Zorg's Lost Souls III

Barria finds herself pleased by the words of the hag.  This she finds a bit disturbing, but she can't help it.  She is always pleased when someone compliments her.  Guardian?  What does Granny Nightshade mean by that?

No sooner did she start pondering this, they find themselves outside.  She turns and smiles to Rowan, "A rescue mission? I quite like the sound of that."  she thinks for a minute and then frowns at G'Reg, putting her hands on her ample hips, "You sure know how to get one going and take all the time for you, you know that?  Did you once think to ask about my recipe? No!  So we don't know if she has it or if it's the other one!  You couldn't have taken one breath and asked a simple question instead of being all high mighty with her!"

Realizing G'Reg is focused on Mulligan, she takes a step back, "What, what did Mully do?"

A little disoriented from the abrupt displacement, the group take a few moments to collect themselves. The canopy overhead is thick, and the trees too close to offer any vision of the surrounding area, so there's no telling where they are in the brooding forests of Thither. But the singing from nearby is at least something to go on, so Rowan leads off in that direction while Barria and Greginald continue to pry Mulligan for information...

Not far from their current location is a hillside. Cozy torchlight radiates from a small cave, which is also the source of the cheerful singing. Visible not too far inside is a wizened old man, wearing a blindfold, and sitting at a spinning wheel, surrounded with piles of gold coins. As he spins, he reaches down and grasps a handful of coins, which transform at his touch into gleaming gold fibres to be teased on to the wheel...

     Mulligan, still a bit confuzzled but gathering his wits quickly, respond to Barria and/or g'ReG as needed before eventually, but quickly, noticing Rowan has absconded from the rest of the group.

     I will answer anything but perhaps we should talk while catching up to our wayward elf?

     Mulligan climbs to his feet, leaving stains on his knees as he kind of pushes off them as he gains his feet, and gently tugs on the others to come follow Rowan.  Because seriously, we cannot let that one stray too far ahead and next expect chaos to result.

As the group hurry after their wayward elf, Greg puzzles the information. "She was likely divining my past much like you were reading her mind. As I understand that spell, these would be her surface thoughts, but it is interesting that as you dove deeper within her consciousness it revealed to you her true prize, Iggwilv's cauldron... I know some things about this but I must check my facts and collect my memory before informing you. This much I do know to be true, the three hags are connected to Iggwilv, who was one of the most powerful beings in existence, she forged paths into the arcane which led to her discovering applications for new spell unknown to the realms before... I'll get back to you on this. But good idea to read her mind, it certainly takes away the doubts I had that she was lying about her prize." He muses, as he struggles to keep up. He then looks to Barria, as if her concerns are a mere afterthought to him, "she likes you, you've got nothing to fear from her because she has nothing to lose from you. She doesn't have the recipe. And she admitted to having my hoe."

Barria huffs as they start off after Rowan, anger brewing as G'Reg completely ignores her outburst on her missing recipe.  Who cares about a stupid caldron?  This was not why they were here!

But seeing the blindfolded man in the cave makes her forget all of this as she stands in awe, watching him spin gold into golden thread.  "Excuse me, sir, you have a beautiful singing voice, it brought me and my friends to come find the source!" she isn't sure how to ask him what he is doing and why he has a blindfold on, she hopes he just tells them now that she has let them know that others were here.

Rowan smiles at both the fact that everyone came along to hear the singing and at the sight of the man spinning gold coins into gold fibre.

The elf bows to the blindfolded man, then laughs when he realizes the man can't see Rowan bowing.

"Hi. That was Baria speaking. I'm Rowan," Rowan says. "That's an awful lot of coins lying around. Do people bring them to you to spin into gold thread? What do you do with the thread? You're not a dragon by any chance are you? That would be a way more efficient way for a dragon to keep their treasure hoard stored. But maybe not as comfortable to sleep on. I didn't mean that you looked like a dragon. I've just been thinking about them lately."

He takes a breath and finally asks.

