(CSRHoD) Creamsteak's Red Hand of Doom [IC]

[pathfinderq1]

Tyrla looked around the group once more. "The boat we have is only usable in a limited fashion for each day, so I don't know how much help that will be. If we can't all go, perhaps just one or two should travel by owl, to begin any negotiation, while the rest of us try to move along as best we can. That might be safer than sending the bulk of the group ahead and leaving a few stragglers- mayhap Larian could go, with Warren for protection, and Avril can act as a coordinator. In eagle form her flight and senses would allow her to sweep between the two halves of our band." She paused for long enough to hear other opinions- a decision had to be reached, but it wouldn't be easy.

OOC: Really I'd prefer to move ahead as a group, but we are going to need the horses for mobility later- I don't think we can depend on owl-taxis. If we can find a way to acquire more horses after we get out of the swamp, we really ought to take this chance to make up some time.

 

[Arkhandus]

Warren the halfling, HP 39/39, AC 25

"Whatever. Let's just get on the owls and be done with it. We're obviously not taking the horses any further at this point. We'll pick up new ones later if we have to. Dangit." the halfling mutters.

Warren practices his combat forms a bit first after loosing Serrin, just in case. "Mr. elf, don't mistake our thankfulness for that bit of help earlier as trust. I'll eviscerate you and your owl in an instant if you try anything treacherous. We're not your enemies, but if you want to change that, it's your funeral. You just do the honorable thing and I'll do the same. I'll be riding with you just in case." he says in Elven.

 

[Redclaw]

Larian glares at the halfling. Warren, we really must work on your manners. You sound little better than the hobgoblins we're fighting against when you threaten a host like that. I can vouch for the hospitality these fine folk will provide. He steps between Warren and the other elf.

He turns to the owlrider again. I'm sorry for my companion's rudeness. He is still a little unsettled due to the amount of violence we have seen, and the loss of one of our number several days ago. He will not attack anyone unprovoked, and as I'm sure none of your folk will threaten him, all will work out.

 

[Creamsteak]

"Your threat is noted, halfling, but know that once were in the air I'll have the advantage whether dead or alive."

"So what's it going to be, knight?" The elf captain seems to glare at Pender specifically while he taps his toe waiting to get on with his business.

 

[Vigwyn the Unruly]

Pender, Male Human Fighter 6

Pender gives his horse a great smack on the rump, sending it galloping off through the marsh land.

"Let's fly, then," he says to the owl-rider.

 

[Creamsteak]

The giant owls are silent as they wing through the gloom, apparently able to navigate effortlessly through the darkness. Your elf escorts are also silent, aside from softly pointing out some dimly glimpsed landmark far below from time to time. Avril must struggle to keep the pace, as her form is slower than these birds.

Before long, you reach your destination. Rising from the marsh is a low hill of soild ground, encircled by a thick ring of trees. Dozens of pinpoints of light dot the hill-small lanterns filled with fireflies, each hanging from a tree-platform or the upper reaches of a conical tent. Many elves silently emerge to watch as you fly overhead. Killiar produces a sleek, silver horn of some sort from a saddlebag and blows one wailing note similar to a loon's cry.

Near the hill's peak stand three large trees, and built into their boughs are wooden structures. One glows softly with luminescence of its own and seems to be a temple. Another looks to be some sort of public building or town hall. The third, and your destination, is the smallest of the three-a cozy-looking tree house set above a large pool. Avril, Tyrla, and Larian all spot an enormous crocodile parked under the pools liquid surface.

Killiar is the first to land, followed by the other elves. Once all is said and done, the owls depart for somewhere in the south, probably in the middle of the more dense portion of the forested area. Killiar asks the group to wait while he steps inside the nearby building. A few moments later he returns and invites you to enter.

Waiting inside is a wise-looking and ancient elf. She wears flowing golden and green robes, and her hair is braided around a complex headress made of wicker and wood. She stands next to a much younger female elf in plain brown and green robes who looks to have been crying recently. The younger elf is seated in a large wicker chair, and the standing elf indicates nearby chairs for you. Behind you, Killiar the hunter takes a silent stance near the door.

