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Sendor War: Lutes are for Girls

Page history last edited by rgs 14 years, 8 months ago

A hunting trip is interrupted when a small boy turns up, trapped underneath a log.

 

...yeah. I stink at summaries. Hopefully someone will put in something better. :)

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* Light Woods *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

    The trees are increasing in number and density, moss covered rocks can be seen along the way, offering places to rest and camp for the night. The scent of pine blends with the deep rich scent of the earth and paths break off the main road trailing in several directions. 

 

     Further off into the forest, it seems like night has fallen. Only it stays this way all day and night. Old trees crowd together, making it seem almost impossible to pass through.. Darting in between the trees, animals can be seen, dark furred creatures gliding in and out of the trees as travelers move on. 

 

    OOC: At this point you are about a days travel from the city. Going further into the Deep Forest brings you to two days away from the city.

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

 Xander          Tall, handsome, goatee-wearing human mage.            8s   54m

 

 Darshan         Mechagodzilla                                         0s   15m

 

 Jenner          Sailor Mage! Also not fragile.                        48s  6h

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

Road to Sendor <RTS>      Deep Forest <NW>          Druid Grove <DG>

 

Eldwyn Road <S>           

 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

 

With the grind and savagery of the Sendor War, it was bound to happen that someone would mention doing something unexpected and spontaneous, especially to relax, blow off steam, or just to set fire to the woods.     

 

Or let Jenner practice wolf-shaping again. Because, one can never do it with complete certainty the first fifty times.     

 

And so, Jenner-the-Wolf frolics through the woods, rushing and racing and otherwise acting completely the fool in an entirely lupine, grey-furred form. With as few witnesses as possible.

 

"Graaah! Jenner!" Srassha's head's low and she's loping after. Her rider is not so fortunate--branches hit his head, thap! into his sides, his arms, his jowels. "JENNEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRR!!!" as a particularly large one smacks him upside the face. It really is Srassha's fault, but her head's low, and thrust forward, and her long, long toes eat up the ground ahead of her in an effort to keep up with the mage-wolf.

 

"Nobody told me there was going to be a show."

 

The pleasant baritone, lightly jesting in its tone, familiar to the two below, comes from... a tree? Yep. It's a big tree, a gnarly thing that branched furiously instead of going into height. Xander is lying upon one such sturdy branch, growing diagonally outwards. He has a book in his hands, but currently, his attention is on the Wolf-Swiftclaw-Lizardman Show happening on the ground.

 

You may find mages in odd places, but you'll never find them without books. There's yer proof!

 

Mara is stalking prey. There's a particularly magnificent specimen of a six-pointer buck she's been tracking all day; it's eluded her on several occasions, but now, now it's standing in a clearing just up ahead, grazing peacefully. The wind is in the elf's face, keeping her scent out of the buck's sensitive nostrils, and she's crept close enough to get the perfect aim at it. So an arrow is nocked, fingertips licked to smooth down the feather fletching...

 

... and then wolf-Jenner bounds across her field of vision in a blur of silly, capering grey, and she lets fly way too early, and the arrow goes 'thunk' into a tree just behind the buck, which promptly flees.

 

There's an explosion of very un-elflike swearing(in Elvish) from the underbrush, and an extremely annoyed-looking white-haired huntress pokes her head up to watch the shapeshifted mage being chased by the mounted paladin.

 

Is that a long tongue lolling out one side of the lupinesque mage's head in fuzzy, animal laughter? Has it anything to do with the quick-turning antics of the wolf as it tears off through yet another collection of low-hanging brush, light branches, and the occasional lurking beehive?     

 

Not really, but it might explain why exactly the wolf-mage is playing "tag" with a lizard with swords the size of sickles.     

 

"Rrrrrr....c'mon now!" Jenner growfs up towards the tree, leading Srrassha (and poor Darshan) on a race around the trunk. "Just gettrrrr--ing starrted!" And with that, it's tearing off again, leading the paladinal mount into another frenzied thicket of brush, scattering through the woods with a mad glee.     

 

Poor Mara. No hunting with this ruckus!

 

THRUM! goes Srassha, THUMP! go her feet on the earth. Her rider's less anything than that--he's attempting to block the onslaught of limbs and brush, but it comes, keeps coming as Srassha keeps moving--the onslaught increases, doesn't lessen. The trees blur past, the undergrowth--he misses the elf. Srassha doesn't, but she's so intent on catching the wolf ahead of her she plunges on, swiping past the brush where Mara hides with a brush of hide, a fling of tail.

 

A dollop of drool, to season the salad-like brushes.

 

Her rider holds on for dear, Daeus-blessed life...

 Xander is forced to grab onto the branch with his free hand, as the poor tree shudders a bit as the two swirl around it. He sighs, gives a shake of his head. There's a glance, then, into the bushes not so far off, where the elf is letting the trees and the little fuzzy animals know just how much she HATES these two silly bastards. "M'lady." he nods, pleasantly, from his position on the treebranch. "You don't happen to be a friend of Faeral's, do you?" The who now?

 

"Gah!" Only barely ducking under the sweep of that thick, stiff lizard tail by dint of throwing herself to the ground, flattened under the bush she was hiding in, Mara finds herself... drooled on.

 

This does not improve her temper.

 

Disgustedly wiping slimy swiftclaw drool off her armour, the white-haired elf grumbles darkly as she gets back to her feet and trudges(elegantly, of course, always elegantly; one is an elf) over across the clearing to retrieve her spent arrow. And steps in a small pile of deer droppings as she does so. Wonderful.

 

Jenner-the-Wolf keeps up the merriment for a few branches more, finally slowing down enough to let the Paladinal Lizard (and her rider) catch up at least a bit closer.... Closer, before yapping off ahead again, sprinting through the light woods with Darshan and the swiftclaw mount hot on his heels. Blithely ignoring Darksome Mage and Angry Elf (Mk. II-unSandy), the lupine continues its zig-zagged path along the treeline, leading the 'Claw for all she's worth.     

 

"Stillrrrr.. winning!" Jenner pants back, enjoying the sensation and situation far, far, far too much.

 

Drool. A great, big dollop of it releases from her jaw and flies outward--it splats almost winsomely against the trunk of a tree, splats! and begins to ooze downward, downward...towards Mara's hair. Her precious, precious hair. But rider and mount are already gone, barely making the turn and corner to keep up with the wolf. "JEEEEEEENNNNEEEEERRR!!!" and a close look--somehow.

 

The rein's gotten lose.

 

Oh, yes. Srassha has the bit between her jaws, the swiftclaw does.

 

From up in the trees - not up ATOP the trees, merely on one of the branches - the sound of a violin, a slow, steady, even sort of tune wafts as the young (well, by Elven standards) bard starts to play. He'd crawled up there to escape a bear in the middle of the night, and had gotten a tad stuck, unfortunately, due to not actually knowing how to climb. The spidersilk rope had been hastily rolled up and slung over his shoulder, and he'd slept on a mild pillow of it before waking up and producing a violin from thin air - after all, no sense in not getting some practice! 

 

 The elf peeks down out of the tree to examine the situation going on below. The violin picks up its pace as he notices the approaching chase, like the song from a comedic play or other such situation. 

 

 As something goes 'splat', the elf crescendos his violin to increase tension, a wistful smile on his face.

 

"To answer the question - yes. They do that sometimes." that's Xander, speaking to Mara, as he hops to the ground from his own perch. "Are you alright?" There's a blink, then, and a glance around. Is that... music he hears? When'd Dar and Jenner get their very own themesong?!

 

Mara manages to avoid the second dollop of drool through expertly... well, ducking. The arrow is yanked, with a small grunt of effort, from the tree just threatening to engulf the slender missile with its newly acquired patina of swiftclaw-slime, just in time for Xander to hop down from the very same tree. "Thank you, yes," she replies politely enough, if not entirely graciously, as she inspects the arrowhead, finds it unharmed, and slides it back into her lefthanded-oriented quiver. "What -are- those two up to?" A nod of white-haired head towards the Trio of Goofy Chase.

