Mon, Dec 11th 2023 01:15   Edited on Wed, Jul 15th 2026 06:53

Town of Lost Souls

into Churdawn by CB Ash using MidJourney
 
Kavi glanced at Nahbi with a raised eyebrow, then over at the Churdawn rooftops in the distance.
 
“Yes. Quiet as the wind,” he agreed in a low tone. “We may have enough trouble without wandering trolls adding to it all.”
 
The road welcomed the group while they crossed the town’s border a few minutes later. Spent torches stood silent watch between the untended stands of grapevines heavy with purple-pink Fadish grapes. Wicker baskets, some still heavy with fresh picked grapes, lay forgotten on the grass.
 
A light wind stirred the leaves, adding their light whisper to the air. A mournful whisper that rattled in the air. Gray clouds slowly reached over the sky, the occasional finger of shadow that started to stain the sky.
 
At the edge of town, the sky went silent and the wind lay still. It was as if a spell had been draped over the town like a gossamer blanket. One that suffocated sounds with a merciless greed. Houses along the edge of town looked normal, painfully ordinary, their windows open but doors shut. A looming darkness filled them to overflowing.
 
Deeper in, past a corner, a bush shuddered when the dying wind gave a last gasp.
 
Outside of town, the main road spilled between the houses, and rambled its way deep into the settlement. Far ahead, it pooled in what appeared to be the town square far ahead.
 
Two other paths wound north and south around the outside of town. Smaller trails used for traveling to and from the vineyards that lined the surrounding gentle hills.
 
Somewhere, from nearby but beyond the buildings, the faint sound of disturbed leaves struggled for purchase in the dead air.
 
Kavi held up a hand to wait and indicated a set of faint tracks along the path.
 
“No trolls, but coyotes. Five or six,” he said in a low tone, voice barely a whisper but just loud enough for the others to hear. “Let’s wait for Lia and Tamas to find out what they saw. While we wait, spread out but keep your wits about you. Look for anything off. These coyotes wouldn’t just wander in without reason.”
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
So, there is a main road in, trails north and south, and mysterious houses! Who’s doing what?
 
Tue, Dec 12th 2023 11:36

Samakarii voices are trained to carry well in tundra. Rolling grasslands and vinyards are hardly the same thing. Their capacity to reflect sounds along a great distance, around obstacles, should be a matter to require diligent study.
Nevertheless: Kavi murmured. And his voice, naturally at a lower octave than hers, might well travel farther away -- but the difference would be measured in staff-lengths, not in arrow flights.
Chaliimriia took the few steps necessary to be within touching range of the other three. She spoke as softly as she could manage, avoiding sibilants.
 
"In the upland, a town with many a thin tower. Each to bring air to the home. Exhale the fume of the hearthfire, away from the people. Not only that. Each would have a," Chaliimriia hesitated, trying to think of a word that would not hiss sharply in this heavy air. "Mmm. Pwavyeyît?" She jiggled the bow in her right hand, knowing that she had not gotten the pronunciation correct, and tried a related term. "Pwakuhwo?"

Kavi nodded.
 
J’i,” he whispered with a small smile to Chaliimriia.
 
A few silent seconds slinked by while he studied the white towers that rose above the rooftops of Churdawn. Thin, gray-white needles that stabbed at the sky.
 
“Same here. A pwakuhwo or guardian on watch,” he added. “Maybe. Once we move in, we keep close to the buildings, in case they aren’t.”
 
Kavi pointed at the nearest tower.
 
“We check that one, once we reach it after Lia and Tamas come back.” He frowned. “Anyone else find anything?”
Wed, Dec 13th 2023 12:24

Nodding in return, Chaliimriia turned her back to the Kwi'Sakdi trio. She moved two paces away, then settled to watch.
 
Coyotes were, if she understood correctly, collaborative hunting predators in good circumstances, and scavengers in times of scarcity. Such an opportunist would try to attack their prey from its blind side. Best if she watches the backtrail, arrow knocked, breath slow, until someone tells her that it is time again to move.
Nahbi listened to the soft conversation, then decided that he would be the one to find "anything". It would require being (as Kavi had said), as quiet as the wind, and as unseen.   Nahbi set down his favorite sword, his shoulder pack, and all of his spike darts on the side of the road, close to the grasses. He re-tied his locks of snaky hair at the back of his head. His drab outfit had reasonable camouflage, but a bit of improvement would not hurt. He sat down on his heels, then rolled back and back until his feet touched the ground again. Then he stood up and checked his shoulders. The road dust helped him blend in better, a bit better.   He looked to the others, then at the closest house, not the most expensive looking, nor the most rickety. It had an open window at the ground floor level. A bush near the window, (probably an aromatic herb that had been tended carefully and then allowed to grow untrimmed recently), might provide sufficient cover from anyone inside the window and from anyone up in the guard tower. Then he looked back at Kavi again, then crouched down and crawled into the landscaping.   Hand, foot, hand, foot, measured breathing, stay low, practiced movements, listen but do not doubt, hand, foot, hand, foot.   And then he pressed himself against the wall, under the fragrant herb bush, under the darkened window. He cupped his hands to the wall, and pressed his ear to listen to the cup, and waited patiently a moment.
Stealth & Perception | 1d20+11, 1d20+10
25, 26
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Fri, Dec 29th 2023 02:06

I hear Kavi whisper “No trolls, but coyotes. Five or six. Let’s wait for Lia and Tamas to find out what they saw. While we wait, spread out but keep your wits about you. Look for anything off. These coyotes wouldn’t just wander in without reason.” Nahbi takes that as an invitation and silently glides to a nearby window to listen. The priestess mutters quietly about no smoke from the chimneys and both Kavi and I nod in acknowledgement of her observation. Kavi has indeed picked a worthwhile match. Then she moves to watch behind us, so I take the center of the group and watch right and left leaving Kavi to watch forward while we wait for Lia and Tamas to return.   I stand silent and still and strive to listen to the Spirit Winds and what they might have to share about what has transpired or what might be in front of us. Deep and quiet breathing to center myself in the moment and to still the worries of what Lia or Tamas might have encountered while away from the group. I turn my head slowly so as to not draw any enemy eyes to the movement while still keeping an eye to the left and right.
Sun, Jan 7th 2024 02:39

The breeze plays among the silent houses, running through open windows to skip between shadows. A bit of dust dances along the main road, picked up and twirled around before left on its own in the grass.
 
Behind the group, watch back the way they came, the priestess watches for anything unusual. Motion, sound, or more with her bow ready. Nothing appears, at least for the first moment. Then her sharp eyes see the a section of the grass move in the wrong direction against the waves blown by the wind. Something stalking… no… several somethings. At least five keeping low and far back. Chaliimriia recognized the sign of being stalked. They were low enough to stay out of sight, they had to be either short, or crawling along the ground.
 
At the house in his fragrant hiding place, Nahbi hears little from inside the house. Leaves, possibly blow in by the wind rustle mutely though a room. But didn’t trolls have some leaves on them? They were moss, and certainly had claw-like wood on fingers, teeth and other more unpleasant places. Beyond sound, Nahbi could smell the day-old smell of stale bread. As if it had been left out to cool from the oven, then forgotten.
 
In the center of the group, Sulini stills her mind to listen to the Spirit Winds and what they might have to say. Sight and sensation fade away as the Winds whisper a sad tale. Scents, sounds, and whispers of the wind confirm Kavi’s worry about coyotes. But the Winds whisper more to you.
 
Coyotes moving in small bands, not a single pack. Tracks of the scavengers moving alongside, if not herding trolls on a nighttime raid. What Kavi notices certainly indicates that. But then there is the image of a golden amulet floating in your mind, brought to you from Spirit Wind. A golden figure of the coyote.
 
“One for each and each for one,” the Wind whispers. “For their master, on silent feet they bring them. Around their necks they are placed and for the others… to the trolls they try to feed them…”
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
So, it doesn't seem that this place really is all that quiet! How does everyone want to handle this?
 
 
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Jan 8th 2024 10:02

I listen intently as the Spirit Winds whisper of a golden figure of the coyote amulet. “One for each and each for one,” the Wind whispers. “For their master, on silent feet they bring them. Around their necks they are placed and for the others… to the trolls they try to feed them…”   I feel like there is more being said than I can truly grasp, but I know I need to share this information quickly with those close to me before the attack comes - and it is coming quickly!   I hurriedly tell the others of what the Spirit Wind said as well as my interpretation. "I truly feel that there is a mastermind behind the actions of the coyotes and what happened to this town. But first, we have to deal with the incoming attack. There are several bands of coyotes around us, and they are herding the trolls to somewhere. Sadly, we are in the way. Get ready!"   I pull my armor and Warhammer from air and they quickly slot into position as I shift my stance to brace against the oncoming attack.
Nahbi leaned out from behind the herb bush, where Kavi hopefully could see him fairly clearly. Nahbi held an imaginary big round loaf of something in his hand, smelled it, tore it in half, and took a bite of one invisible piece. Then he widened his eyes in surprise. Then he swung his fists and elbows in little circles.   Then he held one forearm out horizontal and moved his other rounded hand rising from the palm and setting in the elbow. Then he held up one finger.   He glanced up at the empty window above him then looked back at Kavi to see if he had his attention.   Finally, Nahbi patted one palm on his chest, followed by a finger hopping toward Kavi. The other palm he waved at Kavi and the others followed by a finger hopping back to Nahbi and to the open window.   He ended the charade with a quizzical look to Kavi and waited for a reply.
Mon, Jan 15th 2024 01:15

Strictly speaking, there was no requirement for environmental changes in the pathway between houses.
An aftertaste of heated tin arose in an invisible cloud around the elf, flavoring the midsummer air. It was no more mandatory a portent of imminent violence than the way each strand of her hair, the glossy white of coldwater agate, drifted upward to float in the air around her. The electrically charged hair formed a spiny half-circle halo behind and beside her; the ozone taste in the air billowed outward like an intangible cloak.
 
Most of all, the sharply intoned words of benediction were not a necessary component of the divine summons.
 
"Dumoasen dal l'Talya nizzik dosst kampi'unin!" Chaliimriia snapped, as crisply as the twang of a loosed arrow.
Red lightning sparked from the holy symbol in her left hand. It arced directly toward the approaching disturbance right of center.
 
With her right hand, Chaliimriia drew the bowstring taut: if one among the central three targets were to hop upward and forward in their efforts to escape the blessing, she intended to hit them with a much more corporeal objection.
Sat, Jan 20th 2024 11:19   Edited on Sun, Jan 21st 2024 12:49

Kavi managed half a silent reply to Nahbi. A few words of sign language at best, telling him to sneak inside a house for a closer look, before life took a sharp turn.
 
The wind picked up with sharp burst. Sulini whispered her warning a second before she summoned both Warhammer and armor. The glimmer of power, and the Kimeta’s warning, was more than enough of an alarm to the group’s leader.
 
Then the heavens split with god-touched fury.
 
Behind the group, Chaliimriira called on the goddess, and the Great Huntress respectfully replied. Angry, blood red lightning leaped from the elf’s holy symbol and stabbed out into the stretch of grass behind the heroes.
 
Holy lightning arced once, twice, a third time. Canine-like shrieks flooded the air. The tall grass rippled as two sleek figures, crouched low and raced out in either direction around the group. One raced left, the other right, both obviously intent to flank the newcomers.
 
At the epicenter the spell, three coyote-shaped figures were outlined in smoke and power. The three yelled and shook. Two fell to the grass with a thud, but the third managed to keep it’s feet.
 
In fact the coyote crouched on its hind legs but only for a moment. But a moment was enough.
 
The beast’s eyes flashed a brilliant smoke-green. A glow no one could miss. It half-yipped, half-barked. The sound eerily almost approaching a word. Then the air came alive with power. After the spell was cast, the wounded coyote fell like a rock into the grass.
 
Everywhere around the group, nature woke up and chose violence.
 
Grass extended into vines, lashing out like whips at Kavi, Sulini, Chaliimriia, and even Nahbi. Though the latter had it worst, as he was ambushed by the herb with the vengeance of a over-spiced pepper. Branches swiped at Nahbi with a flurry of barbed leaves. A deadly blur of potent plant power intent to harm the young monk.
 
Meanwhile, as the grass lashed out to grab and clutch at Sulini, Kavi, and Challiimriia, larger clumps of weeds sprang to life. They grew to a terrifying size of nearly six feet in height. Thick, stout golems made of grass, each with a pair of two foot tall trolls riding on its back.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
Reflex saving throws for everybody and a post on how you’re avoiding … or not… the impending problem!
 
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Sun, Jan 21st 2024 02:37   Edited on Sun, Jan 21st 2024 02:38

I whisper as much warning as I can and I see the priestess take action immediately with a glorious lightning strike! And then, from out of the grass in front of use arise two grass golems around six feet in height and sporting a pair of two-foot-tall trolls. Who knew that trolls could be so little - but still not cute.   "Mogh!"   But that is a problem for the future. Right now, I have grass reaching out to whip, slash, and cut me as well as trying to pull my weapon from my hands. This Warhammer is not the best weapon at this moment, so I put it away quickly and pull out my two daggers to begin a defensive twirling in a deadly arc cutting anything that makes it within the reach of either dagger.
Mon, Jan 22nd 2024 02:42

Such ungracious behavior!
Chaliimriia stepped back hastily. Then the lashing grass-vines drove her a step to her left; another. The boiled leather of her boot sole clunked faintly against wood. She vaguely recalled an upended half-barrel lying in the dirt, a few of its staves missing such that it was obviously empty. Whether its intended fate had been to be repaired for future use as a harvest basket, or to scavenge the hoops, Chaliimriia hoped it would remain sturdy for fifteen minutes, because she stepped up onto its flat round head.
 
That would hopefully confound any grass that lashed at less than two feet above the good dirt.
Which was good, because she gently released the tension on her bowstring, and unnocked the arrow. She hastily returned the arrow to the quiver at her hip. Then she swapped the chain necklace and its sword-shaped pendant to her right hand. With the bow, she swatted away whatever grass-vines had gotten too close.
 
Chaliimriia chanted the Stern Renunciation of Tumult.
As she chanted, the hilt of her sword-shaped holy symbol flicked outward to east, to south, to west, to north; she dropped to a low crouch, leaning forward precariously to stab the point of the pendant into the ground. Almost as swiftly, she rose to stand again. Her left arm continued upward, rushing to pierce the air as high as she could reach on the tips of her toes.
Finally, the priestess brought the holy symbol down as she returned her posture to normal. (A "normal" balanced atop an overturned half-barrel, not the most stable, but her carriage would have the same slightly bent knees on solid ground or a mountain slope.) She pressed the flat of the silver blade to her chest, immediately below her collarbone, as she finished the last words of the chant.
Nahbi took his direction from Kavi, thankful that he had had the wisdom to leave his weapons and loose personal articles back with the others so that he could move nearly silently. But he did not have much time to complete his mission.   That lightning strike from an otherwise clear sky felt like one of those points where the plans get rewritten immediately. It caused a sound like barks of three coyotes learning a painful lesson. Then came the verdant eruption of what just absolutely had to be another two trolls like the two they had vanquished earlier. Yes, that was surely enough to rewrite the battle plans.   Nahbi prepared to spring back to the others and help defeat the noisome plant-like monsters.   That was when he was struck - with that feeling - that feeling like Brother Shia had suddenly decided it was time to practice sneak attack responses. Nahbi did not know what was swiping at him, but he knew it meant him to bleed. He reflexively slapped his chest to the ground, then attempted to roll away from whoever or whatever wanted him dead.
Reflex Save | 1d20+10
29
Kavi stepped back and to the left as the grass woke up on the bad side of the garden. Sword out, he swept the blade down to his left, then right. Sliced tendrils flew around him the grass could grab onto his legs.
 
Vines replaced grass and lashed out. Kavi swung again, stepping back but was a half-second too slow. One vine rapidly coiled around his sword arm, restricting his movement. Before he could swap hands, a second vine snagged his left, trapping it in a similar fashion.
 
