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  #91  
Old May 29th, 2022, 08:49 AM
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At The Primewater Estate
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Fela, you watch your easy-going Hin stand on the lawn and update Gellan on all your progresses. They get along, these pragmatists. You are an idealist to your core, and every time you have been near this man you have baited or insulted him. Now, Falco has advised you to ...be yourself? Okay. You sketch a courtly bow.

Is this you? Yes. A version of you, anyway, hard-won and practiced and necessary. This is the woman you will stuff into a stiff-collared dress (it has red velvet panels cascading down the skirt like sun rays to evoke your Order) when you stand up beside Finn as he marries Clareen Anolde. You can do “corulty siht,” as the gnomes say. When you have to.

But do you have to? Before you are halfway through, Gellan Primewater is fighting laughter; he loses. He laughs so hard he’s almost crying. Well, it is a also he rolled an 18 insight so its VERY clear to him that Fela is perpetrating srs BS lollittle bit ridiculous. Here he is, standing on his manicured lawn in his bare feet and a belted, voluminous robe, fruitlessly exhorting his wife’s ridiculous little dog to poo, and here you are, Full Frontal Formality.

Aren’t you a shield-bash to the face this morning, Paladin! he says, when he can speak. You are a powerful blunt instrument---so often exactly what’s needed. He waves a hand for the bird and calls a servant to bring a pen. Keep me informed as your investigation into Xendrose proceeds. Of course I’ll write a---bird. Eda would smother me in my sleep if I did not. But leave the lizards to a diplomat, eh? Some things require a tinker’s delicate tools. I’ve sent to Vallos for help. What a full ship that’s going to be, come Saintsday. Anders’ bride. Whoever the King chooses to replace Eliander. Now a Diplomat to Lizards. A dice roll, Fela. If we may have done with formality? I’d like us to be friends.

He reads aloud as he writes on the bird, and his verbiage about your deeds is as flowery and formal and overblown as your recent address; his eyes twinkle amusement, but the note will more than do the job. You say your father’s name, and the Paper Bird is gone.

To the stables, then. To upgrade Maude from Rent-a-Horse to Springer’s Steed. She is saucy, accepting her promotion with the same eager pride that you feel about yours. By the time you return, Ricardt should have your blade and your new shield Emblem, reflecting your new rank!


WIZARD TOWER
right-aligned image
Falco, your small, stout Mary has to tote four, but even together, you all likely weigh less than Fela's armor: A guiding Hin, a suffering gnome, a delighted baby gnome---and a rat. Narlikar, removed like a tick from the personage of Tumble, will, if allowed, take up residence in your pocket.

Mags had a sort of carry-pouch, he confides to the party as the two horses trit-trot you all to get tinker tools and out the gate and over to the mage tower. With bedding. A cunning side pocket for seeds and peanuts. A subtle hole with a button in the back for when a fellow had to do the necessary...

Even plaintive rat monologues cannot ruin the joy of a jaunt on young fresh horses who like the day and each other and the work and you. (Well, not for Fela and three of Mary's passengers, anyway...)

Bingle, the hlel pron dgager has a sheath, long and slim, that clips to your belt. It hides only the blade, which seems like dressing the wrong end. When you put the dagger in it, though, your couldn't resist. sooorreeeeParton and her Boosb can be tucked out of sight under your important sweater.

At the Mage tower, everyone but Keledek is out in the garden, near the sea with House. Even Banx! BANX! Looking wan but alive, sitting on the steps in a bathrobe, sipping tea. It’s hard to come back from the dead, AKA unless your DM forgets to make you take exhaustion levels heh.unless your personal spiny devil sends you. Banx is all kinds of exhausted! Bingle, you scramble down so fast to hug him that Maude almost steps on you. Halran does loopies and Sassafras runs in a scribble-scrabble circle around your shoulders as he hugs you back, both of you talking at once until you have to draw back and loud at each other about HELLO and LOOK AT US and ALIVE! ALIVE! And DID YOU MEET MY FRIENDS!

Once you pull back though---Banx looks different. A little. His nose and his Adam’s apple aren’t so wildly prominent, his ankles less skinny, his feet not so large. You think now that in the dagger, you saw Banx as Banx sees himself. Real Banx is cuter. Maybe even----cooler? It's disconcerting. You can’t help but wonder how you, alive Bingle, are different from Dagger-Bingle. You see him side-eyeing you same way you are him. But only briefly. He mostly wants to drag you inside, up to see Keledek.

left-aligned image
Tumble, Ann and Phidira have spent the night climbing all over and through House. Curious. Curious.

Ann says, Whallllll you can tell the littlun' what was asking about pooping---she has a gobhole. In the undercarriage.

Cloaca, says Phidira, but Ann shakes her head.

A cloaca is for doin’ it, and pushing out eggs and waste. This? She will eat fruit and fish into it. She drops the bones and the seeds out it, too, dead clean, when she’s done. She can also fold her feet up and let root-like thingies out of it and stick ‘em in the ground to drink or maybe eat worms n'all or loam.Cloaca, pah! What she has, friends, is a gobhole! I do suspect she could egg out that hole, but Phidira says if she eggs, it’ll be on her own, because there isn’t any like her. So maybe more it or they than a she?

Phidira says, Fair enough. She is part plant, and either self-fertilizing or sterile. And Tumble! She has a hatch in one side, on the west wall, very secret. She has machinery in there, I am almost positive. She won’t open it.

Ann interrupts, excited: I seen them hatch edges though, and if you press your ear to, you can hear things all awhirring and going click and clack! She’s a construct, and an animal, and---and a plant. And a house. And she’s not from this plane. Feywild-made or hatched, we know, because the Wards work on her.

I have a hypothesis, Phidira says. I believe an Archfey made her for that Hag. What else could do it? And the most likely creator is the one who is trying to bring the wards down. In other words, I think house was spawned by your “Nexa Banishae.”

Falco, Phidira turns to you. She is a small, tidy, businesslike little person, brisk and precise. I’m glad you have the horses. I worry that the lizards are hunting House or Peth, based on what you say happened to Mags. House is better here, until we know why. But I urge you not to leave House until someone has Attuned to her and told her to stay here, and to trust us. Ann and I have been up all night with her, or she’d have bolted. She doesn’t like not being bound to someone—it’s what she was made to do. Also--if she was created by our mutual enemy, then as long as she’s unbound, Nexa Bannishae has the greatest claim on her.

Bind, or put ‘er down, one,, Ann says with a farm person’s pragmatism. If'n it wars that Nexa Bannisher made ‘er, maybe you shouldn’t bind a’tall...

