“Now I have you. Your stink has been bothering me all night,” Crulgrin tensed when Burrowfolk’s hand clamped down on his shoulder and held him fast, “You and I have a few things to talk about!”
Oi! I reckon we jus’ might at that, the gem-smuggler thought as his eyes darted frantically about the place searching for an exit, an escape, or even just a tiny hole in which to hide, but, if Chald Aharn’s lookin’ my way, I dinnae think we’ll be havin’ that chat anytime soon…Please be lookin’ my way, Lady Luck! Please, please, please…
And she was, it seemed, for as the commotion at the entry way grew and the gathering of Khord kinfolk became more frantic and irate, Jamdock’s attentions drifted away from Crulgrin and the Gemhound’s grip, too, loosened…
Until then, it had begun to look like there wouldn’t be an easy escape from the gemhound’s shadow. Between Burrowfolk and a burly fighter named Thagovan having taken charge of the place in the madness and mayhem that had accompanied Govarund’s arrival, in fact, it didn’t seem as if anyone would be leaving the Spores – unseen or otherwise – anytime soon and, following the gemhound’s gruff “I’ll deal with you later,” the gem smuggler allowed himself to, once again, be swept to the fringes of the Khord congregation where he could remain unnoticed and, perhaps, take advantage of even the smallest opportunity to get himself as far away from Jamdock as possible.
“You are all too drunk to deal with danger right now,” Burrowfoot bellowed, releasing his hold on Crulgrin and moving into the anxious crowd, “We need order! I want all the parents who are missing a child to come to me. I will form groups to search the mushroom forest. Thagovan, over there,” the gemhound indicated the burly Khord, “will go ahead with a group of strong men. The rest of you, come to me, and we will sort things out as fast as possible.”
Not exactly the pr’cise way I’d’ve hoped fer, Crulgrin mused as he watched a handful of party-goers move towards Thagovan and offer their services, but it’ll do ta get me clear of that blinkin’ hound, won’ it?
Checking, first, to make sure that Jamdock’s attentions were consumed by those kin of missing pebbles whom he had called to himself, Crulgrin made his way towards the smaller group forming around the fighter. “Crulgrin Shadebeard,” he grinned nervously as Thagovan turned a questioning eye his way, “I haven’t been a caver in some years, lad, but I do still have some o’ the skills yer party’s like to be needin’. Got no small share of experience in findin’ and bringin’ back small things what’s been lost neither.”
((OOC: And it's only Thursday!!! Woohoo for freetime! ))
Helengir grumbled a mighty bit as the mother just gave her those soft eyes of a woman tossed to hearths and left there to rot. Thank the stones of the world, her man never did that to her.
As the blood and dirt began to disappear, she marveled and peered closer. Some mix of fear and intrigue filled the warrior's face. "Magics..." If the child was not hurt, she might have dropped him and made marks against it. No matter how natural it was, nothing should just disappear like that. Flying cloth or not!
Turning, she caught sight of the magister. One eye twitched. The opposite brow levered up. The wrinkles and crags of her face deepened. Oooh she was about to say something alright.
But that moment the air split with the screams of children's names and frantic parents. Heaving to in the sudden sea of Khords, she frantically sought back to her shield to get behind it. Making a slow way forward, either by her own steps or simply lifted and carried along, Helengir heard the call. One she could not deny.
Thagovan yelled for help for seeking the childer. Which was bright thinking with the carousing populace around them.
Coughing, she raised her voice. "Thagovan, ye know I'll be a comin'. Count in Helengir. Now..people...make way ye igits!"
When she was mounting the whirling stairs, Niaou’li almost collided with this huge Khordaldrum warrior. She saw the bright light at the top of the stairs reflect in the axe that was strapped to his leather belt, and his look was severe and really unsuitable for the festivities he would have been thinking he was entering. He looked at her as if he wanted an explanation for something. With a heavy voice he asked her “Why is it so quiet down there? Is the party over?”. Then he glanced at the room and must have seen the aged man trying to hold himself up on the table and chuckled. “No… don’t tell me. It’s that old Mugtwister’s turn to speak, isn’t it? That’s why everybody shut up.”
Niaou’li was in a hurry and had no time to explain what had happened, so she pointed to the crowd that had gathered around the boy and near the stairway while saying “Please let me pass! There could still be some evidence outside!” and she kept climbing upwards.