He snarled and flexed. But the magic of the vines held against the ranger’s seasoned strength. A sound caught his ears from the tall grass, past the point where Chaliimriia had unleashed the blessing of the Huntress against the coyote pack.
 
In the distance, grass whipped and moved as if something was approaching. Over it, he thought he saw a raven. Kavi would have said more but he was immediately distracted as one of the Grass Golems charged at him with its smaller troll riders.
Sat, Feb 17th 2024 07:51   Edited on Sun, Feb 18th 2024 05:41

The nearest Grass Golem rushed Kavi with astounding speed, covering a few yards in seconds. With his arms trapped by coils of vines, he couldn’t defend himself with his sword. But that wasn’t his only option.
 
Before the golem reached him with it’s pair of troll riders, Kavi dropped to a crouch at the last moment. Unable to stop, the golem charged forward until it’s grassy knees collided with the ranger’s thick shoulders. On impact, Kavi shoved up.
 
The Golem sailed over his head to crash into the dirt road behind him. Tiny troll riders were pitched sideways, one to his right and the other to his left right in front of Sulini, who was ready with her hammer.
 
Sulini, for that matter, had been ready with her daggers. Moving like a bladed whirlwind, she cut down and across. Weedy vines fall away in chunks, littering the ground around Sulini like a summoning circle for a bladed dervish.
 
Once she came a stop, the errant tiny troll crashed to the ground in front of her. It gave a gargled snort then bared woody fangs at her. More accurately, at her kneecaps.
 
Close by, Challiimriia finished casting her spell from on top of the upended half-barrel. A bright red-gold shaft of light flashed down from above, then exploded outward in all directions. The magical wave passed over anything and everyone within 10 feet of the priestess, such as all of Sulini and Kavi’s left arm.
 
The tiny troll of terror that had hissed at Sulini, screamed then waved its tiny murder arms around its head. Almost as if it swatted at invisible bees. With another shriek in its wake the magic shoved the minuscule monster out of the circle past Sulini. At the same time, the vine that had trapped Kavi’s left arm shuddered then instantly shriveled. The mummified plant crumbled away to the ground.
 
Closer to Chaliimriia, the second Grass Golem along with its drooling tiny troll riders slammed into the protection magic like a runaway wagon. All three hit face first, then were thrown back to the ground. The tiny trolls recovered first, both a bundle of bloody bestial rage. They raced forward again, until the magic stopped them, leaving them to claw at the glowing barrier in the air. Meanwhile, the Grass Golem they had been riding slowly lumbered to its feet, like a bugbear recovering from a night out at the tavern.
 
At the nearest house, Nahbi suffered his own thorny dilemma. Rosemary branches with sharp leaves whipped and slapped at the monk. But, true to form, Nahbi dropped to the ground in a blur, avoiding the more painful slices. Only the first few left a stinging reminder of their bloody intent.
 
Nahbi quickly rolled to his right, away from the house and bush. The last two whips from branches slapped dust and ground in his wake. Before he could stand, the Rosemary Bush yanks itself out by the roots. Standing on two crow-like claws, the bestial bush shook itself while it grew two long thorn-covered vines.
 
From the tall grass, the two remaining coyotes rush in, snarling. One leaps to attack Sulini, the other Kavi. The first misjudges the leap, so a sharp bite misses. But the coyote’s stubby claws rake long gashes along Sulini’s thigh between the lamellar horn plates. The beast hits the ground and circles past Sulini, obviously able to cross Chaliimriia barrier but suffering some effect as it’s shaking while it did so.
 
Kavi manages to deflect the coyote attacking him, batting it aside with his free hand. It yelps, failing through the air before it hits the ground with a thud. It jumps to its feet, snarling.
 
Just then, in the distance from the direction Lia had taken, Derf soars through the air in your direction. A distant screaming accompanies him like a dramatic herald, along with two young human children, a boy and a girl in dirt-stained, tattered clothes.
 
The trio are racing toward the group in a panic. Derf is announcing something but sadly no one but Lia speaks ‘Panic-Striken Raven’ much less ‘Raven’.
 
In their wake, coming from the direction of the town four more coyotes are racing right for Derf and the children.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
Whew! Well, that was fun!
 
Ok! So… Nahbi! This is a Killer Rosemary Bush that is all stepping into your zone. Attack of opportunity there if you’re interested!
 
Sulini! You also get an attack of opportunity on the Tiny Troll of Terror as it tumbles by if you want to take it! Sadly, you also have taken 2 points of damage.
 
Kavi is very keen to get his right side free of the vine.
 
Other than that, how do ya’ll want to handle this? There’s screaming people incoming with a babbling Derf! More coyotes and some REALLY frustrated golems and trolls who are apparently blocked by Chaliimriia’s spell!
 
Act fast!
 
Nahbi quickly rolled to his right, away from the house and the bush. The last two whips from branches slapped dust and ground in his wake.   Before he could stand, something stepped toward him on two crow-like clawed feet. He had no doubt it was something that wanted him dead. He spun his whole body, winding up a heel kick, hoping to break both of those legs to give him time to kip himself up into a running stance at his first opportunity.   Then he saw the crow legs belonged to the Rosemary Bush, having yanked itself out by the roots and also grown two long thorn-covered vines. This was a very unusual day.
Unarmed kick Attack of Opportunity on the Bush | 1d20+7, 1d8+2
17, 6
Mon, Feb 19th 2024 12:20

Nahbi spun sharp and smart, with a hard heel kick at the crow-legs of the bush. Heedless of the danger, the Rosemary Bush trundled forward, thorn whips at the ready. Nahbi’s kick was true, hitting the spindly branch legs.
 
There was a sharp crack but true to new growth, the legs didn’t break; they snapped and splintered. New legs dangling like bow-legged boat oars, the bestial bush instead tumbled on its side like a lethal tumbleweed. It swerved off around Nahbi, intent as a violent bush could be at trying to flank the monk.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
Next up, Sulini! Are you taking that attack of opportunity?
 
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Feb 19th 2024 01:22

The tiny troll of terror that had hissed at me, screamed then waved its tiny murder arms around its head almost as if it swatted at invisible bees. I am really beginning to like that priestess. She has a delicate sense of the correct response to take as the situation changes and is fluid like the wind in adapting. Kavi has made a good choice in her.   With another shriek in its wake the magic shoved the minuscule monster out of the circle past me, but before it gets out of range, I summon my trusty Warhammer and bash the little monster helping it to feel the full degree of frustration that its appearance has caused me and my family.   I then stand and take the few moments afforded by the barrier and look closely at the moss monsters and tiny trolls looking for any weaknesses that can be exploited - quickly or not.
Mon, Feb 19th 2024 01:43

Sulini took a step back, mindful of the wound on her leg from the coyote, and extended a hand into the air. Magic exploded to life as her warhammer materialized into being. With a swift motion, she swung down at the tiny troll.
 
The miniature murder moss gargled then shrieked for only a second before Sulini’s hammer fell like a mountain on an overripe avocado. Green ichor spurted out in all directions as the combination of the hammer combined with the priestess’ spell was more than the fetid fiend could handle.
 
While she let the rest of the tiny troll drip away off the head of her hammer, Sulini frowned at the motley collection past the magical barrier.
 
Her innate talent at finding flaws and weaknesses picked apart what she saw. None of the creatures wore armor, simply because their ‘armor’ was natural. Trolls, being moss, have a vulnerability to heat, fire or even extreme cold. Grass? Much the same.
 
But the Grass Golems looked to hold an additional defense. They were magically woven into their form. A hammer? They would simply bend with the blow. It would take a blade to cut them down to size. Especially at the joints where the ‘weave’ was weakest.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
That’s all the Attacks of Opportunity! Now, how do you all want to handle this?
 
Thu, Mar 28th 2024 12:18

The two coyotes nearest Kavi and the group circle around. Each charge in and run into Chaliimriia’s spell. But as the holy magic is only partially effective, they power their way through the barrier.
 
One charges Kavi, the other Sulini. The first manages a bit on Kavi’s leg, punching through the thick hide to leave an ugly bite. At the same time, the second coyote snapped a bite at Sulini. A quick one that just scratched skin.
 
Beyond the spell, the surviving tiny trolls tried to follow the coyotes’ example, but didn’t succeed. The murderous moss clawed and scratched at the magic field while it continued to shove the small monsters away from the group.
 
Or at least most of the group.
 
Kavi, unlike Sulini and Chaliimriia was still caught by vines wrapped around his arms. The spell reached only to cover half his body. His right side was unprotected and vulnerable to the trolls, if they notice.
 
Closer to town, the Rosemary Bush rolled a few feet away from Nahbi. It paused, then raced right at the monk. A quick bounce before it hurled itself at the monk’s head. But if a bush could miscalculate, this one did. The Rosemary Bush sailed just past Nahbi’s right side to slam against the wall of the house in a crash of leaves and dry twigs.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
That’s 6 points of damage for Kavi!
 
That’s 2 points of damage for Sulini!
 
Next up, Chaliimriia!
 
Thu, Mar 28th 2024 09:47

Chaliimriia continued to pray as she grabbed an arrow from her quiver.
Her voice remained at conversational volume. The last beat of the Stern Renunciation of Tumult chant led without missing a step into The Rogation of Sá Becoming Thraumr, from The Codices of Mayboia Passage. That prayer, half myth-recitation and half warning list for Signs of Hidden Sinkhole, contained no relevance to a deadly fight with plant monsters. It came to her lips only because it was the first ritual that she had ever worked to learn exactly right: every syllable adjusted just so to carry in the space where it was spoken, duration and volume and note and pronunciation, her thousandth recital should be indistinguishable in the ears of the listener to the ten thousandth recital by her tutor's tutor. It was the first work she had ever laboured to learn so that her performance would be exactly right.
 
She needed her next four actions to be exactly right.
 
(Had not the Kimeta told us something about necks?)
(Dog-shaped creatures might have collars around their necks.)
(Concealed under matted fur, perhaps.)
(I am not an accomplished enough archer to make such a shot from this angle.)
(Perhaps if I aim just barely inside the shoulder. I have no chance of the throat, the muzzle is in the way. I may strike the chest. On an upward bound, I may strike the bottom edge of a hidden collar, or if it is not there, the lumpy top edge of the sternum. If not, still my arrow may lodge in the shoulder joint, or foul the elbow, so that the creature may trip.)
 
She fired at the lead of the four newly-sighted coyotes, the ones pursuing children. If it stumbled, if it fell, it might delay those beside or behind it.
 
Automatically she drew the next arrow from her quiver. At the edge of her view, rather more red appeared on Kavi's green skin than she expected.
Sun, Mar 31st 2024 10:18

The arrow slammed into the shoulder of lead coyote an instant before the beast had time to react. Impact and pain jarred the creature, in mid-step causing it to trip and fall muzzle first into the grass and dirt with a yelp. The other coyotes running with it came to a quick stop and surrounded the leader defensively. They glanced between the running children, Derf, and their wounded leader.
 
Suddenly, the coyote to the far right of that group yelped in a mix of surprise and pain as it half-leaped to the side. Where the coyote had been, a kobold in a saffron-brown monk’s robes who had just completed a flurry of punches, leaped over the remaining coyotes in the direction of the children.
 
In a burst of blinding speed, the kobold raced through the grass, out-pacing the stunned coyote pack in seconds. Head down, eyes fixed, he seemed determined to catch up to Derf and the children.
 
Soaring through the air, Derf was anything but the picture of grace. Instead, he was closer to a manic drawing of anxiety painted over with a splash of feathered panic.
 
He shrieked and screeched at the group ahead, obviously recognizing Kavi, Chaliimriia, Sulini and Nahbi.
  “SHRIEK! SqwakSqwakSqwakSqwakSqwakSqwakSqwakSqwakSqwakSqwakSqwakSqwak!”
(* Translated from Raven) OY! BY THE GODDESS AND HER HOLY BUTT FEATHERS WE FOUND SOMETHING UGLY! IT’S LIKE BIG AND GRUMPY WITH MORE GRIPPY CLAWS THAN MY LAST LADYBIRD DATE! IT’S. GONNA. EAT. ME!
 
With a flurry of flapping, he shot forward like he had been launched from a crossbow. Derf angled in, turned once, twice then careened into Sulini’s side where he gripped her with a birdie boobie hug while babbling in rapid squawking.
  “Shriek! Caw Caw CAW Caw Caw CAW Caw Caw CAW!”
(* Translated from Raven) GODDESS’ TOUCHY TALONS! ARMOR! BIG, NICE, FRIENDLY WALL OF MUSCLE AND ARMOR! LIA’S BACK THERE! YOU GOTTA SAVE HER! IT’LL EAT HER, THEN BE COMING FOR ME! … and it’ll get those kids too… that would be bad…
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
Next up is Nahbi and Sulini!
 
How do ya’ll want to handle this?
 
Thu, Apr 4th 2024 01:35   Edited on Thu, Apr 4th 2024 01:41

Ordinarily, Nahbi was not one to move against the orders of his Kwi’Sakdi leader, nor to run from a fight (even if the tales of his defeating an ill-tempered Rosemary bush would certainly raise more eyebrows than it would raise his honorable reputation). However, his gut told him that he would do better to relocate himself to protect his team and those human children running to them for protection.   "Ki!" he shouted from deep within. He sprinted toward Kavi, Sulini, and their new teammate Chaliimriia, all beset by enemies. He knew the foolishness of retreating from hand-to-hand combat, particularly against a wild creature, but hoped his burst of speed and the suddenness of his departure would protect him from any final parting swipes from the beast.   Approaching the team's battle, Nahbi shouted so that they all (particularly the Elven priestess) would not take him for another adversary approaching, "Kavi, mpohdo me!" as he crouched down to pick up the sword he had neatly left on the ground earlier and leapt upwards.   That particular tactical stunt usually required assistance from the other person, but when that other person was an Orc, a Medusa leaping onto his back and jumping off over a mess of coyotes and miniature trolls, well, it hardly required a shrug from Kavi.   Nahbi tried to apologize to Kavi and ask permission to proceed with his plan which he had assumed would be looked upon favorably by the team leader considering how he had long ago communicated his values and principles so that there would be no misunderstandings should the team be separated with little to no communication between the members when GROUND!   Nahbi tucked and rolled and was up running again toward the approaching children without a single syllable of his apology getting out of his mouth.   He made an assumption what language the children might speak and shouted to them, as close to a friendly tone as he could manage, "Seek the Elven Princess for safety!" pointing behind him with one thumb. Then he leapt over their heads, (not as difficult as practice had been at the Singing Sting Temple against full-grown adults), and tucked and rolled again, coming up into a run for only a few more steps, hoping the children would not have to decide if they thought him friend or foe, because he was then on the same side of them as the coyotes.   He stopped and planted both feet in the Earth Grounding Stance, aiming one empty hand at the coyote pack, and flourishing his sword. He tried to aim the flat of the sword at them in a way that would reflect the sun into their eyes, an ancient dirty trick. He did not know if he could make use of the sun's angle at this time.   Then he noticed the kobold running toward him and the children. Now it was his turn to decide if he thought this a friend or foe. He thought back to more training at the Singing Sting Temple regarding the uniforms of monks of nearby orders. For the moment, he thought the best introduction would be simply defending against the coyotes using The Way of The Scorpion.   Suddenly, "Priestess!" he blurted out. That was the word in Minosh, the common trade language, he should have said to the children.
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Apr 8th 2024 05:25

The second coyote that managed to push through the barrier snapped a bite at me, a quick one that just scratched my skin. I shrug that off for now but know that I will feel it later. That makes two attacks on my legs from coyotes. I make a mental note to clean that and bandage it later as I don't want to be slowed down at a critical time later if I got an infection. I draw deeply on that frustration and decide that blunt force trauma from my war hammer will be the most satisfying as I imagine pulverizing the coyote.   There are many different actions that are in process all around me, but I do my best to focus on the here and now and what is directly in front of me. It feels as though time slows to molasses and I can see the fur on the coyote moving as a light breeze dances across its hide, the unique color of its eyes, the amulet around its neck. I remember what the spirit winds shared with me and wonder if this poor soul is the victim or not. Regardless, it is about to feel the frustration that this day continues to bring to me and mine.
Wed, May 1st 2024 10:58

In a blur of motion, Nahbi dashed away from the rabid Rosemary toward the children in peril. A whip of wind told him he narrowly missed thorns raking his back like a haphazard Zen garden. One dash, leap, and vault later with an assist from Kavi, Nahbi reached the children. He shouted instructions to them, then kept moving forward.
 
