Robin can't believe he managed to both push the foreigner away from the creature's attack and not get hurt himself in the process. He is afraid he my have used up all of his luck when the foreigner draws his blade with his eyes focused on Robin, but luckily he notices the creature before doing anything Robin will regret. As Zogolli attacks, the thief believes the barbarian will make short work of it, but instead he mises and gives his monstrous opponent the change for a counterattack.

Certain the bizarre feline won't make the same mistake Robin is glad he had the foresight to bring bandages, not that will tell the others unless he needs them, but either it's six eyes are just for show or it's weakened by something as the barbarian dodges it's claw. As the thief reaches for his bow the female halfling seemingly starts talking to it.

Hunger. It was as base a need as any, and one Serah had seen drive even the most docile of creatures mad with the threat of starvation and death hanging over them like a perpetual storm cloud, ready to unleash rainfall that would drown them underneath its weight. Her heart felt like it was being constricted, twisted in a way that she feared resembled what hunger was doing to the creature's mind.

Despite understanding the creature's plight, she could not give it what it needed. She was a child of the soil, sustained by the very earth they stood upon. She had no need for flesh between her teeth and harvest in her stomach. She turned to eye her companions, all of whom would have certainly brought their own rations to sustain them during the journey. Could she reason with them? Ask for a bit of food for information about what darkness they might meet in the Wilderdeep?

Before she could speak, Linoleum had raised his gong and began a... song? It was not one Serah knew, but the action was familiar enough from the performers she'd seen in the streets. She had no way of determining if Linoleum was far skillful than them, but she could appreciate his talents... If only she weren't in the middle of trying to appease a creature that would attempt to feast on Zogolli's body.

She didn't know what to do to make him pause so she could address the group, so she gave the creature a small growl. 'A moment.' She moved to Zogolli and Robin, thinking of the words needed to convey her thoughts. Finally, she settled on, "Food, then talk." As those three words left her lips with the tilt of one not native to the use of such language, heat blossomed in her cheeks. She tucked her face into her coat and simply nodded towards the creature's direction.

The thing in the tree glares at Linoleum with a face half-amused, half-puzzled. Looking back to Serah, he growls, "What is this performance your companion displays?" Against all odds, the creature does not seem angered by the ring of the gong. In fact, its tail flickers rhythmically, and it leans in closer to better view the spectacle. There is another phenomenon about as Linoleum plays - the forest seems less claustrophobic. It is still dark and menacing, but a sliver less foreboding than it seemed a moment before. Maybe hearing the sound of music has kindled some comfort of civilization inside you, or perhaps there is more at work than you realize.

"I do not understand it. But I do not dislike it," the creature says, after a time. "But please, these antics are no replacement for fresh meat. This fellow may never beat that instrument again, if he aims to delay me from a morsel."

Serah was a vexing sight as she interposed herself between Zogolli and his fanged foe, made all the more perplexing for her efforts to parley with the peregrine predator. A strange breed--as were all the runtfolk to his eyes--halfway to being human and wholly something else; it bewildered him at how bashful their diminutive diplomat seemed in delivering the creature's demands. It was hungry, the druid told; a motivation elegant in its simplicity. As a Dosvean he could respect the common ground they shared, however small it was; eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired, kill what you want dead. Shame then that it was this same heritage that ensured he could not abide the animal on its own terms.

Power is like fire in that it makes a fine slave but poor master, indeed the pursuit of it had long consumed the swordsman. Of food he had plenty but it was more than a morsel that the monster sought, the very askance avowed of overt threat. So was how he saw it, and Robbin too Zogolli surmised once a cursory glance ran over the skullduggerer's bow. Yet the fact that their band was far from unanimous in this notion was an obvious one; Serah had met malice with mercy and the bard had banged out a melody alongside her. Woe as he was to admit it he could not accomplish this undertaking alone, and alienating them now would be foolish. Should he force their hand by attacking the corrupted thing it seemed Alexandria could very well be the fulcrum on which opinion turned, not being especially close with the woman this made for a poor gambit. In truth there was only one road open to him.

He took it, dulcet tones surfacing over the brassy knells of Linoleum's pervading percussion.

"Then you'd aught explain to this half starved scavenger we're on our own hunt, and like as not to leave bodies in our wake. It can choose here and now if it wants it's belly full my steel or our quarry, either answer will scarcely break my stride."