 

First Place in the Trio of Melodious Comedies sprints his way across and under a collection of brush-- one that Srrassha quite happily barrels through -- scrambling, to keep himself ahead of the Swiftclaw's approaching form. Tiring, unfortunately... And thus, quite happily spent, Jenner-the-Wolf slows his pace down to an even trot, tongue hanging as he simply makes his way back towards the tree with Xander and the huntress     

"Rrrr...'ello," he manages, tilting his head. "Rrr.hunting?"

 

The bit in her jaws, the earth underneath her toes--Srassha runs as a swiftclaw was meant to do, eating the ground and chasing the wolf. Right into the underbrush. And then...

 

There's a terrible silence. 

What makes it terrible isn't the silence itself, but simply that there /is/ silence, and afterwards, a heavy shuffling. It might be moderated by a second crash, and muted swearing. Muted, further muted by the swift turning around--and poking her head back through the brush. Sniffing, sniffing. The words as clear as day: where's that damnable wolf??!

 

The young bard's violin dies down to a much more manageable, slower pace as he inhales to call down at the people on the ground. 

 

"Excuse me!" Kerian shouts, "None of you have seen a bear about these parts, have you? About yea tall?" The elf's accented common is fairly thick, but still understandable.

 

Peering at the wolf as it comes trotting up to them, the kind of deep, deep suspicion in those slanted eyes that comes from long exposure to magical tomfoolery, Mara hesitates before responding. There's a significant glance at the silvered-wood, recurved composite longbow in her right hand and the quiver sticking out from behind her back. "... yes, hunting," she manages after a pause. And then looks up. At a grey elf perched in another tree, playing a violin. Who -are- these people?!

 

Xander idly wipes the sole of one boot on a nearby tuft of grass. It landed in the puddle of drool, you see, that slid off the unfortunate tree. "What are they up to? Perhaps you should ask them yourself." And, just for the sheer INDIGNITY of it, he gives Jenner a scratch behind one fuzzy ear. There's a glance up, then, at the bard further away, and a lifting of brows. "No, no bears in the last hour or so." he supplies. My, isn't it crowded today.

 

Srassha shoves out of the underbrush, snuffling and drooling. It's...what she does, apparently, with her rider left to his own devices. Over-run, with branches in what looks as though, just moments ago, it had been very pretty armor (very pretty, thank you much!) and now... 

It's something the swiftclaw dragged in. When the elf-above yells he blinks, a slow blink and that's it. He looks as though he'd respond...but falls into a fit of dust-ridden coughs, instead. Srassha makes a noise and plows on past...until she finds the wolf. Finds him, and...stands proudly like a hound, announcing to the world through posture, "LOOK WHAT I FOUND!!!" and "I AM THE AWESOMEST HUNTER EVER!!" She turns. She preens a little. Xander and Mara should notice. Her rider should notice. She found the wolf. She gets a bloody ogre skull.

 

Jenner, totally indignified! And utterly nonchalant about it, as he simply sits quite cheerfully, sparing a smug glance back towards Srrasha before it turns away again. Innocent. Totally, utterly, absolutely innocent.     

"Rrrf... I still won."

 

Darshan aw's. X)

 

"I wouldn't ask, you see, except I don't actually know how to climb, and mostly got up here by sheer adrenaline," Kerian chirps cheerily at the crowd below, "So if I'm going to undertake the arduous task of falling out of the tree and cracking my skull, I'd rather not get eaten by a bear planning to take advantage of my arduous hard work in killing myself." He uncoils the spidersilk rope and makes a move to try to tie a (bow) knot around the tree branch. "After all, if I'm going to go to all the trouble of dying, I'd like to at least get the spoils from killing me and all."

 

"No-good bears leeching off other peoples' hard work," he adds as an afterthought.

 

"Well done," says Mara weakly. It had to be said. No mention of whom she's saying it to, though. As she busies herself unstringing her bow, another glance is shot up at the elf in the tree. "You," she announces, "are certainly going to get yourself killed if you try to climb down that rope with a knot like that."

 

Xander can't help but eye the bard. Just... eyes him. As for Srassha, he's probably the only one who will indulge her with any attention at all. He gives her a pat on the muzzle and a strip of meat which he recovers from one of the pouches on his belt to munch on. In return, he'll probably get drooled on lots. The shake of his head directed at Jenner is small, though. He's seen weirder people in their profession!

 

Srassha disagrees, of course. She's off in her own little world, and when Xander pets the one--a second, scaly head's shoved forthwith under his hand, with a PET TOO and I WON, ME AWESOME SWIFTCLAW-COWABUNGA!!!. And of course, seems very happy when Xander indulges her illusions. The bit of meat is eaten with a smugness and drool in front of the wolf.

 

Her rider has twigs, sticks stuck in his pretty armor, and scowls because of it. Scowls, and looks up, distracted, as the elf-above so cheerfully begins to speak in dirges, of bears, and of property taxes. "Please tell me you aren't..." and he looks from the top of the tree, down to the bottom, measuring... "Please tell me you're not jumping," is all he can find to say. Articulate.

 

Eira has arrived.

 

The wolf-mage snorts and draws back from Droolizard. "Grrf... Think she'd know betterrr," Jenner grumbles, snorting again for good measure before he settles to his currently grey-furred and four-legged haunches. He stares up at the elf in the tree, tilting his head in curiosity. Don't elves and trees go together? is the plainly obvious thought in the sharp, quizzical eyes. He peers upward, content to watch with no small bemusement.

 

A gathering is in the forest, a place now so silent after the recent crashing, rushing about. An elf sits in a tree, another stands on the floor, and a wolf sits near the second with a mage nearby, and a dumbfounded paladin...all of them stare upwards at the elf-in-the-tree. Around, the underbrush is a mess, as though a set of things had barreled through it.

 

"Well, I don't know how to climb," the white-haired elf admits thoughtfully, "Jumping seemed like a good alternative. Then I looked down, and that ruined that!" He smiles, adjusting his greatcoat lightly. "If any of you happen to have an alternative method to get me down," he adds, "That would be absolutely spectacular. Really, really spectacular! I'd say I'd be in your debt, but, well, I've been in debt before, so I think I'll just avoid any wording that might imply a lingering problem on my part and ask very kindly." The white-haired elf coughs into his hand, setting his violin and giving an absolutely brilliant smile. "Pretty please won't you help me down without letting me fall out of the tree?"

 

"There are no bears in the immediate vicinity," says Mara, somewhat stiffly. She should know, she's been tracking a deer for the better part of the day and checking the ground very thoroughly. "I could probably find one for you, though, if you wish." This, with a hint of irritability, though her expression is kept carefully neutral. Must keep up inscrutable appearances.

 

Whirlpool has arrived.

 

Kerian waves his hand quickly. "No no! No bears! I'm not fond of bears. Just a way down and I'll be quite pleased!"

 

"Ah..." Darshan closes his muzzle. It snaps-shut with a click and a hiss. "I'm willing to climb the tree, but I don't think you want me up there," solemn, and if ever the truth were spoken, the paladin offers the gods' own gospel. "You're better off trying to slide down Srassha's back," he offers. And at her name, the swift looks up, before returning to what she'd been doing...which is noisomely proving that she has the best treat EVAR. 

 

...and that Jenner does not.

 

Jenner should be jealous. Right?

 

"Perhaps your companion would like to make herself useful?" Xander asks of the grumbly Darshan, apparently thinking along the same lines he is. After all, Srassha's tall if she straightens. The bard could probably safely drop into her saddle if she stood still below! Of course, there's no guarantees as to what will happen AFTER that, knowing said swiftclaw.

 

Were it not for the demands of Eira's little white furred familiar, there would be no reason for her to make any treks into the woods. Unfortunately, she gives into its whims. Even if she shames Tuuli by making him wear a collar and lead. Just who made the mink-sized collar really should be punished. She stops her stroll at the ensuing antics she happens upon, "This is very peculiar, Tuuli.."

 

Jenner is NOT jealous! Not even a little!     

 

"Rrrr.... could change him into a birrrd," he suggests, one eye not-so-carefully glancing back to the swiftclaw's slobbery treat. "...but might be eaten by Srrrrasha. So." The lupine drags himself from the snack with force (and reluctance), focusing on the situation at hand with a quick, involuntary sniff at the air. "Slide down the trrrrunk?" he adds helpfully, glancing towards Xander.