The children raced off toward Chaliimriia while Nabhi planted his feet before he faced the coyote pack. With a flourish, he caught the light of the sun off the flat of his blade. A sharp flash glinted against the metal, followed by frustrated growls and whimpers from the coyotes. The pack splits, running to Nahbi’s right and left, away from both the monk and the blinding light.
 
Not far back, closer to Kavi and Chaliimriia, Sulini spins her warhammer in a quick arc. Drawing down the power, she wills it to life through her hammer. Crackles of frost-lightning dance over its surface as she turns on the coyote. A mysterious wind stirs Sulini’s hair, while a light trail of powdered snow follows in her hammer’s wake.
 
The coyote tries to dodge aside, but fatigue, combat, and the effect of Chaliimriia’s spell fouled the beast’s attempt. Sulini hammers the coyote to the ground as if it was a runaway nail. It barely let out a snarl or even a cry of pain as the impact of the hammer and the frost effect took effect. The beast lay crumpled on the ground, unmoving, encased in a layer of deadly frost.
 
No sooner was the beast overwhelmed, it looked blurry, almost indistinct. One moment, it was a coyote, in the next it was an orc dressed in farmer’s clothing, quite dead from blunt force trauma and frost magic. A bent, but still golden amulet dangled around the dead body’s neck.
 
At the same moment, the grass golems collapsed in a heap. Alarmed, the mini-trolls raced for the safety of the town.
 
Still clutching Sulini, Derf peeked out from over her shoulder to gaze down at the dead villager.
  “Caw Caw, cawcaw caw caw caw cawcawcaw caw…”
(* Translated from Raven) Oy, unless I’d be drinkin’ a rum and loco weed milkshake… them doggie boys are cursed were-folk…
 
He patted Sulini armored shoulder with a wing. Not that she could really feel it.
  “Caw coocaw caw!”
(* Translated from Raven) Good hittin’ slugger!
 
Meanwhile, the children raced across the battlefield for Chaliimriia. With an agility known only to terrified children, they darted, dodged and weaved around the grass golems with a skill that would make a master monk proud. They clutched at the priestess’ clothing the second they arrived.
 
“Princess!” the boy, but was cut short by the girl.
 
“No, the monk man said ‘priestess’!” the girl snapped.
 
“Princess!” the boy objected.
 
Collectively, they looked at Chaliimriia with a pleading look.
 
“Princess Priestess! Please help! They’re taking the adults! Turning them into creatures! The plants are hurting everyone!”
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
Roll for Initiative!
 
Thu, May 23rd 2024 06:33

The instant Sulini hammered the were-coyote into the dirt, both the tiny trolls beat clawed feet for the safety of the town. Both of the minuscule murder moss charge down the path and past the predatory Rosemary Bush. The bush didn’t seem in the least concerned by the troll retreat. Instead, it brushed the dry ground in Nahbi’s direction, almost like the plant studied the monk’s retreat.
 
Without a rustle, the Rosemary Bush scaled the side of the house by root and branch before it shimmied out of sight past the edge of the roof’s gable. A hint of a few leaves lingered at the top, as if it peeked over at the group. Lurking. Waiting. Scheming. As only a possessed Rosemary Bush can.
 
Meanwhile, out in the grassland, the kobold monk came to an abrupt stop the instant Nahbi struck an Earth Grounding Stance. The kobold stood rock still while sunlight kissed Nahbi’s temple sword which became a bright flash into the coyote pack’s collective eyes.
 
Without a word, the kobold gave Nahbi a quick nod, then shot up into the air in a blur of motion. He sailed back, then landed between two coyote like a scaled projectile shot out of a catapult. Grass, dirt and two wide-eyed coyotes were blasted to the left and right when the kobold landed.
 
Quick as a wink, the kobold completed his movement with the opening to the Sky Wing Crane kata to the coyote on the right. To almost all observers, it simply looked as if the kobold jumped, landed, then smacked the common sense out of a coyote with the back of hand.
 
But to Nahbi it was so much more. It was the start of a conversation.
 
Using an ancient art of conversation known only to monks, the kobold ‘spoke’ using the martial movements in a type of sign language.
  A kobold runs fast to warn a medusa that an orc lady fights a troll and not-coyotes on her own, the kobold said with kata. A kobold helps as not-coyotes are deadly but stupid. Give coyote a bad name.  
  Storyteller Instructions  
Next up is Nahbi! After that comes Kavi and the Coyotes ( provided they are still moving! )
 
How do ya’ll want to handle this?
 
Nahbi thought back to his days of training in the Singing Sting Temple trying to remember what he had heard of the practitioners of the Sky Wing Crane kata and which monastic temple was most well known to teach it. He thought it very interesting that an apparently lone kobold from that school should be here... and now.   Wordlessly, Nahbi introduced himself, which is to say, he lunged at the largest coyote to his right, hoping it to be the pack leader. While his sword stayed harmlessly held elevated above his head, he struck out with his free hand toward a nerve cluster in the coyote's back in the classic Scorpion Sting attack, as famously taught at the Singing Sting Temple.   He followed up with a step back and performed an eyes-closed parry known as, "Seeking the Direction", similar to Crane style, followed by the first half of an attack called, "Orc's Heavy Fist", and the last half of, "Noble Lady's Defense". Individually they only could be seen as attempts to frighten the animals away, but put together they might raise the question, "Which way is the Orc lady?"
Scorpion Style Attack and Damage if hit, plus Snake Hair attack & damage | 1d20+7, 1d8+2, 1d20+7, 1d4
16, 6, 15, 1
Mon, Jun 10th 2024 09:58

At the edge of Chaliimriia’s spell, Kavi strained against the remaining vines wrapped around his arm. When the last of the grass golem ceased to move, Kavi pulled once more. Vines snapped in a series of wet, almost staccato sounds while he broke free. It was not a second too soon, as the enraged coyote beside him lunged all jaws and teeth for Kavi’s vulnerable arm.
 
Instead of an arm, it met the steel pommel of Kavi’s dagger.
 
Kavi yanked the dagger from it’s scabbard in time to slam a wicked uppercut across the coyote’s jawline. The beast yelped in surprise and pain, body twisted in mid-air. It collided with Kavi but then hit the ground in an undignified heap of fur, pain, and confused fury. It staggered to its feet then made a drunken stumble-like run for the town. A full retreat, if it had been able to run in a straight line.
 
Meanwhile, in the long grass where the small coyote pack faced the Nahbi and the kobold. The first coyote nearest Nahbi fell like a sack of old potatoes from the Scorpion Sting strike. It barely had time to whimper, muzzle half-pulled back in a snarl. But it’s eyes shone bright rage at the monk.
 
Nearby, two coyotes tried to attack the kobold monk from either side. One lunged forward, while the other leaped. The kobold monk’s eyes seemed to be on Nahbi, but the reactions showed he was well aware of the clear and present danger.
 
The kobold slapped two hands to his chest, then crouched low with both arms held out to either side. It was the classic Crane “Spotting the fish” move. A half-second later, once the first coyote leaped overhead, missing its scaly target, the kobold leaped up and over the second coyote.
 
He vaulted the canine like a furry balance beam, only to land using the rare “Flight of Feathers” defense. This is followed up with a sharp, open-handed slap on the coyote’s backside using the “Crane Slaps Sense Into Weasel”. The coyote shrieked in surprise at the pain to its posterior and dignity.
 
Abruptly, the kobold monk finished with a sharp backhand of Crane’s “Wings of Steel”, a famous move known for both offense and defense. In this case, it was the latter. Last was a hip twist that caused the coyote to trip over its own feet. The simple, but always effective, “Crane Trips the Weasel With a Vine”
 
Impressive to any onlooker, it was a fluid, if not graceful defense against being attacked, designed to knock an opponent off balance and disorient them.
 
But, when put together, it could only be interpreted by another monk as a reply to the conversation…
 
A kobold saw an Orc Lady by brush and vine. The kobold monk drew in both hands then slapped out to his right with a sharp Crane ‘wing slap’ that popped the air. Between shelters. That way.
 
The kobold monk punctuated the reply with a sharp, short nod.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
Next up is Sulini!
 
Nahbi looked back at the team, (particularly Sulini's hammer), and appraised that they had little need for more self-defense nor monastic philosophy. And the children appeared to now be safe in their protective care.   Nahbi again waved his arms and legs, although no opponents were nearby, as if trying to frighten the now-injured animals away. He started with the stiff and upright posture of "The Impressive Clergyman", followed by a spinning strike to a nonexistent opponent behind him with stiff hips and back as one only does when fighting back to back with a trusted ally. He followed that with the entire "Noble Lady's Defense".   The kobold monk did not seem to disagree, so Nahbi shouted to Kavi, (his team leader who had veto authority), "He's impressive. We're teaming up to rescue the Orc lady over there!"
Wed, Jun 12th 2024 05:11   Edited on Wed, Jun 12th 2024 05:12

Kavi raised his eyebrows at Nahbi’s comment, if not ‘translation’ of the past few seconds between the two monks. The ranger blinked twice, then chanced a quick glance at Chaliimriia and Sulini over the entire concept of what seemed to be ‘monk speak’?
 
As if he sensed the confusion, the kobold monk clenched his fists then crossed his arms to his chest in a sharp, quick motion. At the same time, he stamped his right foot as if he just scraped down an opponent’s shin before stomping on their instep.
 
Clearly, to any monk, this was “Iron Crane Stomps the Root”. Which the kobold followed with another backhand to empty air of Crane’s “Wings of Steel”. This he ended with another nod of punctuation.
 
An obvious, again to any monk, simple comment of, a kobold will go!
 
Kavi blew out a sigh.
 
“Right. Go,” he told Nahbi with a tired wave.
 
 
More In-character monk speak conversation! Which means, Nahbi, at the end of the turn, you won’t make it far, as Lia will arrive on scene with her new friend at the same time you’re about to go rescue her!
 
Still, Next up is Sulini!
 
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Jun 24th 2024 01:57

The tiny trolls beat clawed feet for the safety of the town and both of the minuscule murder moss charge down the path and past the predatory Rosemary Bush as I can only stare. I notice Derf is back and wonder if Lia is okay. The bird keeps cawing at me, and I again wish that I could understand. What if Lia is in trouble? Then I look at the ground at my feet to see an orc dressed in farmer’s clothing, quite dead from blunt force trauma and frost magic. A bent, but still golden amulet dangled around the dead body’s neck. That was just the coyote that was attacking me - I know it was. There was no humanoid in the battle. I really want to pick up that amulet and study it, but I know that would be a stupid move. I glance behind me again to see that the Rosemary bush has clambered to the rooftop and is peering over the edge.   Why would they take this minor setback and beat a retreat? I can only think of two reasons. One is that we have taken out the heavy hitters and they prefer to run away so they can fight another day. Two, they sense the approach of something bigger and more deadly that might not pay attention to who is on which side.   I take a moment to sense the Spirit Winds to help me sense the necklace and if there is any more danger to come from it - or from another direction entirely.
Mon, Jul 8th 2024 12:27   Edited on Mon, Jul 8th 2024 12:28

Sulini reaches out to the wind with her heart and spirit. Softly, she whispers a question to the Spirit Wind about the gold and bent amulet on the farmer’s neck.
 
The wind said no words, not even a whisper back. Instead, Sulini felt a cold chill run along her spine. Breathing was hard, as if she was bound or trapped. Darkness tinted the edge of her vision, framing it with a blackness deeper than the void. Then a putrid, sharp metallic scent of corrupt, rotten fruit or even meat attacked her nose.
 
Another second later, it was gone as quickly as it all came.
 
 
Last, but not least, is Chaliimriia … and the two children who will eagerly follow what the Princess Priestess says!
 
Wed, Jul 10th 2024 12:00

Into one of the traditionally silent beats of The Rogation, Chaliimriia inserted short instruction phrases in Common. "Go there." With the tip of the longbow in her left hand, she pointed at the dirt near Nahbi's shoulder pack. "Touch naught. Crouch down," her bow moved downward slightly in pantomime, "like a frog. Ready to leap into a run; ready to roll away from frights."
 
At the end of the next passage, Chaliimriia again called forth the Huntress' Blessing: "Dumo dosst quorteken!" She pointed with her holy symbol toward the fleeing quartet of three mini-trolls and one were-coyote. In fact, her aim focused on a spot one foot ahead of whichever opponent is in the lead.
This time, she expected a sudden blast of sound to create a disruptive cacophony through the ten foot radius centered there, as if intangible musicians
  • blew two dungchen,
  • brought the drumstick down on a double-headed drum,
  • shook a cymbal,
  • played an opening scale on the hammered dulcimer,
  • blew an arpeggio on a flute,
  • and rang a gong,
all at once.
 
Resuming her quiet recitation of The Rogation to help her track time, Chaliimriia then stepped off the half-barrel. She moved toward Sulini and Kavi, bringing her Magic Circle with her.
Sun, Jul 28th 2024 04:42   Edited on Sun, Jul 28th 2024 04:43

The children nodded then raced for the suggested safety of the satchel. Two seconds after their departure, a burst of light with light snowfall exploded into being in front of Chaliimriia’s holy symbol. Sound and air bent around the spell. It was a chorus of notes and sound as if a mountain orchestra accompanied by an army of dungchen was tuning up for a performance, or a war.
 
It shot away across the short space between the priestess and the murderous quartet of troll and coyote running for town. The magic arced up as if launched from massive catapult then punched the ground like a magical fist. The spell hammered down no more than a foot in front of the lead tiny troll. Magical sound exploded with the force of an intense aria sung to an angry goddess, who had about enough of the whole situation.
 
Troll and coyote learned to fly when they were tossed into the air like rag dolls. All four flew in different directions, but none in the direction they wanted to go. Each one hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, tossed aside by a frustrated merchant. The echo of a gong married with the light trill from an invisible flute finished the entire mystical holy piece.
 
Quietly, without any additional commentary, the priestess moved off the half-barrel to stand near Sulini and Kavi. Her magic circle settled around them all like a warm, purring hug. Immediately, the vines Kavi had nearly torn free of broke away to fall limp into the grass.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
Note: I have to credit some of this description as being inspired by Shinkyoku Sōkai Polyphonica. LOVE that animae show so much (I really need to read the light novels). Anyway!
 
So now! LAST INITIATIVE ROUND!
 
BUT! Before that, Lia can make a move here if she wants. There are a pack of 4 to 5 coyotes that are harassing the monks ( or are the monks harassing the coyotes? )
 
After Lia makes a move of any kind AND rolls her initiative… we’ll kick it off!
 
Wed, Jul 31st 2024 10:18   Edited on Wed, Jul 31st 2024 10:19

A Cacophony of sound rings out through the air as Lia and her new comrade in arms Okitu turn their jogs into sprints. "It must be bad...too many blessings". Lia then begins to hatch a plan with Okitu."Need to get above tall grass...need to see... what going on." They back and forth for a moment "and then you break through tall grass...surprise them. Falling back to give the Warrior Woman about a ten yard lead "Lia yells, "Now",hoping all goes to plan the mighty Orisnuc warrior will turn as Lia break into an all out sprint, cup her hands to launch Lia into the air, over the tall grass and then break through the tall grass herself to hopefully startle the threats to her Kwi'sakdi while they are still recovering from Chaliimriia's blessing. Lia's smiles a bit thinking,"They'll never see this coming.
Sun, Aug 4th 2024 06:49

Lia raced through the grass, bow out with arrow half drawn, right at Okitu. At the last moment, Okitu drops into a low crouch with her hands cupped in front of her. Lia stepped up, pushed down with her foot, then was lifted into the air.
 