When she abandoned the Spores, her eyes had to adjust to the darkness outside. At first it was difficult to distinguish the different forms in the dark, but soon she could see about 60 feet in front of her and saw the enormous surrounding cavern. There were long brownish plants coming down from the ceiling and in front of her there were a lot of green-greyish types of moss. She continued exploring the surroundings of the spores, and found some drops of blood near the entrance. Furthermore there was some fungus that she had not seen before, but there were so many types of fungus growing in the forest that this did not surprise her. Strangely enough though, that was the only trace she could find so far. Sometimes the truth lays hidden behind the obvious.. She kept remembering this phrase, that had been taught to her many years ago.
I’ve passed this place a thousand times already, but something feels different.. It was only then when she noticed the silence. There used to be always the sound of the Rospi, grimy toad like creatures that lived during the night and fed on the fungus in the forest and who’s breathing makes an awful noise. Tonight though, Niaou’li did not hear one Rospo, and that made her concerned. She took the Grent’yl book out of her leather travel sack, the one she always took with her because you never knew when you were going to need it.
I know I have seen something in this book about the Rospi… Ah, there it was, in the first section of the book, with the olive green borders around the pages with small medieval like drawings of plants and animals in the corners: Rospo (plural: Rospi, Khordaldrum): Gray amphibian, mostly found in the fungus forest. Rospi are known for their ability to reproduce just once in a lifetime. Therefore they have a great sense of danger, and choose basic surroundings to live and nourish their young. Niaou’li thought about what had been said by the people in the spores; that the boy seemed to have acid burns on his body. Would all the Rospi have left the fungus forest? Then something really serious must be going on!
Instantly she felt a certain threat, she did not feel that safe anymore all by herself in the obscurity of the night.. She turned around and went to the entrance of the Spores, which was like this big hole in the ground, surrounded by some vegetating creatures of nature. She was just about to descend the stairs again, when she heard a noise coming from downstairs. Chaos seemed to have broken loose, and she heard Thagovan, the Khordaldrum warrior she met on the stairs on her way out, shouting “STOP! Stop this panic at once!” The crowd reacted enraged and wanted to get out of the spores in large numbers. As if it were a miracle, Burrowfolk managed to calm down the mass and Thagovan proposed to form a group of warriors to find the young Khords.
Niaou’li descended the stairs, where Thagovan was standing halfway: broad-shouldered and confident. She wanted to tell him about the Rospi-phenomenon outside, and cleared her throat. “I want to join your group of warriors, I have already examined the surroundings of the spores a little. Let me tell you about what I just discovered when I was outside..”
Crellin smirked a crooked grin as his phantasmal kerchief wiped excess blood and soil from the now torn and burned remnants of his attire. As the pebble’s mother cradled the youth, Crellin’s view rose to fall upon the steely gaze of the seasoned warrior with a visage akin to someone who had a chip on their shoulder and a stone to pass.
There was something about her that unsettled the mage, yet filled him with an incredible sense of intrigue. Something about her eyes made Crellin feel like she was as explosive as Magnumopus’ brew concoctions were one only to rub her the wrong way. I wonder where to rub, surely behind all that steel and bravado there’s a fuse to light.. Everyone has their buttons, machinations be we all Crellin mused over the notion of seeing what made this cold veteran tick, but once more as was quite typical his attention was pried from its line of thinking as more and more Khordish parents became aware of the absence of their children, and a great clamor rose within the Spores, threatening to churn those within into a tumult of panic and chaos.
Somewhere fro within the boiling tension of those gathered a pair of voices arose. Between the gemhound Burrowfolk, and the broad shouldered warrior Thagovan, the threatening riot was calmed if not quelled, as a call for search parties and an expeditionary group was proposed. Crellin was pushed back and forth as a wave of Khord’s pushed this way and that. Breaking off into parties and groups with which to search for their missing kinfolk.
As Helengir passed by, her great shield a breaker against the surf Crellin fell in behind her. The direction of peoples movement had him pushed towards The warrior seeking to form a group of adventurers to investigate this trouble.
"Thagovan, ye know I'll be a comin'. Count in Helengir. Now..people...make way ye igits!"
