Now, now, here was something interesting in the little village. Harriet's eyes drew on the two men and sat there, hard and narrow as they told their little tale. It sounded a little flowery but convincing enough. Then again, it didn't matter if they had more to tell or had dressed up the situation. They had admitted to being slaving scum and that was enough to earn them both a private confessional with the Gunpowder Priestess. People really should be careful when they admit to being scum sucking pieces of rubbish that only serve the world as fertilizer, one day, someone might just hear that story and then decide to reduce your elevation by six feet.

As they finished their little confession and threw themselves on the non-existent mercy of Harriet Brewer, not that they knew that was what they were doing, the gunslinger glanced down at the large felid by her side. He looked properly miffed about the whole shebang too. Good. She could count on Stary to help her out when it was a big noble who needed a kick down the stairs but she lacked someone who was willing to step up when it came to the stuff for the small folk. Looks like her companion here might be the unexpected one.

Harriet leaned down closer to Lorenthar and made a very quiet and brief hiss noise to grab the druid's attention before she spoke in a barely audible voice. She knew she would be able to speak even more quietly with him than the others, after all, he was a cat. Cats had great hearing, "Y'thinkin' what I am?" she began, tossing a quick glance to the two slavers, "Think they need to be taught a lesson, eh? Teach'em th'forest is right dangerous if'n you don't pay attention."

@The Harbinger of Ferocity @Ermine

The nature of animals is that they are inherently suspicious of anything, especially those they do not know and even less so those they do not trust. Together, one imagines that short of their tireless need for survival, these are but a few reasons they swing so wildly from one spectrum to another in a breath; most often without outward evidence. So when it came to the story, the feral druid's mind quickly elaborated to itself how unusual it proved. The reaction of the firbolgs wasn't a point either, more that the way the two shared a very intense stare between them. There was palpable distrust and that they even so much as let them back in after that there was proof enough now of woodland hospitality.

Despite the woman's words, the tremendous felid proved not to have an obvious reaction, nothing more than the tip of its tail flick against Harriet's side and the slow blink of its eyes. Playing it off with the sort of casual coolness felines were renowned for, the man that was the cat seemed not to play his hand - or paw as it were in this case. There was no mistaking the suspicion in those wild eyes though, but a good hunter preferred the surprise.

There was still more these men weren't sharing and dead men, without help, do not often tell their tales. First, they needed to understand just what happened and who these men were now.

Drajhan felt himself being swept away by the firbolg woman just as the rhetoric appeared to heat up slightly. It was just as well; this village seemed terrified of strangers, and likely for good reason. Draj may not be a great judge of character, but the words he could hear as he was pulled away did not paint these new people in a positive light.

Turning his attention to his new guide, Drajhan smiled warmly. "These gentlemen who just arrived. Who are they? I heard something about child-snatching. Is this true?" The concern was evident on Draj's voice, and although this woman seemed to be not the mosst talkative individual alive, Draj hoped she would summon the courage to speak truthfully. "The story I told of the Vindicator. It was true. If you say the word, I will do what I can to end your suffering. What do you say?"

"Aini willn take yer word. Youn tabi watch'd gamen time, but youn can stay." The elder motions to some of what can be assumed are the more capable adults, but seems to ignore all gestures to him from your party. "We got morn enough berries if youn be hunger'd. Only one each. Gowen now."

The men both bow in synchronized and overdramatic fashion, taking a few steps before dropping to their knees in a humble begging position. "We may leave before the morrow. For Sommertriss. And since you allowed us time to tell our tale, please, we brought gifts. We hope you accept...after the meal, of course. We don't want to take your attention from these fine people you have with you. And...the cat, I suppose. You don't leash your pet, young miss?" He gestures toward Harriet and Lorenthar. "I suppose you value freedom, then. For the well behaved, at least. Given it's not attacking us, I assume it is either well trained or very subservient to your wishes - yes, there's a difference - in which case, I must commend you on your training." The ex-slavers both stand, again in unison, as they recieve a berry each, delivered by a scared young firbolg in her awkward years. They seem to pay her no mind. "Please, please commence the festivities! We wish to remain as unobtrusive as possible!"

