Questionnaire:





You’re gathered in Lyra’s barracks, collecting equipment and provisions for your endeavor into the Wilderdeep. You spent the night in the city beforehand, collecting yourselves and discussing the terms of your adventure with Lord Pernn, governor of the city.
As it turns out, the late Ophelia Pesh was a close friend and business partner, and her death has left him visibly distraught. Her family is offering up to 500 gold pieces for peace of mind and to bring the killer to justice - enough for a down payment on a cozy house. Lord Pernn struck you as both grateful and melancholy at your offer to help. It is clear that he appreciates your effort, but has little in the way of optimism of your success. Still, the notion you would risk yourselves to aid the city has instilled a small measure of hope within him. He has given you liberty to outfit yourselves at the barracks, and has been a gracious host during your stay.

You stand in the armory, eying barrels and racks full of surplus weaponry and equipment. There are rows of swords, spears, shields, bows and miscellaneous gear. The quartermaster grudgingly has allowed each of you to pick one or two items. He finds the idea of you going into the Wilderdeep incredulous; he occasionally mumbles to himself with a shake of his head. Something about “foreigners” and “death wishes,” it sounds like.

What gear do you select from the armory's pool?
(Max two items or mutli-use bundles each. Select from these lists. Ranged weapons come with quivers worth 3 ammo.)


(Add items to your character sheets, making sure to update uses and weight values.)

As you reach for your equipment and sling your packs over your shoulders, Lord Pernn enters the room. A tiny, horned familiar chitters on his shoulder. He reaches into his robe and procures what seems to be a tarnished whistle. It is carved to resemble the head of a canine, maybe a demon. He hands it to Alexandria, apparently trusting a fellow countryman with the item.

“This may come in handy if you find yourself in peril,” he says, “but use it sparingly, only when faced with real, imminent danger.” He emphasizes the last of his words with a heavy voice and waves the group outside. “It’s almost time to go. Best to get a move-on in the morning. Come nightfall, it’d be a nightmare to trek that place.”

In a few minutes, you leave the gates of Lyra behind. You're on the trail leading in and out of the city, and you can see the vast stretch of forest that makes up the Wilderdeep ahead. Lord Pernn and a few city guardsmen escort you there, pointing to the tracks that led from the scene of the murder along the way.

"Well, here we are," Pernn says, with a clap of his hands. He looks perturbed, as if standing so close to the Wilderdeep is physically uncomfortable. "You have my best wishes for your success."
"And condolences," one of the guardsmen murmurs, almost out of earshot.
Pernn leaves you with a few more lengthy words of thanks, as if he doesn't expect to see any of you again, then turns back the way he came, guards in tow. The Wilderdeep lies before you now, and the leaves on the closest trees rustle in the wind. Although the rest of the land appears bright and sunny in the morning light, the forest appears only dark and murky. It's hard to see much farther ahead.

What do you do?

The laws and litigation that lead the Lyran lifestyle lingered even here, the outermost limen between Aabranian authority and what waits within the wilderdeep. Led here in turn by the promise of wealth and a beleaguered local lord Zogolli found something in Penn's manner contagious--what sort of worry can a man that deigns to deal with devils wear so undisguised? The thought was surely to be an unwelcome companion on their journey but Lakmi contented himself with the fact it would not be his only one, a cursory glance given to the trio of travelers accompanying him.

Zogolli shook from the distinctly un-Dosvean repose, reminding himself that it is the weakest fruit that falls first. This land was peopled by the fainthearted, men and women yoked to the burden of forced fealty and presumed promises; he would be foolish to follow in their footsteps. Lyra was a fat sow to be suckled, he knew this. Knew that the sweat of his brow and steel of his sword were the most valuable currency and that by expedition's end he would see them transmuted into something more tangible. Idly his deft digits spidered over the basket hilt of the rapier on his hip; long and limber its craftsmanship avowed of an easy to overlook lethality, having instantly drawn the foreigner's eye when offered.

