Little Girl Lost

It's a cold night. Not a night that anyone should be out on their own. The moon is partially obscured behind heavy clouds most of the evening, and the stars can't seem to shine through the gloom. The chill bites down to the bone, and the sounds of thunder can be heard not too far off.

So it's even more important that the search parties find the little girl that was reported as being lost at the edge of the Felwood by a half-hysterical woman.

Several parties have been sent out in all directions, each of them looking for the same thing. Even this close to the Felwood, the forests can be dangerous, as the creatures within aren't keen on mortal constructions like 'boundaries'. But it's the exposure that's the real danger. Winter is coming on fast, and from the description, she isn't dressed for this kind of weather. Not after the warmth of the afternoon.

Mel is a cook by profession, and has brought a few hot sandwiches snugly wrapped up. Ostensibly for the girl, but his stomach is rumbling as well. But he will aid in the searching as best he can.

When a mother hears 'My little girl is lost in the Felwood!' the only thing stopping that mother from already being with the search party is wind resistance. Fully armored up, because this is the Felwood, and with every visible feather fluffed out enough to make the little flying tank look comically oversized for her gear, Iolaire's eyes dart here and there as she picks her way through the corrupted forest, torch held high.

"Sherry!" she calls, voice pitched to carry directly to a truant child's ears. "Sherry call out, your mother's worried sick!"

Erendriel immediately starts by lighting up the place. Or, at least the area around herself and her companions, with some dancing lights. "So how do we find achild in a forest? Seems like magic would be useful for this, but I'm not sure I have any magic that would help in this case... but maybe someone else does?"

MAC-B1G is not susceptible to minor fluctuations in environmental conditions. It received search parameters to include target unit description and initial location. Now it is present and scanning the surroundings with all sensors.

Seldan is among this particular search party, and shakes his head at Erendriel as the group begins their search. "None that I know, not without knowing the child. One would need something of hers." His Myrrish-tinted tone betrays real concern. He is dressed for the weather, in multiple layers, and this time has opted for armor as well.

The girl's trail is surprisingly hard to find, even from the air. Maybe it's the darkness. Maybe it's the distraction of the cold. But eventually, the team discovers a clue to her whereabouts -- a piece of bright blue dress, covered in mud, torn free from the rest of the garment as it caught on some of the wicked thorns that grow here in the Felwood.

Unfortunately, that's the only clue that the team finds. The ground is hard, near to the point of being frozen, and footprints are wiped out quickly by the biting winds and the damp conditions of the night.

On the fortunate side, however -- it seems that the girl is following a path. One that leads deeper into the heart of the forest, off of the main roads. It almost goes unnoticed by the growth at the sides, but it seems it was at least once well-travelled.

Mel follows the trail, tsks. "I have to wonder about any child that would follow a trail like this," he says. "Though, now we are, so I'm ot sure if that speaks any better for us."

Erendriel murmurs something quietly to cast a spell. "Getting too cold for me..." she sighs. "Probably is for her, too. Hopefully we can hurry." She maintains the lights after her quick spell cast.

With no magic other than sheer bloody-mindedness and a 'blanket' of warm air trapped under her feathers, Iolaire drops down from her aerial search, the torch dropped in favor of an enchanted weapon that glows like a miniature sun on the end of a chain. "THere was barely any trail to follow from the air," she says breathlessly. "It's there, but overgrown. Follow me." And with that, she begins to break trail the way she was taught.

Wear the heaviest armor you can get your hands on, and push forward. The trail will break before your dwarfy will does.

As the night gets colder, Seldan shakes his head at himself, but pauses and unslings his backpack from his back. It takes him a minute to locate what it is he seeks, but find it he does. It's a small vial with a red cap. He downs the contents quickly and tucks the vial back away, but the distraction of the search, the cold, and the magic taking effect means he does very little trail-spotting.

Once Iolaire identifies the trail and begins to break it, though, he re-slings his pack and moves to join that endeavor, following her lead while widening the path.

"Evidence of target unit presence detected," MAC-B1G advises. "Probability target unit's path coincides with terrain: Seventy-five point three six four percent. Search pattern updated." It accelerates along the trail as well. "Estimated time until cessation of target function due to environmental conditions: Insufficient data to calculate within acceptable tolerance."