"You're not Will of the Feywild by any chance, are you?"

     Mulligan wants to consider pointing out to Barria that the g'Nome did indeed answer her about her recipe, eventually... But Mulligan doesn't in fact know her brewing anger is due to that so he can't actually consider pointing it out at all.

     Upon catching up with the wayward elf Mulligan rests a hand on their shoulder for a moment.  Upon removing it he realizes he left a handprint of color upon their clothes somehow.  Weird.  Mulligan pats the elf's back a couple more times and is shocked to see this repeated each time.  He looks around to see if the others notice or not.  If they do he merely shrugs and looks as confused as possible.  If they do not then he just steps close to Rowan's back and stands there blocking their view.  That'll solve things.  At least for now.

Upon hearing the voices, the old man stops spinning gold and immediately lifts the blindfold away from his eyes. He squints in the torchlight as his eyes adjust, and stands up to greet the newcomers.

To Barria he says: Thank you, fair dwarf. You're too kind. If there's any skill it's due to plenty of practice, hehe. He continues to greet the group as names are given. Barria is the first to notice that, despite his cheerful demeanour, there is a sadness or weariness in his eyes.

Those who enter the cave also notice something else. Lurking behind the old man, barely visible in the torchlight, are several vague apparitions. These indistinct figures gradually condense into view and start to take form... a grubby child peering over Nib’s shoulder, a gaunt coachman looming in the shadows at the back of the cave, a long-faced woman dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief, a rail-thin waif wearing an eye patch... as quick as a candle’s flicker, one apparition vanishes, and another begins to appear.

Facing Rowan, the man says: No no, I'm not Will. He's just a kid. My name is Nibs. He lowers himself slowly back to his chair, and continues working, although he leaves the blindfold sitting loosely on his brow. With a deep sigh he continues:

I’ve led a cruel and heartless existence. I earned these riches by exploiting my tenants’ misery, buying up condemned property and renting it out for an exorbitant fee. Granny Nightshade is helping me to make amends. I told her I wanted to put my bad deeds behind me and my ill-gotten gains to good use. She cursed me to dwell forever in this cave, spinning my gold into useful items for anyone who comes my way.

Without pausing his work, he looks up and asks with a smile:

Would you like me to make you something?

     While this Nibs is busy talking, Mulligan tries to focus on the apparitions behind him.  Watching them coalesce and then fade away, Mulligan waits until the moment one seems to reach full form and then tries to reach out to them mentally via his telepathy.  

     Hello?  Can we speak?

(note - I the player fully do not expect this to work for any of various reasons, but Mulligan would try it so... he tries it.)

     Helping you make amends or forcing you to?

     Mulligan asks of Nibs once his attention returns to the man.

Rowan remains oblivious to any hand prints on this clothing. And if he did notice, he'd be more likely to ask Mulligan to put some on his pack as well. And if it eases Mulligan's mind, he would notice that wherever Rowan walks, any sleeping flowers open into full bloom when he gets close to them.

"Will is a kid? So you know him then? Does he live nearby? Is he in danger?" Rowan asks.

But then he gets distracted by the spinning gold and the offer from Nibs.

"Make us something?" Rowan asks. "What kinds of things do you make?"

Mulligan attempts to communicate with the apparitions lurking in the background. As expected, they offer no reply nor sign that they understand his communications. However, as each one reaches the peak of its substantiality, Mulligan catches the briefest mental glimpse of emotion: grief, anger, hopelessness, sorrow... he can only imagine what it must be like to have those emotions tormenting him constantly.

To Rowan's questions, Nibs responds: Yeah, Will is a kid, leader of a bunch of runaways called the Getaway Gang. I've not met him, but from what I've heard, Will helped them escape from Granny Nightshade's place. They live in a tree, so of course it's hard to tell where he is at any time. Rumour has it that there is this one glade they frequent. I could probably point you in the general direction...