-----

"Thesen men. Yes. Theyn burrowed a girl. Daughter. Mine. Binseen her again, yes? Youn help?" The woman looked surprisingly young to have had a daughter, especially one of the age implied in the story. "Biggen words. Not humble. Neithern youn them. Speakn words Nai-ni-ren donnin unterstain. Speakn biggen words. Helpen finden daughter? Younyoun?"

Drajhan listened closely to the woman's tale as they walked along. He had, of course, learned of slavers and both the benefits and detriments they could bring to a society. His sworn enemies, the followers of the fiends, bartered slaves as if they were bread, but it had become a personal mission of Drajhan's upon liberating his people to also liberate the oppressed slaves among them. It was not an easy nor cheap task; a decree can only go so far, and the slave trade was well-established when he made his return.

Draj's expression darkened when the woman mentioned her daughter. This is why he held power. This was his calling: bringing hope and peace to the downtrodden. Others may scoff or think it a waste of time, but to Drajhan, there was no higher purpose. This issue with the Gate, important though it may be, was stalled for the time being. If he had to save this woman's daughter alone, so be it.

"Nainiren, I swear to you upon all that I hold dear in my life that I will find your daughter and deliver her unto you, or die in the attempt. I shall neither rest easy nor be merry until you have been reunited together. So swear I upon my family crest, upon my blade, and upon my honor." Drajhan solemnly knelt before the woman, bowing deeply before her. "I do not pretend to be humble, but you may trust my word is true. I know what it means to be separated from those you care about. The scars it brings cut deeper than any knife, and can only be healed by one remedy: reunuion. Please, share all you know about your daughter: her name, her looks, her age. If she lives, I will find her come hells or high waters."

"Ye vould uin boer wischt o'th kairn yir wuthaad'er, hemanis." The voice of the beast came, loud enough to be heard but not booming enough to be intrusive, "Yir kessentad borvir yir ru'un othwa."

If anything the words were scathing remarks coming from a servant of the land. The very way one would speak down to a petulant child just before they would receive the switch for their behavior. For even if the duo could not understand the tremendous animal's words, as they likely could not, the way it presented them and the manner of which it carried itself in doing so had all the bearing in the world. It was not hate, instead unabashed primacy. For Lorenthar, people like these were prime targets outside this wood - that which belonged to the firbolgs - as not only were they disrespectful to the land by daring trespass, they sought nothing but to trap and capture anything they seemed to come across.

For now though, as the great cat took one paw and crossed it atop another, it abstained from any further reaction; perhaps just how stupid they made themselves appear by rambling on would shut them up and render them truly silent so the tribe could go on with their day and their plans. Which of course came with looking to the elder, knowing full well he unquestionably understood the words that had been spoken. Of course, the druid nodded, knowing it was no longer his place either to add comment.

One day, if not today, the feral soul would deal with this and if not him, another would.

For now however, it found itself to standing, taking a gaze upon the company at hand. Perhaps later, maybe that same one day, it would return, but for now? Now it decided to go on its way for the time being. It provided the firbolg leader a soft nod of its head, overt enough for it to know that the great cat had elsewhere to be for the moment and stepped aside quietly. How or why it left, to an observer at least, might have been impossible to define, but soon it found itself out and away from this place.

Over the course of the next month, the party continued on, following the (ex-)slavers, of all people, to Sommertriss. The firbolgs sent a small envoy along partway, though the firbolgs left about halfway to the city to gather more necessary materials and soothe the creatures of the deep forest that were agitated by the intruders.

After a two day journey along a more direct route, the slavers and the rest of the party a two day journey, they arrive in the city of Sommertriss, passing its ornately carved stone walls and into its streets. Where the sky isn't open above them, it is covered with either buildings divided by the street or by colorful banners made of a translucent and diaphenous cloth. The people were numerous, first and foremost, but they were also quite keen on giving the party and each other as much space as the dense population would allow. Many buildings seemed to be under construction, usually adding new rooms or entire levels, and often crossing over the street almost precariously.

After bidding the party adieu, the ex-slavers left the party to fend for themselves. Most members of the party went their seperate ways, but the engaged couple stayed together, continuing their adventuring, eventually finding a halfling with an otherworldly air and excessive excitement about her (Caoimhe Tealeaf) and a man who seemed quite eager to assist them (Bah'im). The foursome sought adventure for sure, eventually being hired by the city guard (as "consultants" so they wouldn't have to deal with legal ramifications for hiring mercenaries) to journey northward to explore a cave near the village of Poucche. The cave wouldn't have been significant had it not suddenly appeared overnight, been so vast, and seemed to produce a perpetual fog in the area.