At the onset of this event, Alexandria, already in the back row of the group, took another step backward. From above, a strange creature had tried - and failed - to ambush the man from another land. Credit where credit was due, it was the work of the roguish one that had ensured that none of them had become more intimate with the thousand-eyed beast's foul fangs than they would have preferred. Still, that left the beast in their midst, and the viscountess had little desire to draw its attention more than necessary.

And true to form, she was nothing more than an observer. Watching. Waiting. Bearing witness to all, but affecting none. That is, until a suitable opportunity presented itself. But so far, such a thing had not occurred. It had almost, but the great temptation of putting an end to this strange creature was cut short by the intervention of the wildling shaman. (And, she supposed, the... "soothing" tunes of the gong)

Interestingly, Serah had appeared to have cut a deal with the beast in the strange tongue of the wilderness. How surprisingly Aabranian of her.

"...Very well," Alexandria finally spoke up. "If it's simply food he wants, I suppose I can oblige." She set down her staff and began rummaging through her satchel. "That said, what of the possibility that this strange being knows nothing of use? Perhaps you should also ensure that it is a trustworthy source, witch of the wilds." One hand wrapped around a ration, while the other gripped the side of the satchel. Her discerning gaze locked on the multieyed beast. "Or, at the very least, one that won't simply attack even should we relent."

Serah's eyes strayed from her companions to the creature that lingered in the trees, perhaps watching them with amusement and quickly thinning patience. Zogolli had refused to offer his help, instead opting to raise his arms against the creature that had attacked him merely moments ago. Serah could understand his stance, though she did not agree with it.

Alexandria, on the other hand, offered some of her rations. Serah didn't reach for the meal, nor did Alexandria quickly relent her hold on it. There arose the topic of the creature's trustworthiness, and Serah nodded towards her companion. She stepped aside, allowing the creature to see the proferred meal. She caught its eyes, and began to speak.

'I know not if you can understand the words my companions speak, but their worries ring true. We know you not, and your intentions towards us have been nothing but malicious.' She stepped towards it, spear planted firmly on the ground. Despite her short stature, she adopted an air of authority she had only ever taken when dealing with the lowlanders that had wandered into her Land. 'I see three paths for you to take. One, you reject our offer of a mutualistic relationship, and make your merry way from us where you will live, but eventually suffer your demise at the hand of your rumbling stomach. Two, you reject our offer and attempt to attack us,' at that, she touched the shaft of her spear, 'and we are forced to retaliate. You will die, there is no doubt about that. We will end your miserable existence at this very clearing. Or, three, you can accept our offer, answer all our questions, and aid us in our hunt. Should your answers prove useful, this dollop will be yours and we will allow you to live.'

She took a step forwards, retrieving her spear from the ground. 'If you accept our offer and prove to be trustworthy throughout our hunt, I give you another offer. Aid us in our hunt, and once it is over, I shall bring you to my Land to the north. There, the winds bite with ice, but you shall not starve. You shall never starve again.'

She glanced at her companions before smiling softly at the creature. 'What say you?'

So the creature wanted a bribe in order to leave them alone, a concept Robin was familiair with. He also had no problem with it as long as he didn't have to pay and there was a guarantee it would keep it's deal of the bargain.

Fortunately one of his concerns was laid to waste when the female noble rummaged through her purse. She had even proven to have some experience with bribes as she tried to get some extra advantages for her money or food in this case. Still he kept his bow drawn but aimed it at the ground, in case the creature didn't keep it's side of the bargain.

(Serah's Parley roll = 6)

The feline snorts as a grin that holds no trace of ambivalence creeps across its face. Its eyes are locked to the slab of food in Alexandria's hand, but it addresses Serah again in a voice that seems to be growing distant.

"I asked you once for food, with the promise of answers," it says, with a sharp hiss. "Now you want to reverse the bargain; answers before food? I could leap upon you and disappear with you in my jaws, before your friends may act, Wildcaller. It is only my loneliness and curiosity that demands I do you any favors at all."

The creature leaps down from the tree and steps forward casually, making no overt displays, but darting its eyes from the morsel to the barbarian, who it seems, would be all too happy to have another try at its life. It stops short of Serah, indicating a paw to the companions at her side.

"Your men do not seem all that convinced of this truce. Let them put down their arms, and then I will resume our talk."

It looks sheepishly at the outlander, and the thief, who's bow is drawn. But then, a fierce gale rocks everyone assembled near off their feet, out of nowhere, and a haunting rhythm of drums, flutes and primitive instruments resounds through the clearing. It is wholly unlike Linoleum's merry tune and gong bashing; the sound can be felt in the soul, and its melody drips with venom.