 

Mara gestures, briskly, at the tree. "Set your foot down on the branch below you," she instructs the other elf. "Then put your arms around the trunk, and move on to the branch on the opposite side. That should allow you to get onto the swiftclaw's back safely." Wild Elves. Always with the practicality. And she looks up at Darshan. "Sunblade," she says, as though finally acknowledging his presence. "Do you know all these people?"

 

She doesn't look happy. Then again, she doesn't look much of anything, except strange and exotic and inscrutable. Notice how we're using that word a lot?

 Srassha chomps happily away, single-minded in her enjoyment, and flavoring it with drool. Her rider, well--her rider squints upwards, tail flickering side to side, and side to side again. He reaches up to grasp her rein, a half-hop, really, and begins walking her over towards the tree. "Mrm...one does. Forgive me, I..." he pauses, and then, positioning the raptor, begins to make introductions, because in the midst of chaos, what better a time to introduce diplomacy? "Professor Xander Blackrose, and mrm, the wolf is an old friend. He goes by Muttly...the man in the tree, one has never met, and one believes...that is Lady Eira off a ways," he says, and pauses. Pauses, and Srassha's almost positioned, "Mrm...this is Lady Cilimarathlien Moonbow. She's Lady Sandiel's cultural...advisor." Clearly. Words must be chosen carefully, and in his mind Madrienne's advice is surely running overtime.

 

"Call me Kerian!" The elf offers as he follows Mara's orders, setting his foot down on the branch below and setting his arms around the trunk. "Or 'splatter' if this fails. As in, 'alas poor splatter,'" He begins, relaxing and moving to slide onto the Swiftclaw, "'We hardly knew ye'!"

 

Xander offers an elegant little quarter-bow as he is introduced. He manages to hold back the laughter over the newly-named Muttly. His oddly-colored eyes just... glint a bit. That's all. "Lady Sandiel's cultural advisor. I see." he repeats. Cause, you know. Those words? Need to be repeated long and often to be accepted by any mind at all.

 

The wolf turns that unsightly glare upon Darshan, and if looks could corrode....! Naetheless, the Makar's armor retains its sparkling sheen, and does not collapse into rusty piles. "*I*," he says with a huff, drawing himself up to his full height (of three feet) as he brushes a broad paw to his chest. "Am the wizarrrd, Talaskirrr." He sniffs archly, settling back down with a flick of his tail. "Only young ladies may, rrrr... call me that."     

 

Such as young nobles. Another glare at Darshan! Vengeance, ven... wait. Branches. Darn!

 

The mink chitters its reply back, Eira shoots the mink a look, "This is far stranger then the time we found those imps tormenting poor Theordora." She snaps her fingers, "come here, I don't want something to happen." The mink crawls up her dark attire, curling up on her shoulder as Darshan begins to explain who everyone is, taking notes herself. "I didn't realize this path was so occupied."

 

"Neither did I, when I was stalking a six-pointer buck for half a day, only to have it startled off by a talking wolf and his retinue," says Mara. She's not bitter, oh no. Not at all. Nevertheless, in the spirit of equanimity, she gives Xander a small nod in lieu of a nod, Jenner a skeptical sideways glance, and Eira, well, a small wave. Since she's still making her way over to the small group. The white-haired elf(that's the female one) looks distinctly uncomfortable in a crowd. She's fidgeting with the string she just took off that silvered-wood bow of hers.

 

Karelin has arrived.

 

The head jerks up, the great eyes roll. Srassha looks slightly unnerved as the strange, woodland creature alights on her back, this strange woodland creature with pointed ears and stranger...hair? Small bits of scale shudder underneath Kerian from his perch on her back and saddle. 

 

Darshan...his face has slid into that lizard-blandness. That blandness as he looks towards the wolf, with a...well. And then he just outright grins. Some paladins have senses of humor. Sometimes. Except Mara wipes it right back off again. He thinks about being just two feet tall. He waves to Eira.

 

The white-haired elf (the male one!) gives a bit of a sigh as he lands on the swiftclaw's back, hurriedly swinging off not out of fear but out of a desire to be, well, back on solid ground again. The elf pats the ground thoughtfully and beams, patting the swiftclaw on the head. "Thank you very much, my large reptilian friend...s." Kerian gives a deep bow, chainmail shuffling under the big black greatcoat, straightening; he looks very tiny in the outfit, as if it was overwhelmingly huge on him. "It's a very great pleasure to meet you all. I certainly hope I wasn't interrupting anything particularly important. If you like, I could play a song for you as an apology for the trouble."

 

For a long, long moment, Xander ponders retrieving another strip of that dried meat and giving it to Jenner. But the crowd's a bit too big to embarass his unfortunate colleague quite that much. Instead, he puts aside the book he had been reading, and merely nods a greeting to the arriving Eira. Nice little gathering they made here. All that's missing is a campfire and some smores.

 

Karelin hikes through the woods, shouldering a heavy pack. Sweat collects on his brow.

 

From the height of her shoulder, Tuuli whispers into Eira's ear. "No, that is not real wolf.. he isn't going to eat you." Reassuring her familiar as she finally joins the group of troublemakers in the woods, "Tuuli was convinced we'd find a treasure trove of grubs out here. He's been so well behaved lately I had to indulge him."

 

Jenner-the-Wolf does his best to look at least slightly abashed. Shifting another step back, the lupine wizard settles to his belly on the ground, observing the goings-on with a patient nonchalance. "You arrre.. welcome." With that done, he glances about the collection, eyebrows (and ears) rising. "....what, neverrrr seen a war-party beforrre?"     

He pauses, emitting a brief cough. "... hooky frrrom one," he adds in explanation, affecting innocence once again.

 

Mara, for some reason... begins stringing her bow again, leaning her weight on it to bend it enough to be able to slip the loop of cord into the notches provided. Who knows why, perhaps some preternatural elven sense of foreboding. Or perhaps she's just paranoid. Or perhaps... she spotted Karelin, laden down and trudging towards the group. Better safe than sorry. "Familiar face?" she asks Darshan warily, nodding towards the approaching figure.

 

Darshan looks more interested in the ground, suddenly. He looks more interested, yes, with a half-smile touching his features, and there's no comment, none at all, to Muttly's growls. Srassha stands still as she's used as a stepladder, and then...well. Shuffles forward to shove her head underneath her rider's arm, and look up with the pleadingest of lizard-looks. I get a treat? is what it says. He scratches her chin, and when Mara speaks up, nods slowly. Still distracted, or maybe relieved, in some way.

 

Karelin's chin swings around, and centres on the elf. He just looks, doesn't acknowledge much. A brief nod for Darshan, though. And then he approaches the site, swinging his burden down and around, with a grunt.

 

Jenner has disconnected.

 

"You wouldn't understand him if it was a real wolf," More coddling of her pet, poor Eira. She gives the Korite and his large pack a wide birth. Stepping back. "Coming or going?" She asks him.

 

Jenner has connected.

 

Xander offers Karelin a nod of acknowledgement and greeting as the man approaches. A glance around assesses the gathered. What an... odd situation, truly. He was trying to relax and read somewhere quiet, damn it all!

 

Karelin gives a grunt, as he settles the pack. "Alexandria. Relics for the temple." He nods curtly at Xander, then wipes his brow again.

 

Jenner-the-Wolf just sniffs archly. He spares Karelin a glance, but for the moment returns to his noble, majestic stance. Bask in the glory!

 

The white-haired elf bard shuffles a bit, moving to relax against a tree and pluck his violin back into his hands, settling it under his chin thoughtfully. A slow, plodding tone sings from the instrument as he attempts to provide some (quiet) atmosphere for the people who are obviously friends and their auspicious meeting.

 

Mara finally seems to recognise the scarred human. "Karelin Andarin," she says, smiling momentarily as though pleased with herself for remembering. "We talked, briefly." An arrow is drawn from her quiver, and she busies herself inspecting the fletching. Because fletching is important and interesting.

 

Karelin gives another grunt. "Cilimarathlien Moonbow. We did." He sits down, and wipes his brow again.