To Mulligan's question, Nibs replies: Forcing? I don't know about that. I must say my company back there was an unexpected addition, although I should have known old Granny Nightshade would twist my words. Remember how I agreed that as long as my ill-gotten gains were put to good use, my bad deeds would remain behind me? Well, you see those ghosty figures back there? You are beholding the restless spirits of those I hurt... or a representation of them. They lurk behind my back, tormenting me with pokes at my ribs and whisperings in my ear. I can’t bear to look them in the eye, not after what I did to them! Hence the blindfold. Still, if that's the price for redemption...

And then again to Rowan he shrugs and says: Don't know, it's different every time. But usually something kinda magical. Let's see, shall we? Just... don't be tempted to take any coins. You seem like nice folk... I'd hate for you to be cursed same as me.

Nibs snatches up a pair of knitting needles, and with a clackety-clack he starts to knit something out of the golden yarn...

     Mulligan finds himself at a bit of a loss in regards to what to do or "say" here.  On the one hand he feels this Nibs guy has been totally swindled and screwed by the hag, this Granny Nightshade.  On the other hand he doesn't think a rousing debate and discourse on the nature of amends and redemption and forgiveness and the like are going to win the day.

     Hearing the man say he can make them something "kinda magical" does grab Mulligan's attention, however.  He doesn't like to think of himself as particularly greedy but magic is magic, and there does seem to be an abundance around these parts - even if as silly as the candy treats he bought.

     That is a very kind offer, Mr. Nibs.  Is there anything we could offer in return?  Anything you need?  Perhaps you would like some music for a while?

     Though Mulligan was a bit wary of trying his new banjo just now, considering the stains he has been leaving on everything he touched.  Still, who was he kidding?  His whole fashion aesthetic was Hobo Chic and try as he might the instrument would eventually learn to match his style.  Besides...

     Pulling his banjo around from his back, trying to be careful how he touches it while knowing he can't help but touch it, Mulligan finds a wall to sit against and begins plucking out a tune.  Much like his attempt to communicate with the spirits telepathically failed he suspects trying to communicate through the banjo will as well (with Speak with Dead) but it was still worth a try... 

(Yeah, need a corpse to use the spell and these are at best spirits so not expecting results... But worst case Mulligan offers some music for a while.)

Barria is stunned by the apparitions behind Nib and is glad when an explanation comes about them.  When Will's situation is explained, she starts to worry for the boy.  Were they also part of whatever was going on behind that door where they caught a glimpse of children working?  She shudders at the memory.  But then thinks... maybe they can help them!

At the offer, she grins, "Why thank you Mr. Nibs, I would love something a bit magical!  How wonderful!  And don't worry, we won't touch your coin."  Then after a pause, "Could you point us in the right direction to find Will?  I would very much like to find the poor lad."

Oh, that's not necessary, you're very kind to... Oh! Music? That would be lovely!

Mr Nibs sits back, and listens to Mulligan's banjo playing, knitting away with his needles and golden yarn. The music seems to calm him, and his fingers continue to knit even as his eyes close, and he listens with a look of serenity on his face. The spirits in the background seem dormant throughout the performance... still there, but keeping a respectable distance and not condensing into existence. Mulligan expects that the music's effect won't be permanent, but it seems that the magical nature of the banjo, though not communicating with the spirits per se, is at least giving this old man some respite from their torments.

The golden strands start to take shape, and very quickly a random assortment of items drop one by one to the ground in front of the old man. The first is a simple knit that forms into a slender narrow strip which solidifies into a golden wand, which drops and rolls across the cave floor over toward Barria. The next is a bit more complex - a pair of boots! They drop from the knitting man's lap and flop silently to the ground below the banjo-playing Mulligan. All the while, Nibs seems oblivious to the results of his efforts, and doesn't appear to have any control whatsoever about what comes out.

Finally, Nibs clickety-clacks a small but even more complex little curiosity. As with the other items, the golden threads solidify into a small trinket in the shape of an hourglass. It drops into Nibs' lap just as Mulligan finishes his song, and the old man opens his eyes and picks it up, examining it.