They arrived at midday and were still blanketed by fog. A tiny group of people stood near the cave. They did not appear to be wearing uniforms of any sort, but all carried modified farming equipment and scraps of wood tied onto their bodies with rope. One even wore a bucket on his head with holes drilled for his eyes (and two too many at that).

Angela had an annoyed look on her face, mostly because of the thick fog coming from the cave they were approaching. She noticed the people standing near the cave and had a smile on her face because that’s different than being annoyed at fog. ”Weird… But it’s better than only seeing thick fog,” Angela thought to herself, with a sigh of relief and glancing at her fiance Drajhan. She waves towards the people that is just standing around the cave. ”Hello,” Angela said, friendly towards the people that is standing around the cave. Her demeanor was happier and less frustrated about the fog everywhere, because it was thick.

---

The journey to Sommertriss was largely uneventful once the party had gotten underway, despite the dragonborn's distrust of those who were once slavers. Drajhan kept his promise to Nai-ni-ren, of course, finding the daughter and sending her home with the firbolg envoy. He had wished to unite the pair personally, but time did not permit, and his vow did not require more than finding and delivering the child. The firbolgs could carry out the actual transportation itself. Of course, the rescue could not have been completed without Drajhan's particular skills, or at least not in such a well-rehearsed manner. Indeed, most others would have made a bumbling and bloody mess of the whole affair.

Draj was more than happy to rid himself of the slavers, and was tempted to follow Harriet on her journey despite it having almost no bearing on his personal goals. The druid could keep to his woods, and the acolyte of the Raven Queen certainly was not very fond of him. Their leaving did not cause the dragonborn any tears, but it seemed that Angela was not quite so easy to get rid of. In fact, it seemed as if she had little other motivation than following him around like a puppy. It was nearly impossible to travel to any of the town's more amorous locations with her dogging his every step. And so, when the news of this nascent cave reached Drajhan, he immediately jumped on the opportunity.

It was only when he was rather damp with fog and sore from traveling that he felt nearly ready to admit that perhaps a mistake was made. Nearly. However, these strange folk who appeared from the cavern's mouth quickly led Drajhan to conclude that he had, in fact, made a correct assumption that something was afoot with this location. Something worthy of this particular group's immediate discovery and discernment. A glance his way from his betrothed -- even after a month, it was hard for him to wrap his head around the concept -- and she let out a greeting so simplistic that it was perfect. Yes, a "hello." Why did Draj not think of doing such?

There was, of course, a small chance that these people were not friendly, but how dangerous could they be with only farming tools and wooden makeshift armor? Certainly not a match for Drajhan and his new troupe! On the other hand, half of the members of this new troupe still had yet to be run through their paces, and Draj was unsure of their techniques. That probably mattered little, however. And with Angela doing such a wondrous job with the introductions, the dragonborn decided he would allow her to work on the welcoming and introductory side of nobility. It was a part of the title that Drajhan was ever fond of, but it never hurt to share the spotlight. Once in a while. Draj stood behind Angela and to the side with his arms genially crossed and a smile on his face, proud of her taking the lead.

Bah-bah, the moniker attributed to him by his late fiancée, Marcus, enjoyed the fog surrounding their new found objective, now seemingly decorated with young saps holding farm tools and wooden armor. They all stood, apparently caught awkwardly in the middle of an imaginary game of knights and maidens. The mist combined with his elvish ancestry provided his natural talent to easily utilize the environment to conceal his next action. Such stealth would be taken advantage of, to survey any potential vantage of the strewn out, supposed welcoming committee.

After Angela broke the obdurate silence with pure lips of the most profound salutations, the arcane trickster took it upon himself to depart from the troupe, whose unbeknownst patronage and patronizing courage had brought undesired fame. And with it, less of the opportune capabilities of subterfuge without more elusive swindling. However, he realized that his conversational maneuvers were likely to be wasted on these amateurs, though the bucket-head perforated with more slits than eyes prodded the charlatan almost to the borders of sheer laughter.