Crellin smirked again a low chuckle escaping his lips, though lost in the sounds of hundreds of footfalls and voices. Hehe igits Before he knew it he was at the bottom of the stares, a group gathering about him. The weight of their eyes made him nervous, and when he was nervous… *Hic!*
Crellin looked up to meet Thagovan’s gaze filled with a seriousness and dedication. “If the boy was scarred by acid, ye may wish my knowledge in such things on yer hunt. I be*hiccup!* Crellin Ironsp*hic!* .. Crellin Iro*hiccup!* Crel*Hic* gah, just call me Flux and we’ll be fine and good.”
The Spores of Itanlok
Warrens of Gunthras
The mind of Loco Fungihammer would occasionally snap back into the familiar reality of all Khords who went about their daily routines of consuming ale and doing their duties.
For a few moments anyway, the Purple Haze Mind Maze existence that Loco Fungihammer usually drifted through and dwelt in for weeks at a time, allowed the Khord Cleric to focus upon the reality of what was happening in this present Khord reality.
"I Swore an Oath of Vengeance to This Grieving Mother!"
Loco FungiHammer had drained the last contents of the celebratory wedding mug and had made his way deliberately, yet almost secretly, to the one named Thagovan.
In all the confusion and commotion, the Cleric was having visionary flashbacks as to the rhyme and reason that had brought him out of seclusion from the Caves of Madness, to face an unknown destiny that beckoned to him from afar.
He was a Khord driven by the faint, yet distant painful memories of a childhood loss that had pushed him onto a path of solitude; fraught with the ironies of avenging those on the brink of sadness, grief and loss that had driven Loco to the comforting embrace of the Mushrooms!
Loco could barely remember her, images lost in the swirling kaleidoscope of mushroomed memories!
But the Cleric understood the pain and silent inward suffering a lifetime would hold for anyone subjected to the loss he had undergone; the countless lifetimes of imaginings tearing and searing the emotions and memories, the hopes and dreams, instilling the fears of madness untamed and relentless!
This was why Loco had accepted the invitation to attend the wedding! A chance to witness the joys of what might have been!
But the Dark Nightmare intruded upon him in this reality as well as within any other!
Loco stared at Thagovan and perceived a soul who would go to any length to right a wrong!
That was good enough for the Cleric to accept the notion that he would not be alone on this journey!
There were others who had stepped forward to answer the call to go locate the missing children and Locofungihammer gave a cautious, but warm acknowledging nod to each of them.
"I Would Seek These Lost Children Alone If No Other Would Offer Their Lives! For Our Very Lives May Be At Stake In This Matter!"
Posted on 2009-10-02 at 21:32:40.
Edited on 2009-10-02 at 21:38:03 by Hammer
A group had formed around Thagovan quite soon after his call for sturdy men. Nine Khordaldrum males and three females had stepped forward to join the warrior in his search of the missing children. In the Common Room, the upset and frightened parents were already crowding around the gemhound, who was now dividing them in search parties.
Torches were gathered and lit. This was done not so much to aid them in finding their way in the dark, for all Khordaldrum could see very well in the absence of light. The glow of the torches could possibly attract one or more lost children.
Thagovan divided his ‘strong and able’ Khords into two groups that would go ahead and scout the area. Crellin, Loco, Crulgrin, Helengir, Niaou’li and Baldorf (assuming you join? ) would make up one group, while Thagovan joined the rest, amongst which were a few members of the war-drum band, and Kretarund the groom. .
They ascended the whirling stairway and headed out of the Spores, leaving behind the confused and rapidly detoxing parents and party goers.
The part of the Warrens of Gunthras where the spores were located was quite deserted at this time of day. Actually, this part of the Warrens were left alone by most Khords most of the time.
The Spores of Itanlok, and the Mushroom forest had both been founded in a natural cave, one of the few in these Warrens. When first encountered by settlers, the cave had been empty and rough, like an enormous bubble of air in the stomach of the earth.
Little had been changed. There were few stalactites and obstructions, which made the space in which they walked seem even more overwhelming.