The archer exploded up out of the grass and into the air. She turned with a quick half-spin like a dancer then snapped an arrow off at the coyotes. The arrow shot down in a blur. It caught the coyote nearest the kobold monk by surprise. Arrow hammered coyote, and the beast yelped in pain before it hit the ground hard, dead.
 
In seconds what was a coyote transformed into a human man in ragged, padded armor that hadn’t been cared for in some time.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
OK! One coyote down, four more to go… not counting the one that tried to run off with the tiny trolls toward town! ( say that three times fast! )
 
Roll for initiative!
 
Thu, Sep 5th 2024 05:20

The four coyotes near the monks turned toward Lia the instant their companion fell dead. One sniffed the air toward the dead body, then let out a low snarl. It gave a short yip to its companions, then led the charge. The small pack of four tore through the grass, one in the front with it’s three companions close behind in a V formation, teeth bared, eager to rip Lia apart.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
All right, Lia! You’re up! How do you want to handle this?
 
Lia rolls to her feet and stands. Her thumb and middle finger form a circle and press to her lips. A long high pitched shrill comes whistling from said lips as she turns her head back to the tall grass signaling to Okitu the Orisnuc warrior. Lia's hand then makes it's way to her quiver of arrows where she pulls one out and readys herself for the next wave of attacks.
Tue, Sep 17th 2024 06:37

Lia’s shrill whistle splits the air as sure as any bolt, blast, or arrow. The archer reaches for her quiver at the same instant that a large, muscular woman in battered armor, a sun kissed sword, and a bad attitude exploded up and forward to in front of Lia.
 
Okitu landed in a fighting crouch as the lead coyotes came in range. The swordswoman feinted, then lashed out at both the beasts. The second one leaped aside to safety, but the first met her blade head on. It fell dead faster at Okitu’s feet faster than it could yelp in pain.
 
Immediately, the body melted into the dead body of an orc farmer with a certain gold-like necklace of a coyote around his neck.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
All right, Sulini! You’re up! How do you want to handle this?
 
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Fri, Oct 4th 2024 11:15

Quietly, without any additional commentary, the priestess moved off the half-barrel to stand near Kavi and myself. Her magic circle settled around us like a warm, purring hug. Immediately, the vines Kavi had nearly torn free of broke away to fall limp into the grass. I felt my senses calm and the various wounds become nothing more than a mild remembrance - one which I am sure will come quickly back to the forefront once this battle is over.   I broaden my stance and settle my feet firmly into the earth. I heft my war hammer and try to release the dark imagery that the spirit winds had gifted to me. "The wind said no words, not even a whisper back. Instead, Sulini felt a cold chill run along her spine. Breathing was hard, as if she was bound or trapped. Darkness tinted the edge of her vision, framing it with a blackness deeper than the void. Then a putrid, sharp metallic scent of corrupt, rotten fruit or even meat attacked her nose."   I look calmy around me and look for the nearest enemy - behind, beside, between, or in front - so that I can repay these wounds with death.
Wed, Oct 23rd 2024 04:56

Sulini takes a moment to gather her wits and breath. With care she pushed her anger down until she reshapes it into determination, touched by a gloss of revenge.
 
Looking around in all directions, there wasn’t a threat close by. At least, not one directly next to her. But there was nothing.
 
The only threat nearby, at least closest to Sulini, was the trio of mini Trolls and the one coyote that Chaliimriia had knocked off their feet with a spell. Even now, the mini-trolls and coyote are still staggered by the spell. All four struggle to their feet but are dazed, but won’t be for long.
Thu, Dec 26th 2024 06:20

The one last coyote and trio of the mini Trolls get to their feet as if on a drunken bender. They head for the town, with the coyote shoving the mini trolls aside before he breaks into a drunken run. All three trolls try and follow, but quickly fall behind the four-legged coyote.
 
  Storyteller Instructions  
All right, Chaliimriia! You’re up! How do you want to handle this?
 
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Sun, Jan 12th 2025 02:52

The one last coyote and trio of the mini Trolls get to their feet as if on a drunken bender. They head for the town, with the coyote shoving the mini trolls aside before he breaks into a drunken run. All three trolls try and follow but quickly fall behind the four-legged coyote. I know from the wind whispers that the coyotes are under the thrall of someone - or something else. I would prefer to not have to hurt them, but I won't hesitate to save the lives of anyone in the Kwi’Sakdi Company - even the priestess that isn't an official member.   I focus on the three mini-trolls, watching how they are arranged as they move towards the town. I focus on the flow of the wind as it whispers between them and begin to balance my energy with the energy embedded in the warhammer and swing it around my head and then do a bend to sweep the legs of the trolls using the weight and momentum of the hammer so that I can then smash them into oblivion once they are on the ground.
Mon, Jan 20th 2025 11:02

As The Rogation of Sá Becoming Thraumr approached the concluding refrain, Chaliimriia turned in place to focus her gaze upon the fleeing were-coyote. With the admonition to
Mumbaro naust!
the priestess added the necessary gesture: her fingers curled around the hilt of her holy symbol, holding it nearly horizontal, as her fist moved forward and down in the sharp traditional Samakarii Ranger's sign for "do not take another step, the snow crust is thin". She pushed power through her hand and her voice.
Mon, Jan 20th 2025 11:27   Edited on Mon, Jan 20th 2025 11:41

Sulini rushed forward, closing the small gap between her and the tiny trolls. A sweep knocks the three to the ground around Sulini in a rough semi-circle. As if she’s player the masterclass level of “Whack-a-Halfling”, Sulini drops her hammer on each tiny troll in turn. When finished, she turns her back on the new mulch divots in the dirt.
 
At the same moment, Chaliimriia concludes the refrain with a sharp-eyed mystic glance at the coyote. Her eyes flashed with the lightning of a thousand hailstorms while she makes the Samakarii Ranger sign in front of her with one fist. Somewhere, snow thunder rumbled in the distance as an answer, despite the bright daylight.
 
The coyote didn’t even manage a drunken step, barely even a lurch, as the magic took hold. A reddish-purple sheen of power flashed into view and wrapped the addled, malevolent beast in the ultimate leash.
 
Slowly, the coyote toppled over like a forgotten ice statue in the dirt.
 
Kavi, brushed off yet more of the broken vines with a perturbed look, then limped over to recover the magically paralyzed, dazed, if not mystically inebriated, coyote.
The two monks started toward the last known location of the Orc lady in what they thought of as a casual trot, what most people thought of as a fast run. But in a few steps they both stopped. Nahbi put out a calm steady hand, palm down, too late to signal a stop to his new companion.   They watched and counted as the small trolls and not-coyotes fell one by one.   With the danger mostly passed, Nahbi took a step toward Kavi and his interesting, furry, dazed new pet (or costume accessory). He gave the Kobold a wave which was from no kata but simply the universal symbol for "follow me". He added a gesture with one hand palm up and the other hand held just above it with thumb touching three fingers and the pinky held out straight. He twisted that hand up to his lips as if sipping from an imaginary teacup. His hope and plan was that a bit of tea might get the stranger to open up about his past and his future plans, perhaps all the strangers, not just him.   While walking, Nahbi thought back to his days of training in the Singing Sting Temple, trying to remember what he had heard of the practitioners of the Sky Wing Crane kata and which monastic temple was most well known to teach it, particularly emphasizing the "Wings of Steel" attack/defense. He thought it very interesting that an apparently lone kobold from that school should be here... and now.
Sun, Mar 2nd 2025 08:19

Not far from Nabhi and Crimes-In-Progress, Okitu powers through the grass at the last two coyotes nearby. A swift kick sent one flying off with a yelp, while two quick slashes with her sword sliced the other one open.
 
No sooner had Nahbi made the gesture, than the kobold monk replied with a gesture in kind. His was to pinch the air with one hand above the open palm of the other. Afterwards, he sprinkled the imaginary powder back down onto his open palm.
 
It was a sure sign the kobold suggested that he had tea to share. Sure enough, the kobold reached into a belt pouch to produce a small, white canvas bag that bulged with tea leaves. Nahbi could smell the faint aroma of lavender, hibiscus, and more in one delightful mix.
 
The scent roused a memory from the back of his mind. One he hadn’t thought about in years from when he was still an eager student first learning the Way. It was about the Sky Wing Temple, and why the little monk’s style seemed so familiar.
 
At the Singing Sting Temple, elder monks mentioned any number of other temples. Each one had a specific discipline, calling a different far-flung region of the lands home. In this case, Sky Wing Temple centered their fighting style around the Sky Wing Crane Kata in all its related forms.
 
But it was memories of the Howling Canyon Tournament that turned over the most information. Nahbi remembered his first time at the tournament, high in the mountains around the Howling Canyons. The tournament served as a meeting ground for the temples, where champions would test their skills against each other. But it was also a seasonal gathering for the temples to share knowledge, skills, and news from across the various lands.
 
The Sky Wing Temple were regular attendants. Besides their martial prowess, the Sky Wing monks studied the Way of Tea. A mysterious method of using tea to summon near-divine spell effects for healing and health. They were also practiced in tunneling and underground life.
 
Some say, at their temple, the monks maintained rich underground orchards. The monks studied all manner of threats to those gardens, from blight to trolls to even hellish curses that looked to possess plants. The latter often turning the stricken plant into a wandering twisted plant with a gleeful taste for blood and murder.
Nabhi was lost in thought a few moments, then he tried to put together a quick kata using well-known named maneuvers that would perhaps communicate, "cunning homicidal animated rosemary bush", but he suddenly encountered a bad case of marital artist's writer's block, and just nothing came to mind.   Realizing he had developed a resting frowning face, he quickly smiled at his new Kobold friend and gave the tea symbol again to show his approval.   Slowly regrouping with the others, Nabhi said just loud enough for his compatriots to hear, (and hopefully not to carry on the breeze to the town where that vindictive bush might be waiting), "Kavi, my new friend from the Sky Wing Temple has a recuperative tea to share. And he might be able to help me identify the aggressive plant I found at the edge of the town."
Sun, Apr 20th 2025 09:07

“A tea can help ease the aches, SnakeHair-man,” the kobold said with an all-too matter-of-fact tone. “Stitch the wounds, too. A kobold doesn’t like the town or the bushes. Think they ought to be trimmed.” He sighed as if the weight of the world rested on his small shoulders. “But a kobold will have plenty to say on it all.”
 
The kobold monk strolled over with his bulging bag of tea, then started to look around for wood to make a fire. Meanwhile the others converged on what had turned into a makeshift campsite. One being watched by a perturbed Rosemary bush just over the gable of the house.
 
Just before the first spark of fire chews on a branch, or the group can gather their rattled wits, Tamas slips from the shadows and trots up. He looks as fresh as a daisy, yet also a little concerned and confused while his eyes take in the rest of the group.
 
The wiry ranger doesn’t ask. He just gives the remains of all the shifting coyote forms, ruined trolls and more a meaningful look while he joins the others in a slow trot.
 
“Been having fun without me, Boss?” he says to Kavi, patting the Kwi’Sakdi leader on a broad shoulder. “Well, I’ve got some news…”
 
Quickly, Tamas lays out what he saw. A quick story about a spiked wooden compound in the town square filled with terrified townsfolk. One guarded by thin, sickly trolls that act mesmerized, a pack of what could be shapeshifting coyotes, and a figure in black robes with red trim.
 
“Not sure what they’re doing,” Tamas admits. “But the man in black has people pulled out one by one. Adults that I saw. Then he tries some sort of golden chain on each one with an amulet. Some it makes sick, others it turns them into a coyote.”
 
Tamas crosses his arms. “Kids aren’t touched. I overheard something about the magic not working on kids? That nature protects them or something like that. Adults that get sick from the amulets are tossed in with the kids.”
 
He shakes his head at everyone.
 
“I’m no expert, but I’d bet the sick ones and kids are going to get sold off to a slaver. Just a bad feeling I’ve got.” He gestured at the town. “Also, not sure we’ve got much time. They’ve almost gone through all the captives.”
Mon, Jun 30th 2025 10:34

Chaliimriia acknowledges her growing discomfort at the sheer presumption of telling these highly skilled persons how to proceed. They know their business best. More to the point, the Kwi’Sakdi know one another's business far better than she knows any of this.
Nonetheless.
 
Nonetheless: the immediate threat may have attenuated; danger yet abounds.
It is quite possible that none of the Kwi’Sakdi find themselves ready to triage the priorities of these accumulated dangers.
The Samakarii way is to integrate elegance with function. Without each, there cannot be the other.
 
"Kavi, put the prisoner there," Chaliimriia instructs. She points at the sturdiest-looking shutter hook on a nearby house wall. "Keep him well confined. The rigidity will soon dissolve."
Her Samakarii accent, a tonal and nasal sound by turns, becomes slightly more pronounced as she continues. She likely is not aware of this -- a sign of hidden distress.
"Kimeta, Longarrow: Prisoners and bodies all require many bindings. If it will not offend your blades -- please, harvest several grape vines? I am not over fussed about their thorns. We've no spare time for gentility."
Chaliimriia glances around, displeased, at the corpses. She starts to speak to Nabhi and Okitu, realizes she knows no name for the latter, but it's too late now to slow her spate of "requests". "Nabhi Rockbreaker, Pwad’ohgwo: Make haste to drag the fallen foes over close to the prisoner. By lowest limbs, I think. Touch no part except that you are sure it is bare of adornment. Avoid necks and waists. Quick as a pika, if you can."
Her attention snaps back to the living prisoner, and the problem of same. "Ravenspeaker, you have one hand protected much as Kavi has two. While he traps the prisoner, please extract its amulet -- and any other bit you find it to wear. Beware direct contact. All you find, all of it, these you and Kavi must damage. If you do it harm now, a first harm, then return here to the cookfire, I plan to make right any injuries among us all. More harm may be done the cursed objects afterward."
 
That leaves the children and the visiting monk.
However, even a priestly chore list under duress will get to a point that requires a few breaths. Chaliimriia has to mentally pause to better phrase her "requests" of Crimes-In-Progress and the children.
 
The opportunity is here for others to support, retort, or revise!
To Nahbi, the visiting priestess seemed to have a good idea. And he had been trying to find something useful to do now that the battle seemed over for the moment. This at least would give him a way to stay busy and think about their situation and strategy. Plus, she might have had some magical forewarning that this needed to be done soon. And there was another consideration.   Leaving the bodies lying on the ground could attract ... coyotes.   Nahbi felt he was certainly the best qualified to avoid touching horrible cursed magic amulets while dragging a body without doing additional damage to it.   He set about to do exactly as the priestess pictured, sorting them into four groups based on whether they seemed to be dead or still alive, and wearing strange jewelry or not.   His mind immediately turned to other potential threats as well and what to do about them. He wondered if disabling the figure in black robes with red trim might reduce the threat (or at least the organization) of the other, well, threats.
Tamas squints at Chaliimriia for a moment, eyes taking her in and sizing her up. Without a word, he hooks a thumb into his belt, raising an eyebrow when he catches Kavi’s eye. A quick, wordless conversation passes between them, where finally Kavi nods once with a slight tilt of his head at the elven priestess.
 
The archer plucks the canteen from his belt, walking over to Chaliimriia to offer it.
 
“No offense, but you look rough,” Tamas explains. “Before I go cutting down vines, or pulling out some rope I brought along… you’re pale in a bad way priestess. Eyes looking a bit sunken, and I saw your hands shake. Plains heat can sneak up on anyone. Drink some water. If you don’t think you’re thirsty, drink anyway.”
Meanwhile, Kavi does as Chaliimriia asks, walking over to the shutter hook. With the prisoner dangling by his bonds like a bizarre wind-chime, he scrubs a hand over his face then recovers some rope from his pack. Then he returns to bind the prisoner a bit more securely.
 