Phidira is horrified. She is one of a kind! Kill her, there may never be another.

right-aligned image
Bingle, inside, Banx takes you up from the first floor to Keledek in his suite, and you very solemnly hand him your Boosb Dgager. He takes it equally solemnly, examines it, nods. Puts in a drawer.

Bingle Curiosa, he says, slow and quiet. Banx told me of the deal you made to save one of the Undine Mouth. If you allow it, he puts his big hand onto your whole head. He could palm it like a basketball and lift you. But he only only presses, silent, his dark eyes fixed on you, shining with that elven luminescence. A moment passes. He says, You were one of us before you were one of us. Then he turns to Banx. Show her her room?

It is down a floor, across a narrow, crookedy hall from Banx. It is just the same as his, but backwards: bookshelves, study areas, candles, inks, a light-orb that can change colors or go dark on command, a lofted bed. All Gnome-sized and tidy. The window faces the swamp. Banx’s faces the sea.

All the rooms in this tower have windows that face these ways. That’s not---possible. And the whole place is too big inside. For the outside. WIZRAD SIHT! Banx says, eyes very bright. He loves it. You love it. He is YES to Wizrads of the Hnuderd, YES to hat, YES to---icons? Dad a mosue? He wants to be able to come in, too. Back down to see your friends.

Outside, Tumble, Fiz tugs at you. Is that a sawpm gonme? he asks, eyes big, staring at Banx.


OOCYou can ditch your SWEATY BOMBS here safely, if you like. You can keep them, but traveling horseback with sweaty bombs will require rolls.

If you are going to go by Bramble’s Market, it was less than a day on foot via the Drunk’s map route, so it will take you 6 hours on horseback. Or you can try to forge a new path from the tower. You don’t have directions to the lizard fort, as Gellan has withdrawn that request, but the Undine Mouth will tell you how to find it from either the tower or Lily market, if you want to go on your own recognizance, OR you can go back to where you lost Mags and try to track those particular lizards. OR any other thing in the world---but in your next post cycle, let me know your destination, your means of travel (foot, House, Horses) and your route.
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  #92  
Old May 30th, 2022, 02:03 PM
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Tumble
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Artist credit: Aurore Folny (© Black Book Editions)

Tumble listens, very interestedly, to Ann and Phidira's report on House. Eating with your cloaca! Tumble has heard of small creatures who do this kind of thing, but something so massive using the same trick is new. Part plant, she notes. Fey AF. Secret hatch, that she goes to look at, press her fingers against, listen to. Phidira tells Falco about What Houses Like.

"It seems strange that the lizards would pursue Granny Peth now," she muses. "They had plenty of opportunity before - the people of Saltmarsh have been visiting the hag in her guise as a herbalist for a long time. If they wanted the house, why not just take it? Unless they were too afraid, or simply unable, while Granny Peth still lived. Or perhaps something to do with the unrest that Gellan Primewater mentioned. Perhaps they themselves know of this Nexa Bannishae, and have their own motives for thwarting her.

I must admit to being curious about their intentions. It does not seem to be the kind of contraption that would ordinarily interest the lizardfolk, do you not think?"


left-aligned image
Artist credit: Oleg Kenig
Bingle has gone inside, so Tumble sits herself down comfortably in the garden to wait, and unwraps her new leather tool roll. There's a little flap on the outside that holds some spares, and with a bit of swarmp scavenging and an idle hour, she produces a little wind-up box with chicken feet. A little hatch in the side clicks open to show the inner gears and springs that work to make it go. The little door opens, and inside is a tiny Granny Peth, all teeth and claws and long green limbs. There's a leash so Tiny House doesn't run too far away. Tumble's just finishing up when Fiz has a question.

"Taht msut be ax Bingle's wizrad friend," she says. "The oen who wlil knwo how to fnid your fmaliy. We msut sepak wtih him." And that's just what they do. She offers Fiz the end of Tiny House's leash so he can lead it over, if he likes.

She nods, formally, at Banx. "I am pleased to meet you, Banx Tosslebonk. Ax Bingle has told us about you. She was most anxious to rescue you, and I am glad to see that you look well." So many unusually healthy-looking zmobies! Maybe it's a wizrad thing. She indicates Fiz. "Adn tihs is ax Fiz Wigglepocket. Hsi fmaily are loacl, at msot two or trhee days wlak for the tlal flok. We are tyring to fnid tehm so taht he can retrun home. Phidira Thimbletwist bleieved taht you may be abel to hlep."

Whenever Banx is finished telling them whatever he's able to tell them, she goes to Fela. "So Bramble wishes to see us. She has been telling us so for some time now, and the noise is disturbing my peace." She flatmouths over at the horses. "Ax Fela, I hate riding horses, and I enjoy Experiencing new things. Perhaps we could leave the beasts behind and take a new route through the swarmp." Might run into an ambulant Meat Willow! Could fall through a rift! "It would be interesting, would it not?"



Action Block and Stat Block
OOC: Tumble spends 10gp on materials for Tiny House, and 1hr to fabricate the toy (Tinker racial trait)

 

 

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  #93  
Old May 30th, 2022, 06:08 PM
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Fela. Herself.
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Falco's pep talk at breakfast throws Fela. She's not dainty enough for the quizzical raised eyebrow, she's more of a both of them all crinkled up in confusion kind of girl. "Be true to myself?! I was being true to myself when I got Gellan's bad side to begin with. No, no, that's not the play at all. He likes you because you're a wharf rat like him. You belong here. I'm the uppity Templetomer, and nobility at that. He didn't like Fireborn, he doesn't like me. He wants me to grovel a bit, lord it over me -- don't they have hierarchies and rules on a ship? You know, the captain putting people in their place? Just watch, you'll see. Be myself, ha!" She shakes her head, but there's a little frown; it's not a credible 'can you believe this guy?!' gesture, almost more as if she's trying to shake off 'It's enough'. What's enough?

When Gellan starts laughing at her she's sure it wasn't enough, and as the laugh grows and he's nearly losing it she nearly turns and storms off. But then...Falco was right? She's completely wrong-footed, nearly as red as Xendrose, a "Th-thank you, sir" is about all she can manage. Ooops, they're done with formality. "Uhh, Gellan, I mean. Thanks, Gellan." An enormous, stupid grin takes life on Fela's face, and she's so happy she only tries to stamp it out for brief moment. She's going to be a Springer!

First names. Friends. It's Condolence all over again, just as preposterous and unlikely a pairing.




At the tower, there's too much magic. Fela hangs back skeptically as Tumble discusses and investigates house anatomy, fussing over Maude. "Gobhole, cloaca -- I'd take your pretty face over that fancy stuff any day, yes I would." She'd already started to fall for the horse, and barely thought of the griffon Rickardt had mentioned the night before while she brushed her, adjusted the saddle.