The feline's face is no longer one of mockery, but of a genuine distress. It's eyes roll, revealing the whites, and its mouth is agape.

"We resolve this later!" it shrieks. "Follow me if you want to live, Wildcaller! Bring your fools!"

Not waiting to elaborate further, it dives for shrubs opposite the unnatural din. The nausea felt earlier starts to return to your bodies, and the trees start to melt. In addition to the music, you can now make out voices speaking a language unknown to you. There is distorted laughter, clattering of chimes and bone, and the sound of many, many feet scampering through the woods.

Do you take your chances with the feline or attempt to brave the sickening onslaught?

The Druid felt an indescribable urge to curse, but found her vocabulary lacking. She watched as her words were lost on the creature, and she blamed the naivety of her limited experience. It asked for her to talk her companions down, but she would not let them sacrifice their stance for a creature that still would not cooperate.

She shook her head, tiring of fruitless chatter, and gripped the shaft of her spear. If the creature would not offer information with the offer of food, then it would spit out all that it knew with the threat of death looming over. She took a step, and halted. Music - no, Serah couldn't call it that. A cacophony of noise assaulted her eardrums and she turned a pointed glare at Linoleum, intent on asking why his tune had changed, but quickly found that it had not come from him or his gong.

It was from the Wilderdeep.

The creature dove for the shrubbery, and Serah had felt the unadulterated terror in the creature. Whatever was the cause of the onslaught that made her want to empty her stomach onto the crimson floor, it was enough to strike the fear her party of misfits had failed to. There was only a moment of hesitation in her before she placed the spear onto her back and grabbed the hands of the two closest to her - Linoleum and Zogolli - and pulled them towards where the creature had gone. "Come," she called out to them and the rest of their companions. She ran after the creature, not quite sure if her companions were right behind her.

An impasse. The beast hardly appeared content with the situation, but why would it have been? Though she knew not the words exchanged, the looks being cast around the group gave her a sufficient understanding of the situation. However Serah had chosen to translate her words, the monster found the request of assurance lacking. And by the looks of things, their short little companion had lost faith in the beast in turn.

Very well. Since it seemed bloodshed was not to be avoided, Alexandria took the short pause in action to tuck away the rations once more. And as she was already crouched low, her stance was not unsettled by the sudden gale that had accompanied the macabre change in soundtrack, even if her insides reeled at its noise.

It took a good few seconds to ensure that nothing was coming up her throat, during which she caught the strange creature diving into the foliage. Similarly, their druid friend had also been convinced of the fey orchestra's threat, and took after it, urging the rest of them to follow after.

As being alone in the Wilderdeep was hardly the noble's idea of a good time, she decided to follow suit. Propping herself up to her feet with her staff, the cleric looked to the rest of her squad and said dryly: "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't."

Still, considering the results of the last time something like this had occurred, Alexandria was still a bit skeptical of the looming threat. At the very least, keeping a good degree of awareness of the situation did not strike her as a bad idea compared to blindly following a wild beast.

Rolls Requested

• Discern Reality (2d6+2)
  On 10+: What is about to happen? / What should I be on the lookout for? / What here is not what it appears to be?
  On 7-9: What here is not what it appears to be?

The skin on the back of Zogolli's neck prickled up as surely as if it were stretched across the very drums that echoed out around them, a discordant cacophony pierced by riotous fifing and crashing towards them like a wave. It was enough to upheave a sound stomach and urge even the surest foot to flight. It staggered him that such a place persisted so close to the kingdom proper--be it cowardice or negligence the Aabranians were a permissive people. Were that the Wilderdeep on Dosvea's doorstep it would have long ago been torn out at the roots, the earth salted and all else put to the pyre. Soon he was smiling despite the dire straights; it was an assumption he owed to himself to live up to.

He had turned to face the unseen foe, though in truth the sickening dissonance that announced it descended from all sides. That the feline had fled was cursory to his concern, Zogolli had planted his feet. When Serah seemed set to follow suite she was likewise ignored, freeing his hand from the Druid's efforts to see him err before the battle soon to be upon them. With Alexandria adding to the growing route however he swallowed the bitter truth that at best he was left with a musician and mountebank at his side. "Milkhearted to a man." he mused ruefully before putting boot to bush and gaining the ground he'd lost by laying in wait. He hated how they made him feel like a herdsman with an ill tempered flock.