Centuries ago, druids and clerics of Kith-Jora had been given this cave to use to their own interpretation. It was some sort of settlement with the other Warrens, who had enough of dealing with the plans and whishes of the followers of the God of Nature. Their desire to create life, and their affinity to underground ecosystems, resulted in the forming of a bed of Mushrooms. The extreme care of the druids cleared a path for the funguses to grow and evolve. What had once started as a patch of different varieties of Cantharellus Cibarius had become an ancient jungle of species of all sorts and flavours. Some of the mushrooms grew as high and as thick as trees did, far away on the surface of Antaron. Others were small, growing in colourful clusters on the ground or on the stems of fungoid giants. Deeper in the forest grew the more obscure or poisonous ones. Most Khords knew not to travel that deep into the wilderness, and if you did, never to touch any of the mushrooms there.
The group entered the forest on a set path. There were many of those, formed by centuries of visitors, and by the care of the few druids that were still around. The air was still and damp, and had the unfamiliar smell of fall, something most Khords had not experienced before. It reminded them of decay, but softer and somehow peaceful, like a delicate reminder of ones own mortality and the greatness of life. Hang on to it while it is still yours, it whispered.
Throught the patches of moss and mushrooms they could see soft lights bobbing up and down in the distance. The other group and gatherings of parents and concerned Khords had also initiated their searches.
Moving on, and deeper into the forest, the lights could no longer be seen. The growing funguses and mosses had built up wild walls of intertwined stems, hoods and wires. They were alone now, in an environment that was anything but reassuring.
(OOC: You guys are going to have to make up where you enter the forest. On the map you can see three ways to enter the forest. I will mark those 1, 2 and 3, so you can make your decision.)
Baldorf's gut sank as he heard the cry for help, and felt Hruby stop following him.
"Someone should find out what happened to him!"
Great, just my luck... Baldorf thought to himself. He had tried to be heroic in the past... but it never worked out. He either made the situation worse, or someone else took the credit. And it Hruby saw that... there went his chance at a love. Maybe not a lasting love, but a love nonetheless. He was caught between a hammer and an anvil. A place where he found himself quite often.
But, there was something about a child that was injured that made Baldorf want to help. He'd waited 90 years for a love to come his way - he could wait a couple more hours.
"Come on Hruby, let's go look at what happened. He might be in danger, or very weak." Baldorf extended his hand to grab Hruby's, and walked forward.
As Baldorf arrived, Thagovan began calling for help to find the other children missing. Well, Baldorf wasn't sure this was up for him, but really, the world was going downhill anyway. And just when he thought it was looking up. Turning to Hruby, he said,
"Hruby, I'm going to travel into the spores to try and find these lost children... I think that's the best thing to do here. After all... they are lost, and likely defenseless. I can't let them do that. Their life is worth more than mine."
Baldorf looked around at his new companions for the day. There were many people around him, and they all had braids in their beards... it made Baldorf feel even more uncomfortable. He was the only one. Ever. Who didn't have a braid. He sometimes worried he would meet his end before acquiring a braid... but, not all hope was lost it seemed. He was sure he would get one for this... if he lived. Well, at least Hruby would think highly of him. And something inside him seemed to urge it.
Baldorf followed the group in silence. He wasn't a very social person... but he knew how to be social. He knew what people generally wanted to hear. He just didn't want to start a conversation. Because most people saw that as insecure. And he didn't want them to know that about him.
When he reached the fork in the road however. It seemed like there would be a discussion. Well, he might as well start it... something inside him said that would be a good thing to do.
Niaou’li observed the curious group that had formed around Thagovan. Since they were on a very important quest that they had to bring to an end as a group, they had been introduced to each other.
She found herself accompanied by Crellin, who she heard had magically cleaned up the kid from a distance, Crulgrin, who she had not seen earlier this evening but was who suddenly seemed really eager to join the group, Helengir, the impressive female warrior that she had seen earlier taking care of the child when Niaou’li was on her way out of the spores, Baldorf, who did not seem to be really fond of his new occupation but, considering the puppy love that lied in her eyes, the girl that was standing behind him was and last but not least Loco, who Niaou’li still found hard to see through.
Niaou’li held the wooden torch that was given to her, which could attract some lost children. The warm orange light reflected on the stalactites in the cave, and made the place a little less sinister than it seemed before, when she was standing there by herself.
The group started moving forward, into the forest, crossing the old path that was made centuries ago by her ancestors. She saw the different forms, colours and species of the funguses, she had not noticed the variety before. Some seemed very familiar to her, others were the kinds of mushrooms she had only seen in books so far. She felt favored seeing the real ones, but in the meantime the dark shadow of the children being gone made the entire forest a lot less pleasurable.. The threatening that came from some of the mushrooms made her walk a little closer to the rest of the group.
