(Just to make it perfectly clear, you are all in the close vicinity to one another. Ahead of both groups you are observing the same terrain/persons/actions/etc.)
Eovin flew above the trees, cresting the smoke. The foilage below was more smoldering than actively burning, like the fire had been more intense before and was now dying.
Bradrick, Page and cousin Zenythin nodded at Selythin's small speech.
The rowboat wound its way toward the western bank of the river. Zenythin hopped off the prow and onto the shore. He held a hand up to the rest.
The stranded travelers (Eovin up above and everyone on the rowboat below) all saw the treeline ended in front of them.
The river intersected with the forest edge and the little pixie, so high in the air, saw the boat along the embankment. She could see everyone on board, Selythin, Alan, and the rest.
In the distance, the pixie also spied a castle, in the center of the widening river. A plume of smoke curled up from the scorched battlements of the keep.
Right after the trees, a close distance away in a wide hilly area, stood a large structure made out of wood and metal. It was bleachers and benches. For spectating...something.
Protruding from the ground, to one side of the big construction, was a wooden pole displaying a large pennant lazily flapping in the wind. It bore an eight-sided arrow in radial design. The symbol of Chaos.
Eovin and those on the water-craft, although from slightly different angles, looked at the back side of the thing. The seats were empty except for a brutish pair occupying one of the middle benches. They faced the burning ruins in the distance.
An ogre with an eye-patch and a green-skinned troll lounged on one of the long bleachers. They were obviously intoxicated. Tremendously so, in fact.
The same loud voice from before boomed. It was the ogre.
"Which way was it, anyhow, Boris? Wasn't there uh... portal somewheres about?"
The troll, now in ear-shot, responded.
"How in the great abyss should I know, guv? Been naughty word-faced since the start o' the whole thing, haven't I? Can't remember which bloody plane we're on anyway…" He hiccuped loudly.
Below the benches, pushing a cart loaded with barrels and wine-skins, a four-armed bug-like fellow approached. He shouted up to the pair.
"Oi there! You lads want any more o' this? I'm about to get outta this stinkin' place...head back down the river Styx…"
It appeared the mezzo-demon was hawking booze.
Likewise, it looked like the main event had come to an end.
* * *
The stocky, short satyr kept looking at Ralph Crenshaw while the rest of the little fey-folk scattered to the rafters.
He glanced over his shoulder then straight back at Ralph, the Dreaming Knight.
"Sorry, Champion. It's...bad time. Everyone scared. Queen dead. Grand Vizier Aov sent me to find yoo. He queen's advisor. Big-little guy. Castle prolly already destroyed. If you wanna go, I'll lead." He gestured around at the hiding faeries.
"They too scared. They stay. Or run. I take."
He started to hobble toward the door.
Orland and his wife scurried to the pantry, gathering dried meats, hard-boiled eggs, hunks of cheeses, some bits of bread, and stuffed them into a basket which they shoved at Ralph. They both nodded gravely.
The satyr continued out into the rain, pausing only for a moment to make sure the Dreaming Knight was following.
The little horned and hooved guy marched straight into the nearby woods which were thick with a smokey haze.
* * *
(Everyone, Eovin, Alan, Selythin, Ralph, and cowboy Jones take an inspiration. I'm seeing some great roleplaying here. Really happy how the story is coming together. Hope you're still with us Josiah! Ralph, you're almost there! Another level-up is on the way as well. I think you're all experienced players, but remember sometimes things are tough and discretion the better part of valor. Cheers! Love this game.



)
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