The Fey, the Far, and the Ugly Space In Between

[Tecklenburg]

The powerful magics made manifest all at once take a terrible toll on the fabric of reality. Temporal waves ripple outward causing time to seem to distort for those afflicted!

[sblock]Temporal Wave + 24 vs Will.

Farishta. Rolled 13. Hit. Stunned (save ends).

Otthor. Rolled 6. Miss.

Saerie. Rolled 8. Hit. Stunned (save ends).

You guys are going to have to do something about this, because that would mean an auto-failure by 2 of your 3.[/sblock]

Given my acute understanding of magic and keep perception, I would recognize the temporal wave for what it is quickly. Can I sprint over to Farishta and shove her out of the blast as a countermeasure interrupt?

Per Manbearcat
Makes sense. Roll Athletics vs level 27 medium DC. If you pass she is out of the blast, but I'm going to reroll the attack against you. If you fail, she is still affected and I'm going to reroll against you.

Otthor's mind screams "looks out(!)", but he doesn't give voice to it. It wouldn't matter anyway. But his legs can travel faster than his voice and her recognition can. He's a blur of motion, intent on shouldering the priestess out of the way of the wave of time disruption!

[sblock]Athletics + 18 [2d20 due to Remarkable Athlete]. Rolled 7, 16. Second one passes.[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat

[sblock]Temporal Wave + 24 vs Will.

Otthor. Rolled 12. Hit. Stunned (save ends).[/sblock]

The wave washes repeatedly over Otthor as he shoulders the unsuspecting priestess off her feet. She goes flying through the air and lands safely out of the blast radius of the temporal disruption. From her backside, she instinctively reaches out to him as she realizes what has happened...but to no avail. The energy slams into him with callous indifference, causing him to reel to his knees.

Through a steely will born of a hundred deadly duels and a hundred more battles with legions of foes, Otthor attempts to fight off the dizzying effects, rise to his feet, and put an end to the apocalyptic mists!

[sblock]Martial Resolve saving throw at beginning of turn vs stunned.

Rolled 17. Passes.

Otthor Primary Check Arcana +27. Rolled 12! That is good enough so 2/3 pass the high DC.[/sblock]

 

[Manbearcat]

Blood trickles from my nose as I grit my teeth and bear the terrible wave of time distortion. I place the side of my face directly on the cold stone and whisper to it, urging it to come alive, grasp these unnatural mists, and crush them out of our existence!

Otthor's mind screams "looks out(!)", but he doesn't give voice to it. It wouldn't matter anyway. But his legs can travel faster than his voice and her recognition can. He's a blur of motion, intent on shouldering the priestess out of the way of the wave of time disruption!

Through a steely will born of a hundred deadly duels and a hundred more battles with legions of foes, Otthor attempts to fight off the dizzying effects, rise to his feet, and put an end to the apocalyptic mists!

The very earth rises up. The winds howl with single purpose.

The fabric of reality shifts this way and that.

All of it corralling the nature-subverting mists toward the burning symbol of Avandra. Recoil as they might to the radiant energy, there is no escape. The contracting mists lessen and soon are fully no more.

The sounds of shouting panic and horse hooves on frozen ground crystallize and then crescendo, your minds having muted out everything but the task at hand. It takes some time for the news to filter in to all of the fleeing, would-be refugees. However, when it does the rejoicing is thunderous and complete. It is so very cold out, the coldest winter in memory. So the exaltation outdoors lasts only as long as the fervor distracts minds from frozen bones.

Then there is the many dead to consider. Wrenched hearts and melancholy pervade the euphoria of triumph. Perhaps half of Giliad's Rest's defenders have fallen. Three Bird and the Coldland Barbarians sacrificed themselves on the altar of victory. How many more lost this day to the madness of the death cult and the forced march down the mountain?

The two refugee families of World's End Bluff consider their own grievous losses. Five survivors among a settlement of nearly forty.

The toll is too severe for merriment, thus a somber tone ensues for days to come. But they survived and they can rebuild. You protected Giliad's Rest and the little girl that Saerie took on as ward all those years ago.