“Grape vines will work, but check the bodies,” Kavi said, amending Chaliimriia’s instructions. “Check for signs of undead. Burn them if you see it. Burn the troll remains, too, right to the dirt. Sulini? Those amulets? They look metal, bend them to your will. Make them sing, break them, or both.”
 
Kavi dusts his hands, finally done with the prisoner.
 
“Lia? I’ve got a bag we can stash the amulets in for Sulini to work with.”
 
So they did, at least collecting the amulets which was the least effort. In no time, the bag was filling with the few amulets for Sulini to take a closer look at.
Sat, Jul 5th 2025 12:27

As if appearing out of Tamas’ shadow, the kobold monk appeared holding a second canteen. This one is smaller, but no less heavy with liquid.
 
“Tea for Snow Lady,” Crimes in Progress intoned. “Lavender dragonroot. Help Snow Lady feel better, since elves can’t smell.”
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Jul 7th 2025 01:30

Before I harken to the tasks that must be done, I quickly eat a little food, drink some of the excellent tea, and bandage and tend to my minor wounds. The preiestess did provide a nice buff to keep me focused on the fighting, but I was right to think that the wounds would make themselves felt once we were no longer in battle. Once I feel at least partially refreshed, I take the proffered bag of amulets and breathe deeply. Metalworking is an honorable art and to see it perverted in this way is very upsetting, but we do not have time for my outrage at this moment. As the priestess has said, decisions need to be made and actions need to be decided that will prevent others from being subjected to horrors. It is also important to make solid plans to deal with the figure in black robes with red trim that Tamas observed.   I move slightly away from the group and begin to meditate on the amulets. I quickly sense the aura of each amulet to get a feel for how they were made, what metalworking was necessary to craft them, and at what stage magic was imbued into them. As I am working to get an overall sense, one of the amulets sings louder than the others. Maybe it was the first one to be crafted, maybe the last one, or maybe it is the master amulet.   I lean harder into my meditation and think deeply about the teachings of the Way of Oris which are my guideline for my way of life. It is a code to which all Orisnuc aspire to follow as it emphasizes integrity, honor, and strength of character. This did not have intergrity, honor, or show any strength of character. In my mind's eye, I can follow the path of the amulet's and slowly a sense of their purpose is given to my.
Sun, Jul 20th 2025 04:10

The clouds churn through the bright sky, but it isn’t a sign of rain. This is a sign of listening, of presence, as the elemental spirits silently gather around Sulini’s meditation.
 
Fire, Earth, Water and more circle around her, whispering nature of the amulets. They are refined, worked with a deep skill. A shade removed from the craftwork of the Geldarian dwarven clans to the far north.
 
The enchantments in the amulets are mixed in its heart, almost corrupting the metal itself. Sulini can feel, if not hear, that the metal’s nature has been twisted. That enchantment brings change, but at a cost. It’s magic with a price, and that price is subservience.
 
An image of a tall figure, wearing dark robes trimmed in red hovers in her mind. He’s both old, yet not, a hunter in his own right but not of animals … but of souls.
 
Then a soft chittering whispers in her ear. As she opens her eyes, a gray-brown squirrel with bright black eyes scurries out of the grass. It lopes over, then sits down on the other side of the amulets from her. After a quick scratch behind a left ear, it tilts it head a little to the right. Curious. Watching.
 
As if expecting something…
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Aug 25th 2025 02:17

"Brother Squirrel, I greet you." I reach into my belt pouch and pull out some trail mix to offer. I continue as if talking to myself while observing the squirrel in my presence. I talk about how the metals have been twisted by enchantments and the image of the hunter of souls. I watch to see if the squirrel interacts with the amulets or ignores them. I also chose to wait patiently for answers. I now know the how of the amulet crafting and at least a little bit of the why.   "Oh, Brother Squirrel," I sigh quietly, "I do not understand the ways of those who would bend others to their will. I feel that there is an evil in this process, but I do not think the dwarves are involved though the skill is very close to theirs and might be mistaken for their work which would be an unkindness to the noble dwarves. What should be my next step?" I pause and look at the squirrel not quite expectantly.
Sun, Aug 31st 2025 05:34

The squirrel scratches that left ear again, then tipped an imaginary cap at Sulini. After that, he ambled forward on its hind legs to the trail mix.
 
Some of the raisins and nuts vanish in rapid order. Finally, the squirrel selects a long pecan, sticking it partially into his mouth as if chewing on a pipe stem.
 
He leaned over, looking at the amulets with intense study while Sulini describes the metals, the enchantments, and more. While he listened, the squirrel nods sagely, occasionally pulling the pecan from his mouth—again like a pipe—in a thoughtful manner.
 
The squirrel chitters in the usual squirrel-like manner. But Sulini hears a whisper of a baritone voice on the wind under the soft squirrel-squabble.
 
“Oh, my me… these are such clever little trinkets,” whispers the squirrel. “Trickster gifts almost worthy of… well… me!”
 
Sulini swears a grin dusts across the squirrel’s muzzle, before he taps a pecan on one of the amulets.
 
“But, little sister, they aren’t. These were made by putting a shadow in the heart of the metal. Not my kind of shadow, oh my me, no. I’ve more class than that. This? It’s cheap necromancy.”
 
The squirrel wiggles a paw at the metal.
 
“No sense of style at all. Just like the kind made by the Shaduks of the Runelord Order. In fact…”
 
He taps the pecan thoughtfully against his jaw.
 
“If I were you, little sister, I’d reforge the lot all at once. Make something nice and snick-snack sharp. Easy to conceal,” he grins, “Because I’m me.”
 
Then he shrugs.
 
“Also, because if this is someone following the Runelord Order—or even one of those bitter nuts—they could be vulnerable to it. But! You’ll only get one thing out of this though. If you try, be sure to look deep into the heart of the metal, purify it.”
 
“Got it? Good! Now, bring it in! For luck, am I right?”
 
The squirrel ambles forward, arms wide to give Sulini a hug before departing to leave Sulini to her task.
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Nov 3rd 2025 01:49

“Got it? Good! Now, bring it in! For luck, am I right?” The squirrel ambles forward, arms wide to give me a hug before departing to leave me to my task.   I take deep breaths and focus on the ground beneath me and the air flowing in and out of my lungs. I also quickly check my belongings to ensure that all is still present and accounted for. He is the trickster god after all. I continue to breath while I think about what he said about the amulets forging and what I need to do to reclaim the metal and reforge it into something pure. He said I should make something sharp and easy to conceal. I think of the many ways to conceal something sharp that will honor the trickster god and I break out in a rich chuckle of amusement.   I set up an area to reforge the amulets after checking in with the team to make sure we are setting up camp here for the night. I toss all of the amulets into a cauldron and let them begin to melt. As they do I watch for the impurities to rise and skim off the dross and look deep into the heart of the metal to find the pure inner strength that lies within it. As it begins to shine brightly, I pour the remaining pure metal onto my hammer and begin to work the metal, hitting it with just the right amount of heft to find the point where the metal is ready to bend to my will. While I am working, I put part of my mind to think about the Shaduks of the Runelord Order. I will need to check with the others to see if they know of this group.   I slowly work the metal until I am left with a shining bright - and oh so very sharp - hairpin with a decorated end that looks like the head of a squirrel.
Blacksmith roll | 1d20+6
15
Sun, Nov 16th 2025 05:20

Sulini glanced around at the others. What looked like a camp for the night, soon became just a camp for the moment. One of brief expedience before heading to deal with the next threat. But there was time enough for this. There had to be.
 
Quick as a wink, she set up a makeshift fire. Not anything good enough for a camp, but one that would do the work she needed.
 
The others drew together for Chaliimriia to cast a healing spell, maybe protection, as bandages were passed around. In the meantime, Sulini tossed all the offending amulets in to melt. They melted fast. Faster than normal.
 
Sulini skimmed off the dross, tracking down impurities. They were there and fairly obvious: transformative magic. The kind based on lycanthropy. In this case, coyotes. Second was some sort of charm magic. Something nasty to bend the will. Sulini didn’t know what but it seemed clerical? All of it was tainted with the black sludge of necromancy.
 
Still, she was able to skim that off with careful motions. Soon she had a shining bright - and sharp - hairpin topped with a head of a squirrel. For a moment, it looked like the squirrel decor winked at Sulini when the sunlight caught it.
 
The sludge of tainted impurities, especially that possible clerical enchantment slimed the tiny cauldron. Not something anyone just would dump on the ground but certainly something one needed a cleric to help purify. Maybe the old fashioned way?
Burning the Trolls' remains right down to the dirt took both hands and a bit of awareness of the surroundings to minimize any chances of starting a brushfire (and of anyone getting their lungs full of Troll ash. Ugh.) Thankfully. that did not take as much time as melting gold in a cauldron.   Elves can’t smell? Was that true? Nabhi tried to think back, hoping he had not offended the elf with any comments about smells. He would try to keep that in mind in the future.   Afterward, Nabhi spent a little time sharpening his sword (particularly the tip) with a ritual that was a bit different from his norm. He drew seven precise strokes with his sharpening stone, then looked at that perturbed and perturbing Rosemary bush just over the gable of the house, then pointed two fingers at his two eyes, then pointed an index finger at the bush, then sharpened another seven strokes and repeated.   When it was sharp enough to pass inspection, he accepted a cup of recuperative tea from his newest friend and walked over to the unburned dead bodies pile. He looked at them. He held up his sword. He closed his eyes and sipped from the tea. The warmth was welcome, and although not everyone might appreciate that scent and flavor, Nabhi did.   He tapped his pinky finger on the symbol for 'contemplation' on the strap of his shoulder bag, opened his eyes, looked to Kavi, the Kwi’Sakdi leader, and said in a voice perhaps a bit softer than one would use if one was certain that a deceitful Rosemary bush couldn't be trying to steal strategic information, "One wonders if certain forces might be thrown into chaos if a certain figure in black robes with red trim were to die or find himself dragged away with a bag over his head," as he swung his sword. When he looked down again, Nabhi was a bit disappointed to see he had cut a corpse across the chest with the tip of his temple sword.   He tried again, sipping the tea, tapping his pinky finger on the symbol for 'balance' on the strap of his shoulder bag, opening his eyes, and calmly saying to Chaliimriia, the Priestess, "One wonders what sort of magic does not affect kids because Nature protects them," as he swung the sword again. He looked down and saw he had sliced the shirt of a corpse without adding another postmortem injury this time. He was more satisfied with that result.   He tried again, swapping the sword to his primary hand, sipping the tea, tapping his pinky finger on the symbol for 'serenity' on the strap of his shoulder bag, opening his eyes, and calmly saying to Sulini, the Blacksmith, "One wonders how quickly arrows could be crafted to destroy a golden amulet without killing its wearer," as he swung the sword again. He looked down and saw he had sliced the shirt of a corpse without breaking the skin. He was again satisfied with the result.   He practiced a few more times until his tea cup was empty.
Kavi nodded with one last check on the prisoner that dangled from the hook. With a satisfied grunt, which was totally different from the dozen other types of grunts he often let out, he crossed to Chaliimriia.
 
“You have a point, Nahbi.” The broad-shouldered orc winked at Chaliimriia. “Drink, love,” he teased a little, nodding at Tamas’ canteen, with a flirty grin. “It’s more fun when you’re not falling over from thirst.”
 
Kavi then frowned in thought.
 
“Tamas, you saw this zasgi. Nahbi right? There a way we can abduct them. Sow some chaos?”
Tamas shrugged and rubbed his chin. “Maybe so… maybe so. They wandered a lot around, pretty jittery like they walked on hot coals. Could work if Ravenspeaker and I did the catching. We net that figure in the black robes, drag them back her to squeeze out of them just what the hell they think they’re up to.”
Fri, Nov 28th 2025 08:49

Still ignoring the very possibility that an unacquainted monk sought to displant one of the Kwi'Sakdi, Chaliimriia uses her fingertips to shake her hair out. Humid hours have passed since she plaited small sections of it upon rising. The plaits all but unwound themselves during the day's travel; loose, her hair has done well to shield her neck from the sun, but otherwise has fluttered about with her every action. It needs attention.
But not now.
What an oddly minor matter to occupy me, Chaliimriia scolds herself.
When her fingertips no longer tingle from the healing power, Chaliimriia takes the proffered canteen from Tamas with a small smile. She murmers over it a brief sentence whose tone certainly sounds like an abbreviated meal-related blessing.
To those who understand spoken Fa'lain, it translates much more like, "How can any living body be in need of drinking water, when fully half the churlish air here is a dispersed puddle."
She drinks a few mouthfuls of water while she considers Nabhi's point about the children trapped by the enemy.
As Challiimriia returns the canteen to Tamas, she tilts her chin very slightly toward the two human children near Nabhi's backpack. "You saw many young people in a corral," she says. "Were they of many heritages? Or all children of the sun?"
Sun, Nov 30th 2025 05:24

Tamas nods as he closed the canteen, then tapped the lid thoughtfully.
 
“Hm,” he grunted for a moment and pursed his lips with a knowing glance at the nearby children. “Mixed. Most were children of the sun. Maybe a third were spirits of the grasslands, or spirits of the forest.”
 
Tamas frowned. “Just those though. Youngest were children of the sun. Oldest? Four teenagers that were spirits of the grasslands. What’re you thinking, Priestess?”
Sun, Nov 30th 2025 08:07

"To craft a," Chaliimriia begins slowly, "conditional transformation, a divine curse is," Chaliimriia stops again. She looks up at the building ledge nearest the hostile bush. She looks back at Tamas and starts again. "A divine 'curse' is, in the old language of the caelumne, better translated as a 'mandate'. It must be strict on the qualifications of what is to be transformed. Only that which is clearly within the domain of the crafter's divine source; only that which, by ancient custom, consents or surrenders. To don a tool of divine power," she taps the chain, still wrapped around her forearm, from which her sword-shaped holy symbol dangles, "is to settle myself within that mandate. To touch, body to tool, an amulet of divine curse, that would put the oil and warmth of the skin upon the amulet and thus be a surrender into the divine's domain."
She glances at the corpses, glances away again.
"It cannot be a matter of consent in this case," she says to Tamas. "You said the chained amulet was placed upon each prisoner. It was done to them; it is not done by them. They did not, by ancient custom, take any action which could obligate them within the rule of any divine domain. If this is a divine curse for a conditional transformation, then they must be inherent to that domain. Inherence comes by birth or by landscape or by culture or by faith. Nabhi," she tilts her head in the tiniest polite bow of acknowledgement in the monk's direction, "is a spirit of the mists by birth, who travels across grassland hills, whose culture is Orisnuc of the KaraKorum. A divine Power whose domain is 'travel' has power to set a mandate upon Nabhi, no matter his actions, so long as he is Orisnuc. A god of 'water in air' has power upon Nabhi. And so on."
She resists the temptation to study the children. "You reported, Tamas, that the enemy complains of 'nature' as the reason their cursed object has no power upon children. I know of no domain that withdraws when the soul and the body know themselves to be full-grown irrespective of birth heritage. I know of no domain at all, including the druidic ones of animal and plant lives, that could assert itself upon children but not adults -- nor, in fact, upon adults but not children.
"Even death; even the newborn or new-hatched infant has begun its cortege toward the end."
Chaliimriia carefully unwinds the chain from her forearm bracer. She shakes it open, drapes it over her head, and pulls her hair up and through the necklace, all without ceremony, as she finishes relating her thoughts. "Now, if this is an arcane curse? Well. Those qualifications must follow any rule for which the very first crafter of the curse could formulate an argument. If their design included 'adults only' it might be because they require a certain threshold of life energy, such that the accursed fuels the curse, which the crafter argued cannot successfully compete with a child's inherent bodily growth. Never mind that the unnatural healing of injuries is the same bodily growth. If the axsa wizard did not understand medicine enough to understand this truth, then for the transformation curse they craft, it is simply not true. That could be deliberate -- a crafter under duress attempting to mitigate harm. Or self-serving -- a crafter who is determined that the curse cannot be applied to the crafter. Or simply the fully confident ignorant, that wizards more than any other arcane workers so often are."
Sun, Dec 7th 2025 04:22   Edited on Sun, Dec 7th 2025 04:32

“That… makes sense,” Kavi rumbles softly.
 