After walking in the forest for a short time without saying a word to each other, they got to a cross-road. The path split into three smaller lanes, which all seemed the same. The group hesitated for a while, not knowing which direction to go. Baldorf was the first one to say anything. “I say we take the middle one!”.
To Niaou’li that seemed like some random choice though.. She had not been able to find any leads like drops of blood or footprints around the Spores, but maybe one of the others was capable of finding any tracks this time? “Somebody should look for some traces of the children before we make our decision” she suggested.
Warrens of Gunthras
Among the Mushrooms
Loco FungiHammer seemed to be in Mushroom Heaven!
He was "at home among friends" and was enjoying the company of the varied colors, sizes and shapes of his "friends" in this Forest of Mushrooms!
To the casual onlooker, Loco was looking a bit detached and obliviously melding into his surroundings!
However, the Cleric was studying the possible disturbances that may have left traces upon the ground or against the stems of his "friends" that could lead Loco and the new band of adventurers along the path of possible vengeance!
Quite a colorful path it may possibly be thought the Cleric to himself as he searched ever casually!
Loco was not quite aware of how long it took to absorb the echos radiating between his eardrums, but the colorfully vibrating sounds that passed in cascading waves were enough to draw him to the source of the sounds as a moth is drawn to a flame!
"I say we take the middle one."
Loco was not quite sure what the middle one could be as he was seeing a multitude of things both real and imagined ... not to mention the scenes haunting the corridors of his mind from his last encounter while rescuing missing children.
To Niaou’li that seemed like some random choice though ... She had not been able to find any leads like drops of blood or footprints around the Spores, but maybe one of the others was capable of finding any tracks this time?
“Somebody should look for some traces of the children before we make our decision” she suggested.
How hauntingly familiar were those words as though a tidal wave of colorized emotions seemingly crashed upon the consciousness of Loco Fungihammer unbidden ... yet apprehensively expected from the haunting visions of his past.
Suddenly the Khord Cleric blurted out a response to no one in particular:
"We Have a Destiny to Fulfill ... With the Strength and Fortitude to Rescue ... or Revenge!
Loco did not wait for a response ... for the Cleric was surfing the waves of his very own vocalized sounds ... enjoying the kaleidoscopic ride!
Loco seems to be wandering about aimlessly, but the Cleric is absorbing the sights and sounds of his companions, while searching for any telltale signs of disturbances that will provide a clue for a plan of action!
He seems to be on the outside looking in ... and at other times ... on the inside looking out ... maintaining a position towards the back of the group as each ponders which path to pursue!
Crellin hobbled along amongst those now grouped with him as torches were lit and footfalls echoed out into the silence of night around the 'Spores. The natural cavern which seemed to spread on far beyond his field of vision held an air of uncertainty about it tonight. Like the strands of choas had woven its web of doubt and fear about the ceiling, coaxing dispair and anxiety from betwixt stalagmites of ancient stone.
As the group put more distance between them and the populous of Intanlok's drinks and livery they were soon surrounded by a plethora of fungal entities. Some looked ripe for the picking, other's looked ready to do picking of their own with odd shaped growths and tendrils of spongey substance growing off their multicoloured stalks.
It was Baldorf, the 'wanna-be Khord of distinction' who spoke first, suggesting they take the middle course. An apparantly flippant choice made in spontaneous random favor, Crellin couldn't help but appreciate this Khord's "What may be will be" attitude, and nodded his head in agreeance.
As the female spoke up however, talking of such things as clues, and tracks, Crellin felt she was hindering the true spirit of adventure. It was almost as though the goal of finding the children was not what spurred Crellin to follow along, but rather the road upon which they would travel to reach an end. Crellin turned and faced Helengir, tower shield gleaming in torchlight like a portable barrier against the unknown.
"Wherever the iron maiden goes works fer me" He said to noone and everyone at once.
Before awaiting a response he just started singing to himself.
"Hi ho, hi ho, 'to the fog o war we go, where life depends on whats round bends and danger's to and fro oh.." *hums to himself*
Posted on 2009-10-10 at 14:01:10.