This theater of absurd meant these inexperienced proletarians shouldered a stake or claim in this cave, either losing family members or possessions, yearning and appealing to those to venture into its depths and recover who and what was lost. If this was the case, Bah’im was gonna listen in and decipher the motive behind this childish posturing, before venturing its worth and his part in its mission.

To do so, he continued further, without humming a breath, silently steering about, peering into the flanks of the cave to untangle any infiltrative ruse as the dragonborn and his mate began negotiations at the outskirts of this novel marvelous wonder.


@Ermine@JBRam2002@Landaus Five-One

Caoimhe followed closely behind the others, though at some point one of her new compatriots had wandered off. Oh well, she thought, I'm sure he'll come back. He seemed eager enough to meet new people before. She was about to greet the crowd like they did back home "in the old country", as they say, but there was a relatively clear hello from the new friend whose relationship with the dragon-man was definitely something her own husband would enjoy. How she missed him, but this new land...he knew he would never tame her wanderlust.

So, naturally, the charismatic and exceptionally adorable (why else would she have so many kids?) halfling awaited a more socially acceptable moment to speak, since the newcomers - were they really the newcomers here? - were already addressed.

The wait for a response wasn't long. The one who seemed to be the leader, an old man with a pair of spectacles and not much else other than his "higher quality" wooden plank armor (which thankfully covered his bits) was the first to speak.

"What are you doing here? Are you looters, too? Someone's been stealing crops, livestock, and even some of our...other belongings since this hole opened up. You them? We oughtta take you in. Or bring you down." As he speaks, you can see he's missing three fingers on his left hand, so his frantic gestures are a little awkward, since it leaves him pointing at you with his ring finger and his thumb. "How did you make this cave? You coming here saves us the trip until we want to go back. Don't make us kill you bandits!"

---

It had started a couple of tendays ago. All rather unassuming reports, really. A break-in at a local alchemist's laboratory. Hearsay of mad cackling and 'evil' flashes of green in the convoluted maze of alleys. Tales of dark felines with fiendish eyes stalking the streets at night. All of it seemed like rubbish. The populace seemed eternally at the brink of hysteria, either out of fear of unknown arcana or simply for the thrill of folk gossip. Evanesstra paid no mind. It was all entirely uninteresting anyway. But her Humours started to shift. This distressed her, and she knew something must be afoot.

Before the turn of the last tenday, a corpse was found. "It was peculiar," the mild-tempered messenger had said. She knew it must've been quite the sight to warrant such strong language from the Elven man, as tame as his words often were. It was indeed 'peculiar', to say the least, as her and her partner, Band, had discovered later that morning. Abandoned in the convoluted patchwork of alleyways, a wizard of local popularity was left splayed out and bloodied. The Human man was covered in bleeding scars of mysterious symbols, with an intricate ritual knife in hand. Could it have been a madman's suicide? An infernal possession? A cultist ritual? A murder? The Humours broiled in her head, chastising her for not taking sooner action.

Two more bodies, each similarly peculiar, were discovered within the last five days. A scourge was upon the city. The Watch kept the situation confidential, lest rumors catch the people like wildfire. A futile effort, of course. Then, overnight, the land opened its breathy maw. Evanesstra knew it had to be connected. She collected her burly partner and set out for investigation immediately.

The fog was thick. She made a futile attempt to cut it away with her hands. Her head tilted up toward her companion. Band was tall, admittedly, made yet taller by strolling next to her as she stood at roughly half his height. The emerald veil about her face fluttered slightly in the calm winds that did nothing to disperse the dense fog. Figures started to emerge from the obscuring cloud. All of them were of the strange sort, though a handful were of a different variety of strange.

Evanesstra heard speak of bandits. She thought of stopping them, as no doubt Band was already considering the same. A familiar churn in her mind guided her away from this action. So, instead of intervening, the Gnomish woman made her presence known by cutting her walk through the conversation nonchalantly. "Make the banditry wait until I've gone, please." she said with a calm, unimpressed tone as she lightly pushed the significantly taller individuals aside and started to stride past them all.