---

You guys can go ahead and write any mini-epilogue that you see fit. Perhaps the consecration of the noble fallen, the debriefing of the Summer Court on what transpired, or the rebuilding effort in the material world.

We're going to be transitioning the game to many, many months down the line. Please answer the following questions so we can sort out where we will be and what will be at hand.

1) With their job accomplished, are Saerie and Otthor called back to the Feywild? If so, do they heed that call?

2) With the arrival of spring and then summer, does the winter retreat or does it persist?

3) Is the Summer Court made aware of the Winter Fey's grievances (either by diplomatic envoy or outright aggression)? If so, how do Malgelir and Gwenchon Beretheil frame Otthor's place in this? Do they support him or place the burden of blame on him?

4) What happens with Sadia? Averandox and the proposed alliance?

5) Do the alien aboleth hold grudges?

 

[Tecklenburg]

We're going to be transitioning the game to many, many months down the line. Please answer the following questions so we can sort out where we will be and what will be at hand.

1) With their job accomplished, are Saerie and Otthor called back to the Feywild? If so, do they heed that call?

2) With the arrival of spring and then summer, does the winter retreat or does it persist?

3) Is the Summer Court made aware of the Winter Fey's grievances (either by diplomatic envoy or outright aggression)? If so, how do Malgelir and Gwenchon Beretheil frame Otthor's place in this? Do they support him or place the burden of blame on him?

4) What happens with Sadia? Averandox and the proposed alliance?

5) Do the alien aboleth hold grudges?

1) Otthor returns once called back. It is is home and it is his primary duty to defend the Summer Court. He was glad to be away for the years that Saerie and he tracked down the Far Realm threat, but he has longed to see the mystical wilds of his homeland and the breath-taking art of his people.

He would wish it to be with Saerie, and will try to convince her if she threatens insubordination, but he will take no action against her.

Most importantly, I have to reveal to our historians and our blademasters that I have discovered the Bladesong. It is not something that can be trained into you. It is something that is a part of you or not and it can only be found when both you and It area ready, typically your darkest hour. I can help them hone their power, but elves who have a latent connection with The Song must discover that on their own.

2) The winter persists. Farishta's powerful auguries show her a heart wreathed in ice. Otthor and Saerie know what that means.

3) Yes. By aggression. Exactly what that means, I'll let you tell us! Malgelir and Gwenchon Beretheil love their family name a great deal, as many Eladrin do. I pose no threat to their names and our military has grown strong since I slew our former Master. But there is a reason the Winter Fey are primarily populated by Eladrin. Long memories and cold, calculating patience.

I don't trust them.

4) I'll answer the second part. Parley was successful. Arcane construction for a two-way gate into Averandox's lair is in its final stages. If he is under threat, be it adventurers, ancient dragon challengers, or aboleths, we will aid our ally. It is mutual with him to us.

5) Their alien minds are impossible to understand. However, I don't think they hold grudges. This defeat was so all-encompassing, that it will be many millennium, if ever, that they haunt us with such magnitude.

You guys can go ahead and write any mini-epilogue that you see fit. Perhaps the consecration of the noble fallen, the debriefing of the Summer Court on what transpired, or the rebuilding effort in the material world.

Otthor will accompany the Coldland's and World's End Bluff refugees. The Coldland people are accepted back into the fold. None of them wish to return to the barren harshness of the upper peaks. All of the families rebuild World's End Bluff and trade with the Earthmaw hobgoblins begins anew. Wandering Wolf is named the new leader of the circle of druids and rangers. We memorialize Three Bird and the fallen in their old ways. People braving the harshness of the world need icons to aspire to. Their leadership, sacrifice, and example must be remembered forevermore.

I travel to Earthmaw and make sure that King Ornrak and Constable Ozark recognize the legendary prowess of Exel and Xanob. They perished under the prideful eye of Kord, facing down a foe deadlier and more terrifying than any goblin in Earthmaw's history. Possibly in all the history of the world. The Earthmaw quarry will be worked day, noon, and night until blocks of hardness can be found sufficient to make immortal the courage and fortitude of those two. Their best artisan will see to the task.