Edited on 2009-10-10 at 14:04:11 by Kaelyn
They shared a general desire to make haste, each for their own reasons. Baldorf wanted to get it over with, so he could return to his attempts to make his life more like he felt it should be. Crellin had a spirit for adventure, and no desire to stop on accord of things like reasoning and decisions. It had kept him alive in the past, so why would it be any different now? Then there were Loco, Helengir and Niaou’li, who had a desire to travel fast in order to save the children; the latter requesting a search for tracks as a way to speed up the process even more.
Then finally there was Crulgrin, who was actually just glad to be out of the Gemhound’s reach. And if he thought he could sneak out of the mission now, he was sorely mistaking. Niaou’li’s call for a moment of inspection had him casually looking around. But his trained eye noticed the soft imprint of small shoes that the others had missed immediately. There were plenty of them, but only a single track lead back to the Spores entrance.
Of course they had him follow these tracks too. It seemed they were all a part of this mission, whether they liked it or not.
The tracks brought them deeper into the forest of mushrooms. Darkness seemed to cling stronger to the crooked stems and spotted hoods around them. Torchlight was only reflected diffusely on the shrooms, damp with slime and moisture from the humid air. High grew the dark forms of Chroogomphus, and at their feet the pinkish veined caps of Rhodotus palmatus conjured memories of charred flesh rather than happier times.
The soil was loose enough in places to reveal a good print, and there were too many little mushrooms around to not find any of them knocked over.
Then the tracks multiplied; intensified. And at the same time the distinct smell of surfacing mould reached their nostrils as if they were in an old basement. Some of them knew from experience that the smell would only get stronger if they went deeper into the sea of mushrooms.
The intensification of the tracks gave every indication of a struggle. The ground was upturned, mushrooms knocked over, and surrounding the scene of the fight were dozens of little dents in the loose earth. It was like somebody had poked small holes into the sand with a finger or a thin spear. A series of these tracks lead away from the fight.
The dented tracks were their only lead, and so they followed these as well. Though they went deeper into the forest who or whatever had created them was staying on the pathway formed by visitors and unseen creatures.
With their noses on the ground, the high caps with long gills seemed to loom over them even more. It was as if they were alone in a grizzly, alien cavern in the deepest of layers of the Abyss. Insects buzzed at times, and the mushrooms around them seemed to whisper infectious lies of disorientation. This forest might have been a part of their kingdom, but it surely wasn’t their home terrain. Even Hammer and Niaou’li, who both were very close to nature, though each in their own way, felt a certain hostility in the air.
Suddenly a loud scream sounded from the other side of a thick patch of mushrooms. It was a female Khordaldrum voice, filled with fright. Another scream followed, but was instantly cut short. They could vaguely see a light moving fast in the distance, like somebody running with a torch, but it was just for a few seconds. Then it faded away behind many thick stems and broad hoods. Something was going on, and now they had a choice to make.
(OOC: You have several options here. You can either go and investigate/sprint to the rescue, or continue tracking. If you want to find out what caused the screaming, you have the choice of going through a thick patch of mushrooms or following the path, hoping that it will lead around. Decisions and conversing please!
I will update the map in the Q/A to make it more clear what your situation is. The green x marks the spot of the struggle, the dented tracks leading East. The red * is approximately where you heard the screaming come from.)
Crulgrin had detected a lot of prints of really tiny shoes. A lot of Khordaldrum children must have been walking here! Niaou’li thought by herself. She followed him when he was tracking the other prints, and he brought them deeper into the forest of mushrooms. Niaou’li hold her torch very tight, afraid it would fall down and extinguish, leaving her surrounded by darkness. She got carried away by her thoughts for a moment, but put herself in order and rushed back to the friendly orange glow that was left by the torches of her companions. The air was humid, and Niaou´li tried not to slip over the moist little mushrooms that were growing like a cloth on the damp soil.
Suddenly there was some kind of turmoil amidst the group. They had noticed the intensifying tracks, and Niaou´li felt as if they were getting closer to their goal. At the same time she noticed a penetrating smell. It was the smell of fungus, the one that would only get worse every foot they set further into the darkness, surrounded by the giant stems and overshadowed by broad, dark hoods. Suddenly she noticed a small field where the ground where a struggle seemed to have taken place. At first it looked like any other place where someone had been fighting, but when she took a closer look she noticed all of the little dents in the loose earth. What could that be? Niaou’li thought by herself. It looks like someone has been wildly dancing around here with some kind of walking cane.. The group decided to follow these tracks as well, since there was no other sign of the children around. Niaou’li followed the dents, meanwhile trying to get rid of the insects that were buzzing around her ear and flying around their heads, and together with the looming mushrooms this made her feel a little strange.