Slowly, he flexed his right hand into a fist, then scowled at his scarred bracer. Apparently not satisfied with it, he unbuckled then buckled it back into place. He raised his eyebrows and nodded at the others.
 
“We’ve a lot of skills, and some stray into the divine. Mostly nature, but divine.” He folded his arms over his chest. “What we lack is arcane. Mostly because—like you said, Chaliimriia—wizards get more than a little confidently ignorant. Bloodborn? Sorcerers and Sorceresses? The ones I’ve met barely have themselves figured out.”
 
Kavi growled out a sigh.
 
“Just from what you’ve said, this sounds like an arcane curse, Chaliimriia. Let me ask this though… what about an arcane demonic curse? Something from a balrog or demon that’s been passed onto a wizard with too little common sense, or too much greed? What about that? Think that’s possible?”
Derf extracted himself from the muscled wall of safety that was Sulini, then threw himself at Lia. It wasn’t a quiet flight, but some things are normal in the world. Derf cawed so fast, it sounded like a demented siren only Lia could understand.
 
OH, MY FEATHERS! Did you SEE that? What the crusted, furry green acorns was all THAT? Troll? TROLLS? Like MORE THAN ONE? Oh, my gods and gullets. Where’s the gardener? Why aren’t they weeding? Oh… and those coyote-things, too. Why are we here again?”
 
Lia smiled at her raven companion with the patience of a saint while she scratched his feathers. As expected, this melted Derf into a puddle of quiet raven attempting a purr—which, didn’t actually work, but he gave it a good effort.
 
The misakuwo glanced over her shoulder back the way she’d come, then at the dead bodies. Her dark hair flipped partly over her face, half-shrouding her.
 
“The… coyotes?”
 
Her words were as soft as a gentle wind through grass but a quiet weight filled each one.
 
“They shouldn’t have been that strong.” Lia frowned again, as if picking each word with extreme care. “Even if a druid becomes a coyote… they are still… just a coyote. It didn’t smell like nature spirit work. There was no spirit winds there.”
Sun, Jan 11th 2026 08:15

Chaliimriia has that pleasantly interested full-body expression of any Samakar native being told of a foreign culture's concepts that the Samakar culture considers utter yak excrement.
Then she reminds herself that this is Kavi asking, whose intellect and curiosity have earned her respect; and that it's the Kwi'Sakdi listening, all of whom have Kavi's respect therefore deserve hers as well; and that Lowlands occult education is remarkably lightweight in favor of more pragmatic concerns that are wise survival choices. Her mask of noncommittal agreeableness melts away as fast as it formed.
"An 'equal measures arcane and demonic curse' is a swindle," she says firmly. "It may be a lie perpetuated upon a credulous arcanist. It is almost always a self-serving lie told by the arcanist to create fear and shift blame. Demons have no separate power.
"Demons are divine," she finishes. She sounds faintly bitter about the fact. Some old, ugly memory bubbles under her thoughts. With iron-willed training, she wipes it away again.
"What does happen, perhaps, is the same thing I could do to manipulate any wizard you have known. I find an arcane ritual, a collection of spells for enchantment perhaps, that I wish your wizard to do. I split them up into fragments. I have the fragments bound, sewn, or carved by separate crafters into old objects. I conceal some, but poorly, each with a clue to three others -- wizards do like their threes. I invent an account of the enchantment's past success, have that painted into a scene in a tome, add an exciting account of its survivors who rush to conceal it for the most worthy. Cast a few cantrips upon the container in which I put this tome, not the tome itself; let the natural forces of flood and fire and insects do some work." Chaliimriia waves her hand in a dramatic proffering of an imaginary weight. "Show it to your wizard. Tell her that she is unworthy of this might. Let her steal it from me while I am occupied elsewhere. Watch her employ underlings to hunt the missing pieces."
 
Chaliimriia does not glance anywhere near the shoulderbag into which earlier this afternoon Nabhi tucked away a journal.
 
"We know that a found journal is most often what it presents itself to be. We know that what is written is one version of a story. We have learned enough to find verification. But your wizard? Eager to burst upon great success and acclaim? She will convince herself of enough, then invent a story to convince others. Her magic act will still be arcane, because her soul is not tuned to divine energy. Demon power is divine. They can proffer what they do not use by taking it from other sources."
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Jan 26th 2026 01:15   Edited on Mon, Jan 26th 2026 02:32

I am tired from the reforging and battle and so much pain - both now and then. I am mostly listening to the conversation around me as I do not feel that I have more to add, but then I hear the priestess say: "I split them up into fragments. I have the fragments bound, sewn, or carved by separate crafters into old objects."   I begin to think about what types of things could be used, what materials would work for this type of demonic energy. While I think the priestess has a point, I think that maybe there is another possibility.   "What if instead of trying to hide this ritual and create a puzzle to torment those around - the person who is behind this is trying to show the power of this ritual? And by using adults, it shows that it is more powerful and therefore harder to resist, counter, end, or whatever?" I shrug and scrub my hands over my face tiredly.
Nabhi hoped that he had understood the basics of what the well-read priestess had explained. And Kimeta might have had a valid point too.   Nahbi sat down with his new friend and received another half cup of tea while listening to the others and awaiting a good plan and some marching orders, which he estimated were only a few moments away.   While waiting, he pulled out from his satchel a few pages which had obviously seen some misadventures. He scratched in the ground a bit, counting letters. He showed one sentence he had already decrypted to his new friend, Crimes in Progress.   "Skalds of the Rampart Order," he said.
Mon, Feb 2nd 2026 01:23

Crimes looked over the papers. On occasion he added a ‘hm’ or an ‘ah’, as he tapped a claw here and there along the letters.
 
“Skalds of Rampart. They twist their tails but for good reason.” Crimes in Progress narrows his eyes at the papers. “They scurry into many dangerous burrows so we don’t have to twist our own tails needlessly.”
 
He tapped the poem.
 
“Seven.”
 
Another ‘hm’, then Crimes tapped the fifth paragraph.
 
“Skald say he see a one with a paw scratch a rune in the dirt.” Crimes glanced over at Nahbi. “Ancient Runelord rune magic it says. Transformed people into things. Bad magic. Uses blood. More blood, stronger magic gets… more it can warps person like wood. Less? It barely work at all… so I read once.”
 
Crimes in Progress gestured to Sulini, then to Chaliimriia.
 
“Sound like they sniff the right way of it. Arcane curse using blood magic by bad person who try show off how powerful? Maybe so? Maybe just one wizard in town is real problem? At least here?”
 
He handed the papers back to Nahbi, tapping the middle of the encrypted paragraph. Rune there in middle, Skald of Rampart clever. Use rune to mangle words to make others twist their tails… just so keep meaning hidden.”
Tamas drank more water from his canteen, then checked his arrows.
 
“I don’t know wizardry, but the one in the black robes? He was real interested in making sure the adults had those amulets on no matter what.”
 
He waved a hand at the town.
 
“So if there’s a wizard, I’d say it was the one in the black robes. Lure that one out? Catch them in a trap? That might settle a lot of these problems. But we’ll need bait. Something to draw out that wizard, that lets them feel cocky and in-charge… until it’s too late.”
Sat, Feb 7th 2026 08:18

Chaliimriia nods to the Kimeta. "I have worked in collaboration with more sorcerers than I have true wizards. I found sorcerers to be more adept at self-guidance, as their natures begin with a clear division of that which they might do from that which they cannot. The wizards I watched, and heard, yes. They might have built their rituals or their enchantments to adhere to their ideas of great power display. If this one in the black robe does think like a monal in spring, what would we use as this bait? I do not suppose that persistent squeak noises would be enough to draw him but not his followers."
Kavi chuckled deep in his chest. “As much as I’d love to see a puffed up wizard flapping their robes, there’s a way here. If we’ve the right way of it, the wizard is showing off their power.” He waved a hand at the village. “Maybe practice for something later, since this is a pretty small town next to troll-infested hills.”
 
He looked between the others.
 
“What about a challenger? Something he has to pay attention to? Someone different enough to make him wonder, but dangerous enough to avoid whatever the wizard tosses out while we ambush the rat.” Kavi shrugged. “I could head around town to that part, then walk in like I own the place. That wizard would likely come running.”
Sun, Feb 22nd 2026 03:31

Lia squinted at Kavi and his idea with an expression of long-soured milk on overcooked eggs.
 
Closer to the epicenter of the conversation, Tamas shook his head.
 
“Boss? The bait idea sounds good. We’ve used it on druids gone wild to bring them down when they’ve had one too many bowls of mushroom soup. But really? You’re terrible bait. Last time you tried that in a tavern, the whole place just nope-loped right out of there.” The archer grinned toothily. “Free drinks were pretty good though. Still, not sure it’s quite right for here. Need better bait to get a wizard flapping their robes… like what would a wizard actually want? Other than to run out yelling ‘get in losers, it’s fireball time!’ or something?”
Nabhi spoke, "Any of us could be a distraction to the robed wizard... if large enough and loud enough."   Then he added, "To NOT be a distraction, one must be quiet enough... plus one Rosemary bush must be silenced."
Wed, Mar 4th 2026 01:16

"Wisdom," Chaliimriia agrees.
She steps back once, twice, as she looks up along the rooftop line to spot the spying herb bush. A few moments ago, she took care to look near it but not directly at it. This time, as her right hand grasps the longest arm of her holy symbol where it dangles atop her red wine outermost gown, she stares directly at the unnatural enemy.
Another passage from a hymn, this she speaks softly -- not loud, not full of command, not pushing the words out into the world; but gently, as if the somatic phrase of this divine spell is a private admission.
L'ssussun d'kestal flamgrae l'barra d'udossta maunechen.
Burning light lances from Chaliimriia's raised left palm directly toward the spy bush, in a single line as brilliant as the summer solstice sun over a glacial plain.
 
As quickly as the ray comes into being, it vanishes again.
 
For a moment, Chaliimriia's slate gray complexion flushes sallow. She does not stumble. Her balance might, ever so briefly, waver.
Sun, Mar 22nd 2026 11:24

The rosemary bush eased over the peak of the house as the blessed bolt slammed into it like a hammer. It waggled, branches wiggling like a panicked raccoon caught stealing a cookies. Then smoke gushed up like a geyser from the leaves, forming an aromatic mushroom-cloud. The bush tilted sideways, then slid backwards off the roof out of sight.
 
A dense rustle of bush hitting the ground hinted it less than gracefully met the ground. Odors of aggressively overcooked seasoning enriched the air.
 
Tamas’ eyebrows reached for his hairline.
 
“Now, I’m hungry,” he said.
 
Lia gave him a deadpanned look that spoke volumes.
 
Kavi snorted. “You’re always hungry, so you’re fine.”
 
Tamas shot the other man a grimace. “Wait now, not always.”
 
Kavi ignored him, reaching out to offer a hand to help steady Chaliimriia.
 
“You need some rest. I saw how much that pulled out of you,” he said with a worried tone.
In a moment, Nabhi had his possessions gathered and his tea emptied.   Being careful not to mention anything about the smell in the air to the Elven priestess, he simply bowed deeply to show his gratefulness.   Then, after a glance at Kavi, he proceeded to walk quietly toward that window with the scent of day-old bread which he had failed to investigate earlier.
Sun, Mar 29th 2026 08:37

The hostile animated bush may not be ended, but it certainly will avoid proximity for some time. That may serve as "silenced".
Chaliimriia gently squeezes Kavi's hand in reassurance. She disengages again as she says, "Rest after eventide will serve me well enough. We have work now." Physically she retreats into herself, posture straight, elbows close.
To fully engage her hands in replaiting her hair would be not only rude, but unsafe: the ambush might have been sent. Another might follow up. The enemy wizard's underlings might not remain where Tamas last saw them. Chaliimriia must be able to swiftly grasp her pendant, or her sword, or her bow.
In part to cover for Nabhi's silent investigation, she asks aloud of the group: "What is your customary fate for such a prisoner as this one?"
Sun, Mar 29th 2026 09:35   Edited on Sun, Mar 29th 2026 10:09

Near the prisoner…

 
Reactions to Chaliimriia’s question were mixed.
 
Sulini was preoccupied. Lia frowned as if having an internal war with words—specifically which words—she wanted to use. Finding none, the frown carried her part of the conversation. Kavi and Tamas exchanged a look. He shrugged and Kavi was the one to answer.
 
“There’s ‘normally’ and ‘now’,” he explained with a shrug. “Normally, we’d march prisoners to the nearest settlement. There they’d be kept until the local Aireki decided what to do with them. Often hard labor for a set time or escorted to wherever they came from.”
 
He waved a hand at the town of Churdawn.
 
“Problem? This is the nearest settlement. So the Aireki is likely caught up in all this. Which means, turn out back on Churdawn and march that one—” he inclined his head to the werecoyote prisoner “—to the next closet KaraKorum settlement. Which is days to the northeast. Rumors aside—which are a load of manure—we don’t kill prisoners unless they get free and choose murder that day themselves.”
 
“There lies the choice,” Tamas added, checking his bow. “Leave Churdawn and walk our new favorite werecoyote to a town where he can get questioned and properly helped? Turn him loose? Take him along while we play ‘whack-a-wizard’?”
 
Kavi sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Splitting us makes the most sense. We’ve done it before. Some stay here to just watch this wizard, keep tabs on them. Others walk that prisoner back to get help and answers. Those that stay, we’ll leave trail sign about what’s happened if we have to leave here.” He glanced around. “Naturally the most quiet would need to stay, while the rest do the escorting and bring back help.”
 
The kobold monk cleared his throat, even as he cleared up the remains of the tea.
 
“If need help? A kobold can stay, be quiet. Keep other watchers company. Trolls are dangerous,” he shrugged “but still a weed.”
 
Okitu glanced at the others with a big grin.
 
“With shoulders like these? I’m not a lady whose one for quiet. Besides, we’ve two children here who’ll need shelter. If we’re breaking trails, I’ll walk with the prisoner and the children. Get them to safety first.” Her grin turned predatory. “Then I’ll gladly come crack some skulls with the Kwi’Sakdi and their battle cleric. Just save me a few, eh?”
 
The two children, like most, watched the exchange with deep calculation. After Okitu’s offer, they looked around then looked at Chaliimriia.
 
“If it’s all right,” the boy said. “We’d like to stay with the Princess Priestess?”
 
“Please?” added the girl.
Sun, Mar 29th 2026 09:54

Near the suspicious, yet inevitably questionable bread…

 
At the window, the scent of day-old bread lingered like a fond memory. Recent events hadn’t stirred the shadows past the window. They lay draped over the inside of the room—a simple kitchen with bread stove—like thin, sheer sheets of gray. Dust motes played among the beams of sunlight that cut angles in the dim view. Nothing moved, or was out of place—which perhaps was the unsettling part.
 
