Hunting The Spire - Part 1

Log Info

• Title: Hunting The Spire - Part 1
  
• GM: Whirlpool
• Characters: Aelwyn, Lucy, Carver, Eztli, Rune, Harkashan
  
• Location: Felwood
  
• Summary: Adventurers go into the Felwood once more, in the hopes of de-cursing and activating more towers of Eluna.

The Felwood and its spires remain a point of mystery. While more is now known about Linneia's Spire than before, the remaining spires encircling it must be approached and the way to them opened.

... which is why you're heading into the Felwood right now, in an effort to do just that. It is believed that a route has been found to one by some elven scouts, and it is now your place to follow the marks they have left.

As unreliable as those might be given the shifting nature of the cursed wood.

Harkashan had been asked to personally continue to head up matters in regards to the towers alongside Seldan, since he'd been pushing the matter as of late.

The light between his horns keeps him nice and visible as he steps forwards through the forest, he is helped by Carver. Keeping a wider formation so they keep track of things from more points of view. "This forest is far too likely to fool you. And do be wary of any strange black rocks you might find." He rembers the group as they pass one of the initial signs and proceed onwards.

His tail sways with each step, hiding the mild anxious energy about him. He's stood at the front lines many a times now. But there's something nerve-wracking about the idea that someone assigned him to lead matters. He's not really spoken of this to those present. Letting his actions speak louder instead.

Taking a moment, Harkashan considers Aelwyn's compass, hoping the strange magics here won't interfere too much with it and send them off into the wrong direction. "I never quite get used to the oppressive feeling of this place." He rumbles.

Felwood was about as enjoyable experience as it had always been for the smaller ruddy sith-makar. Yet the draconian carried himself oddly lightly. Very oddly lightly. Part of it, perhaps was the fancy new looking gear he was wearing; a chainshirt open off front, his leather cloak attached to one shoulder, various bits and pieces.

Most importantly, a fresh new glaive, with a quiet smoulder around it as deep crimson red pulsated within its draconic incsribed edge.

"Tch, Lava. A plan is afoot - how can one feel oppressed when one knows of their path?" One cannot bring a good Dragoon down.

Traipsing into the Felwood has become a common occurance as of late, enough so that the uneasy feelings that come with stepping foot into the place seem like old friends - or old enemies. Recent expeditions, Rune has simply acted as a body-guard for magic users who were far more apt to dealing with the mysteries of the spires. So, too, has she accompanied this group, her weapons drawn, eyes darting into the shadows of the trees.

However, Rune seems distracted. Perhaps by the uneasy feeling of the place, or perhaps by the fact that Aelwyn looks as if he may have shaken down someone's armory for new equipment. "Did Alaryn get a hold of you?" She asks, raising an eyebrow, her voice kept hushed despite no immediate danger beings potted. "That glaive is damn impressive."

Eztli stretches out and rolls one of her shoulders, stepping in line with everyone else. "Been a while Aelwyn, looks like work has been good to you." The small makari notes. "Let's keep it that way, right? Seems like an important job, and if it's important to Eluna up there, seems worth working on. I'm mostly up to speed, so just point me at anything that needs burning and I'll do my best, alright? Within reason, at least."

Carver whistles for attention, drawing the gaze to the occasion subtle marking of the elves. It's subtle aid, but as they have a lead, there's no need for her to wrassle for the opportunity to be at the head of the table so to speak. Blegh, who even wants that sort of responsibility? Not her!

She whispers occasional secrets to the pale, spotted companion of her's, the mare's ears folding back as the oppressive *existance* of the Felwood buries itself like slithery fingers down the spine. Carver gets it. Her coal-ringed eyes, expressive as a raccoon's, zips back and forth for the first sign of danger. To keep her mind off the reality, she sing-songs to Samira with Dran nursery songs. Her voice is unpleasant, reedy and thin, and made worse as it winds between the crunch of their steps and the awful wailing silence of the unnatural woods. "Gyun'dez raaaa, geeece. Hayil, gyun'dez raaaa, geeece-geece.