"Serah" he'd slur, the halfling's name sinking into the soft sigh that seemed to stick to the sides of Zogolli's accent. For a time he merely married the singular utterance to a vague gesture of hand--the basest suggestion that she set out ahead of the group--breaking his silence to address the assemblage as a whole. "Well begun is half done but before we set out I'd like to say you'll have the unique pleasure of Dosvean cuisine during this no doubt harrowing undertaking." thrummed the fair featured sell sword under an exaggeratedly apologetic chuckle, an addendum quick to follow. "That is what I'd like to say but between watching this one?" he forewarned, gaze traveling to Linoleum in preemptive accusation. "The fates do not favor you." Though sure to be the first to laugh at his own joke it was quickly dismissed with a weak wave of his hand. "I'll hold the center; after all, what do people say of Zogolli if not that he is a pillar in these uncertain times, surely." The last bit he saved for Alexandria, sauntering up and delivering it to her in the sort of whisper one reserves for sweet nothings and acts of conspiracy. True to form it was hard to discern which of the two he intended it as.

"Why don't you attend the rear, I'm sure I trust you implicitly. After all, between you and your intangible master someone is bound to blow that whistle the first sign of trouble." He mocked with a measure of humor she might not share, sealing the statement with a wink as he prepared to set out. Banishing from his mind the way with which the nigh primeval weald harbored it's own night beneath countless boughs, heedless of the encroaching dawn.

Acquired:

• Rapier
• More Adventuring Gear

The Kingdom of Aabran reeked of dark magic and malicious spirits. Serah swore that even in the tops of the mountains that dotted the north, she could smell the foul stench that plagued the kingdom. It was, after all, what had called her feet towards the cityscape. Yet, despite the undercurrent of corruption that ran deep in its veins, it had a certain kind of beauty to it. Perhaps it was simply her time spent in the bleak wilderness of the north, but in the two days she's spent inside Lyra, Serah found herself endlessly awed by what she saw. Curiosity led her to enter shop after shop, albeit lacking in coin, to simply stare at the wondrous things they had displayed. One in particular held items that produced music that could rival the songs created by the breeze.

What Serah found she liked best about the city were its people. Despite their dark practices, many citizens had proven quite welcoming to the odd stranger wandering cluelessly around. Some were even gracious enough to toss her some coin that she later deposited into a marvel that the kind lady had called a "wishing well". Mayhaps if the Spirits heard her wish, she would be able to rid Aabran of the dark cloud looming over its head with ease.

Optimism filled her heart when no more than an hour passed after tossing her coins into the magical abyss that news of a Pernn - titles and nobility meant naught to the child of the soil - who sought aid in capturing the murderer. The Wilderdeep - as the locals called it, but a voice as ancient as time whispered a different name to her ears when she had walked near the gates prior to visiting the armory - was their target.

Serah stood again at its border alongside three others who had the same quest as she. Humans, all of them. A part of her felt more alien than she already was, but the thought was pushed away as one - Zog, as he had charmingly introduced himself earlier on - called for her attention. She did not understand much of the man's words - her grasp on the common tongue was flimsy at best, but she knew enough words to form simple sentences - nor his actions towards one of their own. It seemed to be a mating ritual, a preening of sorts, and she couldn't help but wonder if the human's mating season had already begun. It was a strange thought as the other humans in their vicinity had not attempted to catch the female's attention as Zog had. If that were the case, she only hoped humans were not like the hares of the north. They would not proceed much in their quest if that were the case.

Regardless, she drew the spear that was always faithfully strapped to her back and took a step forwards. There was no one more suited to lead the charge into the Wilderdeep other than her, but an underlying sense of dread made her skin crawl. She was almost hesitant to leave the city that seemed so wondrous and exciting.

She gave a soft grunt, motioning for the others to stop dallying and to start moving.

