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Upon his return from speaking with the greenforged druid, Kurst will seek out Valerian and report what he has found out about the strange devices. After his report Kurst glances around uneasily before asking Valerian, "Have you ever heard of people being turned into.. um ... ademonfromthedepthsofKhyber.," the last words coming out in a rush. "That isn't possible, right?"
Oliver seems not to care about the looks he gets from Yatrax, as he does his wandering. After a hot bath and meal, he gives a long look around the bar, only to find a lovely half-elf that seems just right. A few kind words and tales of their dangerous quest later, and before long they were enjoying themselves in a different manner. Oliver then awakes and collects his clothes, watching the dozing form of the half-elf in the bed only half covered by the sheets. He approaches her, only to see her lazily open her eyes. He strokes her cheek, "I'll see you when I get back Amarine," he says with a smile, before kissing her on her forehead and departing.
Oliver greets the morning sun with squinting eyes and finds a suitable place to summon and bind to Paimon. After the ritual is complete he returns to the group finding his place with Yatrax. With an innocent grin he asks, "How was your evening my lovely?"
Amarine doesn't stir when you leave, but then again perhaps that is for the better. At the very least, she was quite satisfied last night, so maybe more than simple sloth keeps her in bed...
Oliver knows rather intuitively that there are many here who would find his binding distasteful, if not abhorrant. The place to bind Paimon must be, of necessity, private and under cover. It is a good thing you do not often call the more nature-oriented visages, or keeping this a secret might be impossible. As it is, you must engage a private room at a meeting house for the slightly exhorbitant price of two silver. Mostly used by the people of Greenheart when they need a place of absolute privacy to discuss certain manners, the proprietor takes your money with pursed lips. As usual, Paimon gets the best of you this morning, and with your face set in its almost characteristic twisted smile, you exit the room an hour later, leaving an air of suspicion behind you. But since you had been careful to extract even the tiniest particle of chalk from the floor, there's nothing left behind to incriminate you.
Yatrax rolls her eyes slightly when you rejoin the group and make your glib comment. "My evening was busy, and no, not in the manner you would suspect, my fine hedonist," she says with only a hint of playfulness. She raises her voice to be heard more clearly by the others in the group.
"I overheard rumors of unusual creatures stalking the western woods. Some of the Gatekeeper sect is worried, and they want to bring out some of their hunters in force. They're here to beg help from some other druids in residence. I don't know if this is Roth's doing, but either way, it seems as if there will be some hungry obstacles on our path," she says, her dark eyes flashing.
Forgefly said:
Upon his return from speaking with the greenforged druid, Kurst will seek out Valerian and report what he has found out about the strange devices. After his report Kurst glances around uneasily before asking Valerian, "Have you ever heard of people being turned into.. um ... ademonfromthedepthsofKhyber?" the last words coming out in a rush. "That isn't possible, right?"
The thin elf's eyes widen at Kurst's words, and he quickly pulls a book out of his pack and skims it briefly, writing down something quickly in a corner. Snapping the book shut, he turns back to you and nods briefly.
"I have indeed heard of something like that. Not being turned into demons, mind you. Come everyone, let us away from prying ears..." Valerian urges, and once the group is separated from the main flow, and eyes and ears are peeled for any inadvertant spies in the form of animals or plants, Valerian begins to talk again.
"Arrgha'n, you may already know some of this, so forgive me if I repeat. There are many planes that exist beyond our world, and one of those planes is known as Xoriat, the plane of Madness. Nine thousand years ago there was a great incursion from that plane. All creatures known now as aberrations were either natives of that plane, or normal creatures twisted by the daelkyr - the lords of madness who led the invasion. I know some of the names of these daelkyr lords, but I do not speak them aloud if not pressed; some of them are known to have eyes everywhere and I have not survived this long by being incautious.
"Two of their more prevalent servants are dolgaunts and dolgrims, twisted from hobgoblins and goblins. These, Kurst, are undoubtedly the 'demons' you spoke of. They look demonic enough to the ignorant, and rarely do they appear exactly the same twice, so mistakes can be easy to make by the untrained. Now, the Gatekeeper druids, Yatrax, bound the surviving Daelkyr commanders in the depths of Khyber, the lightless caverns underground. But their progeny survives to this day. It could be that someone has been opening parts of Khyber in an attempt to weaken the great seals... or this could be an attack from the daelkyr lords themselves. Anything we might find of their ilk is bound to be extremely dangerous and unpredictable in the extreme."
Lecture over, Valerian folds his long hands and waits for further questions, like a professor at the head of a lecture hall.
The kobold snerks at the man's comments about demons. "The things below are falsse, not true godsss or fiendsss. Nightmaresss. True fiendsss can make you them. The great dragonsss know that the demon taintsss, twissts, jussst by being new. Flessshwarpersss must grab you firsst." Irthos smiles inscrutably.
"Whether twisted by Khyber or Demon, such cannot exist. Roth and his ilk must be stopped." says Maavnod, rather singleminded in his desire to stamp out all forms of warped nature.
Arrgha'n lets a small contented half-smile slowly crawl across his face as Valerian speaks. When he finishes he says "Which ever is the case, it needs to be dealt with. If you are right, Valerian, we are going to be in for some fun.
I am rather anxious to get this started. We may want to leave as soon as possible, for the plans of the Daelkyr are something to needs to be thwarted."
Kurst looks about to ask Valerian another question, but upon hearing everyone else's comments he swallows his remark, and rubs his left arm distractedly looking at Maavnod.
"I agree with Arrgha'n, whatever its origin we'd best send it on to its destiny."
"Well," Oliver says with unbridled confidence, "if it be fiends from Khyber we are to face, then I say bring them on! However diverse their talents, I assure you, mine are more so."
Thusly informed and armed, the group departs about mid-morning, heading into the western woods of the Eldeen Reaches. The woods here have an air of the ancient, and the feeling of eyes upon you is strong. It's not inconceivable, given where you just were, that there are eyes upon you. Eyes of awakened animals and plants, eyes of shifted druids, eyes of fey, or just the eyes of a forest steeped in magic a hundred different ways.
The thought that Roth or another of his ilk could be using this general siege of eyes to cover any of his own surveilance does cross your minds. However, dilligent care in scouting and the setting of watches during the night catches no one following you.
In the next five days you move with care through the deep woods, keeping your eyes peeled for trouble. Your dilligence is rewarded when Arrgha'n and Maavnod spy the occasional cunning trap laid for the unwary. Since most of them are of the pit trap, snare, or deadfall variety, it probably means that someone has set them up for hunting... but it's hard to be certain. Paranoia is keeping you safe.
Foraging and hunting is decent, but you're very careful when taking edibles. Any questionable tree or bush, any animal that seems just a bit off, you decide to leave be rather than to risk drawing the ire of a fey or druidic guardian. There's a time to be bold and there's a time for caution. Your mission lies beyond these borders. It is with this in mind that you try to avoid trouble rather than seek it out.
But on the sixth day, when Yatrax thinks you're within perhaps a day of the end of the woods, trouble finds you. Just before you're ready to start looking for a camping place, there's a horrific commotion just ahead. Angry, high-pitched voices are shrieking and there's a louder roar that seems to end on a whimper.
No one speaks Sylvan, so the high-pitches voice remain uncomprehensible. But for those that speak Draconic, you hear in the roaring:
"Kill it, kill it! Kill me if you have to, I command you, but kill it!"