 

[Binks]

We're going to be transitioning the game to many, many months down the line. Please answer the following questions so we can sort out where we will be and what will be at hand.

1) With their job accomplished, are Saerie and Otthor called back to the Feywild? If so, do they heed that call?

4) What happens with Sadia?

I'll answer the ones that Teck didn't.

Saerie will return to the Feywild...but not without Sadia. She mulls over the situation for the next few months. Would her elven people accept this human girl? How would Sadia respond to such an foreign world, both culturally and topographically. It is a place many times more enchanting and dangerous than her home.

In the end, it didn't matter. Saerie had to return, and she couldn't leave Sadia with the elderly surrogate farmers who took her in. She will come to the Feywild and learn how to be strong and self-sufficient. It will be extremely difficult, but the girl is no stranger to difficulty.

---

I'm figuring that she can just be a plot element now and somewhere down the line we can turn her into a full-fledged follower/hireling.

You guys can go ahead and write any mini-epilogue that you see fit. Perhaps the consecration of the noble fallen, the debriefing of the Summer Court on what transpired, or the rebuilding effort in the material world.

I join Otthor in all that he has detailed above. The only thing different is the parting with the elderly surrogate family and the people of Giliad's Rest that I have grown fond of. The parting is not as difficult as I was expecting due to the fact that I have left knowing the ominous cloud of dread that hung over the place had finally been lifted.

Otthor gets the sending from the Summer Court mage. Sadia, the Dire Wolves, Rawr, Lucky and myself join him at the Fey Circle for the passing. I find myself stifling tears as the image of the world I spent a decade protecting shimmers and fades.

 

[Manbearcat]

"Girl...open your eyes." The voice is the unfeeling cold of the ocean's depths as the howl of the frozen night pours through the open door. "We are not here to hurt you."

The last thing the girl saw before she clenched her eyes shut and began wishing this moment away was the final ebb of life in her mother's own eyes. Summer brought no relent from winter's joyless grasp. The woman that bore her into this world had tried to hide the truth from her daughter that she was dying from Lung Fever. A selfless gesture of a mother's love but ultimately futile in finding its mark. They buried her brother from the same affliction two weeks ago. Her mother was in the final stages and death would soon follow. The girl knew well enough.

That softened the blow not at all. The snow white elf's mere touch froze the life from her before a last exchange of love and comfort could be fulfilled.

Despite her terror, she feels angry, aching eyelids peeling back of their own volition, revealing the perfectly blue orbs hidden beneath.

Pale indigo lips merge into a small, satisfied smirk. "We have one."

His marrow-numbing hand on her bare skin claims the girl's consciousness.

---

I'll frame you both into your opening scenes tomorrow.

 

[Manbearcat]

Otthor

The difference is staggering. Gone is the never-ending chill up your spine. Gone is the narrow palette of colors; grays, blues, and sheer white. Gone is the daily suffering and hardship and the iron wills steeled by it. Juxtaposing the peoples of Giliad's Rest and the highland realm above it with the playful fey in the eternal summer realm of Senaliesse is an inevitability.

The young warriors kneel in the tall grasses that magically grow on the vastness of the titanic silver trees upon which this place rests and is intertwined. Entire meadows persist on a single branch alone. Their numbers were recently cut by a quarter due to a lost patrol led by an accomplished Arcane Duelist and friend to you (name him/her). They were investigating the region to the northeast where the majestic, enchanted forest gives way to the craggy badlands that houses the underdark realm of the Fomorians, Vor Thomil. An especially deformed giant going by the brilliant moniker of "Elf-eater" was allegedly laying claim to territory within the boundaries of the Summer Queens demesne. A second patrol was dispatched after the first failed to report in. No signs of the students, their teacher, or any Fomorian could be found.

The secret that you may have unlocked the mystery of The Bladesong maintained its stealthy status for perhaps a day. Mercilessly driven by curiosity and hungry for something positive to shake their minds from the pall that had settled over them, one student forgets himself. The rumor was that The Song would only emerge when those sensitive to it were threatened with deadly force. He explodes to his feet with his sword leading his charge. "Show us The Song, Master!"