Linoleum teetered around inside the town armory as the rest of the group did their routines and got their new toys and stuff, no doubt comparing and taking deep thoughts about each piece. In truth, Linoleum didn't quite know what he was doing here but something about 500 gold probably influenced him to be with the rest of this rag tag group of adventurers; the entire premise sounded like fun, going out in the the unknown wilderness that probably wanted him dead in no less than fifteen ways with a group of people who he didn't quite know. The gonger had heard many a tales and songs about the Wilderdeep, some he made up himself on the fly. It wasn't an uncommon sight for Linoleum to overheard some boast of how fair in someone got in before deciding that they'd leave the wildlife alone since they were feeling "merciful" or how terrifying the place is. There were more than a few foolish individuals who would say that people were overeracting about how dangers the area was only for them not to return the following night, their body added to the count of the land. Linoleum wondered if he built a house there if there would be a tax deduction since the tax man got eaten alive or something, surely it was prime real estate.

At any rate, the payment would be sufficient to pay off his debt to the local tavern after on particular rowdy performance which involves exactly 3 men having to be treated, one deaf ear, an especially heavy pot of soup and a certain goat whose name will not be mentioned. The tavern keeper banned Linoleum as he fixed up with half a dozen hole in his business's walls until that the man would be able to pay off both the damages and his bar tab which consisted in large part of special "brew" that Linoleum made on there by combining two parts ale with one part spring water, an egg and a rock. Every night he'd order one before or after his performance and drank it all down, all of it. No one bothered to ask where the rock went with the wiser ones not doing so on purpose in fear of the bard's answer.

Holding his stolen gong up to his ear and gently tapping it, he could hear its divine brassy voice speak to him on what he should take on his epic quest. No doubt the gong knew what it was saying as Linoleum thought its choices was also a fine one as he picked up up a length of wood off the floor stating it would be his new Shillelagh (ignoring the actual clubs and such lined up on a rack behind him) and dashed over to a a bag of what he presumed must have been some sort of Adventuring equipment and slung it over his bare back. It was already in the armory and they were going on an adventure so surely the bag would have related goods in it right? Its not like it was just a bag full of hedgehogs or something.

Thanking the gong for its wise words, the "bard" looked back at the rest of his troupe which currently consisted of a foreigner in silk, a tiny little midget with a spear and a pretty lady who clearly needed some sleep if her dark under eyes where anything to go by. What a wonderful crew. With his equipment all ready, Linoleum raise his gong and began to whack it harder than a dead horse signaling that they were about to go out. At least half the town sighed a breath of relief with this knowledge.

Before setting out, the group had stocked up on equipment from Lyra’s guard armory. Though she hadn’t brought any proper arms along with her, Alexandria had opted to use the opportunity to acquire medical equipment for the group’s use, so as to allow for greater flexibility in the boons requested from her patroness. With the born-steel in abundance, more esoteric powers would be a far more beneficial measure. Which was why she had made the point of communing with her patroness before they were to set out on the expedition proper.

And thus, here they were: The Wilderdeep.

It was a subject of taboo, spoken of in hushed whispers, as if its malevolent shadow would reach out and claim whoever had uttered its name. Or at least, that was how one of the stories went. Like any good, cultured Aabranian citizen, she’d heard the eclectic - and often contradictory - tales. Tales of horrific monstrosities, of things beyond the veil of mortality. She’d even heard some outlander claim it to be the underworld itself, leaking into the mortal coil as a punishment against Aabran for tampering with powers beyond their ken.

Indeed, to delve into its depths was a frightening proposition, but in Aabran, an individual was nothing but their word. And the Belladonna were nothing but their word. While the reward of gold had its place, there were debts to be paid first and foremost. Having the Pesh and the Pernn indebted to her would be quite useful for delivering her family from the fate of bonded labour that had plagued them. So as odd as it was, this place of fear had no place for fear.

And after all, one cannot appeal to the nature of her mistress by being afraid of the cold, hard truth. Granted that wasn’t necessarily 100% correct, Alexandria supposed, but it was not 100% incorrect either. Irregardless, satisfying the Maiden of Poison Flowers was the second bird in the metaphor. Correction: the first bird; putting the terms of an ages-old infernal contract second was a very poor business decision.

But if her predecessors had known that, she wouldn’t have been in this situation now, would she?

"It takes more than a rustling bush to frighten a diabolist, outlander. If there's anything to be blown in such a situation, it's the bush. To smithereens."