It's a long wait for someone young and about to be a Springer, and while Tumble kills time building a baby-House (a bungalow?), Fela grows frustrated with her buzzing brain, moves away a bit, draws her sword and runs through some drills. It takes a bit longer than usual to get into it, and the abrupt realization that they're living out Gellan's words (Blunt instrument. Tinker's Tools.) almost makes her stop, but eventually movement and muscle do their work, like they always do, and everything fades away but the present moment, the joy and dullness of moving metal just so, and Fela is ... herself.

She's cooling down with stretches when Tumble scoffs at the horses, and Tumble has tweaked her so many times she can't resist the opportunity to tweak back. "Do you know how much my armor weighs? Anyway, riding is an Experience, too -- why do only new Experiences count? What's wrong with repetition, practice?" she mimes the parry she'd been working over (and over. and over.) with an imaginary blade. But pleasantly tired muscles, a beautiful new horse, and a paper-bird in the air to her dad mean she's in too much of a good mood to press the point too much. She draws Falco into the conversation. "But I don't suppose we're in that much of a hurry, and saddle-sore is no joke...we should slow down and let you walk a bit now and then. Look for mushrooms or Experiences ... or whatever else you short folk find so fascinating, down there so close to the ground."

Tweak.


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  #94  
Old May 30th, 2022, 11:53 PM
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Gnomes 'n' stuff
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It'd been some time since Falco last sat atop a horse; an' th' ponies back home was built a bit different from th' marsh tackies Maude 'n' Mary. For one, th' ones he were used t' was shorter. They galloped th' rollin' hills rather than th' muddy swamps. They had wild manes an' shaggy feathered hair coverin' their fetlocks. But, ridin' were somethin' that were easy t' remember. Besides, Mary knew what she were doin'. Th' Hin an' all th' gnomes could fall asleep an' she'd still get 'em t' th' tower.

Even with Mary's gentle gait, Flaco couldn't help but think of the sweaty bombs on 'is person. Well, they was fun while they lasted. Best t' dispose of 'em away from town after all th' excitement o' yesterday. "How'd ye like a red velvet pouch?" He asked th' worryin' rat. "Maybe I can get someone in town t' sew a smart pocket int' me armor. Fer now, ye can hop in me pack, if'n ye like. Jus' mind th' blackpowder sticks."

Th' wizard tower were more impressive lookin' now that he knew what were inside. Falco took a long look at it an' wondered how it were possible. Well its magic, ain't it? He listened t' Ann an' Phidira go on about cloacas 'n' gobholes but had t' agree with Ann's assessment. It were interestin' learnin' it could eat an' maybe even egg. But th' idea o' bein' hunted were disturbin'. "What would th' Lizards want indeed. Not like they could eat poor House if'n they did catch 'em. I could see wantin' t' be done of anythin' related t' th' hag though. O' course, I'll bind meself t' House so they feel safe an' comfortable. I'd soon as burn an' enchanted sailboat than put down this majestic creature."

Falco asked fer th' whistle an' spent some time jus' holdin' th' thing an' thinkin' 'bout House. He went over th' Sylvan words in 'is head as he turned th' whistle in 'is hands tracing its curves with 'is fingers. Finally, after an hour or so, he put it t' 'is lips and blew. If'n House reacts, he'll tell it t' stay. That it's safe here.

When Banx came down, Faclo quickly made 'is way over t' meet th' wizard who were trapped with Bingle. "Thanks fer helpin' me friend," He held 'is hand out t' shake but when Banx took it, th' Hin pulled 'im in an' hugged 'im with th' other arm. "Keledek gave me th' key before we even knew ye were in there! I've died too, ye know. Only fer a day, mind ye, so it weren't so bad. A fairy cut me open! So, should we start a club or somethin'?" He laughed an' released th' gnome. "Any friend o' bing;e's a friend o' me. Wanna see somethin' dangerous?" There were a manic type o' glint t' 'is eye as he asked th' question an' pulled out th' two sweaty bombs.

Whether or not Banx wanted t' see, Falco trotted off a good safe distance t' explode th' dynamite. It were LOUD. Saltmarsh probably still heard it but, at least it weren't blowin' fish outta th' harbor. He came back with a crazy smile an' full o' adrenaline. "Well, I'm ready t' see Bramble!"

"What's this? Fela's in no hurry? Well, th' longer we're out th' more time Shenker has t' sit an' stew, so there's that. I'd prefer th' path we know, however, surprisin' right? But, I be a sailor an' we live by charts 'n'' maps. I suppose we could walk; even though Mary's such a good girl. Smell th' flowers an' all that. Jus' watch fer spiderwebs an' branches up there, Watcher." He winked at Fela, happy t' play along. Ye don't spend years around pirates without learnin' how t' take an' serve a bit o' ribbin'. Plus, he's been wee 'is entire life.

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  #95  
Old May 31st, 2022, 02:10 AM
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Bingle Wildwander, Forest Gnome Wizard/Warlock
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The fact that Banx looks different and more normal here in the real world makes Bingle wonder what she looked like in the dagger. And also makes Bingle feel like maybe the whole thing with the dagger never happened. Maybe it was a dream of death, and she was just unconscious in a boat bottom. But! Proof: She doesn't want to eat cnady anymore. Proof: Banx is alive and Bingle is alive. Proof: Keledek is so grateful. It's nice to be an adventurer and you do heroic things like sell your soul to the devil and then people appreciate it by putting their hand on your head. She grits her teeth and lets him do it. Why not. It would be gnomish not to. She loves her room and scoops up some ink and paper. After all she is mainly a wizrad and will need to work on Griselda Erevyn's spellbook and maybe even have her own spellbook and ink and paper is hard to find in the swamp. She will also check if they have any incense she can use with her little brazier to re-summon Harlan if she needs to.

Things she says to Banx while they are private in her room:
1. What did I look like in the dagger? Great? Bad?
2. Dummy, you don't need a mosue on the sign, you're in the Hnuderd!
3. Yes I'm evil now and it's fine you told Keledek but but don't tell ANYONE ELSE.

She loves that Falco explodes the bombs! It makes a crater!! She reminds Banx proudly it's not even the first thing Falco blew up with a dynamite, because she told him about the well and all that, when they were in the dagger. So it's great for him to see it now in real life. Has he even ever seen dynamite before? It's like magic but not. She can't even be because she doesn't understand itbothered to constantly explain everything about it. It's great that Banx is getting along with her friends. But gah! He's so swampy sometimes!