Robin was knocked of his feet by the gale, but he was more concerned by the bizarre music and ominous voices. When the trees started melting again and his nausea returned he nearly dropped his bow in shock. The only reason he managed to hold on was the fact that those voices probably weren't friendly. Of course a single arrow probably wouldn't be much of a detergent but it was better than nothing.

The fact that the feline ran didn't exactly surprise him but that several of his companions followed it, did. He didn't trust the situation as it seemed to much like an ambush. On the other hand if it wasn't, dealing with a large group powerful enough to create gales and either cast illusions or actually alter the Wilderdeep didn't sound like fun either.

In the end Robin decided to run as well even though it seemed to mean abandoning the strongest member of their group which would certainly serve to make things harder. He ran for the same shrub as the others and disappeared from sight.

The Wildling had followed the strange creature as it fled the tempest that had suddenly swept through the Wilderdeep. It had felt too much like what they'd experienced moments prior, but magnified to the point that Serah had wanted to empty the contents of her stomach. Following the creature, despite the unknown threat it possessed, seemed to be a better choice for her. At least, with the creature, they had something tangible to attack should hackles rise once more.

Serah chanced a look around, noticing that the rest of her companions had chosen to accompany her and the creature, one way or another. They had ran, away from the threat of the Wilderdeep, but also away from what little path they'd followed.

She turned her eyes back to the form of the creature in front of her. She hastened her steps until she ran by the side of the creature. 'Perhaps an explanation?' she paused, adding in afterthought, 'Whatever it is, you fear it too. We can help rid this place of it.'

You follow the creature through the trees, who seems to have an uncanny sense of direction. As far as you can tell, everything looks the same in this section of the forest. After a while, the noise behind you fades, and the feline slows his pace to a quick walk. The many-eyed face betrays hints of relief and exhaustion.

"You have no idea what you've gotten into," it rasps to Serah. "The hunter can become the hunted in the blink of an eye." It paces the ground, looking over its shoulder more than once, then leads you to a rocky enclosure, presumably its den. It is dark, but the thing's eyes glow as it enters the murk.

"They are unnatural," it says, voice rebounding down the stone walls. "Not mere men or bests, but spectres. They come without warning and leave suffering in their wake. I do not know what they are," the beast cocks its head thoughtfully, "but maybe she does..."

It looks to Serah again, resigned. "The food, if you please. I do not demand this time, but beg."

The hunter can become the hunted in the blink of an eye. Despite herself, Serah felt a chill run down her spine and her hand unconsciously edged towards her weapon. She kept her fingers from curling around the shaft of her spear and instead ran them through her hair, tugging at the knots as she absorbed the creature's words. She followed it into its den, never straying too far from the entrance, and let her eyes adjust to the encompassing darkness. There was a certain appeal to the niche that the creature had carved out for itself amidst the dangers the Wilderdeep possessed, a sort of haven to lay your head on for a bit of respite, but Serah knew there was no rest to be had in such a place. At least, not for long.

She gave it a nod, and accepted its warning. Spectres. In all her time wandering the north and braving its harsh climates, the magicks of shadows phantoms had never plagued her. Seeing what it was, seeing the Wilderdeep, Serah thanked the Spirits for it.

She spoke towards her companions next, attempting to convey the creature's message in the little common tongue she knew. "Food," she said to Alexandria, the creature's plea mirrored in her own eyes. "Not man or beast," she parroted the creature's words, hoping that they would understand what she was attempting to say. Perhaps they knew more about what spectres were, and they would be able to devise a solution to their current predicament.

A thought came to her and she turned to the creature, the questiom clear in her eyes. 'You spoke of a her. Who is it that you mean?'

Zogolli all but glowered across gloom laden lair to the wee wilder whom had hurried the whole of them here, heated stare looking like it could reduce her forever frozen limb to melt-water with its intensity. A vigil he maintained as Serah spun around and struggled out a terse translation for the many eyed-enigma of an animal. The foreign swordsman slowly chewed his bottom lip as he endured the explanation then with a crisp gesture excused himself from the discourse, the formal flourish flowing from finger to forearm. Angling away from the assemblage of adventurers he sured a stranglehold of a grip around the haft of a small hatchet and with an unflinchingly cold expression beat the tool into oblivion against the unyielding stone wall of the creature's sanctum. After indulging whatever urge had overtaken him he spoke--seemingly satisfied--combing a calloused hand over his nose and mouth as he redressed his tone with lazy slur that accompanied his composure.