With that response, Alexandria leaned against her staff, tapping her fingers restlessly against it as she looked to the people she would be entrusting her life to in these coming days. They were foreigners, the lot of them. There was the halfling hedge-witch from the north, admirably faithful but woefully uneducated; the outsider in strange silk and jewels, with a subdued eroticism that was just polite enough to make it socially unacceptable to call out; and….

Alexandria’s ears rang with a metal ding that made her head ache. ’Oh Mistress have mercy.’ Her fingers stopped the rhythmic drumming and tightly wrapped around the wooden staff. “...Quite,” she answered in response to the halfling’s restless grunt. It was best to get moving before Alexandria started pointing.

Acquired:

• Antitoxin
• Bandages
• Dog(?) Whistle

Spells Prepared:

• All Rotes
• Magic Missile
• Bless

You step off the path, starting on your way into the gloom of the Wilderdeep. You notice that hardly any daylight outside pierces through the trees; it’s as if the woods are in a state of constant dawn. The trees themselves are peculiar as well: rather than the healthy deep brown bark of the trees outside, these have a sickly, greying color. As you step, you hear the ground squelch and it takes effort to wade through the mire, colored like dried blood. As you inhale, your nose is not met with the pleasant scent of pine or wildflowers, but that of noxious oxone. The air is thick and damp.



As you wade past the initial shrubs that mark the woods' boundary, you notice your body pulling with each step, like the Wilderdeep is a vacuum, drawing you in. It's a faint sensation, but it's there, and if you turn around to test it going the other way, you'll notice that you cannot see the point which you entered from. In fact, none of your surroundings are familiar at all! The shrubs are gone, and you stand among rows and rows of sickly, black trees with gnarled limbs.

In the next second, it appears as if everything is oozing, melting into the mire at your feet. The trees sag and buckle, exuding viscous, foul-smelling sap. You feel the ground give way, your vision swims in a blur of colors and your head throbs with a riot of dread.

Then, you blink and everything is as it was before; the trees stand tall again, and the ground lays still. Whatever grim aura you felt stepping in still persists, but your sanity is intact.

A moment passes as you recoup, and then a shrill cry echoes through the canopy overhead. It is unnatural-sounding, alien, but to a trained ear, it sounds something like a braying elephant crossed with a vulture. The sound permeates the space all around you, seemingly neither near, nor far, but its echo resounds from a precise direction that you can identity.

This was not a good place, but that much would be obvious even to the most dimwitted of buffoons. It was clear in the mangled trees and the flesh-like dirt. It was clear in the way the very land denied the light of day with all its might, and the way the land moved without their knowing, obfuscating their path back to civilized lands. And then it happened. It was like the effects of a powerful enchantment, and for a moment she was inclined to believe that the Wilderdeep itself was alive, and hungry for the flesh of mortals.

But then it was gone, and the Wilderdeep was just another forest. But this was not a good place, even when it pretended to be. The ground was solid. The forest was still once more. Even so, that smell still lingered: the tangy scent of a storm. But was it coming, or had it already passed?

Her eyes scanned the trees above as the unfamiliar sound reverberated around them. Then it stopped, and from the final echoing vestiges of that screech… “There,” Alexandria pointed to the apparent origin of the sound, deadened eyes locked on the patch of foliage.

“Would it not be prudent to deal with this situation before it becomes a problem?” Admittedly, she was just a little bit biased against anything that would call this place home, but she could not rightfully omit the possibility of a later ambush. "Or shall we allow the pathfinder to continue?"

The Wilderdeep had once been alive, thriving, and beautiful. For the briefest moments, as her left hand touched the ground beneath her, she saw brilliant sunlight flickering through the canopy and heard the chorus of clicks and growls. For a moment, it felt like home, warm and inviting. For a moment.