Mel thought he noticed a couple of signs of the trail as well, but it's mucb easier to follow Iolaire, and faster as well, so he pulls his cloak closer against the cold holds up his Everburning Torch, and follows along as quickly as he can.

The trail goes on for some distance, with the woods around them growing more twisted as it does. Still, the reason a child would follow it seems simple enough -- it's not nearly as bad as the dark sights on either side of them. Hungry shapes move through the darkness, keeping their distance from the light, just enough for movement to be seen but not nearly enough for any detail to be made out.

Finally, though, the trail opens as the moon comes out from behind a cloud. Ahead of them, in a large clearing, lies a village. Or more specifically, what was probably -once- a village. No fires burn in the windows, and no smoke rises from the chimneys. Several walls and roofs of the smaller houses have all but collapsed in on themselves, and nature has started to reclaim parts of this place that can be seen in the shifting moonlight, and the illumination of the torches. Even the glow of the magic weapon seems somehow muted here, and colors are washed out, like blacks and grays left too long in the sun.

Iolaire and Seldan notice it first -- the smell of death. Not the new, choking scent of rot. The older, muskier, leaves-and-earth scent of old death, half-forgotten. This place has been abandoned for awhile -- and apparently nobody came to clean up.

"Sherry!" Iolaire calls into the darkness, feigning ignorance of the darting shapes in the shadows. "Sherry! Your mother sent us for you, call out if you can hear me!"

As the trail opens out into a village clearing, she lowers the haft of her glowing flail, head turning this way and that so fast, one might be forgiven for assuming she wants to see everywhere at once.

"I don't like this," she says quietly over her shoulder. "Stay close. Nobody goes somewhere unless everyone goes there."

Erendriel follows along with the others. Eyes open, looking around, though not particularly great at forests. She maintains her dancing lights, for whatever they'll do under these conditions. "Why do I feel like I should fireball it in advance?"

Seldan is perfectly well aware of the darkened shadows around them, but continues to clear, seemingly unperturbed by them and focused on his mission. As the trail breaks open and the moon comes out, he stops at the edge, nostrils flaring at something, and looks up, murmuring a prayer to Eluna under his breath. He nods to Iolaire, but his focus quickly turns back to the village, his gaze unfocusing as if his attention is elsewhere.

Mel winces each time Iolaire calls out, the loudness of her voice unnerving him, given the situation. No one go somewhere? "You don't have to tell me twice," he says with a grimace, one hand on his shortsword more for the reassurance than the intent to stab anything.

"Probability of imminent threat: ninety-one point five six zero percent. Enhanced sensors activating." The golem's optics shift from muted cyan to muted emerald as additional lenses rotate into position.

Seldan reaches out with the paladin's senses, confirming what he fears -- evil is present. There's a strong aura of it. It's almost overwhelming. It threatens to stun him, but he manages to keep above the icy water of that sense. It leaves a sick feeling in his stomach, and a feeling of being horribly unclean, enough to make his blood run cold. At least one entity, possibly more. For some reason, the spell is unclear, like trying to trace specific wisps of smoke in a fire.

A convulsive shudder ripples through Seldan's body as his eyes refocus, and he rests a hand on the blade at his left hip. Whatever it was he was doing, he didn't like whatever results he got. " Evil and death walk here, and has for a long time," he tells the egalrin next to him, raising his voice so that everyone can hear him. "At least one, likely more. It may be all around. Ware, and it is as the eagle-kin says. Do not stray alone."

The town is quiet. Almost unnaturally so. There are no noises in the forest, and no movement that can be seen within the town. Even the dark things that prowl the woods don't seem to dare this far in. The air here feels even colder, though the magic that some of them weild keeps it at bay.

Several of the buildings remain largely intact. Off to one side, a building that looks like a school even still has most of the glass in its windows salvaged, the doors firmly closed against the cold.

STanding across from it, what appears to have once been a general store, though the door to this building hangs open, almost invitingly, a rock used to keep it propped upon still where it once was.