---

Saerie

High on the gorgeous verdant mountains that create the barrier between the lycanthrope-dominated badlands of Brokenstone Vale, the haunted, twisted forest that houses the ancient abandoned city of Cendriane, and Senaliesse, Sadia excitedly runs off to crests a rise. You've been in pursuit of a shy pegasus for a few hours now. The young girl, so often lost in the sadness of her past, was suddenly utterly fixated on the present. The ensorcelled look on her typically demure face when she first saw it from afar was enough to move to soaring the most stoic of hearts.

She struggles on this tough, final leg of the climb as the once gentle slope has become much more demanding. She stops at the top, leaning on her elbows in taking in a sight that leaves her stunned into near paralysis. When you reach the top and settle in next to her, you see the pegasus is not alone. Nuzzling her youngling next to her, they bask in the twilight as thousands of glittering fireflies take wing, casting an ephemeral sheen to the fore and background.

But the girl's gaze is not drawn there.

Directly in front of her, within arms reach, is a sight that captivates her more deeply. Her deep blue eyes cast their sight upon a single, intricate, crystalline flower looking to be chiseled from the purest of mountain waters frozen over.

It shouldn't grow here.

She settles her weight fully on one elbow as the other arm slowly extends toward the flower...

 

[Tecklenburg]

Spell loadout

[sblock]5 levels:

Charm Person
Invisibility
Magic Missle
Moonstride
Thunderwave[/sblock]

Are these entry-level Arcane Duelists? Even an entry-level warrior who passes the tests necessary to reach the special forces training for the Summer Court's elite warrior-mages is a dangerous adversary.

Or are these just orientation for youths who are beginning their training in the art of elven bladework?

If it is the latter, do I need to roll dice?

Per Manbearcat
If it was the latter, you certainly would not need to roll any dice. However, it is the former. While young, these are seasoned warriors who have seen many tours on the dangerous periphery of Senaliesse. Dealing with Quicklings spies and Fomorian reavers is deadly business.

As the present Master of the Summer Court's Arcane Duelists and the only known Bladesinger, you outclass them significantly (you can have 2 Prep, per Bolster, for this conflict). But make no mistake...you bleed...and each of them is equipped with technique, experience, and gear to make things bleed.

I do not draw my sword. There is something strange about this. Too bold. Too rash. Mere curiosity couldn't possibly be driving this student to such insubordination. It reminds me of my duel to the death with the former master.

I wait until the last possible moment before I spin out of the way so I can look into his eye and get the measure of him. I want to get an intimate look at shoulders, arms, back to see if I can discern his family name. Maybe this is a doppleganger assassin infriltrating our ranks?

[sblock]Defy Danger (Dex)
6, 5 +3 = 14

Discern Realities - The Riddle of Steel (Wis)
3, 5 +0 (+1 TRoS and +1 Prep) = 10

All the questions from TRoS and +1 forward when acting on them:

* What is this person about to do?
* What emotion drives this person?
* What is this person trying to hide?[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
The young warrior neither circles left nor right to test you. He darts at you with aggression and uncanny speed, more rhino than raptor. His blade cuts low leading him into a spin where it cuts across your throat. You leap out of the way and throw your upper body back into a full bridge to avoid the follow-up. This leads you easily into position for a grappling/unarmed strike counterattack should you wish it.

You get everything you need.

1) He is going for the kill. Another flurry, headlong with no regard for defense.

2) His eyes and the tenseness of his hands (the antithesis of a warrior's supple grip on his weapon) show an elf embroiled in an internal storm of rage, spite, and contempt.

3) Whether he is willfully hiding it or not is speculative. But the unique amber flare which outlines his pupils is one clue. The subtle shoulder tatoo of a leaf on the wind is another.

He is undoubtedly family of your former Master.

Hmmmmm, going all ironical-like on me, eh? I'm thinking jedi mind trick with Charm Person, but I'll get back to you.