The image fled her mind as though stolen by a vicious hand. Air left her lungs as she fell on her knees, hands stained in the claret of the forest floor and unbridled tears streaming down her face. Through clouded eyes, she saw the already damning forest transform into the maw of the devil itself. Serah swore she could feel the sinewy fingers of the Wilderdeep delve into her skull and penetrate her mind, filling it with a cacophony of noise and color. Was this how the Wilderdeep communicated? Was this its warning? Its threat? Was it challenging them to burrow themselves deeper into its stomach, where they'd be nothing more than helpless prey to the malignant force that lived within its confines?

The Wilderdeep withdrew from their minds, and Serah was quick to return to her feet. She brushed away the tears that stained her face on the back of her hand, and glared into the heart of the forest in an answer.

A shrill scream seemed to be the Wilderdeep's response. Her head snapped into the direction of the disturbance, a low and threatening growl ripping from her throat. In her peripheral, she saw Alexandria pointing towards where she'd heard the sound and she felt a swell of something akin to pride. The human seemed knowledgeable, yes, but she was the weakest link of the party. At least, physically. Serah would still maintain a watchful eye over her.

She gave a nod towards Alexandria and readied her weapon. From what she was able to gather from the words spoken, Alexandria wanted them to pursue whatever creature had appeared. Serah had to agree. Nothing in the Wilderdeep felt safe. Whatever it was out there, it would certainly be no help to any of them.

And, perhaps, a small part of Serah blamed the monstrosities in the Wilderdeep for its apparent corruption. She loathed the downfall of something beautiful and grand. She would restore it to its former glory, that much she could attempt, and she would start by ridding it of what manner of creature had challenged their arms. She looked over her shoulder to her companions. "Careful," she called out. She headed out first, the tip of her spear brushing aside a small section of the shrubbery for her to peak at the creature.

The haunting vibe and unsettling aura of the "forest" that surrounded Linoleum and his new friends was chilling and could easily drive lesser men mad it seemed. Thankfully the bard with the gong was no normal man; he was already mad. The fact that the floor looked like it was bleeding was a bit worrying Linoleum had to admit but the man was more curious than anything; if he stabbed the ground with something, would it actually bleed? Seeing as the trees where a dull dying gray color, the great mind of Linoleum in all its wisdom pondered if the trees were actually rocks that grew, and produced some sort of sappy ichor that smelled of something fierce.

Then everything got mental. Not like what the Bard went through on a biweekly basis, this was like a dream. Except it wasn't a dream. But still was. Does it count as a dream if the person in question is awake? Again, only more deep questions for the mind of Linoleum to ponder but that was for another time, namely a time when the damn ground wasn't trying to eat him. With a furious if not desperate attempt to save not himself but his gong, Linoleum began to whack at the soft ground with his mallet as he sunk into it. "Stay. Away. From. My. Gong!" Linolum shouted between every mighty hit against the ground, using said gong as a blunt object to try and beat back the unholy ground.

As he felt himself sink deeper and deeper into ground, the man let loose a flurry of curses before everything spun in his head again and the world returned to normal? Picking his beautiful face off the ground, Linoleum blinked as he picked himself up, cradling his instrument and wondered if he ate something weird that caused the illusions. Or if that rock tree sap was naturally trippy. But no matter, through the power of the gong and his force of will, it seemed like that the Wilderdeep decided that he was not a nutritious part of a healthy breakfast, maybe it ought to try some corn oats or something instead.

A shrill cry echoed its way through the forest, all around them both near and far at the same time. A shiver ran through Linoleum's back causing him to seek the wise words of holy gong. With a gentle tap, the instrument sung to its owner in a language only he could understand. "I see..." Linoleum quietly whispered under his breath to the gong, "Makes sense but I think that it would like the color cyan brick more though."

Linoleum watched as the little halfing poked at the bush at the behest of the Cleric. He too saw the eyes of the creature or at least felt it as he edged closer to the shrubbery in question, his gong raised and mallet clutched tightly in his hand, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

Robin really isn't happy about being in the Wilderdeep. Unfortunately his only choices are figuring out who murdered Ophelia Pesh to avoid the thieves guild being blamed or being forced to show how long he can hold his breath while being tied up in thick ropes with rocks hanging from them, so here he is.