"Serah dear." he began, taking a knee to bring his kohl shrouded eyes level with the druid's own haunting gaze. "Do forgive the...unsightly tantrum, but I felt it the most expedient way to impress upon you the gravity of an inconvenient reality of our situation." Zogolli smiled a frustrated smile as he said this, gestures alert and animated enough to announce he wasn't as calm as he now pretended. "You're very likely the only one of us that can navigate this unsightly gnarl of a copse--I know I can't." he sussed out in the characteristic near whisper of his, casting a glance over his shoulder as if hoping his other companions were waiting until just this very moment to announce a similar prowess. "What if sweet Lino had dropped his gong or our lovely Alexanria had tripped over that preposterous robe of hers, Hm? I can't very well be expected to be in two places at once, no matter how quick I may be." Forcing a chuckle and authoring a preemptive nod he leaned a bit closer, dropping his octaves until he housed a final statement within a viscerally quite hush he reserved for none but the halfling herself. "I hate nothing more than when other force my hand."

Having said his peace the man sprung up to his full height, heaving his voice at the others with a simple "So!", itself a terse attention grabbing intonation that would be hard pressed not to live up to his intentions. "Consensus is key, I suppose. Tasked as we are with meting out an esteemed textile magnate's mangler summary justice I for one am of a mind to murder my way through the monsters and mysterious that would keep me from such directly. Few things are as beautifully decisive as a sword blow after all." With a prominent pause he placed a wagging finger between himself and the others, addressing them all even if his eyes lingered on their Aabranian mystic and her all but emblematic nightshade motiff. "Certainly--strangely--some of you find this notion disagreeable, perhaps I am at fault for not expecting it. I can be comfortable with this, but surely you won't begrudge me if beforehand, now for instance, I impose a simple askance in the interest of your safety and my own."

A long sip from the bota housing his water ration delayed him, punctuated by an apologetic is noncommittal shrug of shoulder. "Which of you are cowards then? I feel it more prudent to know now."

Lost:

• Axe

Unable to understand animals Robin doesn't pick up on what the feline and the halfing are talking about, but before he can ask the barbarian goes off on a spiel. "Well by your definition I'm a coward then, unless I'm either cornered, absolutely sure I can win or otherwise extremely motivated I prefer to run rather than fight. In fact the only reason I pushed you out of the way earlier was because I thought that... animal saw you as the biggest threat, meaning having you uninjured would greatly increase our chances during a fight." He points toward the multi-eyed feline when he uses the word animal.

"However I wont abandon the group if we do have to fight if only because my chances of survival on my own are zero." The thief shows absolutely no shame about the fact he basically called himself a coward who is only loyal because he is even worse off on his own in the Wilderdeep. He then decides to follow the barbarian's lead on something at least and grabs one of his rations.

Used
One ration : four remaining

Though her own eyes saw clear, The Wilderdeep was still a confounding realm beyond even her understanding. It’s reputation was well deserved - not that it had ever been in doubt. Soon, however, they were led to the den of the beast, and their port in the storm. “Quite,” Alexandria tossed two servings of jerky towards the beast as rightful payment for a service rendered at the halfling druidess’ request. Admittedly, what they had gained was of little value and had only served to make her more restless, but she would remain tight lipped in that regard.

And so as Serah continued her dialogue with the many-eyed monster, Alexandria would begin to sate her own mortal appetite, and eat the non-meat leftovers of the rations, the tack. Her initial attempt at consuming the hard and unyielding piece of dough was rather unsuccessful, and interrupted by the sudden declaration from the tallest of their ragtag group.

As she listened, Alexandria partitioned the tack into smaller pieces, and after considering the barbarian’s words, the occultist took two deep breaths before speaking: “In Aabran, and elsewhere I suspect, the failure of honeyed words does oft precede a blade in the dark.” Her answer began tired and resigned, almost meandering in tone even, before picking up in pace. “But cowardice or courage, pacifism and power… All are rewarded equally in The Wilderdeep, I reckon,” she took a swig of her canteen, and closed her teeth down on the soggy hardtack. The biscuit, even after taking in water, tough to chew and unappetizing to her tongue. She added pressure until it caved under the pressure. A few more forceful chews followed before the nobless swallowed the remainder of her ration down with difficulty.

“...Therefore, as The Wilderdeep appears reluctant to let us be, I suppose the proper, civilized thing to do is obvious,” Alexandria continued, swiping crumbs off her cheeks and lips, “If Death will be at the table irregardless, then we ought to be good hosts and offer It a few appetizers before the main course.” She shrugged. “And if fortune smiles on us, perhaps Its appetite will be sated.”

Items Used

• 2 Dungeon Rations