"Where'd you get the new weapon, Aelwyn?" Harkashan asks the ruddy one, trying to change the topic a bit. There is a plan, but without Ravenstongue and Seldan here... he still feels a bit out of his depths. He's doing a good job showing as little of that on his features, but those familiar with Sith-makar body-language, such as Rune, Aelwyn and Eztli may notice it a bit more than others might.

He then takes in a deep breath, then out again.

"Be aware that the next guard station may also be cursed, and being guarded by a Fel-bound creature known as Tendriculous. They require Fire to be dealt with properly. Avoid getting sucked into their maws." He warns the team. "I do not know if that awaits us at the next place. But just so you are all aware." Aelwyn's blade may come in handy, if it is of the fiery variety.

That's when Eztli moves close enough to Aelwyn for Harkashan to spot just how short she is. For just a moment, his mind considers that she might even be shorter than his egg-mother.

Lucy hikes along through the woods. She carries a shortspear that serves as both walking stick, and occasionally a prod to push vegetation out of the way. Even low vegetation can be an obstacle for her. She tries to keep towards the front of the group, even though she has to let others lead the way.

Deeper you travel.

It is by now a familiar sensation, this quiet that you're confronted with, as you work your way through the trails. With careful eyes, you search for the ribboins and markings left by the elven Mythwood wardens, and indeed, so far you've been able to stay on th trail they've laid out for you... you think. If something was messing with you, how would you really know?

Soon, there are no actual trails left, and you're moving throuigh prickly underbrush altogether, with briars a plenty trying to snag you. It's uncomfortable, and potentially dangerous.

As they get to the bramble, Harkashan alerts the group to start moving slower. "Some of the bramble in this forest causes violent halucinations. If you start seeing strange things, or if fear overtakes your heart after you get cut by anything, let me know."

Aelwyn could not help to flash his sharp teeth at Rune and Eztli when he gets noticed. He and his very, very expensive looking glaive. "This one did meet Merchant." His purple tipped fingers slide across the fresh blade - the draconian evidently had an urge to try his toy - and the blade responded in kind. Smouldering; a quiet red coal like heat throbbing within its crevices.

"This one should show them what else she had." He flexes his tongue out, flicking it out in amusement. "To prune anyone's dance of dulldom."

Harkashan's warning is heard however, and all the light heartedness is removed from him in an instant. The Dragoon then reaches over and adjusts his chain shirt's hood; a shirt that was obviously not designed for a makari or even very good fit for him, as it hung loose and open, barely touching his waist. Hey, it was still armor, right?

Rune opens her mouth, as if about to offer a warning at the sight of the brambles, but Harkashan gets to it first. She just smirks and allows him the moment, shifting to take care to avoid anything that might catch on bare skin.

However, after a few steps, Rune pauses, head tilting as she reaches over into a leafy portion of bramble and pulls free a ribbon. "Looks like we're still on the right track." She waggles the fabric between her fingers. "I wonder if they used the trees to avoid the worst of the brambles and thorns." She murmurs to herself, obviously appreciating the stealth skills of the wardens.

With a glance over at Aelwyn, she adds, "Looking forward to seeing your new gear in action." The rogue offers the glaive-wielder a wink and then turns to push through the underbrush, offering the ribbon to Harkashan.

"Huh?" Carver's song titters off at the announcement of yet more unwanted, unappreciated, frankly bull-crap. Scratchy fearmakers? She scowls, and spits upon one of the nearby briarpatches, climbing up onto Samira's back with one smooth motion. She centers her focus on the path, to narrow the step of herself and her companion, shoulders rounding forward as her furs are shrugged into.