He is traveling together with a group of four others even though he recognizes one of them, the foreigner dressed in silk, as someone he has stolen a piece of jewelry from not too long ago. Said foreigner has apparently taken the role of groupleader as he gives orders about formation, which could make things nasty for Robin if he figures out what happened to his missing jewelry.

It doesn't take long for them to reach the entrance of the forest which looks just bad as he imagined, though the fact that they aren't immediately attacked by monsters is a pleasant surprise. As he and the others go deeper into these gods and demons forsaken woods it either uses some kind of illusion or temporarily reveals it's true form for some unfathomable reason, at least it doesn't last very long, though Robin's desire to flee is stronger than ever.

The next terror to befall is some kind of awful screeching and the noble woman Adrianna or something alerts the group to the source of it. The halfling possibly proving that she is crazy makes her way to the bush the sound is coming. The knowledge that he has no chance to survive on his own is the only reason he doesn't abandon the lot of them here and now, instead he draw his bow and one arrow, but keeps it aimed at the ground for now.

He also watches what is going on with the halfling and bush as carefully as his nerves allow, hoping to figure out as much as he can about the situation without needlessly endangering himself.

---

picked up:
Antitoxin (no weight)
Bandages 3 uses, slow, ( no weight)

In a moment of clarity, Robin realizes that the scream did not come from the brush, instead distorted by whatever curse has befallen these woods. Rather, he examines the treetops and perceives a hulking, black form nestled on a branch above the party. It looms directly over Zogolli, studying him with a pair of yellow, hungry eyes. The exact nature of the creature is unknown to you, but you can just make out a vaguely feline silhouette, and its strange protrusions. As Robin looks directly at it, he finds it difficult to look away, or shout a warning. Some kind of power is tampering with his ability to form coherent thoughts, yet he knows that Zogolli, is in great danger, and so will be the rest of the group.

The beast flexes its limbs, then turns to look upon the perplexed thief. Robin gazes at what might be a perverse parody of a grin, before it turns its attention back to Zogolli and drops from the tree. The odd power straining Robin's thoughts is lifted, and reality snaps back to him.

What do you do?!

When Robin spots the creature in the treetops his first instinct is to warn the others, after all the more they trust them the better, but for some reason he can't make his mouth form any words. His second idea is to just let it attack the foreigner and act like he didn't notice it. He abandons that idea when he notices the grin and comes to the conclusion it's intelligent.

Believing that the monster might see Zogolli as the biggest threat to itself Robin comes to the conclusion it is in his best interest if it doesn't get the drop on him. He goes against all his instincts and places himself in danger by trying to push the outsider out of the way of the attack since he doubts he has enough time to attack the feline with his bow.

(Robin's Defy Danger Result: 13)

Robin manages to roll out of the creature's path as it lands on soft ground, hissing in frustration as the thief's efforts deprive it of an easy meal. The party can get a closer look at it now. It would resemble a big jungle cat, like a panther or leopard, if it weren't for rows and rows of scales and a horrible visage of too many eyes.
The menace collects itself from the ground, baring elongated fangs and ruffling its shaggy mane. Its eyes dart towards Robin, narrowed in accusation. It looks about ready to strike again, weight drawn close to the ground, haunches bent. Its prehensile tail slices the air with the anticipation of a kill.

Zogolli had stood stupefied at the sudden sinking sensation that had seized him, his surroundings taking on the sordid seeping semblance of someone else's nightmare. Alien and intrusive this violating vision vanished no sooner than it had swallowed the swordsman, leaving him to steady shaking legs as reality surged back to strike his reeling mind. So it was that a simple sidelong shove sent the stunned sellsword sprawling, all other thought subsumed in an instant as a soldier's insight spread to the corners of his awareness.

Riding out the impact with a roll Zogolli reacted by reaching for the blade resting at his hip, raking it from sheathe to the accompanying rasp of moving metal as he rose. Initially it was Robbin to whom his eyes and ire were leveed, assigning blame for the blow that had brought him about face -- though the blighted beast behind their burglar saw him think better of it. Finding a ferocity to match the foul feline he hurled himself at the hulking horror as it prepared to pounce, praying to outpace the predator.