And gah! It's so gnomish for Tumble to not want to ride a horse, Bingle thinks, climbing back up under her voluminous illusory cape and pasting herself to Fela's spine. Oh, let's not ride horses and be stuck up in the air where anyone can see us! Oh, let's not draw attention to ourselves by getting up on a tall thing! Let's walk down on the ground where we can snootch into bushes and pretend to be examining roots of trees while blending into the roots of trees. Bingle scoffs and also yearns to be in a bush and also scoffs. Gnomes and their desire to not be tall targets for arcane missiles! She squinches into Fela and votes that they take the horses. The very idea of not riding a horse. You might as well shove yourself under a boat bench instead of dangling yourself over the railing. The very idea!

And she's not chuffy because Fiz has been given the house toy to play with. It's not that. At all.



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Old Jun 1st, 2022, 09:08 AM
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TOWER
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Fela, you do the forms. They are the the same, the same, steadfast and true as Saliber. So many things are changing. Which is not inherently bad. You are changing from Watcher to Springer! But---who is this person who plays dragon chess with Hellspawn and laughs on a lawn with some self-made discount small town “noble” who accommodates the Fey?

Finn kept saying that you needed to travel, but, Pah, you have been to Pinmarch, to Vallos, to that adorable Hin tourist town with the giant chickens, you took a ship to---

He waved all that away. You change cities, but the people that you see---they’re all the same!

Well, if by “the same” he meant “decent and right thinking,” then what in all nine hells is wrong with that?

And yet. How many of them would sit down for dinner with, say, Falco there? Falco, who has your back. It’s not comfortable to think this in your head, so you sink into your body until you are the forms. They are a thousand years old. They never change; watching Falco play with a whistle that will bind him to a Hag’s animal, you need them.

Falco, Narlikar looks with High Elf snobbery upon the velvet pouch. Well, it’s quite garish isn’t it, he says, sniffing. What would Jancy say! Tut, tut! So red and plush! He pushes it away with one hind-foot, but then he freezes, mid-shove. His pink toes spasm and clutch at the velvet.

He clears his throat. His black beady eyes dart from it to you. Gaudy, she would say, he tells you doubtfully. Whorey. Not the thing at all. Clutch! His other hind foot sneaks over to touch it. Am I...am I perhaps being too nice? I shouldn’t like to be ungracious. His front feet wash each other anxiously while his back feet clutch and pet. And...and...It is truly kind of you to take in a poor Unharpered, Unpouched fellow... Within minutes he has talked himself all the way down in it, nestled as deep into the pile as he can get. Oh, thou pretentious rat, a servant to your own base nature, after all!

right-aligned image
Bingle, Upstairs, Banx tells you a weird thing. That you looked two ways in the dagger. Sometimes this, sometimes that. Now, he says you look a lot more THAT. Not all the way THAT, but more THAT than THIS. He looks down and says real quiet that he likes you now, THAT, better. THAT is the Bingle who hurled herself off into the black and stomped the stairs to Perpetu.

Under sharp questioning, he describes the THIS, and it sounds as if, it sounds very much like---Well. THIS sounds like Bongle. Young, real Bongle. From pre-hnuderd, when you were really young, too, not tow-hnuderd-and-nineteen. Bongle, who would say what was right to do. Very quietly. From deep inside a fern.

Banx is sick and tired but also game. YES to being SECRETLY QUITE EVIL. Porbalby I’m evil, too, a ltilte. Porbalby some got on me, while we were tarpped for the Hnuderd. Fater lal, I tired to klil the Ppupet Hin, as wlel!

Hm. Is he? Maybe. Not as evil as you, Bingle, but not for want of trying. Not his fault you were the Bteter Wizrad. Also, he just WANTS a mosue. Crave teh Mosue on ym door? I wlil leran the splel to make it tlak. But not todya. He yawns so big. Resurrection sick. Dragging. Draggable. You drag him back downstairs.

Tumble, there is no physical way for you to cause this hatch to open beyond violence against House’s person. It feels like trying to unfold a clenched fist. It opens by House opening it, you think. But you don't know the Sylvan word for, STOP CLENCHING YOUR HATCH SHUT WITH YOUR MOST TIRESOME COMPONENT. The AMINAL component. The plant bits, the machine, would be more sensible...

In better news, Fiz loves Tiny House. Loves. You know who else loves Tiny House?

House. It has no eye parts that you can see, and Phidira confirms this. (She has pulled over a garden chair to knit and watch you Tinker. Gnomes of all kinds love Tniker Siht.)

Blindsight, she says. Like an ooze. Falco, dear, my sewing kit is right here in my basket. If you hand me that velvet rat-sack I can make the potty-port and adjust the drawstrings so he can look out if he likes....

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Tumble, when House “sees” Tiny House it stands and then it rumbles and it coos and clicks. Weirdly sweet sorts of monster noises issue from the gobhole. It tilts cutely at Tiny House, shifts from foot to foot. Fiz leads the toy back and forth on its string and House minces back and forth, just the same.

Banx comes back out with Bingle and returns your greeting, feet apart, hands behind back, spine stiff, tilting from the waist. He thinks you are a forest gnome! HA! He has not seen your kind before, but he knows you are Not Swamp. Banx looks rough. Moves like someone made him ride a horse. For hours. It’s hard to come back from the dead, unless you are Bingle. Who seems... great.

Banx is happy to meet young Fiz, casual and friendly. Until you say the name. Wigglepocket! He plops into the dirt to get his face even with Banx’s. Wigglepocket? Your Mam must be Tifaporp? Or Tifapine? Fix nods, and says, Mam is Porpy, playing with Tiny House, unconcerned, but Banx swallows and wants to tell you all in formal common that sounds stiff in his mouth:

My people live in loose bands that meet and plop together and break and reform. We don’t have towns or homes or government. But. The Wigglepockets are the Oldest Family. Not more powerful, because we (well they) are all druids. Just the oldest family name there is, and the most deeply connected to the land. That line knows where the Treant Graveyard is. The dryads sing when one is born. We don’t have royalty or even nobles. We’re all the same. But if we did have such a thing --- It’s him.

right-aligned image
Banx can get a message to the Swamp Gnomes. He is cagey about how. If pressed he says, I have to do a thing. In a place. Out there. I can't go now. I'm---I'm sick. But I will as soon as I can. The word will spread that one should come and see me. Keledek will Send spell to my family, too; he will think that’s better, faster. But---the Wigglepockets are hard to find, and my way might end up being faster. There is a third way. You could do it. The Swamp speaks to them; Wigglepockets find the hurt places in it first. So. If you go to where swamp is worst, where things are very terrible and ruined and frightening. They will be near.