 

Treat? insists the stubborn head shoving underneath his arm. Srassha insists, looking up, and then glancing over towards Kerian and back again. Of course, her rider simply looks at her, and grasping hold of her noggin, commences a ritual as old and as blessed as Time itself.

 

Noogie-ing your mount.

 

"Mrmph--we're fairly close to the war front--I'd not have seen the forest for ages if Jenner hadn't suggested--" Srassha jerks her head away! "--this," solemn, and with a trace of humor in the look. "You know, I heard a rumor the Vardaman were doing chants this evening."

 

"And you'd rather haul it yourself then wait for a transport, or use a horse?" Eira has obviously missed the boat on lifting a finger to carry something heavier then her pet. She lacks any semblence of pointy objects meant for self preservation. She digs into her pocket, fetching out a handkerchief. Walking over to hand it to the Korite. "Save your shirt sleeves.."

 

"What else are they for?" Karelin gives Eira a -look-. It isn't the most prettiest thing in the world, either. "They're for the temple." Like that ends the conversation.

 

Jenner glances towards Darshan, giving him a wary eye before he stretches, uttering a long, elaborate yawn. "Varrrdaman?" he asks, ever-so-nonchalantly. He glances down towards one paw, as though suddenly forced to examine it for thorns, or stones, or bruises. "I'd not hearrrd...." One ear remains cocked towards the steel-clad Makar, a sidewards glance following soon after. "And dancing?" he adds, suddenly interested.

 

For his part, Xander glances at Muttly (also known as Jenner) over yonder, and completely fails to bask in the glory of a ruffled overgrown dog full of little leaves and branches and dirt from its breakneck running. "Say, Muttly." he speaks the, ah, name, pointedly, and teasingly. The latter trickles into the rest of the words: "Perhaps the huntress would like a hunting companion. Perhaps you'd take to it." A nod at Mara, to indicate which huntress he means. They can be a dynamic duo! A really... really weird one.

 

"I am not entirely familiar with the human peculiarities of Vardaman worship," says Mara, as though that wasn't immediately obvious, "but I should think that dancing is likely not on their schedule." 

 

And Xander is given a -look-. You know. One of those that could wither your soul into a blackened, shriveled husk. "I have a hunting companion," she says stiffly. "She is... occupied elsewhere."

 

"Sopping up blood?" Eira suggests. She continues to hold out handkerchief out to Karelin, she's too stubborn to have her version of kindness to be rebuffed like that.

 

"Dancing's a lovely hobby," Kerian offers as he shifts his tempo and changes key a bit. He's been trying to stay quiet, get a feel for the group, and (of course) practice.

 

"Patience Hana'i said we've reached an infortutious number of dead. It has to do with 'easing the souls,' and...mrm, no, no dancing, not this time. He'd mentioned chanting and something over...it wasn't something I caught, exactly." Darshan looks disquieted over it, like someone with indigestion or some sort of gas and the hand even goes to the back of the neck--a habit, to be sure, because there's no scale there to scratch, just metal. For those who would, the name has a Veyshanti flair, and means, of all things, "Happiness."

 

Karelin takes it. "Fine." He tucks it away inside his armour, then goes back to slowly stretching his arms.

 

"According to the Vardamans," solemn. Those strange, robed creatures! Strange, robed creatures in gray cowels and long fingers and muttered incantations! So the type goes, and the sith'makar rubs at the side of his face, and stills. Just...stills. "...there's someone out there," he says, grabbing for Srassha's saddle. And by the tone, by the frantic grasp for the saddlehorn, it says, 'someone who needs /help/.' Not the great, flying...no, not those? "Huntress, could you--?"

 

Xander turns, peering at Darshan. "What are you talking about?" he asks the poor, frantic lizard. HE didn't hear any damned thing! A glance at the others, as if he's trying to see if anyone ELSE heard whatever it was that Darshan did, or if he should conclude the lizardman is hallucinating. Hey, he DOES get hit in the head a lot!

 

About simultaneously with Darshan's sudden silence, the white-haired elven huntress's long, pointed ears... kind of twitch, and her head snaps around to gaze further into the forest to the east. Without a comment in response to Darshan, Mara simply nods to signify she's heard, as well, and immediately sets off. Eastward. She moves swiftly and silently through the underbrush, though of course, nowhere near as fast as someone mounted on a great big dinosaur.

 

Eira subtly brushes her hands off after Karelin takes the handkerchief, her brow knitting at Darshan's sudden change in mood, "I didn't hear anything.." But its not uncommon for her to not hear anything but the sound of her own voice.

 

Jenner spares a full-on gaze towards the Makar, and then back towards the elven huntress. He sniffs the air, quizzical before he slips up from his haunches. "Best to know forrrr surre," he growls, and with a quick lope, stalks off after Mara. "Fly," he adds in the gruff voice, calling back to Xander as he skips off, chasing up just behind the moving elven.

 

Karelin's head comes up, and he nods. "I heard it too." He looks around, then curses at the necessity of leaving behind his relics. Instead, he grabs his great bow.

 

The elf bard frowns. "Heard what?" he asks, drawing his rapier forth. "What's 'it', exactly?"

 

Xander elects to hoof it, despite Jenner's suggestion. A minor spell of protection is cast, just in case, and then he's moving along at a brisk pace. Obviously, he will fall behind the mounted Darshan and wolf-Jenner quite swiftly if they move at full speed.

 

"Someone needs help!" called back swiftly, and Darshan touches heel to Srassha's flank--she moves up to a trot, but not outpacing. No, not--they're on a warfront, with the Bludguni nearby. The swift looks eager enough, and chews around her bit--clearly, wanting to take it. And clearly, wanting to run ahead.

 

"Then lead the way.." Eira certainly isn't going to do that. She picks Tuuli from his spot on her shoulder and puts him into one of the large pockets on her coat.

 

Mara has her bow out, an arrow drawn and nocked - the observant might note that she's holding the bow with her right hand, the hand on the string her left - though not pulled back, as she jogs at a brisk pace towards the northeast. Keen elven senses straining to pick up on the faint call of distress and any possible dangers, she picks her way at a pace that could possibly be swifter, but is likely prudent given the vicinity to the front.

 

Karelin trots forwards, hanging back a little because he's slow. Arrow knocked, he keeps going, head swinging from side to side.

 

"Ahhhh! Help!" The voice is a little louder as people get closer in these woods. It definitely sounds like, well, whoever it is? Is in pain. "Feedror! Where are you?!" That voice continues.

 

As bodies begin to follow the flow in the direction of the sound. Eira whispers to herself, casting some protection from what may come.

 

Kerian hurries along behind the rest of the group. Element of surprise could be very important, so he couldn't yet risk tapping into the notes of music that gave power to his spells; he'd just have to trust in this eclectic group not to get him killed. 

 

Lucky him.

 

Darshan looks up, and nudges the swift--her head comes up and she sniffs the air, and begins threading through the trees towards the voice. He has her rein tight, and looks to the hunter for lead. "Is there anyone nearby, m'lady?" he asks, and then well, nudges Srassha again and takes towards the front. "Can you see anything?"

 

Xander is doing the smart thing. Letting the armor-clad giant lizard on ANOTHER giant lizard take the front, and the scarred warrior protect the group's back. He peers into the distance, of course, in the direction of the voice, but there is not much else, yet.

 

Jenner keeps pace with Mara, nostrils quivering as he steals the sharp scents from the air. No sound, not yet, but he tries his best as he comes to a pause alongside, trying to match sharp elven senses with borrowed lupine ones.

 

Moving like a ghost through the woodland is all well and good when you're on your own, but when you have a great bunch of noisy people trampling along right after you, the impressive effect is kind of lost. Mara has the good grace not to look annoyed by all this as she acknowledges Darshan's question; she's been scanning the treeline for a few moments already, gaze flickering here and there for the tell-tale signs of enemy presences... and then shakes her head, holding up a hand in a fist as though to gain the sith-makar's attention, and pointing in the direction of the sounds of distress.

 

Karelin keeps going, trotting along, clonk clonk clonk. Arrow knocked, he does keep his attention on the forest around him.