---

Drajhan placed the tip of his pinkie finger in his aural cavity, attempting to clean it. He could have sworn that this commoner had just called him, Baron Caerziros Drajhan, Vindicator of the Southern Coasts, a common looter! A bandit! A... dare he think it... rogue! The audacity required to make such an accusation was unfathomable. Did he not see the flowing azure cape bearing the symbol of House Caerziros on the reverse? Was he unable to tell the difference between a brogueish brigand's blade and his exquisite arcane masterpiece?!

The dragonborn stepped forward, a subtle use of prestidigitation causing his already illustrious attire to sparkle ever so lightly in the foggy light. "I shall forgive this tri-toed newt his assumedly unintentional impudence. By my scales, I am no common thief, but the leader and protector of this group. We come here searching not for treasure, but for answers to the arcane mysteries this impromptu cavern must gold. I mean hold!" The slip of the tongue certainly must have gone unnoticed, right? The best thing to do was obviously to keep talking.

"Perhaps if you know this place, we could work out an arrangement. A guide certainly would not harm our expedition, and it appears you are just the sort of common local that would know something potentially of value to our cause." Drajhan bowed dramatically, but his hand rested upon the pommel of his sheathed blade, just in case the man was truly insane enough to attack a group of well-armed individuals, of which Draj was entirely and indisputably the leader of. At least, so he believed.

---

Angela was a bit startled when she was accused of being a bandit but she heard what Drajhan had said. She didn’t do anything to cause a scene, since it wouldn’t be nice to attack commoners. ”My fiance had said is more true than anything. We are here to investigate this cavern and not to do any harm to you,” Angela said, slightly glancing at Drajhan. She had a smile on her face because she enjoys hearing Drajhan talk, the way he has with words is wonderful and beautiful. She had been hopeful that this would be resolved soon, she has a lot of patience.

"Mostly correct," the rogue mimed to himself, disparagingly.

The appreciation of the obvious, stemming from the latent mouths of babes, itched the fossils of palpable discernment buried deep within the bones of Bah’im. Elvish ancestry, coached his cultured mind to stomach the repetitive mistakes of other races, since they generally could not stand against the polished test of time. History ebbed and flowed like a river, to which the arcane trickster enjoyed wading and mingling in and amongst the prominent diverse tribes of the last few centuries. Gnomes and dwarves heralded as exceptions, but bore their own revolting idiosyncrasies. Evanesstra being an exclusion to that exemption, of course.

Such a luxurious longevity was both an exaltation and a curse. But mostly a blessing.

This heterogeneous squad of varied members, however, defending the entrance to the earthen fissure, already appeared to be accusatory. Without missing a beat, the magnificent cape wearing dragonborn had now taken large offense, labeling himself as the figure head of the crew, demanding a meager satisfaction. The swindler was savvy to the warlock’s charms, refuting slander but providing a venue for service, subconsciously allowing a societal redemption, if such a strident crime was not intentional. This abrasive countenance for introductions and verbal dismemberment is exactly what the charlatan desired from his fateful company. And…

A potential fall guy.

It made him hold his breath in expectation of hearing the wilderness burst into a prodigious peal of mirth that would shake the fixed luminaries in the obsolescent sky above. Nature beckoned to Him. And rightfully so. Taking a high seat amid the devils of the land, the bladesinger enjoyed the canopy the forest provided near the cavern, as the bands discussed and dealt with each other. Stepping ever so delicately close with untrammeled feet yet taking the advantage of the mist, the wood elf enjoyed the faithful whispers from yonder, rather than the unholy terror of a potential scandal, if combat reared its ugly head. This particular happenstance reminded and mimicked that of a lunatic asylum, deaf and blind to the policed sights and sounds abroad.

These villagers obviously accosted them, either out of pure ignorance or fear.

These were notions of an exotic enormity reigned by an august munificence. It made Bah-Bah tingle with enthusiasm, a bound power of eloquence, burning to speak nobility. However, his words became practical, hinting to a ritual to detect the mystical current likely gracing this vicinity, scrawled evidently in an unsteady hand by a force, yet to be recognized.

It was very simple.

At the end of Angela’s moving appeal to altruistic sentiments, luminous hands with elegant sleight continued to weave the incantation. His vice grip on his spell book curved the fog, like a flash of lightning etching radiance into the night. He remained hidden, but risking and butchering some of the stealth he garnered earlier. The hope of gilt and trophy over lacing gallows would make all the difference. And.