Falco, Banx loves the bombs. He prestidigitates the fuses, and you fling, and BLAM! BLAM! Narlikar startles and shrieks; the narrator regrets to inform you that several little brown Jimmies have to be dumped out of his adjusted pouch.

Bingle, he hasn’t seen bombs before. He admits that when you explained them, well, perhaps he thought there was a ...slight exaggeration? On your part? You tlod me the whole syk was raining bug prats! he reminds you. Well it DID rain bug parts! And hurtful stones! You were there!

Now, he believes it all and turns admiring eyes your way. Very bright, if you ignore the dark deep circles under. The bombs push up water in huge plumes and spouts. Stunned fish and dead fish and partial fish rain down and float. Ann wades out up above her waist and collects ‘em in a basket.

Imma make us a nice, hot curry supper, she says with satisfaction.

Falco, when you finish the whistle, House ---relaxes. You did not know that she was tense, but now you know, because you feel her. A thread, from you to her like Fioz's string, but long and intangible. If you blow that whistle right, she'll come to you. Days, if it takes days. If you tell her her to stay, she'll stay. She is a domesticated animal, like Maude and Mary. She likes to be someone’s. She chirrs that monster-y gurgle at you when you tell her to stay, then kicks around in the marsh grass and the weeds, nesting, settling and rooting into a little hollow near the tower.


SWARRUMPS
left-aligned image
Vision in the Swamps Etsy coincideminds
Fela, Maude has sympathetic deep brown eyes and grassy warm breath and the softest nose. You are sad to think of leaving her, so soon, before she even fully understands that she is yours. Why don't horses come with a whistle? But you are willing to compromise when Tumble balks. So is Falco. This route or that, walk, or ride, or house---you discuss it all like reasonable folk, and yes, perhaps a walk, a new route---

Bingle, No. You are the loudest gnome in the world, and you louds them all up onto horses, and off you go, the drunk’s map way! TO LILY MARKET! NOW! THE DAY IS WASTING!

You loud everyone onto the horses, you quiet alone inside in the cloak-illusion. THAT, then THIS. A paladin boldly rides a horse with kind of a lumpy butt. You peer through the watery mist of illusion, and not much has changed. At first. On horseback, it is only five or six hours, even if you stop for lunch. The girls are sure-footed and quick, picking their way down the path, born and bred for this terrain... Soon, the vines. Then the shallow water. But where are the vines?

Falco, you roll with things. It’s your nature. A ship, a horse’s gait, a councilman’s requests. Riding is easy for you. It’s easy for Fiz as well; he likes animals. He pats at Mary and clambers around between you and Tumble and hangs from the mane or stands on the round apple of Mary;s butt to look down at the tail and report when she is plopping. Fiz is of an age to be very interested in how and when things poo. It is easy for Narlikar, who is more riding you than the horse. Falco, maybe you will be good for Narlikar, a rat who doesn’t know quite how to roll. (Let’s hope so. He is nearly unendurable, as is.)

But Tumble? Poor Tumble, so sure-footed on the ground, is stiff, unhappy luggage.

Tumble--- only for the first four hours or so. Then, you see that things are different and you cannot help but perk. You have a keen nose for the new. And the path---the path is changed. It angles more east here. It is wider there. You do not remember seeing this kind of red berry bush at all, because you didn't.

Fela, you expected this. This is how the Swamps are. No path can hold unless right-minded folk are up and down them on their mounts, beating back encroaching vines and questing shrubberies and shifting trees. The Springers are always on the move down the trade paths to keep them stable, using the clank of armor and the smell of torches and iron to make the Red Caps wary.

Even so, they shift. Slow, sly, unstoppable. The Swamp is soaked in Fey-ness, and nothing here can hold. But—this is fast you think. By the time you are what should be a half-hour from the entrance to the Lily Market, everything feels wrong and strange. There were vines here, you are sure. Curtains of them. Now there are cypress trees and low gorse and watery pondlets. Frogs chirr. Is this even the way?


OOCSORRY to be late and long. I got interested in rat bags and tiny houses and bombs and forms and pooping and secrets and horses. You all are just so damn delightful .

EVERYONE please roll either perception or survival this round--or you can do a different skill depending on your RP.

cheerio The Undine Mouth supplies ink and paper and basic (less than 10GP) reagents, and can get you (some) rarer ones for a discount. You can always ask. They will also let you copy any 2 spells to your book when you level, no charge. Learning must proceed apace.

A reminder: DREAM SNAKES is the same thing as Lily Market. That is where they live. Those who had future visions drank the venom or got bit. The X is where you think you are on the Drunk Thief’s Map.


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Old Jun 1st, 2022, 11:44 PM
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Bramble bound
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Falco felt jus' a lil' bad t' evict Narly from 'is new pouch so soon but, o' course, he wanted Phidira t' alter it fer 'em. They watched happily as she swiftly turned it 'nto a handsome rat-pouch before their eyes. Now this were a nice pouch, fit fer a fancy talkin' rat. He couldn't wait t' show Gellan how much use he were gettin' outta th' soft red velvet coin bag.

Now, Falco weren't all that surprised t' learn o' Fiz's lineage. Th' boy took t' Druidry faster'n a pig t' mud. Ye could almost see the flow o' magic around 'im. Well, when he weren't hidin' or peein' in th' bushes. Come t' think o' it, th' young gnome hadn't defensively pissed 'imself in a while. Progress.

"If'n Kasja's vision were true, an' somethin' happened t' Bramble's Market then we jus' may find 'is people out there."

Th' ride 'nto th' swamp weren't so bad. Mary knew exactly where t' step an' seemed t' enjoy havin' a small swamp gnome clamberin' around on 'er back. Falco were glad he decided t' buy her. As they pushed on, deeper 'nto th' wild growth, he felt like they should be gettin' near th' vine-shrouded spot where ye dipped through t' Bramble's Market. Only Perception: 13they ain't seen no vines yet. Th' canopy were heavy overhead an' th' stars weren't even out yet so he had no way t' judge where they should be on th' map. 'Cept fer th' curves in th' path that didn't line up exact. Nature were like that, She loved change. Th' truest pattern She kept were the cycles o' changes. Th' tides, th' stars, th' seasons, an even th' growth o' things. He weren't too concerned, Bramble wanted t' see 'em so they'd find her.

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Old Jun 2nd, 2022, 02:59 AM
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Bingle Wildwander, Forest Gnome Wizard/Warlock
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Hey! Look at Banx knowing everything about Swamp Gnomes all the time. How can she not carve a mosue on his door with him so tragic and pleading and all? She carves it. And then she gets into the spell component room. She scoops incense for calling Harlan and enough jade dust to do two more Magic Mouths (and leaves the 10 gp where the jade dust was, okay) and then makes the mosue's face say "Well hello there, friend, my name is Banx Tosselbonk and I'm a blabbedy blabbedy blah!" in a stiff pretentious voice and this is so funny that she about dies in the hallway. She doesn't carve the mouse with the pron dagger. She carves it with the regular carving dagger!