It was poor protection should the forest itself rise up against them but thick leather and corded, matted hide is better than nothing. "Bollocks. Why I never take jobs in wide open, pretty plains. It's always sewers or cursed forests. I swear, is like I see a notice and pick the wors' one ery bloody time."

Lucy squints, "Are we sure this is the right trail?" She peers at some of the surroundings and then frowns. She places a hand on the handle of her rapier. She stops tapping her spear on the ground, and turns it slowly in her grip until it's ready to throw. "I mean, it's definitely -a- trail but something seems fishy."

"This forest takes the piss out of ya," Carver says to Lucy. "You don't really 'skill' your way through pas' a certain point. Sometimes, when you grab the bull by his balls and squeeze, you're just on for the ride 'cause you got no more choices to make after you made the first bad one. Which was squeezing bull balls."

Pause. "I'm not sayin' I squeeze bull balls."

... it is getting even quieter out this way, now.

Around your feet begins to coil a sickly mist that grows thicker as you push on. It starts to rain, of course, because it does that some times.

It is a cold, soaking, uncomfortable rain followed by winds that are blowing thorugh thge branches, making the going even less comfortable than it was even mere moments ago. Summer? Ha. This weather laughs at summer.

"What, the plants are hallucinogenic?" The small makari inquires as she glances at some of the plants they're passing. "Good to know, I don't want to try my luck in a forest like this, even if it would take a lot to get through my scales."

One brow raises to Carver, and the sorceress chuckles. "I'm pretty certain the first bad choice was putting yourself backwards on a bull to ride it while doing that? Otherwise you wouldn't be in that situation. It'll be fine, or it won't be, but I'm sure we'll manage."

As the mist comes closer, Harkashan notes; "Keep close together. Grab hands and tails if you need to. We do not want to lose eachother here. This is not a place where you wish to risk ending up alone." He feels like all he's got are warnings, but not truly answers.

Lucy is right after all. It is always hard to feel there is a path. "Let's hope, after all this is over, we'll have paths running through this place once more. But I think it'll need a new name if we can root out the evil here."

Still, this weather feels... off. "Eztli, are you getting any strange feelings of magic from this weather?"

Aelwyn starts to undo the clasp and pull the cloak over himself. The once light step of his was now turned into much more heavier, stagnant one in the rain. At least he had a cloak. It doesn't take much encouragement for him to move and grasp Harkashan's tail by the butt. The man was a walking heating stone, after all.

The feeling of the air growing colder has Rune pulling her cloak closer around herself, drawing up her hood and slipping her hands into a set of gloves that have to be pulled from one of her belt pouches. The rain only adds to the problem, allowing the cold to sink in a bit deeper beneath the surface. "What in the hells... it's supposed to be summer." Rune murmurs, showing her dislike for the strange woods, and for the cold.

To Eztli, she offers, "Some of them are. I'm no herbalist but we ran into some closer to the first ruins we found. Had some nasty side effects." The half-sil looks at those nearest them, "Not sure if these are similar or not, so best to be careful, I think."

Lucy's concerns are given a quick nod of the head. "If it is some sort of trick, they knew enough to make it look similar enough to the markings we were following. But... I agree. Then again, everything feels off in these woods." At the concern of losing others in the mist, Rune draws a bit closer towards Harkashan, taking advantage of the light he is giving off in the darkening woods.

"Hey, Sparklescales." Carver interjects. "I don' mean no disrespect to you and your fancy compass but, like, this don't seem like your gig." She kips forward astride Samira, the light-footed mare almost dancing in step. "Lemme take the lead for a bit, maybe I can get us out of what seems like the whole bloody fores' tryin' to rein us in." She draws out her own maps, of her own adventures, through these blighted forests. Recalling the knowledge and hints passed on by the elves, when she wasn't oggling bare chests or bare thighs. She occasionally consults with Harkan upon the direction that the compass is showing, making minute adjustments after pausing in consideration. She leads them to a strange, ad-hoc cemetary, old ruins who makes no sense and to the dead so ancient perhaps not even the elves remember. Makes another note.