Would be enough to appease the unostentatious holes in his greedy, little heart.

The only magic Bah Bah detects is on the members of his own party.

"You're forgetting the other finger I lost already if you're calling me a three-toed newt, lizard." He makes some sort of gesture that you can assume is meant to be offensive, but is probably a finger short itself. "But if it's not you, maybe this guard knows. You, any leads?"

>Mentioned: @Ms Ravenwinter@Gordian Nought

While normally Band's job consists directly of keeping an eye on his block of the town, shooing away any beggars and intimidating bandits enough to prevent the crime he is paid to work against... The issues that have raised their dirty heads the past days have made goods quite a bit harder to come by. His favorite tavern closing early in fear of the whispers that crawl from door to door about the events that have transpired. This means no matter how much he wanted to lay low and stay clear of this, the darkness in question was getting in the way of his drink. As Evanesstra prods for Band's attention, He heaves a breathy sigh and collects his shield.

He walks heavily along side her. Standing tall even for humans at this time, he repeatedly drops his hand to his side and brush against Evanesstra. Unable to see her even at her position through the fog. Aside from the clanking of his Armour and shield, the gray exterior is mostly silent. Lights dim where lit, or covered by the fog otherwise. He gives a small grunt acknowledging the figures that show from the fog. He looks back to Evanesstra to get an idea of her plan, only to find her look of annoyance. Band Follows her through the opening and smirks at the men as they past past, his hand moving to the blade at his hip. The men turn back and avoid further attention.

"So where exactly do you plan on starting our search here? Everything so far is hear-say..." He mumbles down to her.

---

And then the villager made the delusioned observation which was assuming his problems were somehow hers, eliciting a sigh of irritation from the investigator. Although she may have donned the badge of the Watch, she was certainly not interested in the affairs of the city populace or even her unenlightened peers. The obligation to tend to these affairs was not hers, this being the prime factor that drove her to pursue investigative work in this city above others which might impose this responsibility upon her. The mundanity of thieves was beneath her expertise. Her humours wretched with contempt at the accusation of such a simple occupation, but she maintained a cool composure.

"Well, I haven't the slightest," she waived off the villager's inquiry, "I've not arrived to solve your petty issues for you, I've arrived for the mystical appearance of a certain geological structure that you've certainly no part in." Without even a passing glance to the man, Evanesstra continued through the group and onward toward the source of her curiosity, the cave.

From what she could tell on the way in, Eva can see this cave is most certainly not natural. Not that it wasn't obvious from the outside, even through the fog, of course, but the inside made it particularly obvious it was burrowed, though only briefly, before reaching the smooth sides of a magically bored hole, and into a natural cave formation. A very large one, given even with the light shining directly into the cave from outside, she couldn't see a far wall. She could if she walked farther in, naturally.

Upon looking around, she noticed small pools throughout that smelled absolutely rank and bitter. They bubbled slightly, but it was difficult to tell if they were bubbling of their own accord or because they were being absorbed into the ground.

Caoimhe mostly ignored the old man's banter and her companion's reactions to it. He seemed pretty convinced until the guards didn't care. Caoimhe, however, was more concerned with the guard who was walking into the cave. She admired her bravery like she admired the old man's tenacity in whatever trade he was in that cost him his fingers. She imagined him with glasses, a very much unintentional dreamy look on her face, before turning to follow the guard. "I don't suppose you'd want to go with us and let these people stay outside in safety? I don't imagine they'll survive long in real combat."

---

From Drajhan's astute observations and knowledge of social situations, it appeared evident that the man with two toes... er, fingers, was unlikely to assist at this time. "Perhaps another time, then?" the dragonborn offered as he approached the cave's entrance. The sights that greeted him were quite remarkable indeed, the likes of which he had never seen before. Of course, he could not let his ignorance show, and pointed out the bubbling pools of liquid to any who may have not seen them. "I would recommend avoiding stepping in those puddles, at least until we can identify the substance," he offered helpfully.

There was little more to do outside the cave. Drajhan's interests lay deeper within. And so, he stepped into the mouth of the cavern, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and trusting that tge good folk he traveled with would accompany him. Eventually. Preferably before he triggered some sort of magical explosion or whatever other nonsense was trending in these kinds of caves.