She ponders how many fish people she could kill on her own. Maybe none. As soon as she finds something with a soul that's evil that she can kill on her own she's going to kill it. And then more.

As soon as they get out of town and into the road with no people she slides down from Fela's horse and goes snootching. Snootching feels great after no plants in the dagger for so long. You can snootch right up into a bush and it smells good and you're hidden and also you can tell things like if others have been snootching around or if something's been dropped or if the bushes and trees are the same as you left them. I mean, it's pretty gnomish to do this but she did ride a horse for a really long time which is not. She sends Harlan high up in the air to scout around and see if anything bad is going on. Meanwhile she checks the roots and stumps.



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Old Jun 2nd, 2022, 06:23 AM
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Fela, keeping busy
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The sword drills ground her, keep her mind from racing off in a million directions. More had happened to her this last week than in years before, and more was due to come. She had lots of Big Feeling about them that hadn't been internalized, processed, made sense of -- Springer (good!). Kasja (sad!). Finn's wedding (necessary evil). Fey curses, Fey gifts (uh, Fey). Briony and Innovation (great, but overwhelming). Lizards and Pirates and Visirs (threats on the horizon). And it felt good to have space away from them, to not be overwhelmed, concrete actions she was good at that made sense.

Falco wasn't the only one surprised she wasn't in a hurry. She'd wanted to get back to Templetome -- to civilization -- as soon as possible. But now...she wasn't ready to go back. Part of it was dreading the wedding; leaving had been in a hurry, she hadn't really processed that they'd want her back for the ceremony, that by that time it would be too late for any accident that happened to ruin it, and Rickardt's mention of it had brought some dread. But it was more than that, she was invested in Saltmarsh now. Part of it was Finn -- he loved it, he was finally facing his duty and sacrificing a lot for the marriage, protecting it would be a gift to him. But she was growing attached to it despite herself, and the thought of just abandoning it to Nexa Banishae, or to be overrun by Slurrybird's faction was too much. Not to mention leaving Falco, Tumble and Bingle...

Riding in the swamp was like practice -- the comforting rhythm of Maude, the familiarity of a day's travel, being alert to danger taking enough of her concentration to keep her mind out of trouble. She ribbed Tumble for her obvious discomfort "Can't you, like, meditate or something to pass the time?" though she didn't complain when they dismounted for a while, and was much more patient with the gnomes than their first trip through the swamp together. Riding in her mail was less knackering than walking, yes, but mainly they were her friends now, and even if she didn't understand their obsessions with mushrooms and snootching and exploring, she could at least tolerate them.

Plus, she had Maude to keep her company when they ducked into the undergrowth. Fela would have tried to bond with her mount as much as possible anyway -- she wasn't a natural at it, but it was just smart tactics. But as the day wears on she grew more admiring of the tacky. Maude was clearly in her element, and Fela felt bad for judging her wanting in comparison to the more standard Watcher warhorse, which would have required much more effort on Fela's part to ride through the marsh; Maude just knew what to do.

So when the path doesn't seem right anymore, Fela turns to her mount, giving Maude a quick scratch and a few encouraging thumps on the side. "Well what do you think, girl? Is the path right? You know these swamps better than I do...is there a danger here?", and watching her ears and nose attentively for signs of worry.


Actions, etc.
Dice Animal handling:
d20-1 (18)-1 Total = 17



 
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Old Jun 2nd, 2022, 07:23 AM
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Tumble
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Artist credit: Aurore Folny (© Black Book Editions)

The dryads sing when a Wigglepocket is born, do they? Even little kidnapped dryads? Hm. Well, one way or another, the message will get to where it needs to go, and if the party just so happens to stumble into a place where the swarmp is very terrible and ruined and frightening, then that's still better than riding on some stupid horse, isn't it? Tumble tucks away the information for later.

But now... horses. Urgh. Bump bump bump. When Fela and Falco ride, they just... ride. Still, relaxed. Not bouncing all over the place like Tumble who cannot figure out how it's done. She stares grimly ahead while Fela mocks her. "I am meditating," she says. "It is not helping."

Mary's heaving motion is a lot like being on a boat but almost worse in some ways because the ground, so solid, so proper for walking, is right there. Tumble is glad to slide off and back onto the floor. Ginger chews help, Gand said. Ginger schminger. Also, she didn't buy any. She feels through her pockets and finds a forgotten breath mint instead, pops it in her mouth.

When people think of large living organisms, they tend to think of animals. Or things like House, which is a bit animal as well as bunch-of-other-stuff too. Some people think more broadly and say, "trees, trees are large living organisms", and this is also true. But a lot of people don't think about the mycelium. The mycelium can run for miles, tiny threads reaching through the soil unseen, unheard. The mycelium can be ancient, even, supposedly (if Tumble's sources are to be believed) immortal. Tumble spends a while scuffling about in the undergrowth thinking about this while the others try to find the most safe and boring route through the swarmp that they can. She looks around too, but not just for a route, also just for anything even slightly interesting or perhaps terrible and ruined and frightening.

But mostly she's thinkin' 'bout that mycelium. "It would be a wonderful thing if only the mycelium could speak," she observes, mostly to herself. "It would be fascinating to hear the sort of things that it would say."



Action Block and Stat Block
OOC:

 

 

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Old Jun 2nd, 2022, 10:32 PM
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TRAVEL
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Bingle, the dagger once looked like an Edgelord Knife, then it looked like a plain dagger for Craving a Mosue. So regular, Ann would have used it to clean an exploded fish for curry and never thought, Aw, now thissus so evil!

Question: Who has seen the Boosb Dgager of Pronya? (Glasya, you mean, Galsay, your Parton.)

Answer: No one.

Well, Keledek. He put it in his drawer to think on later. (No matter, because when is later. He has much to think on.)

Well, Banx. No matter. He is in the Hnuderd and he will not say if you are evil or not.

Well. You. You feel the weight of her, your patron, clipped to you. Dagger-Glasya is dressed like a topless swamp gnome. Dagger-Glasya is swathed modestly under the thick knit of your sweater. Under your care, Glasya will be her naked evil self. Under your miprotnat sewater, Glasay wlil not be clod!

This dagger is now in a drawer, yes. That dagger is now on a belt. This gnome is on horse, yes. That gnome is in a bush. Look at this gnome, happening along and saving baby gnomes and dryads and probably Pim one day and Banx and cobblers and snotty high elfs. Look at that gnome, plotting ten whole lonely murders of the world’s most evil fishmen in its heart.