Dishes were still in place on the a stove that had long gone out from lack of tending. Forgotten food, save for small scavengers, sat on counters or tables. All in mid-preparation for a day now equally forgotten. Nothing looked disturbed as if by a struggle. But there was the hint of a fine gray powder that dusted many of the flatter surfaces such as chairs, tables, and counters.
At the window, Nahbi ran a finger along the window sill as if performing an Abbott's inspection. He shifted his weight to one foot and raised the other to his thigh. He compared the trail dust and pollen on his pant leg to the dust in the room, both in their appearance and smell.   Hmm.   He returned to the task of exploring the inside room. He would need to make a soft and silent landing. Get in. Wait for sleeping dragons to jump in startled alarm at his presence. Jump back out the window. If no sleeping dragons, wait a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, note the other possible exits from the room, and go (silently) and put his ear to one. Yes, that was the plan.   He took a stance to enter the room in a very quiet and quick manner, it would be a leaping forward roll onto the floor, ending in a crouch on his toes and fingers, listening for a reaction. Perfect plan.   He checked one last time for any change in the situation back with the others and any change in the situation of zero plants attacking him at the moment.   Then Nahbi leapt hands-forward into the window.
Sun, Apr 12th 2026 03:43

Nahbi leaped through the open window, hands-forward, hope high.
 
Inside he rolled, tumbling over the wooden floor. Fine gray dust clouded the air as if the house let out a puff of breath over the intrusion. Nahbi came to a silent stop on his toes and fingers.
 
A light, sweet scent fluttered through the air; dancing with the dust in a silent waltz. Not like the bitter trail dust but closer to pollen, if pollen was convinced to play nice with everyone’s nose.
 
Shadows shifted inside the house as if crowding around to see what the monk would try next. Day old bread—half-carved—sat on a counter with the bread knife impaled at a jaunty angle in the round-topped loaf. Old crumbs bled on the counter below the slice.
 
As the gray dust settled so did the sound and shadows; oddly, so did color. Old paint, wood and more melted into a muted shade. Blues and yellows best survived the gossamer coat of dust, but not much else. Two plants, tomato by the look, seemed to lean in as if curious over Nahbi’s sudden appearance. Beyond that, they seemed content with the state of the world.
 
The curious scent of the dust played at Nahbi’s nose. An itch, then a brush, as if smelling warm-cooked honey. That tickled a memory of an Abbot Bregdarn’s herbalist lessons—especially being fed tea of dangerous plants to understand how to cure someone who was poisoned. Memories of a certain pollen came to mind, one that paralyzed after a good snort.
 
A particular pollen that had a little or mild effect at best on medusa or elves, mild effect on orcs, but series effects on anyone else.
 
While no dragons slept nearby, there was the faint trail of footsteps in the dust. Old but findable, leading deeper into the house—along with drag-marks.
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Apr 13th 2026 02:44

I listen as events around me unfold. The priestess commits plantacide, Okitu volunteers to take the prisoner and the children to safety after Kavi suggests splitting the group again, and Nahbi heads off to investigate the town more. Why is eventide not already here?   I hear the young humans ask to stay with the Princess Priestess and I chuff quietly at that. What can she expect with hair like that anyway? I find a quiet place and begin to meditate as I turn over the various ideas the group has presented. I breathe in and smell the air that is dry and brittle from the fighting and spell-mongering. I breathe out my fear and frustrations. I continue to breathe while mulling over the best way to present the concept of what I consider to be the best plan for the group.   I rejoin the group and share what I think is the best way. "Thank you brave children for being willing to stay in this area to help. However, we and your Princess Priestess (I glance over with a grin that the kids cannot see) really need your help. Can you please go with Okitu to the nearest village and tell them what happened here? Your actual story would be worth more to those it is shared with as it is your personal story. Can you do this to help us? I will give you a moment to discuss before you must answer."   I then turn to Lia. "Lia, you have proven that you and Okitu work well together and there will be a need for a scout to ensure that they arrive safely. Would you be willing to help this group with their travel plans? I know you have battled hard and faced great frustration in this battle. Sharing that with the other village would also be very valuable in aiding their understanding of what happened here."   Lastly, I turn to the Kobold monk and bow. "Crimes in Progress, you have proven yourself to be a very able ally. I know that you would be of great benefit to either group. I think that you have knowledge that would be beneficial if shared with the other village, but I am also positive that you would be of help to our group if you chose to stay here."   I finally turn to Kavi. "I am simply the Kimeta for this group, but the ability to see and understand the strengths and weaknesses of metals and armors can be beneficial when that skill is turned to view groups. I have presented what I think is a solid idea to assist both us and the surrounding territory, but you are our leader and we will follow your decisions."   Lastly, I turn to our Princess Priestess. "Chaliimriia, you have given much of yourself and it is appreciated. I think that the children have named your perfectly and I would be honored to make you a new leather armguard to show the value you have brought to our group."
Mon, Apr 13th 2026 11:24

A small but sincere smile greatly improves Chaliimriia's expression, startled by the Kimeta's offer.
To the children, Chaliimriia offers a gentle correction: "If I understand the words rightly, 'princess' is not what fits me. I do have two titles. One is for the work I now do for Samakarii culture. The other, I think the one you want, is du'tarai. That is the title for the priest work I do. If you tell the people at the village about the Kwi'sakdi and the du'tarai with them, they have their best chance to understand you without many extra questions."
Going further into the building seemed unwise at the moment.   Nabhi thought about how he had entered the room. Then he closed his eyes and rolled backward. When his fingers met the ground rolling over his shoulder, he pushed hard with both arms and straightened his body, launching himself feet-first backward out the window he had just entered, which, of course, thankfully, had not moved.   His feet landed in the dirt just outside the window, almost in the same footprints he had made just a moment ago. He stood and turned toward the team's temporary camp and waited for their leader to look his way. Kavi appeared to be talking with Kimeta Sulini at the moment, so, Nabhi waited patiently. The breeze and sun were quite tolerable. The sandals he wore were much more comfortable than the pair he had owned before. He tried to remember a song that might be entertaining, but nothing came to mind at the moment. That poisonous paralytic pollen was almost certainly a clue as to how the wizard person had captured so much of the town. Nabhi tried to remember the looks of the plant which produced it. Was it similar to a tomato plant? He remembered much of Abbot Bregdarn’s classes, but that detail was blurring with so many other plants. A gift of a "tomato" plant to each family in the village from a mysterious wizard... well it was possible, he guessed. Or it could have been a thrown weapon which delivered the dusty pollen.   Ah, Kavi looked free now that Sulini was talking to the Elven Priestess. Nabhi waved. He pointed a thumb to the window behind him. He held up one hand, palm down, and wiggled his fingers as if salting an imaginary stew. He drew a shape in the air with both hands of a round head and a pair of narrow shoulders. Then he closed his eyes and laid his head to the side, pillowing both his palms under his cheek. Then, he popped his head up, eyes wide, shook one of his snaky locks, and shook his head side to side. He drew another round head on top of very broad shoulders, tapped the back of his hand to his mouth with two fingers sticking up. He shook his head from side to side. He drew a third round head on top of narrow shoulders in the air. He held his palms to his ears with two fingers pointing out and upward. Again, he shook his head from side to side.   After that, he tapped his own chest, thumbed the window again, and shaded his eyes with one palm, looking left and right.   He waited briefly for a reply before hopping back into the window to continue his search.
Sun, Apr 19th 2026 09:24   Edited on Sun, Apr 19th 2026 10:44

Kavi watched, eyes narrowed, as Nahbi relayed what he found. The Kwi’Sakdi leader pursed his lips, then nodded. In a quick set of hand motions, he pointed at Nahbi with two fingers, then flicked them toward the house. Then he drew a tight circle in the air. After that, he jabbed two fingers at Nahbi and lowered an open palm toward the ground. Finally, he touched a finger to his lips.
 
In the end, Kavi raised his eyebrows with a half-grin, as if putting a signature on the message. One final nod finished off his reply.
 
He then glanced at the other Kwi’Sakdi, knowing they understood Nahbi’s sign as well as he did. For the others, he took a breath to explain.
 
“Nahbi says the house is dusted with something. Powder, herb, something that certainly knocks out humans. But likely not orcs or elves. But,” he shook his head, “given orc bloodlines lived here too, I’m concerned the powder was altered by that dark robed wizard. That would explain how the town fell so quickly.”
 
He shook his head again.
 
“Doesn’t change the plan here about sending some to the nearest village to get the word out. Just means it’s more important than before.”
Lia nodded once to Sulini with a shy smile.
 
“I don’t like leaving you and the others… but…” she sighs. “Yes, I’ll do it. But I’ll be back as fast as the wind will carry me.”
Sun, Apr 19th 2026 09:25

Crimes bows slightly to Sulini.
 
“A kobold sees the wisdom of it,” he said. “More ears to hear, more hands to help. Especially where a bad wizard twists his tail.”
Sun, Apr 19th 2026 10:44

As the adults discussed the arrangements, the two children glanced around as if aware of the decision happening around them and with them.
 
“Du’tarai,” the girl repeated. The boy—possibly sibling—struggled more with the word until corrected by the young girl twice. At least until he stopped trying with a shadowed frown.
 
The girl smiled brightly at Sulini and Chaliimriia.
 
“Yes, Du’tari! We’ll do it!”
All looked well at the gathering, and Nabhi had his orders, so he turned back to the window, prepared to leap in, then stopped. Deciding he didn't have to impress anybody, he simply climbed in like a normal person might do.   Noticing that the odd sweet scent hadn't changed was where "normal person" behavior ended. Nabhi crouched down to get a good look at that old faint trail of footprints in the dust, leading deeper into the house—along with drag-marks.   He mapped the path he would follow and stood comfortably. Then all his weight went to one foot. He set down one heel ahead and rolled down the outside edge of his foot, ending with the toes planted as he shifted his weight forward, listening for floorboards to creek. Lift the back foot just as carefully. And repeat. And repeat.   A younger Nabhi had succeeded in walking across a scroll of thin paper on a similar wooden floor without leaving a tear by using this careful method of ambulation.   His plan was simple: To follow the trail (stopping to listen at every door or turn of view before proceeding) until he heard signs of life ahead and then to learn all he could.   He also held out hope that he would emerge from the peculiar pollen to clearer air. It would behoove him to spend as little time breathing it as practical.   He smiled in the gloom. Using his well-practiced skills before an audience of none felt comforting, very much like being "at home" by himself.
Stealth roll, in case it might be needed. | 1d20+11
26
Sun, May 3rd 2026 01:02

Chaliimriia glances again at Sulini, to whom she had intended to somehow express her appreciation and pleased acceptance of the armguard offer.
 
Now is not the moment.
 
Given the evidence of Nabhi's silent report, followed by Kavi's very softspoken translation, she accepts the imminent danger of another lurking foe -- in addition to the animate bush.
Chaliimriia studies the thin weave of her outermost gown. On one level, she is thinking about its use as a mosquito net layer. If her other summer overgown is sliced into wide strips, use her packed hair laces to make top and bottom edges, tie them in place as air-permeable veils that will filter out dust particles as handily as they would biting insects....
On a deeper layer, the priestess considers the events from the Kwi'Sakdi arrival to this spot, here, in this village.
Someone with a mind has to have been lurking, after all. Someone has to have seen them arrive; summoned the five coyotes to the party's backtrail; aided the one who cast an activation spell.
One spell, one solitary syllable, could have animated those constricting vines. Chaliimriia would have accepted in stride that a single spoken word, accompanied by gestures, could summon the trolls into the battle; or, alternatively, imbued the herb bush with a malevolent, animate spirit.
She has never heard of a single word serving as the verbal component of all three rituals at once.
Ergo: Someone watched them arrive here. Someone (two someones?) summoned trolls and bound a spirit being into that plant.
The foe must still be present. Tamas or Lia would have seen their exit from the surrounding buildings, near the end of the combat. The Stern Renunciation of Tumult followed immediately by The Rogation of Sá Becoming Thraumr took up precisely twenty-four seconds. The foe did not leave these village structures after the combat began.
 
Chaliimriia glances around at the Churdawn road, at the grassy edges of it, at the overturned half-barrel where she briefly perched. Her habit is to detach and drop her travel pack when she might need to fight. This time, she had not found a chance to do so ... at least, not before her mind was too occupied with other tactics. Perhaps that is why I feel so warm. Unwise. She wishes that a wagon or cart were parked in plain sight close by.
Chaliimriia paces quietly across the road. She stops at one of the abandoned wicker baskets full of fresh-picked grapes. With her back firmly to the building that Nabhi investigates, Chaliimriia rotates her strung bow outward in her left hand. She cannot fire it in that position, but she can use her thumb and index finger with her empty right hand to unbuckle her pack. This she swings down to the ground next to the basket.
Anyone looking at her from behind can tell that Chaliimriia is unfastening the top of the pack; she may want something out of it, and she almost certainly plans to collect some of the fruit for a later meal.
Sun, May 3rd 2026 10:26

Inside the house…

 
The trail through the pollen and dust wound away from the stove. It snaked over wooden floor to parts unknown deeper in the house. Little moved as Nabhi eased forward, drifting with the air and dust—one shadow among many, seeking purchase against the heavy silence.
 
Haunted by the floorboard creaks, Nabhi trailed from one room to the next. Deeper, darker shadows greeted him with open arms, stretching from far corner of hallways and rooms.
 
Still, the dust and pollen danced.
 
Past the silent kitchen and into the modest common room, the trail split. The steps headed for the closet-like sleeping quarters, but drag marks wandered outside. Even more strange was the tracks themselves, as a fingertip-sized quartet of steps joined them, meandering back and forth.
 
Nabhi’s eyes wandered across room and furniture. Never missing a motion, spotting every blemish. Finally, under a far window, he spotted the source of the tiny marks—a lone turtle with chalky arcane symbols on its shell. The turtle stared at Nabhi with bored, reptile curiosity.
 
Then before the monk moved, a soft creak of floorboards from the bedchambers trembled the air. In the darkness, Nabhi heard a sound only he would know—the soft, sliding hiss of medusa hair shifting gently against itself.
Nabhi froze only a moment. His ruminations about theoretical wizards and witches with a familiar turtle who might bare a protective magical rune which could explode with enough force and fire to collapse a small building should anyone even think of harming the inoffensive animal companion came to a halt.   Then (thankful that his own snaky hair was bound up in a calm bun behind his head) he slowly walked backwards, attempting to follow his exact footprints silently back into the kitchen until he was able to reach a certain loaf of bread and toss its largest fallen crumb fairly close to the turtle in a blatant attempt to bribe the creature.   Then he waited just on the kitchen side of the shadowy doorway to find if the medusa in the bedroom were headed to the kitchen.
Sun, May 17th 2026 04:57

Meanwhile, outside the house where the others are blissfully unaware…

 
Lia studied the rest of the Kwi’Sakdi present, and Chaliimriia, for a long moment. Almost as if etching a painting of them in her mind. Finally, she nodded.
 
“Don’t get dead,” she said gently. “I’ll be upset. Someone tell Nabhi for me?”
 
With a few parting words, Lia and Okitu gather up the children. Then with Crimes in Progress in tow, head for the open road and Quilton’s Rise, Fangwood Keep, or Lakecut Crossroads. Tamas shook his head.
 
“Rough days right now,” he breathed. “Trolls in a town, maybe a whacky wizard on the loose.” The bowman sighed, smiling at the others. “Not that I’m taking point here, but wizard or no, we need a rest break.”
 
Kavi nodded. “If Nabhi didn’t find something interesting in there, that makes sense. Could use it a base camp.” He glanced at Sulini and Chaliimriia; a silent ask for opinions.
 

Speaking of Nabhi and ‘interesting’…

 
The crumb arced through the air, a silent bit of multigrain munition darting through jagged lines of light and shadow. It hit, bounced twice, then tumbled to a stop a finger-width from the turtle. The diminutive reptile tilted its head, considering the offering. Finally, after a proper, turtle-length consideration, it stretched its neck out and snapped up the morsel. The turtle chewed as if dreaming of smacking lips it didn’t have.
 
Snack well and done, it tilted its head, then trundled for the kitchen and the source of the unexpected meal.
 
While Nabhi lurked, hugged by the kitchen shadows, there was a whisper in the air. A moment of anticipation escorted by soft motion along the hallway.
 
One step.
 
Then another.
 
Quiet.
 
Guarded.
 
Then came a pause, broken by the single-minded determination of a turtle intent on reaching the source of the bread.
 