 

Darshan nods, grimaces and shifts in the saddle as he nudges Srassha forward again, her long feet picking the way through the undergrowth. "I fear for Bludguni," he says, keeping his voice low. Srassha keeps pacing, keeps moving, sniffing the air in front of them. "We're still too close to the warfront to be comfortable about it."

 

"If its the Bludguni then they have wandered far from their lines." Eira moves along slowly, carefully on the terrain she's uncertain of. "But it was a call for help, I haven't seen that ploy from them.."

 

Eventually, you find the source of the cries. 

 

It's boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen years of age, who appears to've had a tree fall on him. Sort of. Given his condition, he's actually been here a while, pinned like this. There was actually a pretty hefty windstorm, so it's not surprising that such a thing would've happened. 

 

His lips are chapped and dry and he looks both shocked and relieved to see everyone. "Oh, thank Gilead," he says, "please! Get this off of me!" 

 

The thick trunk of three simply was rotted through, snapped, and fell right on the kid. He's lucky to be alive, honestly. 

 

The only thing that's kept him from being more hurt by this is the fact that he had the good fortune to be pushed down into the mud when the tree tipped.

 

Karelin gruffs from the back, "There're some groups of traveller's huts around..." He keeps clumping along, before stopping. His head comes up, watching the tree line carefully. "Make sure that thing isn't sticky."

 

Mara re-quivers the arrow she had nocked to her bow, and moves towards the boy, and... pulls a waterskin from its place hanging from her belt. The poor lad looks parched. Dropping to one knee next to him and letting someone else take care of the lifting of the tree, she puts the waterskin to the boy's mouth, holding an arm around his shoulders to support him. Who knew? The huntress actually has it in her to take care of someone. "Drink," she instructs him, curtly, and nods towards the log. "Someone lift that," she says, "and I will pull him free."

 

"I doubt it." says Xander to Karelin, but you never know! Fear the power of the fallen logs. Ahem. He's just going to wait for the people who CAN lift the damned thing do so. There isn't much he can do but perhaps lend a helping hand in that work. "Are you from around here, boy?" he asks the unfortunate child. Teenager. Whatever!

 

Darshan tumbles off the saddle, landing in the mud with a splort! while Srassha stands there. "Hold on--I've got some chain," he says, and unbuckles one of the saddlebags--and pulls. Out from it slides a length of exactly that, ten, twenty foot of it in heavy, but flat links that he starts wrapping quickly in a loop. "Karelin--you, me, and Srassha can pull that thing with this if we can find a place to attach it. Are you ok with that?"

 

"Sticky?" Eira asks, but really its a dismissed question. She doesn't get in the way of those who move in to aid the boy, she doesn't help coordinate the effort either. Lazy sorceress.

 

Jenner comes to a short halt, quick glance scanning over the unfortunate child. With a quiet rumble, the wolf closes his eyes, the flickering of rainbow fire taking on their shimmering hues as the enfold the four-legged form. With courtesy to stay out of the boy's line-of-sight, bones nevertheless shift and crack, snapping and popping sounds on the air as the mage returns to his own true form.     

 "And I can..." Jenner begins, wincing faintly. "...provide some support in turn."

 

Karelin puts away his bow. "Just look out for an ambush." He eyes the log, and nods. "Go ahead."

 

Kerian settles a bit away, relaxing as he realizes it's just a boy under a tree. "That's lucky," the bard offers cheerily, "Glad that didn't happen to me."

 

Darshan tosses one end of the length around--it holds a matte color there in the shade of trees and lack of sun where he wraps it about the trunk, then ties it off, hooking what looks like the curve of a grappling hook that'd been welded to the end of the chain's links. The other end--he grips. Looks to Karelin, "Ready when you are." And Srasha then moves, and shoves her tail underneath the giant, geriatric treant. If it moves, she's going to fart on it.

 

"Yes, but you have to find Feedror! He can't have gone far! Please!" The boy seems more concerned with this Feedror than himself, now. "My legs hurt, but I'm okay, I think. I was really lucky I wasnt killed outright, sirs." He's clearly in shock, given how calm he seems to be, but he nods towards the others. "Just..please!"

 

"Who is Feedror, child?" asks Mara, reasonably. "And where did he go?" The water-skin is secured to her belt again, and, once the tree-trunk has been hauled up enough, she hooks her hands under the boy's armpits and hauls him clear. The scrawny-looking elf is clearly stronger than she appears.

 

Karelin gets his arms underneath the trunk, and nods to Darshan. "Go. Get the kid out." Muscles bunch, and he starts straining to give the log a little elevation -- not on his own though.

 

The kid opens his mouth to answer Mara's question as he's pulled free by the combined efforts of Darshan, Mara, and Karelin. 

 

Then his eyes roll back in his head and he immediately passes out.

 

His legs? Both broken. Painfully so.

"Does anyone have healing salves?" Eira asks, she checks the pouch on her belt but comes up empty and ill prepared for dealing with this sort of trauma. She can't really ask who Feedror is, not with the passed out child.

 

Xander glances around, as if trying to find this... Feedror... whom he assumes is a beloved friend or pet, hiding in the immediate vicinity. The others have the boy well in hand, after all, and he'd just get in the way. "Huntress. I assume you're capable of tracking. Perhaps the nature of whoever or whatever the boy seeks could be told from the ground." he addresses Mara.

 

Mara, well, lays the boy somewhere less muddy and preferably more comfortable. And tries not to jostle his legs too terribly much. So, leaving the prospect of setting and splinting bones to people vastly more capable than she... she immediately starts inspecting the ground around the area, searching for tracks. Tell-tale marks of human or humanoid feet. Hoofmarks. That sort of thing.

 

Darshan drops the chain, and rushes over, as much as a mechanical suit of armor /can/ rush, but he does. His feet splatter in the mud, and he almost slips to crouch down near the boy. "One has it," he says. He produces what looks like an old stick, shined and buffed in places and with Althea's marks. "This is going to hurt," he tells the sleeping kid, and not without sympathy. And then, he calls on the Mother's aid to reknit his bones.

 

GAME: Darshan used a Wand of Cure Moderate.

Expertly scouring the ground around the fallen log and muddy puddle, Mara turns leaves aside, inspecting broken branches... and then stumbles with an exclamation of surprise, and finds herself standing... in the middle of a very, very, very large, non-humanoid, bipedal footprint. "Uhm," she says, in a small voice. "I think Feedror might not be human."

 

Darshan looks over, looks up, rather, and nods. "What do you think he is?" he asks, and shakes the boy. Grimaces, the lines on his face hardening as much as scale will let them, but aiming to get the boy to wake up. Srassha stands a short ways off, looking over curiously, and by the look of things, not...entirely sure what's going on.

 

"Something bad?" Kerian offers, "That's usually how it works. Probably a bear." He nods sagely. "Can't trust bears."

 

Karelin gives a loud grunt, then dumps the log -away- from the child, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself.

 

"That name didn't sound very human." Eira wanders over to where Mara is looking, Tuuli pops his head out of her pocket. Nose, whiskers twitching.

 

"A dog, then? Perhaps a--" Xander's words stop as he looks Mara's way. Or, rather, at what she's standing in. He... blinks. If that's a dog, that's one damn big dog. He just peers at the footprint, as if trying to identify what could have possibly made it.

 

"... Big?" offers Mara, still standing in the middle of that big, BIG footprint. "Whatever he is, he is not a natural creature. Not natural to these woods, anyway." And she climbs out of the footprint, and looks in the direction it seems to be pointing. She does not look terribly like she wants to go there. Nosiree.

 

Jenner has disconnected.

 

Karelin puts his hand on the hilt of his sword, and trots forwards. "Which way did it go?" Then he calls back: "Get him awake and explaining. Its its strange, I'd rather not come back with its head."

 

And as everyone is commenting on how big the footprint is, Eira's very small familiar climbs fully out of the pocket and down into the footprint, sniffing it. The Stormgarder shakes her head, as she watches her familiar trying to be helpful. "It seems Tuuli wants to help you.. if you don't mind?" Addressing the elven woman.