CONTINUED...

I'm going to take that advantage that my agile dodging of his "all-in" flurry gave me. I spring back up from the bridge and I'm inside his guard. One hand grasps the side of his face, Spock-like, and the other waves in front of him, Jedi-like. "I am not your enemy."

Assuming it is successful, I'll remove my hand from his face.

[sblock]Cast a Spell (Int) - Charm Person
1, 4 +3 = 8

The person (not beast or monster) you touch while casting this spell counts you as a friend until they take damage or you prove otherwise.

I'll choose:

• After it is cast, the spell is forgotten. You cannot cast the spell again until you prepare spells.

[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
The fire in the young elf's eyes retreats and is replaced by ambivalence and finally placidity. He looks at the blade in his hand with consternation. "I...I'm...forgive me." Abruptly, he casts his gaze to the ground in shame.

I give him a mild smile, but one that would readily read as forgiveness. I pat his shoulder and bring my other hand out wide, signalling him to take his place back among the students. I deeply breathe in the powerful fragrance of this enchanted place. When he settles back in, I lead the students in yoga and meditation. As I do, I fill them in on the mystery of The Bladesong. "If, in your most desperate hour, you find it welling up within, possessing you as much as you are possessing it, then you will know. You will know the moments in between each moment in time. You will be both inside yourself and all around you. You will know your enemies movements before they know them themselves."

As they all look at me either incredulously or with awe, I will deadpan "...or you will not. It is not a martial discipline to be mastered so I cannot reveal it to you. However...if I knew what I know now, it may have become manifest within me long ago."

Walking amongst them now.

"If you seek it, you will not find it. If you long for it, you will remain unrequited. Only when you let go of all hope, all fear, all pride, all pretension of a future, all reflection on the past. Only when you live perfectly in that unconscious moment where blade, body, and magic are inseparable. Only then will The Song reveal itself to you."

We break up into partners and work on technique and stamina. I will walk among the pairings and have each student introduce themselves to me and debrief me on their martial backgrounds and expectations. This will serve to both allow me to familiarize myself with this new batch of aspiring Arcane Duelists, and to gather the necessary information on my would-be assailant.

The following day I will consult the Summer Queen on the situation. This would likely be a capital offense. However, I will lobby to indenture him as my "Bladeward". I would think my service record would earn me that. Given his heritage and his passion, I believe there may be great potential within him if he can be harnessed.

 

[Binks]

Saerie

High on the gorgeous verdant mountains that create the barrier between the lycanthrope-dominated badlands of Brokenstone Vale, the haunted, twisted forest that houses the ancient abandoned city of Cendriane, and Senaliesse, Sadia excitedly runs off to crests a rise. You've been in pursuit of a shy Pegasus for a few hours now. The young girl, so often lost in the sadness of her past, was suddenly utterly fixated on the present. The ensorcelled look on her typically demure face when she first saw it from afar was enough to move to soaring the most stoic of hearts.

She struggles on this tough, final leg of the climb as the once gentle slope has become much more demanding. She stops at the top, leaning on her elbows in taking in a sight that leaves her stunned into near paralysis. When you reach the top and settle in next to her, you see the Pegasus is not alone. Nuzzling her youngling next to her, they bask in the twilight as thousands of glittering fireflies take wing, casting an ephemeral sheen to the fore and background.

But the girl's gaze is not drawn there.

Directly in front of her, within arms reach, is a sight that captivates her more deeply. Her deep blue eyes cast their sight upon a single, intricate, crystalline flower looking to be chiseled from the purest of mountain waters frozen over.

It shouldn't grow here.

She settles her weight fully on one elbow as the other arm slowly extends toward the flower...

My hand darts like a viper to intercept her wrist before she can grasp the wintry flower. I'm certain that such a bloom belongs only in The Vale of the Long Night.

[sblock]Defy Danger (Dex)
3, 2 +3 = 8

Success but a worse outcome, hard bargain, or ugly choice.

I'm also going to take this opportunity to roll Animal Spirit for Lucky.