Straight ahead, the remains of a small temple can be seen, though the symbols of whatever gods it was dedicated to have long rotted away.

Erendriel takes a deep breath, and stays close to the others, particular Seldan whom she knows better than some. "This is so bad, if she's actually here... so do we just go from building to building? Together of course."

MAC-B1G's faceplate rotates 360 degrees to complete a site survey. "Hypothesis: Target saught refuge from elements. Highest probable structure selected: there." It directs one manipulative appendage at the schoolhouse. Hypothesis: Target unwilingly colocated with threat forces. Highest probably structure: there." The appendage now points at the temple ruins.

"Searching one together will take less time and expose any of us to fewer risks," Iolaire says quietly, glancing back as Mac goes through its analysis. "I imagine Ser Seldan will know better, but wherever the heart of this evil is, it's likely the temple. But... we're not here to fight evil. We're here to rescue a child. So, the school is my call."

Mel peers at MAC-B1G, then looks at the others, puzzled. "I think I don't understand golem," he complains, and will follow everyone else and keep his eyes open. This place has him so far on edge you'd think he was an ice skater.

It takes Seldan some effort to parse MAC-B1G's speech patterns, but after some breaths of puzzled silence, and Iolaire's comments, he nods slowly. "She may have been hungry as well. If so, she may have sought the general store," he nods to the open door. "Yes, the temple is where I would seek a source of evil. We search all the buildings, the temple last. I do not object to beginning with the school." He pulls his sword from its sheath with a rasp of leather and metal, and nods at Iolaire.

"Initial destination confirmed," MAC-B1G announces once a clear majority is determined. It promptly proceeds to the educational structure with heavy steps.

The doors to the school aren't locked. They open easily enough, a long, low creak from the long unused hinges ringing through the night impossibly loudly in the backdrop of the silence. When the door opens, however, that subtle scent of old death grows even stronger. The windowpanes, good for keeping out the cold, also manage to keep out the light -- long disuse having covered them in a layer of grime. The torches shine into the darkness, illuminating a small circle past the door.

From inside, a child's whisper can be heard.

"Sherry?" Iolaire calls, after an apologetic glance to the others. "Sherry are you in here?"

If the whisper is the girl, then if she answers she can be collected and quit of this place.

If not... Well, better to trip an ambush on your terms than theirs.

"Sherry, your mother sent us to find you!"

Her flail is held high, shedding light as warm as the noonday sun, in color if not in temperature, as she stalks the point of the party.

Erendriel is gonna scoot her way to the back of the group, but she will go in with the others. She sends half of her dancing lights toward the front though, keeping two with her, lighting up as much as she can.

MAC-B1G enters, scanning the interior unhindered by varying levels of illumination. "Identify and present," it directs towards the sounds.

Seldan steps into the school and away from the door. About to invoke a spell of his own, he blinks, and instead fishes a small crystal from his belt pouch. This he speaks a word to, then holds up. It leaves his hand and begins to glow, much in the way of a light spell, except that the crystal is now orbiting his head. That done, he steps aside to let others enter, frowning at the child's whisper in the darkness beyond.

From the back of the school, as the light approaches it, two figures can be seen. One the size of a child. One the size of a woman. The child stands in front of a blackboard, writing things over and over again, repeating them in a terrified whispers. "I shall not mock the wisdom of my elders," the child-sized one repeats.

CRACK!

A sound like a whip rings through the darkness, the adult's hand moving impossibly fast. There's a rod there, smacking down hard on the surface of a desk that looks like it's seen the crack of that cane thousands of times, the polish well worn. The figure's hand is rail-thin, ending in skeletal fingers with paper-thin flesh over them. Their backs are turned to the party, but it's clear that the clothes they were are rotting.

"You must have thought that was funny," comes a woman's voice, as raspy as sandpaper. "Got a good laugh out of your little joke."

CRACK.

That cane hits the desk again, and the child flinches in fear, the whispering mixing with sobbing now as a shaky hand continues to scrawl out the words.