 

Shaking doesn't do it. But, sometimes goodness is cruelty, or cruelty is good--something like that. Darshan lifts the kid, still talking to him. Attempting to get him to wake, even as he settles the boy onto Srassha's saddle. Who gives him a /look/. "Sorry, girl," he says, sounding apologetic. "Maybe one day I'll get a pony." And the look she gives him is pure disgust.

 

The boy, on the other hand, is very badly dehydrated and not awake. He's likely to not be awake for a little while, with treatment, given the straights he was in. Plus, despite the healing, his legs are swelling and are colored and interesting shade of purple. The cut off circulation has caused certain toxins to build up, no doubt. He's going to need continued qattention and time spent in a cleric's hut when he gets back to civilization.

 

Mara points in the direction the footpront is pointing. It's a big, -deep- footprint, likely made by something weighing -thousands- of pounds. The ferret's inquisitive sniffs and Eira's offering of its aid is, however, taken at face value: crouching down beside the familiar, the white-haired elf peers at it, as if to say, 'well? spill it.'

 

"It does not look like anything nature would create without aid, no." Xander says, himself, following Mara's gaze. He almost looks curious. "Perhaps whatever it is went for help?" he ponders. It certainly is odd. A glance around the landscape. "Well. We cannot leave the child to lay here." If they're gonna strike out in a direction, let the direction at least not be completely random, he means to say.

 

The mink begins pawing at its nose, trying to wipe off the smell of something. Eira laughs, "Apparently whatever it is, Feedror smells." Her head shakes, "Those are big foot prints, we shouldn't have any issue following them and the odor.."

 

So, unless anyone comes up with a better idea, the boy's tied to the saddle, with his purple legs that Darshan winces at. Tied and laid against it, hands tied and positioned over the saddle horn, a blanket underneath to soften the swift's stride. It takes him some time, and he'll do that while the rest look for trails, marks. "Mrm...please tell me. One did not just hear, 'thousands of pounds.'"

 

Darshan scratches Srassha's chin before--he eyes the bard a moment. "You be kind to her." A warning, but then he doesn't know the man. Still, he looks up, "Stay with this one, girl. And watch the kid on your back--he's had a rough time of it. If you move too fast, he might--" I know, I know, she seems to say. And gives a sort of huff. "...I'll get a pony," he offers. And the huff turns to a sniff. She turns up her nose as she stomps over to Kerian.

 

Kerian smiles at the animal. "Hi there!" He offers cheerily, offering it a pet on the nose. "You saved my life, so I'm gonna be extra-nice to you, okay? ...you aren't secretly a bear under there, are you?" He jokes, peering at the animal before patting it again.

 

Karelin trots forwards, climbing the tracks, and muttering.

 

Mara leads the ragtag team of would-be wounded-boy's-friend returners, along with the ferret, through, well, forest. There isn't much to say about it except it's very foresty. Hopefully she knows where she's going and how to get -out- again, because it's a bit of a way, and they're definitely off the beaten track by now. By following... beaten tracks. It is to laugh.

 

Srassha eyes the bard, and gives a shuff! and shake of her head, something she'd probably learned. And trudges forward, seeming well, huffy, at the poor kid on her back. He's tied there to the saddle, with ropes and blankets, bobbing here and there with every step, his poor legs swollen, discolored. But...he's alive.

 

"She is a swiftclaw, an Am'sheran beast." Xander explains to the bard. He means to say, she's not even remotely related to bears. "They can be... bad-tempered." he adds. And maul you worse than a bear. Well, slash, more like. At this time, he is merely keeping out of people's way and tagging along with them.

 

As you head further into the forest, the ground gets muddier. And muddier. And muddier. In fact, it's getting the point where it's more swamp than forest, actually. A more...marshy part of it. Your boots are threatening to get pulled into said mud.

 

But Mara, mystical elf that she is, merely walks atop the mud as though by magic, not getting pulled down at all! Okay, no, her boots get just as muddy and horrible-looking as everyone else's. She is, however, good at finding a path through the terrain that keeps the mud and the water and the dirty to a minimum, as long as you follow in her tracks. Which you would be advised to do. 'Cos she's a ranger, see.

 

Eira keeps up behind Mara and Tuuli. Keeping a watchful eye as she trudges thru the muck and plants. Her boots squishing in the soft earth.

 

"Well, anyone'd be bad-tempered with a kid strapped to their backs," Kerian observes, looking down at his now-muddy boots. Fortunately, he thinks idly, black doesn't show mud. Does make you look a little dark though. Ah well! Best to get over it. He smiles and continues on at the back of the pack, rapier still in hand.

 

Xander takes heed to indeed step exactly the way the guide - in this case, Mara - does. Ending up stuck in a bog like this would not be at all pleasant. He's cast his cape over the front and around again, shortening its length this way so it doesn't get all dirty and muddy along with his boots.

 

Karelin keeps going, following Mara's footsteps. However, his eyes are up, watching for sign of whatever they're following.

 

Darshan...looks down. And down. His...he shudders before setting his neck and trudging on, though he starts looking towards the trees. "There've got to be Bludguni out here somewhere..." see. He's delusional. It's deluso-mud. "What's this thing look like, Mara?"

 

A rumbling sound comes from further in the bog. 

 

Yes, a low, deep, angry rumbling.

 

"I have no idea." Just the thing you wanted to hear! Mara keeps trudging through the mud, cautiously, bow out and arrow nocked, picking her way carefully.

 

And then there is rumbling, and the white-haired huntress stops abruptly.

 

"Anyone care to wager whether that is Feedror or not?"

 

"I'm not much of a betting man." Kerian chirps nervously.

 

Karelin mutters to himself as he goes along, scowling. "No. I'm sure that's it."

 

Somehow Eira isn't demanding for her boots to be polished when this is done, after all, this is helping a child, but she's obviously troubled by the mud. And even more so by that noise, "Tuuli, get somewhere out of the way.."

 

"It might just be." Xander says, stopping himself, peering with narrowed eyes into the bog. "I guess we shall find out." There is a glance at the boy, in Srassha's saddle, then at Darshan. "The, ah, creature... may not be exceptionally intelligent. Make sure that if we do find it, it doesn't get the wrong ideas." The kid is tied up, unconscious, and obviously hurt, he means. If this thing is large, angry, smelly, stupid -and- a friend of his? Well...

 

Darshan looks back to Srassha, who seems to say, well, something. She lifts her chin and stays put, tail flickering here, there. Everywhere. "One...I don't think I am, either," he says, heavily. And to Xander, "I don't bet we could outrun it, mrm, can't run much in a place like this. Do you have any way to trap it if it could be backed into a corner?"

 

Holding up a hand clenched into a fist, Mara goes into a crouch... and begins to move closer to the source of the sound. She moves as silently as a ghost, flitting from tree to tree, making the most use of cover that she can. It's really quite impressive.

 

Karelin gives a grunt. "My fists. Before it tears us limb from limb."

 

"There are many factors that may contribute to my answer. We shall have to see." Xander replies to Darshan. He's just not sure if he could, honestly. Might be, might not, he can try? He lets Mara scout, as she has called for a halt.

 

"Uhm," comes a call from ahead, around where Mara had disappeared into the swampy gloom. "Little help here?" It's Mara's voice.

 

"I seem to be a little... stuck."

 

Oh dear.

 

"Mind your step, there's quicksand."

 

"Also, uhm, I think I found Feedor."

 

"He is stuck, too."

 

Quick...Darshan halts in his tracks. Halts, and leans forward just a pace to sniff at the air. "Please tell me she's..." he starts to say. Except she isn't. She...couldn't be.

 

The gazeebo is stuck in the mud. The same mud that squishes around his poor booties.

 

"Poor thing.. what is it?" Eira asks, she looking to the others, "rope anyone?"

 

"It is... uhm. I think you have to see for yourselves."

 

Mara is so not sounding like the confident huntress she was just moments ago. She sounds shaken, even. "Does anyone have a lot of rope? A -lot- of rope?"

 

"Mm-hmm." that's Xander, looking around for trees that are secure in the muddy ground that such a thing could be tied around. Of course, he only checks nearby the path they took for such things. Cause othervise, it could be bad! He, right now? Has no rope with him. How rude of him.