(Zog's Hack 'n Slash result: 6)

Zogolli's retaliation forced a moment of hesitation upon the beast. It turned as he was upon it, driving the tip of his rapier at the scaly hide. Though the stab was strong, with the barbarian's full weight behind it, the attack was displaced, glancing off the natural armor of the monstrous feline. Something like a gurgling chortle rumbled from its throat as it made an attack of its own, whipping a paw at the would-be monster slayer.

(Creature's result: 6)

Luckily, the attack held more anger than it did accuracy, as Zogolli's momentum brought him out of harm's way. The beast spun, angling for another attempt...

The creature had eluded her. It was with this sinking realization that Serah turned away from the bush to inform Alexandria of their mistaken conclusion when she saw Robin seemingly frozen in place with his eyes set on the canopy. In the next instant, the creature lunged and made its attack, only missing Zogolli due to Robin's intervention. The urge to rush and attack grew strong in Serah's limbs, but her eyes sought out that of the creature's. Corrupted or not, it had a form of intelligence that Serah hoped would be able to understand her. Anger still coursed through her veins at the Land's desolation, but it occured to her that perhaps the creatures in the Wilderdeep had only been affected by the same darkness that swallowed it.

With her mind made up, she rushed to put herself between the creature and Zogolli before either could attack once more. She held her spear in one hand and lowered the other to the ground, keeping her eyes on the creature all the while. A low rumble left her lips, incomprihensible to others but hopefully not to the creature. 'Be calm. We merely seek answers.'

Serah's words reached out to the creature, and for a moment, it looked perplexed. It distanced itself from the barbarian, all six eyes trained on Serah as it circled her. A long moment went by without incident, and it leaped up a nearby tree and reclined on an overhanging branch. Only then did it answer.

"I have not eaten in days!" it snarled. To anyone but Serah, the beast's speech was a jumble of grunts and hisses. To her, it was intelligible, though unlike any animal she'd heard in her frozen homeland, like an odd dialect.
"Prey is becoming exceedingly scarce. Nothing goes into the forest. Nothing comes out. I was hoping this one," he indicated his muzzle towards Zogolli, "would break my fast." Its voice came harsh and agitated to Serah, but there was some hint of sadness buried beneath it.
"I suppose he has you to thank for his well-being, Wildcaller. Else I would have dragged him off and eaten my fill. Maybe that one would be next," it shot a look at Robin.
"Feed me, and I will give you answers," it said thoughtfully, unless you plan to indulge my craving for man flesh." It shot Serah a wicked grin and looked at her expectantly.

Linoleum jumped back at the first sight of the thing that came out of the bush in dramatic fashion, letting Zog the Barbarian have his fun with the beastie and scurrying back. He feared that it was trying to eat all he had dear to him and thus held his instrument up high, his plan on hitting whatever the Wilderdeep produced with his mallet clearly not working out. The bard argued with his gong, accusing it of knowing that the beast would have liked a golden teal over a cyan brick as he tried to calm himself with images of burning sheep to little effect. He didn't know if the image of a combustable sheep wasn't helping him calm down or the fact that his gong gave him the wrong color (Linoleum leaned more towards the color).

His mind cleared once he saw that Serah had approached and calmed the six-eyed beast and was ... talking to it? Linoleum found this concept entirely foreign, who the hell would try to talk to something like that? It was like nightmare fuel, even more so than the things people who did [Removed] behind the [Removed] as they [Removed] when they thought no one was watching so they would just continue to [Removed]. Horrifying stuff that was but through the ranger's action, the bard had an idea. He had long song to at people and sometimes they liked it. What if he had tried it on an animal though? Of course, the six-eye cuddlepuff in front of them wasn't exactly like a normal puppy or goat, but it must be close enough. Raising his gong, the bard began to sing the tale of the great spider Rangornis, calling upon his knowledge of songs and epics about creatures unusual. He hoped that he didn't sound too bad, he hadn't exactly warmed up his voice.