Hmm. Don't think I've ever made something like this before. He holds it up to the torch light. It's a small golden hourglass. I think this is for you, he says holding it out to Greginald, who so far has said very little.

Hmm. Directions. Nibs says as he resumes his knitting and looks to Barria. Well... Locations in this place... they don't seem to stay put, So feyfolk don't give directions by landmarks. Now, Will's tree? Let me remember... To find that what wishes to stay lost... Go to a place none can go but one... Visit the invisible... Speak to the living remains of the dead... And prevent a happy ending. Yes, I think that's it! But of course it might not be in that order. Hehe, that's fey logic for ya.

"thanks" Greg grumbles trough his beard, still pondering the connections that he is remembering about the three hags and Iggwilv. He turns the hourglass over a couple of times in his hands and then packs it away for later identification. "Hags tend to twist words but you seem content with your lot even if it was not exactly what you wished. I wonder, Mister Nibs, if one such as yourself would be against the replacement of skabatha as the one in power around here, hm?"

     Mulligan nods a silent thanks at the gift of the boots even as he puzzles over them.  Not exactly something he expected to see spun from gold but then again neither was any of the other items.  He doesn't immediately take them up but instead continues playing the banjo - As it seems to have a soothing effect he sees no point in discontinuing until he must leave.

Barria watches in wonder at what the old man creates.  She picks up the golden wand, looks it over a bit and stashes it away for later.  She wonders if it actually does anything other than look pretty.  Would be a good stir stick, she supposes.

As Nib tries to answer her with directions to Will, she scratches her head and has a huh sort of expression on her face.  "Well, I appreciate you trying to answer me, but what am I supposed to do with that information!?  Complete balderdash!"  

Rowan idly listens to the directions, trying to repeat them as he hears them, though also finding himself distracted by looking intently at Nibs hands as he works, trying to fathom the magic at work.

"Go to a place none can go but one? Like a small hole? A women's toilet? I saw separate men's and women's once at a fair. Barria's the only one that could go to the women's. Well at least the only one who could go without causing trouble." Rowan muses. Then continues on. "Visit the invisible? Speak to the living remains of the dead? And prevent a happy ending? Do we need to go find a ghost? A cemetery?"

"mushrooms!" Greg states to Rowan as though it was the most obvious answer, "maybe... moulds and fungi grow upon corpses, living remains of the dead, if we disregard some kind of undead horde. Which doesn't seem very fey to me. Mycelia can form networks and essentially become one being over a large area, practically invisible and unassuming... Wait no, that's way off. These kinds of things unfold as you find them, I'm sure it'll be no problem."

Nibs looks up quizzically at Greginald and replies. You mean the Queen? I've heard there's some Fairy Queen that's supposed to be in charge. Well, if the old hag was gone... and my curse lifted... I suppose I could probably leave the cave at least. I might even go home and leave these specters behind me forever. But I've learned my lesson... the gold stays here.

Then in response to the confusion displayed by those trying to make sense of the directions, Nibs chuckles and says: Your guess is as good as mine... better I expect. I've never actually left this cave, so I've never tried fey directions myself. But they probably mean something different every time someone follows them... getting somewhere in this place seems less about where things are than about where you are... in your story.

The old man finishes his knitting and puts his needles away, holding up his final creation and holding it out to Rowan. It appears to be a golden amulet on a golden chain... probably the most appropriate-looking item to be made from gold. Here you go son. Free of charge, compliments of Nib the Miser. I hope you...

At that moment a dark shadow passes briefly over the mouth of the cave, and a loud and disturbingly familiar sound penetrates the semi-darkness... a loud burbling! The sound and the sense of motion are gone as quick as they came, and the cave returns to silence once more. Nibs looks disturbed for a moment, but then shrugs and returns to his wheel.

Don't know, don't care to know what that was. All sorts of fantastic creatures in this place I imagine. I only see those what visit me here...