The older woman introduces herself. "I am Sellyria Starsinger, Speaker for the Tiri Kitor," the standing elf says. She indicates teh seated elf and continues, "This is High Singer Trellara Nightshadow. We do not often see strangers in our homeland. What brings you to the Blackfens?" Her voice sounds like everyone's grandmother, though by this point in her life she would likely be far past a great great grandmother in descendants.

Trellara

Sellyria

 

[Arkhandus]

Before the group leaves, Warren responds jovially "Oh, I don't know about that, I'm pretty bouncy. Halflings are made of sunshine and kitten fuzz, y'know," to the elven stranger. To Larian, he says "And I was being polite, I gave 'im fair warning like an honorable fellow an' corrected his misconception. Just bein' honest," while still smiling.

After the group arrives at the elven town, Warren just lets others do the talking since there's obviously no faith in his manners. Seeing as how he has no manners.

 

[Redclaw]

Larian feels a sense of peace settle over him as the owls descend. Even though the elves of this village are clearly different from his own family, it is good to once again be in elven lands.

As he enters the building, he signals to Warren to remain silent, pleased to see that the halfling already had that intention. Larian bows his head as they are shown to the chairs. He sits and listens to the speaker, every motion showing his respect and deference. As she finishes, he once again tries to explain their mission. Thank you for the welcome, Lady Starsinger, High Singer. I am Larian Lightweaver, wizard and adventurer. These are my companions: Avril, a druid and friend of the forest, Warren, halfling practitioner of blade magic, Siobhan Lilend, cleric of Kord, Pender, master of horse and blade, and finally Tyrla nic Rizzell, warlock. It is truly good to be in elven halls again. This is an unexpected pleasure, and one that I am in your debt for. With another bow, he takes out the copy of the map and the note they recovered at the roadblock.

To answer your questions, we are here to combat a great evil that threatens the vale south of your home. We have encountered several advanced units of a truly powerful army of hobgoblins, dragons and other beasts, and have recovered a map that points to a full scale invasion of Elsir Vale. There also seems to be a reference on the map to your home here, although it's much less specific. We did what we could to warn the people of the Vale, and they are withdrawing to the relative safety of Brindol, but we didn't feel that we could even slow the advance of the main army. However we discovered a possible way to strike at them on the map. It appears that one of their leaders is undertaking some mission in the heart of the swamp. We hope that by discovering what he is doing, and preventing him from succeeding, that we will be able to help the people of the Vale in their time of need. He offers the two pieces of paper to support his story, then turns a hopeful eye on the elves.

I know that you owe us nothing, and in fact have already done much to strengthen my soul in this time of great need just by being here and allowing me to spend a few moments here. However, if you could see your way to aiding us in this endeavour in any way, I am sure that it would greatly increase our chance of diminishing this great evil.

 

[Creamsteak]

The older woman looks at you with a strange perturbed glare. "You presume a great deal more friendliness here than would be given to strangers under normal circumstances. As you have seen, the marsh is growing dangerous. We have long struggled to hold these beautiful lands of our own. The local lizardfolk have vexed us for many decades, but now a new peril stalks the blackfens."

"They are something... new. We've only seen a few of them over the past weeks. Poor Lanikar was the first of us to fall to one. Our high priest, Illian Snowmantle, claims that they have ties to the infernal. Until today, none of the beasts have been sighted far from the fallen city of Rhest..."

 

[Redclaw]

Larian nods, humbled by her reproach. You are right, my lady. I do presume much. I can only offer my assurances that it would not be so were the situation any less dire. As it is, I wonder if our problems are in common. Is it possible that this unknown operative of the Red Hand, Saarvith by name, is responsible for whatever is happening in Rhest? We have no better leads for where to find him, so we might be willing to investigate the source of your infestation. Considering what we have seen so far, it would not surprise me to find that the Red Hand is involved with producing magically altered draconic creatures.

I truly apologize for any offense I have caused, and I am truly sorry for your loss. It is ever a sorrowful event when one of such naturally long life is cut off too early.