Question: This or That. Answer: Yes. (For now.)

Tumble, what is a mushroom but the fruiting body of a fungus sprouting up from the mycelium?

Earlier in your Experience, this happened:

right-aligned image
You crossed a (mundane) swampland with a wandering band of Tabaxi. They were strange and small and kind to you, ate roots and raw meat, almost never spoke. They timed their litters, and when the mothers all got close to breaking, they camped and used molds and mulch to grow mycelium very quickly into the shape of bricks that they shaped into a small, defensible fort. Shocking---a building? for these tree-sleepers who did have even a tent? There they stayed until the litters came and mothers could travel, at which point the building was abandoned to go back to the soil.

That was so fresh. At the time. But it has been duly cataloged already and the notes returned to the monastery, so. What next, What next.

Nothing is interesting (new) about this part of the swamp (6).

BAH! And now that the pace is reset (you do not regret this, happier on foot) it will take twice as long to get to Lily Market. In your pocket, you have a Destiny. It molders there. Unclaimed, deliberately obtuse. Maybe you can shake some movement out of Bramble? In the interim, you swallow a stone, and oh my. Imagine that the path becomes an It’s a Small World ride, but only you can see it. Vines wave, flowers bob and wink, the mycelium sings as you pass, vibrations of its humming coming up and through your boots. The plant-scape animates as you get close, returns to its regularly scheduled Plantness as you pass out of range. It’s interesting. You notice little else.

In fact, you almost run right into the Swamp Gnome. He is in a thicket. He looks like a thicket, in it and of it. As if he is made of thicket. As if the song of all the plants is also sung by him. Rooted.

Bingle you are behind Tumble, but you still spot him first, because you are not on a theme park ride composed of every plant. Very green, he is. Tunic. Bare knees. Old eyes like your father, wrinkly and vague and kind, distracted. But. Bare skinny gnome feet as calloused as a Hin’s. Your father is a SHOE gnome, no promiscuous toes with dirty crescent moon nails and a few sprung toe hairs questing this way and that.

Hlelo, he says. Looking for Liyl Mraket? You and Tumble are twenty feet back and ten feet to the side of Fela and Falco and the tackies, off the path. They went right by him.

Falco, you are easy going, and when the party slows to half-speed, maybe less, you roll with it. It is a long day, riding. You and Fela both will be sore, not from inexperience, but neither of you has been riding regularly. Old muscles waking up.

What is in your hand? This dark star-filled orb-thing that Bramble gave you, and all it cost you was your life.

No, that’s dramatic. It cost the the Green Star that a dead bear put in your blood; you never got the chance to press her about what the **** that was.

left-aligned image
This star chart will take you to the Dusk Maiden. She says. But. Like Tumble’s claimed (a) Destiny, it has been fallow.Wellllll, hardly any time has passed, really. A few days. You want it to light up, now, though. Garrick. Each day with him in---limbo---is a hard, hard day.

What are you learning, traveling with this band. Patience? Maybe. You are young and patience is hard. The dark star chart --- Bramble likes you, and as a fully Fey creature, Bramble appears to be a little fluid in the Prime Material timeline. Can she speed it up? Make the chart light up?

What would you trade for that? You are going to a market, and this is a good time to take stock of what pieces of you are for sale, and what you want to buy.

Fela, if there is a danger, Maude doesn’t sense it. All your focus is on her. Yes, yes, gnomes dismount and slow the trip down, so that by the time you are close, instead of just after lunch, your stomach is rumbling about dinner. But that is how gnomes ARE... their nature.

Things will act according to their nature---wasn't that Falco's story? The scorpion. The turtle. In your version, no one is grateful to The Watcher for bulling forward and doing exactly what the law and protocol requires. No one is grateful, even though the Watcher Knows Best. In the only version you have ever heard. Before this group.

Your mind turns to pretty, bland, blank Clareen Anolde, who will in a few short weeks marry your brother. Your family uses the red wax seal of nobility, but her family uses silver. Her mother is the daughter of Lord Vissir, a recent favorite of the king, knighted and made noble. Her father is the head of the Anolde family---ancient, blue blooded, respected. With this alliance, your order (and perhaps Templetome's trade monopoly) will be secure for the next generation. The routes through the swamps will be made viable via rigorous, iron, burning torches, patrolling with no compromise. No deals. No markets. Beat the paths into the same shape, each and every day.

But seeing your brother Finn as Gand – a wholly new person, enamored of Kasja, embedded with the Saltwinds---it is hard not to ask what it will cost him to be beaten into the same shape each day. Not a comfortable question. His future wife is so mannered and correct that she is hard to read. What you know: she is pretty and sweet, and FInn claims that he is fell for her and LOVES her. Hm. What does GAND love. And why does a man in love need to be Gand?

right-aligned image
You cleave to Maude, thinking of your posture and giving her leg, getting ahead of the gnomes to practice trotting, circling back...this is why you do not see the man until he is thirty feet away. There he is, walking down the weirdly changed, newly vineless path.

He raises a hand as if he knows you. Grins wide, welcoming. Fela! Falco! Together, fancy that! Well met. I see my map did well by you!

Falco, you draw Mary up short beside Fela and Maude. You have a snoring Rat in a velvet pouch. A baby gnome in front of you, clinging to Mary's mane.

You know this guy. He drew the very map you're following. He stops, smiling, friendly. As if he did not separately try to rob you both.

Bygones! He says, grinning. A fella has'ta make a living... SO! Where are you bound?


OOCP~ and Goonie, every day you can roll animal handling. In 3 successes (DC 16) Maud/ Mary will knows she is yours. FAILING doesn't mean she wont; obey. She is a rental horse. But she has no innate loyalty to you yet. You are building that. Fela, you have 1 success. Please TRACK this if you are interested and working to win your horse's loyalty.

IF your PC rides b**** on the regular, they can also roll animal handling once a day with a DC 16 for the horse to recognize them as an Ally. SO FAR no gnomes are eligible to roll, LOL.

Right now, Tumble and Bingle are 20 feet back and 10 feet off the path---your different travel styles mean some natural looping back and gaps will occur, widen, close, etc.

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Old Jun 3rd, 2022, 11:37 PM
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When paths converge
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Falco couldn't believe what he were seein' further down th' trail. "Well, if'n it ain't a weasel in th' swamp." He looked up at Fela with a smile an' back t' th' cutpurse. "Did they finally run ye outta every town, or are ye lost? I'll sell ye a map real cheap!" Th' Hin laughed but looked closely at th' man an' wondered what he were doin' out here. "Neither houses was exactly haunted, by th' way. Only th' farm house near Glotten was full o' undead. Th' one on th' cliffs were only haunted by pirates."