 

Kerian starts rifling through his pack. "How much 'a lot'?" He asks, pulling out strips of spidersilk rope.

 

Karelin goes forwards, carefully, to see for himself. "I have some rope, at least."

 

"There you go, good boy," comes the voice of Mara filtering through the trees and mud. She sounds like she's trying to soothe a spooked horse or the like. "Nobody is going to hurt you. We are just trying to help." And then she shifts into elven, and continues the soothing, calming tone of voice in a language infinitely more suited for it.

 

And, "Any time now!" Forced cheerful, sing-song.

 

"I've got plenty of it," Kerian offers, "I'm not sure -why- I have so much rope, as gods know I don't know how to climb or even tie a proper knot, but I think somewhere along the way a little voice in my head said 'Kerian, buy some Rope'," he notes, handing some of the rope off to whoever looks like they actually know how to properly use it, "'You'll be regretting it if you don't.'"

 

"Chain," Darshan says, and walks back to the saddlebags to get exactly that. He pulls out the same length as before, with the grapple on the end of it. They'd seen it before, just before in fact--he hauls it out, and begins to wrap it into a loop, as quickly as he can. "We're working on it! Are there trees--anything we can attach the--" he looks to the others, "--rope? to?"

 

"There are a lot of trees," comes Mara's voice. "There is, unfortunately, also a lot of quicksand. Do be careful." And then she goes on to continue her soothing, calming drone.

 

Honestly?

 

It sounds like she's at least half trying to calm -herself-.

 

Karelin keeps picking his way in carefully to see. Carefully.

 

"Up, up.." Eira is scolding her familiar, "Off the ground." She moves out of the way to let the more burly type through to help.

 

Xander walks alongside Dar, very carefully, sticking to the path known as safe. He goes right ahead to snatch the poor lizard's glaive. "You wanted me to learn to use one of these." he says, casually. "I don't think this is what you had in mind. Secure those ropes and grab onto them. We'll need to pull people out if they fall in." And if they do so? He'll take the lead, rope and glaive, and use the glaive's long shaft to feel the ground out before he actually steps on it.

 

Darshan gives a sudden, barking laugh. He has to. He looks to the bard, "Any extra of that rope?" he asks. And it'll be tied to Xander, presumably.

 

Karelin stops cold, and exhales. "Oh, well, this will be interesting."

 

"Oh bloody--" Xander begins a mutter, halting himself. He unties the rope from around his waist, passing it to Karelin, but still holding onto it himself. "Throw it to the tracker." he instructs. They need to haul her out, first.

 

Karelin flicks a glance back at Xander. "Can't you fly?" He speaks quietly, soothingly. "Elf. Take the rope." He waits for her to acknowledge, then tosses it her way.

 

Mara is taking care not to show her teeth as she continues her steady stream of soothing, calming words in Elvish at Feedror. "<something you don't understand in elvish>" So calming, so soothing. It's a good thing elves have such nice voices.

 

Mara is taking care not to show her teeth as she continues her steady stream of soothing, calming words in Elvish at Feedror. "<something you don't understand in elven>" So calming, so soothing. It's a good thing elves have such nice voices.

 

The rest of you, not quite close enough, just hear: "ROAAAAR! ARGHLEBlARGHLEBlARGLE!" from the monster. But it's a slightly calmer roar. It sniffs a few times and then flails around, only succeeding in making itself get a little more stuck in the quicksand. It's flailing is not helping the matter any. 

 

Pulling Mara free, incidentalyl, is relatively easy. She's not that stuck. 

 

Feedror, on the other hand, will be a different matter. Indeed, eventually, the giant, grey monster is going to have to be pulled free. And that won't be easy.

 

"I reckon we shall need that to pull HIM out." Xander calmly replies to Karelin. And, since Mara has the rope, tugs on it sharply a few times so the people who stood behind can haul and get her out! He helps, too. He's not that lazy.

 

Incidentally, when you're all close enough, you can see into a clearing. A clearing that is, really, a lake of quicksand -- made so from the recent rains amongst other things. In the middle of this lake of quicksand is a giant grey monster, stuck to its waist in teh stuff. A giant grey monster really IS the best way to describe it. It's huge, easily fourteen or fifteen feet tall if the scale is right based on what you can see, and easily will weight many thousands of pounds. Getting him unstuck is going to be a considerable challenge should you take it up. 

 

Incidentally, he seems to be staring at Mara and sort of drooling in her direction, since she's talking to it. 

 

He's very big. 

 

Very, very big. And grey. And with huge teeth.

 

"<something you don't understand in elven>" Kerian gasps at the giant grey monster drooling on Mara, forcing a sudden lump down into his throat.

 

"We could start cutting down the trees," Darshan says, letting the rope slacken there in his claws. Srassha rhrrrfs, shaking her head with drool dribbling out the sides. And settles, then, on her haunches. "...you alright?" to Mara.

 

"Is -that- Feedror?" Eira looks a little paler at the very large monster. "I think we have to get that out peacably and carefully."

 

Hard, -hard- glare at Darshan from Mara, as she's helped out of the quicksand. "We are -not- cutting down the trees," she says with an air of terrible finality. And then she moves to the edge of the quicksand, and resumes talking calmingly to the big grey monster. She takes care to use its name, in the hope that it'll recognise it from its small friend's usage of it.

 

Karelin notes, "If anyone has any pacifying magics, this would be a perfect time." He keeps a hand on the rope.

 

Kerian smiles and picks up his violin. "I guess that's my cue!" He offers, setting his bow to the music and playing. He plays like a fiddler - a rapid, beautiful, quick-paced pulsing rhythm designed to keep one attentive and interested in the frenetic energy being hurled about by the bard's performance. Soon, his steps begin to match the music, and he's off in a frenzied, energetic dance, bending and swaying as his white hair flows like a river through the air, his black greatcoat unbuttoned enough to give him freedom of movement with his zealous performance.

 

Darshan blinks, once, something flickering-- "Your roomate's hatching a plan to disrupt entire forests," he says, solemn. Oh. "Maybe you can find ones for us that have been--taken down by the storm?" There had been a wind storm, after all. "I think if we create a way for him to get out, he'll do most of the work, himself."

 

"Albeit the strength of some of the people with us is impressive, I truly doubt we could pull it out. If we are to do this, we need another way. It needs to free itself with our help. A tree toppled into the mud for it to use would do the trick." Xander speaks, with a careful look towards Mara at her vehement contesting of doing so. "Of course, this is a good time to ask whether this is truly what we want to do." Free it, that is.

 

"It does not seem to be hostile." This, over the shoulder, to Xander. "I admit, it does seem like the likeliest solution..." But she's going to be pissy about it all week! "If we could find already-felled trees, with the recent windstorm, that would be preferable." And then the mad fiddler starts his mad fiddling, and she stares at him like... well, like he's mad.

 

Ih, look! 

 

Now -Kerian- is the center of the beast's attention. it settles comfortably and stops flailing. This is actually good since he's no longer wedging himself in more deeply. It makes pleasent growling sounds.

 

Eira has reconnected.

 

"Well, that takes care of the flailing.." Eira is amazed to actually see that the music calmed the beast. "Not the roping or the tugging.."

 

Karelin turns back. "Fine. Felled trees." That gives him something to do.

 

"Right. Trees." And with that, she's off. To find trees.

 

Darshan...does not go off to find trees, but he does try recoiling the rope into great, large loops, and occasionally assuring Srassha that she is not, indeed, a pony. 

"Hruff!" says Srassha.

 

Mara returns. "We have found trees," she announces. And looks at Darshan and Srassha. "... do you think you could persuade your swiftclaw to help us haul the logs, Sunblade?"

 

Karelin picks through the woods, starting to find trees. Or, more to the point, pushing over and collecting logs.

 

Xander just... lets the muscle-bound and wood-savvy people do their work, frowning lightly. Someone needs to remind him why, exactly, they are doing this, apparently.