She was startled by a loud scream, a female Khordaldrum voice that was filled with fright. A second scream tried to find its way through the darkness, but somewhere lost its track and disappeared in thin air. A light was moving in the distance, but faded away very soon. “Something must be going on, let’s swiftly but silently head towards the direction of the screams!” she said to the others. “We are not sure if the dented track will lead to the kids, and this could be a really good lead. Let’s find ourselves an orientation point on the horizon, because we have to go right through the mushrooms, or we risk being too late!” she encouraged her companions.
Posted on 2009-10-16 at 18:38:53.
Edited on 2009-10-16 at 18:40:33 by Niaou'li
Baldorf stopped in his tracks. A shrill cry pierced the air around him, filling his ears, and resonating within his brain. Inside him, something clicked, something Baldorf had never felt before. It was a sense of heroism. Was that it? Baldorf didn't know. But something in him was new... and something he didn't understand.
He reached into his belt and drew out his dagger, holding it valiantly before him. "Someone is in dire need of help! Quick my companions... we must rush to the aid of the person in question so that we may aid them in their time of need!"
Baldorf rushed forward, hacking at the mushrooms with his dagger, hoping to get through the forest in time to get a sight of the screamer.
Crellin had been more than satisfied ambling through the fungi infested forest, the soft crunches of mushroom stalks having their existence extinguished underfoot added to the narcissism that went on in the wild mage's head. As the rubbery organics strained under each footfall he would skip and dance to a tune none but he could hear as he follwoed their tracker, adding fresh prints to those left behind of traveler's past.
Suddenly his reverie was shattered by a scream piercing the silence. almost immediately two of the party spoke of rendering aid to the source, one mentioning tactical mumbo-jumbo, the other brandishing a dagger, attempting to hack his way through the barrier of magnificant mushrooms barring passage. Crelling couldn't hold back a chuckle as he watched Baldorf hack at the thick stalks with his little dagger. It was like trying to cut a steak from a Brahma with a letter opener.
To Crellin this sight was amusing. And pulled out a curious looking rod adorned with various runes, semi-precious gemstones and other arcanic paraphenalia. Choosing to be a bit more cautious however, the mage utilized his experience of traveling alone, where avoiding confrontation was often the more wise route, and stopped to hide within the stalks as best possible.
(moving his movement distance and hiding (if 30' would put him on other side, he stops within the mushroom 'wall' trying to utilize them for cover while seeing what lies ahead)
Berodin could feel the moisture in the air as the party traveled deeper into the mushroom forest. The humidity was oppressive and weighted down on the stout khord. With a deep “Humph” however, Solanis’ faithful pushed forward, following after the others as they followed after the tracks.
A sudden scream in the distance caught the priest’s attention. His eyes narrowed, seeking out its source, even as he uttered an oath under his breath. “By Rydor’s hammer, if that child be dead…” The rest was left unsaid.
Then, in the same direction of the scream, Berodin caught sight of what looked like a torch. Just as quickly it disappeared behind a mushroom cap.
One of his kinsmen shouted, "Someone is in dire need of help! Quick my companions... we must rush to the aid of the person in question so that we may aid them in their time of need!"
Berodin moved to set of the path as well, but stopped. He could already feel the hostility of the forest… Care now, lad… While it be mighty easy to step off the path, it might not be so to step back on.
Thinking quickly, the cleric narrowed his eyes and tried to remember exactly where he had heard the scream and seen the torch light. “Father of Light, lead us into truth and light the way.”
With his prayer raised, Berodin focused on the spot where he believed the torch light had once been.
[OOC: Casting “Light”. If this is successful, Berodin will enter into the forest, trying to make as straight a line as possible to the Light spell, and encouraging the others to follow him. I think the Radience class feature gives him a +1 to his caster level on spells with the light descriptor and maybe doubles their duration as well? Don’t have the books in front of me atm.]