"Sherry?" Iolaire says, her crest rising as she takes in the tableau before her. "Sherry it's time to go home." Her eyes flick to the 'teacher,' and her weapon is held at the ready, still blazing brightly, and crackling with whisker-thin, dancong yellow arcs of electricity. "Madam, I'm sure you can trust her mother to take up her child's discipline?" (Diplomacy)

Erendriel is further back, but she will speak up to try to back up Iolaire. "I agree with her. I think we can resolve whatever she's doing wrong, and get her taken care of with a stern talking to from her parents."

Seldan is silent for several breaths, studying the pair with that unfocused gaze of his. It is an odd-looking thing in one so light of eye, but he blinks before he speaks, and it is gone. Only then does he speak, and it is, if not precisely calm, even and authoritative. "These are not real. Eluna's wisdom speaks of such as this, that fear may leave echoes within the world's magic." He closes his eyes briefly, and shudders again, his blade lowering. "There is evil here, but it is not truly they."

MAC-B1G observes and records. It is unfamiliar with the various educational systems utilized by the biological units, though negative reinforcement is a logcial method. Until another unit assesses that the demonstration is illusory.

Mel attempts to look helpful and responsible as Iiolaire attempts to reason with the ghosts. He's not sure how that works, or if it works, but he will try to look as officious and helpful as he can to try and bolster our good impression.

The woman's cane stops mid-whack on the desk, hovering just inches above the wood. Iolaire's words seem to snap her out of her reverie, head twisting back at an unnatural angle to reveal eyes of the deepest black. "What would -you- know of being a good mother?" the woman-thing snaps at Iolaire, raising that stick in accusation. "You, who run with degenerates?" She takes a step forward, smacking that rod against one of the student desks. "A lazy, irresponsible girl," she says, pointing the stick at Erendriel. "A mewling coward," she continues, pointing the stick at Mel. "An unnatural -abomination-," she hisses, tongue snaking out of her mouth as it reveals rows of sharp teeth, the gray, slimy appeddage reaching almost up to her eyeball. And then, as the stick turns to Seldan, she stops. "And the insufferable pet," she sneers. She levels the stick at him, accusingly. "But you aren't all that you seem, are you?" She smiles at him, a hideous grimace that causes the flesh at the sides of her mouth to split like an overripe melon, almost up to her ears. "They don't know your darkest secrets, do they?"

Mel chafes at being called a coward, bristling a bit. But it's a ghost saying it, and that's got him unnerved. "I served my time in the ranks, and never ran from battle," he points out to his allies. Not that you'd know it to look at him, the only thing military left about him is his old service weapon, that shortword he;s clutching in a white-knuckled grip.

And like that, the teacher seems have lost Iolaire's focus. "I've three happy and hard-working children grown who I adore, and a husband who loves me as I love him, and if that doesn't make me a good mother that speaks less about me than you, shade," Iolaire says, eyes searching the room for anything of greater import.

"You said neither of them are real?" she asks the paladin. "Then we'd best search on."

Something about her words hits Erendriel hard. That accusation seems to stick in her craw, like someone pulling off all of her clothes in public, leaving her exposed and afraid. This is an authority figure. Someone who's exposed her deepest secret for all to see. (Erendriel takes two points of Wisdom damage as images start to flow through her mind -- of failure, and humiliation).

Erendriel spits "Says you!" but the way she shifts her feet afterward, it's clear she doesn't mean it.

If the aggressive individual before them in a mana echo of some form, the construct holds a probable effective measure. If the assessment that it is illussory is false, the potential for collateral negative effect is zero. In an action as subtle and tactful as any demonstrated by MAC-B1G thus far, it lifts its primary manipulative appendage. The bracer-plates on the fore portion open to allow a barrel to extend, now pointed at the alleged educator. The tip glows cyan, then red as the nethercite intermix ratio is increased to 100 before a bolt of energy is loosed.

The verbal onslaught at the group leaves Seldan blinking, but silent. Instead, he lowers his head, a little. "The wisdom of a child is most holy above all. They see the truths of men's hearts, and are only lead astray by those who walk darker paths. A child fears no darkness until they are taught to do so by those they trust the most." The words are not his - the tone suggests more that he is quoting something, but the next thing he says is definitely his own. "A child's wisdom, twisted by an evil force and reinforced through fear." He levels his blade at the apparition. "Enough."