 

Mara, more to the point, moves over to Srassha. Fishes out a pair of colourful feathers, which she affixes to the swiftclaw's harness, behind her head. Pretty, pretty feathers. The elf gives the dinosaur nice muzzle rubbings. "We could really use your help," she says, perhaps nonsensically, as she's not sure the dino even understands her. "Only you are strong enough!"

 

Karelin has disconnected.

 

I...am not a pony? Srassha seems to say. And she straightens, too, but...maybe she really /is/ the prettiest dinosaur princess? She blinks at shuffles forward to sniff at the elf. And seems to understand. As the elf keeps talking, Srassha looks at her with adoring eyes. Yes, yes she /is/. 

 

She is the dinosaur princess.

 

Kerian continues to play his frenetic song and dance, apparently pleased simply from the love of his music as he spins to and fro like a mad top, picking up the pace to make sure the Gray Render remains absolutely focused, interested, and calmed by the bard's playing.

 

Well, there are logs. 

 

They are heavy. 

 

They are heavy logs. 

 

Eventually, between Karelin, Mara, and Sraasha's assistance? They are able to gather several heavy, large logs together and pull them closer to the quicksandy area. So far, no one else has gotten stuck in any. Thankfully.

 

Feedror, on the other hand, continues slavering and staring at Kerian, eminently fascinated by all this wonderous song and dance.

 

Eira reaches up to rub her brow, this really is one of those situations you just can't make up. And its wearing on her, "So, its going to get up on those logs?" She's not quite clear of the plan.

 

Eira has partially disconnected.

 

Karelin has connected.

 

Xander? Gets the hell out of people's way. Because this, this is an extremely odd thing to be doing in general. He does not fully support it, really, because gods know only what the thing will do once it's freed. If it is freed.

 

Karelin hauls logs towards a collection point, first.

 

Karelin has disconnected.

So. 

 

With the help of Sraasha, Darshan and Mara -- as well as Karelin? 

 

Feedror? Finally begins to pull himself free when the effect of the music fades. He sees the logs. He grabs the logs! He pulls on the logs! He levers himself up OUT of the quicksand. FREE! FREE TO DESTROY! 

 

Of course, what happens when you're on one end of a log that has vioently tipped forward? 

 

Darshan? Goes flying. He goes flying face first into the quicksand, actually. All of you can see his head and shoulders go straight in. The rest of him sticks straight up. 

 

At least you have rope, right? 

 

The Render, on the other hand, panics! It *panics* now that its free and bolts, storming straight through the mass of you!

 

There are some things a metal-clad sith'makar aren't made for, and one of those things is flying. So he flies. The other thing is landing in quicksand. So he lands in quicksand. Not feet first, no, but face-first, buried muzzle-deep inside the quagmire. 

 

He'd be screaming if he had air to do it with. As it is there are...

Well. Teeny, tiny bubbles.

 

Oof! Mara gets a big, meaty fistful of claws right in the midsection and goes -flying-! She actually goes flying a little more gracefully than Darshan, by sheer dint of her powers of elfiness, but manages to land facefirst in the mud, all the same. At least she didn't land in quicksand.

 

Running Grey Monsters! Eira doesn't have a chance to get out of the way. She is flung through the air into the quick sand. She reacts, squirming, the last thing one should do. Beginning to sink and get stuck. About now we can cue the demands for someone paying for her clothing to get cleaned. Tuuli is safely up in the tree, he listened. Safe and sound. His body trembles, is he laughing?

 

Xander throws himself to the side, landing in a roll and springing back to his feet as the monster thunders past. ... Are mages allowed to do that? Be as it may, he looks out into the quicksand lake, the two people who are stuck in quicksand. He mutters to himself, worried about THEM more than the monster. Darshan? Could drown. "Gods damn it!" he's hissing, dashing to grab one of those oh so handy ropes. "Stop struggling!" he shouts out, too.

 

Darshan can't hear him. Can't hear anyone. His legs are sticking up from the quagmire, and so is his tail. The tail...even the tail's loaded with metal, heavy, heavy tings that take on a familiar and dull sheen of a very old, very heavy metal. Of course he's sinking. 

 

Beneath the water, he tries to calm himself by humming the bars to "Henry the Eighth." 

 

It's about on the eighth verse he really starts to panic.

 

Kerian stops his playing, digging some of his spidersilk rope out of his pack. "Just hold still, m'lady!" He calls cheerily, tying a weak knot around something mildly heavy (a stick, perhaps) and tossing it at Eira. "If this misses, I still have plenty more rope!"

 

Splish, splish, splish. That's the sound of a very muddy-looking elven huntress coming trudging back to the small gathering of people. At the sight of Darshan's distress, she looks alarmed... and pulls an arrow out of her quiver, and cuts the arrowhead off with a small knife, taking a small length of twine and beginning to twist it around the tip, further blunting it. At length, she seems satisfied, and goes over to Kerian. "May I have a length of rope to tie to this arrow, so I can shoot Ser Darshan with it and he might notice and grab for it?"

 

"Feel free to take it out of my pack!" Kerian chirps cheerily.

 

It's Ceriday, Aestry 25 01:08:47 1006. The full moon isn't up. The tide is high and rising.

 

Soft rain falls from a grey-black sky without moon or stars. A warm gentle wind blows from the southeast.

 

Eira tries everything to free herself, a breaststroke even. It doesn't work. Fortunately, someone manages to help her out. Giving her a good friction burn from the sand. She spits out sand and muck as she gets to solid ground. "I do not recommend swimming in that quicksand.." She opines as she tries to gather her composure.

 

Xander is muttering, curses that flow into Eldritch. And when the incantation is complete? A pair of wings seems to shimmer into existance upon the mage's back. They're not real. They are silvery, ethereal outlines of wings, and there's a downbeat of them, a soundless ripple in the air as the mage takes off through it, bearing a rope, and goes about tying one end of said rope around Dar's ankle securely. "Srassha! I will need your help!" he calls to the Dinosaur Princess.

 

Splish splash he was takin' a bath. Round about a Ceriday night! Rub scrub he was baskin' in the...yeah. It's a quagmire. Darshan's tail flips, rolls about there in the mire. At least the metal rings are pretty, except...except the end of his tail's beginning to look somewhat crooked.

 

Stress makes lizard tails fall of, doesn't it?

 

Oh, Mr. Wriggles, we hardly knew ye...

 

"...Feedror?" the boy is finally coming around again on Sraasha's back. "What... where am I?" 

 

On the plus side, between said lizard mount and Xander's looping and such, they're able to pull Darshan free. It's quite undignified, actually. There's a lot of 'splorching' and dragging him through the quicksand and mud until he pops out of it and bounces his head on somewhat solid ground.

 

Alone in the quagmire, the left-behind Mr. Wriggles waves at them. Forlornly. As it sinks into the murk of the muck.

 

"I think Feedror ran away," says Mara, conversationally, to the lad. "We got him out of the quicksand, and then he sort of... flattened us all and disappeared off," pointed, er, point, "thattaway." The not-so-white-haired-anymore, extremely muddy, and tired-looking elf leans on Srassha. "You're welcome," she adds.

 

And once Dar is out, Xander, with those faint, faint outlines of wings (it's not even apparent if they're feathered or leathery) lazily moving up and down to hold him aloft above the ground, POKES Dar in the side with the lower end of the glaive. He'll barely feel it, honestly, with the armor. "Are you alright?" he asks. And then gives Srassha a nice pat on the muzzle. Good lizard!

 

"Duly noted, m'lady," Kerian offers to Eira, helping her out of the sand and holding out his hand to help her up if she needs it, "Don't swim in quicksand."

 

"Thank you for your help." Eira stands, brushing herself off even more, "I don't think I am ever going to get sand out of my ears." She looks around, "did we lose Feedror?"

 

"..he ran off?" says the boy, pausing. "He'll come back. He always does. He's probably just scared! So big and so scaredy-cattish! But he always brings my pa and me fresh bear meat every year!" He beams, then fades out of consciousness again. It's a safe bet the boy lives with his father in one of those aforementioned traveller's huts.

 

Kerian clutches his fist and nods sagely. Thank the gods! Something was out there, killing those evil, greedy bears.

 

Darshan...in response to Xander's question, looks down at his armor and...

 

He is having the worst day. Ever.

 

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