She scratches here and there in case they circle around. None of that subtlety of the elves. She scrawls a big penis on one dying tree, the lingering crassness serving all who pass in her wake 'Carver was here'.

...the weather just gets worse. The admonition to hold hands or tails or what have you was probably a good one, because the mist is so thick you can barely see anything ahead of you. Carver eventually finds signs again, which are about the only thing you have going for you and were nearly impossible to track at this point without some inkling of your direction -- something made worse by the somewhat nonsensical nature of the growth here.

Eventually, she finds herself against a wall of vegetation. Just an outright *wall* of moss, vines, and roots.

"Hrrrm?" Harkashan looks aside at Carver, then nods his head. "Go ahead." Still using the compass hhimself to help make progress. He hadn't himself tried to make any maps of this place, due to just how confusing this place is. Not to mention, he really has never drawn a map before in his life.

Luckily, the compass does end up coming in handy now and again as they make progress.

Until finally, a wall of vegetation. Moss. Vines. Roots.

"I think we may have found what we seek." Harkashan rumbles, and motions at the wall itself. "Let's stay close to one-another and check this out. Just be careful, watch for the vines. If they start moving, burn them immediately."

As if on command to Harkashan's word, the rain starts pouring on even harder.

With the weather growing worse, Rune closes the distance between herself and Harkashan, sheathing one weapon in order to better hold onto part of his belt. She spends most of her time looking out for the others, making sure the group can still follow Carver and that no one else gets lost in the mist and the downpour.

Rune hates the cold. Her teeth chatter slightly. Despite her best efforts, her clothing is not impervious to the rain and the chill is starting to get to her. "Fuck these woods. These ones, in particular."

When they finally find the mass of vegitation, Rune seems to take more care with her steps. She's been caught by a few too many similar creatures in her time and multiple times in these exact woods. "So... we looking for another of those ruins. Guard towers or whatever?"

Whoosh. Rain begins to fall even harder and Rune just stands there for a moment, blinking in the rain, looking distinctly unhappy. "Right... let's start looking."

"Well, I wasn't expecting it to be such a pleasant day out! Shame to be spending it in a forest that I would be not surprised wishes to kill me." The small makari chuckles as they continue along, electing to take the other side of Harkashan's belt. She reaches into her robes, and pulls out a rod, which extends to a longer, hooked one, and finally unfurls into a large parasol, which she offers to the half elf. "Here, make it at least a bit more bearable until we're done." The sorceress suggests as she peers at the wall. "Gotcha, that's what I'm here for. Don't worry, it'll take more than some rain to stop me from burning these things away." She states in clear defiance of the weather reacting to Harkashan.

Lucy pulls a pancho from her haversack and settles it over her shoulders. "This won't stop us," she says firmly. Then she kneels. "It could explain what happened to the tracks," she muses. Rising to full height again she moves away from the others and peers about.

Carver snaps a bite into a carrot, whistling at the bizarre barrier. It seemed to grand to be simply grown naturally. Too purposful in design if not the material. She lets the others have a crack on figuring it out.

The rain doesn't bother Harkashan that much. Between the scales and experiences in the jungles of Am'shere with monsoon rains sometimes, that is not the problem. The cold and mist is more bothersome. He keeps wanting to move his hand about to try and get a better look.

"I'm glad you could come, Eztli." Harkashan rumbles to the other Makari.

"I'm going to try and remove the curse of this place - this place feels steeped in it. I don't know if I will be as successful as last time. But, here goes nothing." He rumbles, before touching the walls and focusing on the region around them...

Remove the curse? At those words Lucy seems to settle into a different mood. She draws her rapier with a faint rasping sound. Moving towards Harkashan she stands behind him, facing away in case anything comes up behind him while he is otherwise occupied. She squints into the rain and occasionally casts glances back to see how the spellcasting is going.