Eren's vision seems to flood out before her, the world shifting to darkness. In her mind, she can hear laughter, taunting. The screams of people that she's failed. Rebukes from her teachers for not working harder. It's overwhelming, and fills her with terror.

Erendriel lets out a whimper, and shifts around a bit awkwardly once more.

The recited holy words seem to strike at the spectre like a slap. She hisses, that impossible tongue lashing out menacingly as she takes a step back, brandishing the stick like a weapon. The child, however, just continues to write, hand shaking impossibly now, the writing becoming illegible.

The holy words make it flinch, send it recoiling. Seldan's eyes narrow as it does so, and he calls out after some thought, "It is only fear! Disrupt the fear, or invoke holy power! Do not let it eat at you!"

The teacher takes a step back, looking again like whatever SEldan just did sent a blow to it. Even though he never even touched her. She scrambles back toward the desk, cursing at the lot of them. "Fools, and failures," she screams. "Useless!"

"That's enough of that," Iolaire snarls, lunging forward and bringing her flail around with a keening war-cry. The weapon smashes through the desk behind the image, and seems to hurt the 'teacher' all the same.

Narrowing her eyes, the war-mom looks satisfied as she pulls herself back into a ready position. "Get you gone, you tattered nightmare. It's time to wake up."

Mel sees Iolaire's attack, and he ohs. That's the first thing he's seen that he understood. He draws his sword, though, as he closes in, though. "Mel, you paid gold for a magic sword, this is what you got it for. Don't goof this up," he mutters, and takes an entirely hesitsnt swing at the ghost. The fact that it has any effect at all startles him, and then the thing vanishing actually draws a small shout of surprise and alarm. "Holy Order of Ea!" He looks back and forth to his companions.

MAC-B1G's extended weapon-tip glows brighter as it reaches full power before discharging. Energy crackles through the not-entirely-true educator, leaving enough energy remaining to impact the walk and ornamentation mounted thereupon.

Erendriel shakes her head and shudders as the woman disappears. "Ugh that was awful...."

About to do something else himself, Seldan lowers the blade and hand he had raised as the thing vanishes into nothingness, and he actually smiles, clearly pleased, although it vanishes quickly. "Well done," he tells the others. "That was ... indeed awful. The evil that lurks here is an evil of the mind, I think. We must find Sherry, and quickly. If it troubles us, it will destroy her, if she does not freeze."

"Then let's go," Iolaire says, loosing a slow, shuddering breath. "Even if we had time to waste, I'd not want to waste it."

Noises can be heard coming from outside the school. Lights approach from various angles. It's the first noise outside of the teacher that they've heard since arrival. A head pops into the school, one of the local guards. "Oy," he calls. "They're in here!" He steps inside, shaking his head. "Had to send out a search party for the search party," he chides. "Do you all know how far you are from the path?" He looks around at the scorched chalkboard, the shattered desk, eyes widening. But some part of him display the better part of valor -- discretion. "Found that little girl hours ago," he tells them. "Wasn't a mile from home. If you want to get back before the storm hits, we best get a move on."

"....Oh good," Iolaire sighs, straightening and looping the chain, before securing her flail to her belt. "Then we were led astray by a chance bit of dress. .....Though we may have found something here the Guild might want to look at later." Tipping her head up, she draws in a breath, and lets it out slowly. "...And by 'look at' I mean 'fireball until the Felwood says 'uncle."

Seldan looks up at the lights and noises, and starts, but when the guard calls out, sheathes his blade at once. "Then she is safe. Good." He nods agreement at Iolaire. "This place should not be left, lest someone else strays across it. But we should leave, quickly, and return better prepared." He, too, draws a deep breath, and murmurs another prayer, this one of thanksgiving.

Mel huhs, wait, wait, "We followed -someone's- trail here," he protests. "If not the lost girl, then who?" He's waving his sword, gesturing and realizes what he's doing after a moment. He sheaths it embarassedly. As far as getting back before the storm comes, he's good with that, and hurries along.

MAC-B1G's weapon retracts into its housing and the appendage lowers as it turns towards the arriving units. It offers no immediate assessmt with this new information, aside from advising, "Processing..."