"Come t' think o' it, there may be ghosts up in there now." Falco flashed a big grin and shrugged. "Anyway, we're visitin' a friend. What brings you out this way, besides trouble?" he didn't hold no grudge against this knave but didn't trust 'im none either. It seemed too much o' a coincidence t' run across this thief twice but, then again, sometimes Fate had a wicked sense o' humor.

Falco looked t' Fela once more. He had an idea what she were thinkin' an' part o' 'im wanted t' see it play out. But, they did have things t' do out here an' draggin' a conman t' justice weren't one o' 'em. "We ain't got time t' mess with arrestin' 'im. So I could rob 'im for ye, If'n ye want." He winked at th' Watcher an' smiled back at th' friendly thief."Or, maybe we could offer 'im up t' th' lizards?" It were hard t' keep a straight face but he couldn't resist stirrin' th' pot.

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Old Jun 4th, 2022, 05:31 AM
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Tumble
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Artist credit: Aurore Folny (© Black Book Editions)

Narngeldem monks are just like anyone else, in that when you come up with an idea like, we must Experience everything that there is to Experience, someone will say, how about durgs? You can sure get a lot of Experiences out of even just the one durg? This is what Tumble's mentor Eneb used to call "low hanging fruit". Yes, you can take a whole bunch of durgs and have a whole bunch of Experiences easy, and nobody would ever be able to replicate them so by definition they are always fresh, but. But.

"Onbdoy wnats to erad some old hipiep's broing tirp reprots," Eneb would say, and to prove it he'd make you spend hours in the stacks reading them until you got so bored you chewed your own fingernails ragged and bleeding and swore off durgs for life.

Narngeldem monks are also just like anyone else in that the hot second they're away from their mentor, they're like, "it's not like they're going to know, are they", and of course they don't, unless the monk does something ridiculous like take a big old durg and send back a bunch of tirp reprots to the monastery in the mail, like an idoit. Tumble: not an idoit. Not that kind of idoit, anyway.

This, right now, with all the singing and the leaves and the movement and the weird, it's a lot like doing a durg, although it doesn't feel like doing a durg as nobody is falling over and she hasn't drowned yet like she did last time she accidentally done an accidental durg in this very swarmp. But sometimes it doesn't feel like it at all! Sometimes that's part of the Experience! Tumble pats her pockets, looking for more pink minty stones and finds none. Not a single one! Well. Better make the most of the only one she's got, then. She puts her face up inappropriately close to the Swamp Gnome, the kind of distance you can only get away with when you have done a-- well.

"Yes, the Liyl Mraket," she says. "Are you... a shurb? Lsiten, ax Bingle. Cna you hera tihs shurb? It hsa a fcae!"



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Inventory, Herbalism, and Poisoning
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  #104  
Old Jun 4th, 2022, 06:57 AM
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Fela, bad paladin
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"Weasel in the swamp?! He's a pickpocket and a fraud and deserves to be in ja--" Fela's tongue, running ahead as always with burning indignation, runs straight into her thoughts waiting patiently up ahead, and gets clotheslined by reality. Pickpocket, yes. But the map was surprisingly accurate, the information about the ghosts in the old house useful. "Oh, Berilun take you!"

If she weren't mounted, she'd be stomping her feet in frustration. Nanny-lock had gotten away. Krebs, she'd only given a bath. She was signed up to run errands for Slurrybird and whatever Archfey she worked for. Couldn't she get a simple, uncomplicated win? An obvious wrong she could right without complication or compromise? Was that too much for a young paladin to ask? Not being able to stomp, she settles for squeezing Maude tighter between her thighs. She gathers the reins in one hand, the other hovers a moment over her sword before going up to grab her amulet, murmur a quick prayer, feel its comfortable warmth and the way the light changes in her eyes. He's probably not undead or a fiend or anything, but it'd sure make things easier and more satisfying if he were.

Falco plays friendly with the thief, but doesn't share where they're going, and pokes at Fela. She mutters darkly back to him "We had time enough to let the gnomes walk, huh, but not to bring this degenerate to justice." But it would be inconvenient, dragging him along to see Bramble -- she had a feeling she didn't want anyone like him there to know what was said and done there, or even that they were going.

An exasperated grunt-sigh, and when she launches into the 'bad paladin' schtick there's no acting involved. "Look, I'm not going to pretend to like you. You tried to steal from me and should be brought to the authorities and face the law. But. Your map did prove accurate, the information about the haunted house was more or less correct. So. I'm tempted to let you go for now...I'm tempted, mind you. Maybe you've got something else to tell us about to help settle me? The trails seems to be shifting awfully fast, know anything about that? And if I ever hear about you stealing again..."


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Dice Intimidation against map-dude:
d20+6 (8)+6 Total = 14

Used Divine Sense to make sure he ain't no real baddie.
 
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  #105  
Old Jun 4th, 2022, 11:32 AM
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Bingle Wildwander, Forest Gnome Wizard/Warlock
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This gnome is in a bush. That dagger is in a drawer. Every step that takes her away from Saltmarsh takes her away from the dagger and being damned and evil and a warlock. What forest gnome could be? With scrafs and boots a warlock? With mushrooms and vines? Hell is cold and hot and there's no respite. Forest gnomes are all about the respite and retreat. Who can hide in hell? But Bingle can hide anywhere! Every step from Slatmrash a step farther away from her chance to get along better with her parton Galsay and her chance to get up the ranks of hell and not be a glob of nothing. Too bad! She left it! It's there in a drawer and as long as it's there in the drawer, which it most certainly is because she saw it go in there and the drawer shut then she can't take it out of her pack and be that gnome.

Well SIHT! She almost tirps over a swamp gnome. These freaking things are everywhere! Haunted house, swamp gnome. Hell dagger, swamp gnome. Path in swamp, swamp gnome.

"Yes, he's got a fcae," she whispers to Tumble. "And is not a shurb." She can see Tumble is lost in thought and she was also lost in thought. Thinking hard contributes to tripping over gnomes and that's why Bongle doesn't recommend it.

To the gnome she says, "Hlelo Gnardfahter," because she was raised correctly. "We all tarvel to Liyl Mraket. Us and the big flok on the hroses. Totegher. Whihter do you tarvel and are you wlel?"

She calls back Harlan to sit on her shoulder and gives a small bow, hands behind her back, as is porper.



ۜ\(סּںסּَ` )/ۜ
 


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Last edited by lostcheerio; Jun 4th, 2022 at 11:34 AM.
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