met them!  Why, I think since we have our tickets, we march right up to the front door and see what is what.  Maybe there is a way to help them out, and for their debt, we can ask for Gleam!  Doesn't that sound like a nice plan?  Ooh.. I bet they have lots of good eats up there, I sure am famished after only having those strange cookies at the carnival.  Did any of you have them?  What a strange but fun feeling!"

She takes a breath, considering, "As for the Korreds and Brigganocks, those sound fun to give a little visit to after the castle!" she clasps her hands together as she feels things are coming together, still admiring the mountains even if things have become a bit dreary.

g'Reg turns dumbfounded and looks at Barria in disbelief. "One of the Hags... of the hourglass coven... The ones who stole our stuff... And have been described to us as, and let me quote directly here, one who 'adores the taste of regrets', one who 'gobbles up the troubles of those who come to her with urgent pleas' and let's not forget the one we came here to find first, who 'snatches the hopes of those who seek her'... This one is partial to separating people from their shadow and forcing that aspect of them into servitude... Does that sound like someone you want to have a tea party with!?"

(Hey!  It's a banjo!  It only gets so good to begin with....  :(   Besides, I should have added my Prof. Bonus into that.  And then I should have used my Psi-Bolstered Knack to add another d6 to it...  And... and... and... awww, nevermind!)

     Fairly twisting the rules, I would suspect.  Unfairly twisting them would be breaking them.  Fairly breaking them is following them, just in unexpected ways.  The same is done back home with our laws and contracts and such.  Maybe there is no twisting by Endolyn Moongrave at all, maybe there is.  I think it behooves us to be wary about the twisting just in case.

     As for these Korreds and Brigganocks, if they are on the way to the castle then perhaps a meeting wouldn't be imprudent.  After visiting the castle however?  I will not be surprised if we are in too much of a hurry to stop and visit when we are done there.

     Mulligan sends the thoughts to the Group Chat even as he frowns and pushes his banjo back around to his back, disgusted at his own play.  As he does so he also reaches into his bag and feels around for some food he keeps stored in there - one never does know where their next meal will come from, best to be prepared with a bit of something that carries well.  He had intended to offer Barria a bite to eat since she was hungry but as he is pulling an apple out he notices it is a bruised and sad looking thing.  Still good but...  He quickly shoves it back into his bag deciding it improper to offer such meager offerings to one talking about good eats and carnival cookies.

Rowan follows along happily watching this new place with interest.

"There does seem to be a lot about food up there then," Rowan says. "She really adores the taste of regrets and gobbles up troubles? Could that not be a good thing? If she eats all your troubles then you wouldn't have any left? No? Maybe? I wasn't very good at math in school, but I think if you take everything of something you have nothing. But wait, they were giving away cookies at the carnival? I didn't see any of those."

He muses on that for a moment before adding.

"Agreed. If the Coeds and Bigknocks are on the way we should stop and say hi first. We should be good guests in their land."

To the korreds, then! cries Amidor. Or the brigganocks, perhaps! Whichever one we find first! Come, Polinella dear, let us lead the way!

As the party makes their way along the mountain path, a brief glow of red from behind a nearby peak reflects on the dark clouds above, like a flash of fire. An instant later, the 'burbling' sound from before is heard again, followed immediately by a loud howl of pain which echoes throughout the peaks.

This way! cries Amidor, his petals quivering, and he darts toward a jagged overhang. Glister follows close on his 'heels' (roots?).

Moments later, something vast and winged sweeps overhead, its form obscured by the thick storm-clouds, but its passing causes the clouds to roil, and a heavy doom trails in its wake along with the burbling sound once more. As all cower beneath the stone shelf, Amidor lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though his tone still carries that chivalrous gravity:

Steel your hearts, my friends. That was no common beast — that was the Jabberwock. It has prowled these heights since the day our liege-lady fell silent, a scourge loosed from nightmare’s leash. I—I had not the heart to correct friend Glister earlier, when he spoke of there being but few dangers. My apologies — I had hoped to spare you the horror...

The party waits in tense silence, the roiling clouds above slowly returning to their usual brooding grumble. At length, the oppressive presence lifts; the mountain air feels lighter once more, and the companions emerge.

Around another bend or two, the trail opens onto a grim scene: a pack of seven dog-like creatures is clawing desperately at the hard earth. Their voices are a chorus of sharp yips, mournful howls, and strange, half-barking chatter in their own uncanny animal tongue. Their digging is frantic but futile. Then the group see the cause of their activity: beside the shallow pit lies the front half of another of the canine creatures, its fur matted with dirt and blood. The rear half is gone, as though erased from existence. Across the cliff face, several jagged black scorch lines stretch longways, as if some terrible heat had been raked across the stone. The air smells of ash and blood.

     I am sorry for your loss.  We were just almost seen by the thing ourselves.  Perhaps we should get out of sight from above in case it returns?

     This is sent to what seems the most in charge of the hounds...  Wait, what?  Mulligan immediately thinks to himself.  I'm talking to dogs now??  Then again, he was talking to a bee and a flower so he supposed he shouldn't be so hard on himself for the absurdity of it all. 

     Are they intelligent?  Can they be talked to?

     This is sent over the group chat with the intention of one of the others hopefully inquiring of their new companions.  He could have just asked himself but he hoped his asking would also perhaps restrain the group from immediately attacking.  The g'nome seems particularly rash at time...

"I wouldn't get ahead of yourself, wild animals like that having been attacked, they're more likely to turn on you than want to chat. We'll be next if we garner their attention." g'Reg sends back over the link to Mulligan, as he crouches behind a rock hoping to blend in. "Where are we heading to? These brigganocks and korreds are around here or what? I don't know my way around here but I'm finding it a little strange trusting in the geographical knowledge of a talking flower!" He grumbles to the group at large, apparently not considering, or maybe just not caring, that Amidor can hear him too.

Rowan pats g'Reg on the shoulder.

"It's okay. He's a knight." Rowan says, as if that counters any concerns about the dandelion being able to talk.

He then turns back to the dogs to see if he can get an idea of their mood and how frantic they are, relying on the years he's spent with animals back in the village. They tended to be much more accepting of Rowan than any of the younger elves he grew jump with.