Animal Spirit (Wis)
1, 4 +3 = 8

* Your spirit is cunning and adds +1 when you discern realities.[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
Quick like a cat, her wrist is firm in your hand. Strangely, the girl doesn't regard you at this suddenness. Transfixed on the icy bloom before her she struggles against you, her eyes narrowing and her teeth biting her lower lip.

The Pegasus suddenly startles and gallops away with its foal. The fireflies follow suit and fly off. They couldn't have moved due to your activity. You're far enough away and relatively noiseless when compared to the sound of the breeze blowing the thigh-high grasses of the mountain meadow. What's more, when that same soft wind flows through the strange, icy flower, a soft moaning can be heard. Does it resemble mourning?

This is the borderlands of haunted Cendriane and the werewolf territory of Brokenstone Vale. Anything could lurk out there...

I'll consider the flower further when I have more time. I've likely heard of it even if I've never encountered it.

I harshly yet quietly attempt to rouse the girl like a mother chastising her child. "Sadia...return to me. There is something out there. We have to move."

Per Manbearcat
Your voice and tone are sufficient to shake her from whatever had momentarily overtaken her. She looks at you and blinks twice and then tracks from your mouth to your shoulder, up to her wrist in your hand. She is clearly flummoxed by this.

The Dire Wolves are out hunting at the base of these mountains so are of no help to us here. I feel the faint quality of Lucky's mostly incorporeal form as the old boy nuzzles my hand in these nervous moments. "Do you see something out there" I say, as I scan the moonlit meadow.

[sblock]Discern Realities
2, 2 +3 (+1 Lucky) = 8

I'll choose:

* What should I be on the lookout for?[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
Lucky sniffs the air and then you get it too. Upon the gentle breeze, there is an astoundingly acrid scent that you haven't smelled in many, many years. Extremely concentrated urine. The lycanthropes of these mountains struggle for territory with a more benign, but certainly no less ferocious, race of creatures. The 7-8 foot tall Firbolgs routinely piss all over themselves. It permeates the hair on their heads and bodies, the beards on their faces, and the thick pelts they wear. They believe it has cleansing power. It certainly has the utility of ending many potential quarrels before they begin due to the overwhelming stench.

In the distant meadow, the grass moves a bit beyond the sway associated with the wind.

Saerie considers calling upon the primal elements to mask their escape. However, she is also thinking about parleying with the Firbolgs. Perhaps they know something of the wintry bloom that has so captivated Sadia?

I'll get back to you on this.

 

[Binks]

Saerie leans in to Sadia and whispers in her ear. "Get down to the lowlands and hide. If this goes poorly, find a place to hide. Otthor knows where we are. If we aren't back in Senaliesse by morning after next, he will bring a search party. Go."

Once she scoots off, I'll give a low growl to Rawr indicating that he needs to finish pawing at whatever has his attention across the way and join me. When he does, Lucky, Rawr and I will crest the rise to the mountain meadow, bathing ourselves in the moonlight to make ourselves known. My bow will be out, but both of my hands will be out to my sides to indicate that I come in peace. Rawr will look as huge, looming, and threatening as he always does, just in case the Firbolgs get any foolish ideas.

Per Manbearcat
The tall grass brushes against the bottom of your elven chain tunic as the breeze blows your hair back. Four large, shadowy figures rise in unison from the cover of the grass (one at Far and a trio at Near). Pink faces bear cro magnon brows, high cheekbones, with braided hair and gnarly beards serving as haphazard outlines. Hairy bodies are covered by pelts and furs. Pelts are adorned with crudely scrawled pictorials indicating these hunters serve the archfey The Maiden of the Moon in her endless battle against the lycanthropes of Brokenstone Vale.

The nearest one, left brow looking mangled as if his orbital socket was severely damaged in the past, points to the moon and then to himself. "I am Korshek, leader of the hunt and Moon Seer of my people. I speak for them and the lady in these parts. You cost us a feast of flying horse flesh and your people gave the vale to the man-beasts. You are not welcome here."

The two nearest move next to him to flank Korshek and leer menacingly. The last one rests his burly form by taking a knee, but is still easily picked out due to his size.

I ignore his charge of me costing them their hunt. Clearly it is meant to save face with his clansmen. He can keep it as far as I'm concerned.

I look on my flank to the great grizzly bear flanking me. I look back at the Firbolgs. With no threat in my voice I say "...will Korshek, seer of his people, grant me his insight? I have but one, simple question?"

Per Manbearcat
"What is your offering to the Moon Maiden?"

"Would you like me to change the wind for you so your prey cannot smell you coming? Name the direction you wish it to blow and it shall be done?"

[sblock]Parley (Cha)
3, 3 + 1 (using my + 1 from DR) = 8

They will do what you ask, but need some concrete assurance of your promise, right now.[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
Korshek looks around at his fellow hunters with an air of amused curiosity. "Show me your power wood-witch." He points at the direction that he wants the wind to blow.

I grasp a tuft of fur from Rawr and lean my head into him. My other hand reaches into the sky as I quietly invoke the primal spirits of air.

[sblock]Elemental Master (Wis)
5, 4 +3 = 12

The effect comes to pass.[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
The breeze picks up ever so slightly and shifts abruptly, the tall grass swaying and swirling dramatically with the sudden movements.

Korshek does his best to not betray being impressed, but the hunters beside him clearly are. One scratches his head dumbly while the other's jaw goes a bit slack. The third in the back stands to full height at the display.

The seer nods slowly. "Ask your question and be gone."

I beckon him near so he can get a look at the alien flower. "I have been on every mountain face, every meadow, and in every cave in these parts. Never have I seen this flower. Listen. It cries as the wind rustles it. What do you make of it?"

Per Manbearcat
Korshek's eyes widen and he steps back when he sees it clearly, suddenly looking around. "It is the Mourning Blossom. Only the weeping of the Pale Prince gives it life. It should not be here!"

He looks behind you as a sound of rocks coming loose reveals Sadia hiding behind some rocks as she curiously looks on. Korshek squints and then his eyes go even wider than before as he beholds the small girl. "She is marked! You all must leave this place!" The leader of the giant, hairy fey-men and his fellow hunters begin beating a hasty retreat through the long grass from whence they came.

I look at Sadia and then back at the retreating Firbolgs and inquisitively whisper "...The Prince of Frost? He was at this very spot...watching us?"

I look again at Sadia. I'll scold her later. "We must go. Now." The four of us scramble down to the lowland hills where the Dire Wolves are and beat a hasty exit toward Senaliesse and the Summer Queen's council.

Per Manbearcat
I won't make you roll for Managing Provisions on a Journey here (as I framed you out here). I'll do a follow-up post detailing a Discovery from Sadia on the way back home.

FYI - you have 20 Dungeon Rations, 5 Ammo, 3 Adventuring Gear, 2 uses of Poultices and Herbs, and 200 coins.

Otthor, you have the 5 Dungeon Rations, you have a new Elven Longknife (Precise, Hand), 5 Adventuring Gear, 2 Bag of Books, and 200 coins.

 

[Manbearcat]

Saerie

When you settle in to camp on the day's trek back to Senaliesse, Sadia reveals something that has been weighing heavily upon her.

Since she was a small child, she has been having recurring dreams. She wasn't able to identify the emotion until later in life, but she would always have a sense of carrying a terrible amount of guilt as she blindly gropes for something tangible in a wintry dreamscape that is awash in wind and sheer white.

Always just outside of the periphery of her sight would be a pair of lingering figures, merely silhouettes obscured by the artificial twilight caused by the snowstorm.

What little she could see of them told her they were female forms.

The pervasive feeling inside of her told her that her guilt was about them.

She was drawn to them. Always drawn to them.

But never could she reach them.

Those dreams have accelerated now. And now there is an ominous presence that she senses in the storm. A presence that is keeping her from reaching them.

---

You're both going to consult the Summer Queen. I'll frame the two of you into the follow-up scene in the coming days. If you have anything you wish to add or actions you wish to undertake in this transitional period, let me know or post it.