Finally, the air trembled.
 
“I know you’re here in the house,” a woman’s voice hissed out of the darkness outside the kitchen in the hallway. “I can hear you breathing. Feel it brushing past me in the air. It would be easier on us both if you just surrender. I… don’t want to hurt you…”
Nabhi pictured his next combat moves step-by-step so clearly that his muscles could feel them. The person would walk into the doorway. Nabhi would lunge forward and take hold of their upper garments with both hands. Then he would kick both feet at the wood of the doorframe and pull with all his might to defenestrate the person through the air above the kitchen table and out the window. He would land flat on his back, kip up, and follow through the window, landing his full weight atop his stunned opponent, following-up with a Scorpion Nerve Strike.   But there was something about that voice. It was hard to tell a woman's age from her hissed whisper. No. It wasn't that voice. There was something about the pauses, the pauses between, "breathing," and, "Feel", and between, "I..." and "don’t want to hurt you…”   Nabhi was not one to move without a plan, not one to disobey an order to lay low, not one to act on a hunch deep in his gut.   But he said aloud, "Our intentions align. I don't want to be hurt."   He sloughed off his tunic and left his weapons on the floor (but within easy reach).   He calmly stepped bare-chested into the doorway, raising one hand to his head, leaning his elbow against the doorframe, and flexing his bicep as he pulled his hair-wrap loose and gently tossed his head, allowing his cascading torrent of shimmering coppery red-gold scales to tumble down gently in a slithering waterfall of uncurling coils framing his rugged features, each snaky tendril releasing a primal sigh escaping its lips in wild, unbridled comfort in the delicious, unrestricted air.   "Did someone make a wish?" he asked her.
Seduction / Diplomacy / Bluff | 1d20
7
Sun, May 24th 2026 08:48

Inside the house, at the sight of the surprising—yet inevitable—moment of truth… and consequences…

 
Nabhi stepped bare-chested into the hallway. Lengths of his coppery tendril-hair slithering down in a cascade along his shoulders, rippling in air as if moved by a breeze. The light played across him in sharp angles, cutting the gloom from window to monk.
 
Across from him in the darkness, the other figure rose. She was lithe, short, wearing a cloak and traveler’s hip-length robe, belt-scarf and trousers. All dark shades of charcoal, grays and blues at home in the gloom. She smiled, white teeth a slash of white in the shadows, then let the dark cloak fall away; her own toned muscles outside her sleeveless robe caught a hint of the light before it fled.
 
Two glittering knives seemed to materialize in each hand, pulsing with a blue-white power. Hints of ice powdered the air around them. She wasn’t old, but neither was she young. Skill and experience often ignored age, and she wore them both like armor.
 
“Not yet,” she whispered, voice a chilly velvet. “Perhaps there’s no time like the present? I desperately wish that you will save me before I kill you, and the turtle’s glyph goes off again.”
 
The medusa lunged in a blur for Nabhi like a snake eager for a noonday meal.
Nabhi leaned back as the glittering icy knives approached his face and neck. His hands took hold of the thin lapel hems of her blue-grey robe. He kicked both feet at the wood of the doorframe and pulled with all his might in an attempt to defenestrate the woman through the air above the kitchen table and out the window.   Lying on his back on the kitchen floor, he planned his defense against those knives. He would dodge the blades and take hold of her upper garments with both hands and ...   No, it was too late. He had already acted without thinking. Reflexes had got the better of him. He wondered if she was still in the kitchen or sailing out the window. He wondered what she meant by, "save me," and about the turtle exploding. That was what she said, wasn't it? "Goes off," means exploding for glyphs, right?   And he wondered another thing: Did he really see what he thought he saw?  
Grappling Roll and Perception check to look for an amulet. | d20+10, d20+10
29, 21
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Sat, Jun 6th 2026 07:38   Edited on Sat, Jun 6th 2026 07:39

Kavi nodded. “If Nabhi didn’t find something interesting in there, that makes sense. Could use it a base camp.” He glanced at Sulini and Chaliimriia; a silent ask for opinions. I shift my stance, ignoring the sharp, stinging protest from the coyote scratches tracing my thigh. I look from Tamas’s tired shrug to the house Nabhi had entered, my gaze lingering on the dark, open window framing the quiet structure. I then met Kavi’s silent look with a grim, measured nod.   "Tamas is right about the rest break, but we don't drop our guard yet," I say, my voice low to avoid carrying in the heavy, suffocating air. "The Spirit Winds didn't just warn us about wild beasts. There is a mastermind herding these things, and these ordinary houses are drowning in a darkness we haven't fully mapped out yet." I gesture toward the thin, white guard tower rising sharply above the building's roof by subtly moving my head.   "If Nabhi says the inside is clear of immediate teeth, we use it. But I suggest we clear every corner ourselves first, and someone should stay posted up in that tower with a bow the entire time. If the master of those golden amulets decides to send another wave of trolls while we sleep, I don't want to be caught inside a wooden box with only one way out."   Finally, I glance at Chaliimriia as she paces quietly across the road. She stops at one of the abandoned wicker baskets full of fresh-picked grapes. "i also think the priestess still feels something is off here. I don't think we are safe enough to take the rest break we all desperately need."
Sun, Jun 14th 2026 08:36

Meanwhile, inside the house, at the sight of the unexpected, yet inevitable, combat…

 
Nabhi rolled, muscles working from instinct. Feet planted, hands latched onto lapels, Nabhi rolled back in a blur. The lady medusa yelped at the abrupt change in direction as she sailed overhead, hurled like a sack of wheat aimed for a wagon.
 
Ice-knives sliced the air between them, hurled out of control by the abrupt toss. They slammed into nearby wooden counters, vibrating as the mystical ice spread over the wood where the knives stuck.
 
Nahbi rolled into a crouch—eyes on his opponent, mind chewing on glyphs and turtles. Said opponent careened out of control, bodily smashing into a kitchen cupboard. Doors rattled as did every dish inside the cabinet. The lady medusa grunted as she dropped like a rock, bouncing off the cabinet before meeting the hard floor.
 
Quick as a snake, she scrambled to her feet keeping the all-too-small wooden table between herself and Nabhi. Her eyes flicked to the knives that wiggled in the wooden counter just out of reach. They snapped back to Nabhi before a slow grin blossomed—teeth white in the gloom.
 
“Good. You’re not a runner. That’s promising.”
 
In a blur, her hand dove in and out of a pouch at her belt. With a smooth, practiced motion, she gestured with a cupped hand at Nabhi. A well-worn length of colorful cord, muted in the darkness, snaked out with an iron fist tied at the end.
 
The metal forged fist slammed into Nabhi’s left shoulder as he moved, drawing him up short. He spun, catching his momentum before the monk kissed the back of a chair the hard way. Already he felt the a bruise welt up.
 
As he regained his balance and composure, his medusa opponent sidestepped along the length of the table. Keeping furniture and distance between herself and the monk.
 
“You’re good,” she said appraisingly. “But the important question is… do you know what you’ve stepped into?”
A muffled crash inside the nearest house shook the calm like tin pots inside a canvas bag. Kavi head turned sharp. First a look at Tamas, another at Sulini, then one last at Chaliimriia.
 
“Nabhi has a live one!” he said sharply.
 
The Kwi’Sakdi leader instinctively checked for weapons at his belt before bolting for the house for any entrance he could find.
Tamas nodded back to Kavi, racing around the house. Keeping his distance, he knelt down with warbow out; two arrows in hand. The archer narrowed his eyes.
 
“I’m seeing a lady in there. Might be a medusa. But she sure knows how to hurl a meteor hammer!”
 
He readies both arrows for two rapid fire shots, biding his time for a clean chance that won’t hit Nabhi.
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Mon, Jun 29th 2026 03:52

I shift my stance, ignoring the sharp, stinging protest from the coyote scratches tracing my thigh. The sudden, muffled crash from inside the house shakes the calm like tin pots rattling inside a canvas bag, instantly shattering the heavy silence of the road.   "Nabhi has a live one!" Kavi barks. Before I can even offer a tactical counter, Kavi is bolting flat-out for the nearest entrance, and Tamas is already racing around the perimeter, narrowing his eyes as he readies two rapid-fire arrows against his warbow. They are committing fully to the bottleneck. They are charging straight into a wooden box. No, I think, my muscles tensing. We don't all crowd the door.   Instead of rushing the threshold behind Kavi, I step backward, planting my boots firmly on the dirt road. I cast a sharp, vigilant glance at Chaliimriia. The Priestess is still standing by the abandoned wicker baskets, her posture rigid. She still feels it. The suffocating weight in the air hasn't dissipated just because Nabhi found an opponent—if anything, the darkness is thickening.   "Chaliimriia, stay behind me," I command, my voice a low, urgent rasp. I slide my weapon into a ready position, putting myself directly between her and the unmapped shadows of the surrounding village.   Closing my eyes for a single, calculated heartbeat, I shut out the sound of splintering cupboards and the heavy, metallic thud of the medusa's meteor hammer echoing from the kitchen. I open my senses to the Spirit Winds, letting my consciousness reach out into the heavy, stagnant air.   Guide my hands, I silently pray. Show me what is herding them.
Sun, Jul 5th 2026 08:35

Chaliimriia dropped atop her open backpack the dust mask supplies in her hands -- the tunic she was dismantling, the spare laces she intended to use as framing ties -- when she heard the crash inside the house. She then dropped her bow atop the lot, but only temporarily.
Nodding slightly in acknowledgment of the Kimeta's command, Chaliimriia uses her right hand to grasp the top of her holy symbol at its pendant point, her left hand to wrap around the chain where it drapes over her right shoulder. She lifts up, tilting her head left then right to help draw her hair through the loop as swiftly as possible.
Unkempt. Knots. Ecch!
As the necklace chain comes free, Chaliimriia is already wrapping it around her left forearm. Meanwhile, much like earlier this day when the party prepared for combat on the road, Chaliimriia also prays for guidance … in fact, for Guidance. The first four couplets of her quietly spoken prayer are the same Fa'lain poetry as the previous time. The less poetic conclusion, however, is a fervent but short segment that includes the Noru word "Kimeta".
The instant only enough loose chain remains to dangle the sword-shaped holy symbol a wide hands'-breadth below her left wrist, Chaliimriia scoops up her bow in her left hand. Stepping into her place back-to-back with Kimeta Sulini, less than a foot apart, she lightly touches the taller woman on the hip, physically establishing her position.
Then she draws an arrow. She knocks it, but does not yet draw back the bowstring. She scans the higher reaches of houses across the street. The sky beyond and above them. The road further into town, toward the main town square; the grass and vines betwixt and before the buildings she faces; the road by which the party had entered this town. Up, again, to examine the higher windows and air vents of those buildings, and their rooflines.
Chaliimriia focuses on nothing. She will let motion or intensity or variance in lighting draw her attention when it happens.
  Kimeta Sulini ot’Falagi , Jaira Bloodgrass (a.k.a. Kimeta Sulini) (She/Her)
Sun, Jul 5th 2026 09:33

The touch of Chaliimriia’s hand against her hip is a solid, stabilizing anchor amidst the rising chaos. Back-to-back, their positioning is disciplined—a clean tactical perimeter while Kavi and Tamas rush the structural bottleneck of the house. Inside, the heavy, rhythmic thud-crash of Nabhi’s meteor hammer continues to splinter wood, but Sulini keeps her focus locked outward, refusing to let the auditory distraction pull her gaze from the unmapped shadows.   As Chaliimriia’s quiet, rhythmic Fa'lain prayer bleeds into the air, the Spirit Winds answer Sulini's reaching consciousness. They don't arrive as a gentle breeze, but as a heavy, stagnant coil that wraps around her senses. The air itself tastes of old copper and suffocating dampness, rippling outward from the village interior like rings in a poisoned well.   The winds don't point toward the kitchen brawl. They are pulling from the blind spots—the narrow alleys between the overgrown wicker-weavers' huts and the sagging rooflines Chaliimriia is currently scanning. Something isn't just waiting; it's orchestrating. The pressure in the air suggests the crash inside wasn't a random encounter—it was the tripping of a wire, and the real jaws of the trap are beginning to close from the outside.   Sulini shifts her grip on her weapon, her muscles coiling as the unseen currents of the spirit world trace a path of movement just beyond the visible tree and vine lines.   "They're using the house as bait," Sulini rasps softly, her voice barely carrying over her shoulder to the Priestess. "The pressure isn't coming from inside. It's pooling in the gaps between the buildings. Watch the lanes to the left of the square. The moment the wind shifts, whatever is herding us is going to try and seal that door from the outside."   With her boots dug into the dirt road, she prepares to intercept the first shadow that breaks cover, waiting to see if Chaliimriia's passive gaze catches the physical shape of the threat the spirits are already whispering about.
Sun, Jul 5th 2026 11:03

"The wind," says the priestess in that pleasant tone that a Samakarii uses when her anger has advanced beyond a certain threshold, "does not move the Mountain."
A downdraft of warm summer breeze splashes on her, starting just above roof height to the south, splashing down near her knees. Loose strands of silver hair curl around the edges of Sulini like the festival streamers at the Swallowtail Festival in left-behind Aquitaine. Chaliimriia's voice strengthens, her tone nearly a command:
"It is the Mountain which shapes the Wind."
Sun, Jul 5th 2026 11:28

Inside, as the moment grows dire…

 
The medusa jerked the meteor hammer back, long ribbon neatly recoiling in and around her hand and wrist protectively. She slow swings the metal meteor hammer in a lazy circle, sidestepping the table. Each step was as silent as secrets.
 
“I can’t… not… fight you,” she admitted through clenched teeth. “The tattoos won’t allow it. Not until I’ve been subdued. But at least I’ve scarred one so I can talk. HE doesn’t know that… not that the donkey’s ass pays attention.”
 
She swallowed hard, eyes boring into Nabhi. “Do you really know what you’ve stepped into? Do you? I think you haven’t.”
 
Her meteor hammer swings faster, air starting to whistle.
 
“You should run… Gotrel knows your group is here. He set up this half-ass trap for you and yours. Watch the runes…”
 
Then she lunged like lightning looking for a victim—her eyes locked on Nabhi.
 

Outside, where consequences take hold…

 
Tamas slowed, crouched and fired. Arrows sailed through the window and thunked where wood inside paid the price.
 
“Spirit’s Ass!” he snapped. “She’s fast.”
 
Behind Kavi and Tamas, Chaliimriia and Sulini go back-to-back, weapons and senses out. The priestess’s spell descended on Sulini like spring sunshine in a comforting hug. At the same time the spirit winds whisper their warning, and Sulini says hers.
 
Kavi nodded once, heeding Sulini’s comment. Immediately, he backed away from the gap between houses until he could keep eyes on as many shadows that he could. Tamas did the same, yanking out two more arrows while he kept a good archer’s distance.
 
The wind picked up, grass shuddering as it stirred.
 
Two heartbeats later, shadows bulged and spread. They rippled like a wave echoing with the rapid thumping of a hundred grassy drums. In a rush, the hinted threat took shape and became all too real.
 
Dozens of magically altered rabbits, fur tipped with black ends, stampeded into view. Each one was larger than normal, the size of a water bucket—all with extended fangs and a white, chalky rune drawn on their back. Eyes blown out wide, they ran in a wild panic, chased by a pack of coyotes. As the rabbits brushed anything in their path, the runes sparked. Chalk erupted into tiny storms of brief arcane bolts.
 
The rabbits swarmed for the house, Nabhi, and his opponent. Everywhere the wind howled, and dust devils ran for cover. A wall of wind slammed down like the gods’s own portcullis.
 
Behind the chaos, past the houses toward the town square where Sulini and Chaliimriia feared, stood a figure in a black robe with red trim. Medium range for a bow shot, if that. The wind stirred the figure’s cloak, revealing a gray-skinned elf with a red scar along his right cheek. Crimson eyes burned with barely contained magic, intelligence, and corruption.
 
It was an elven wizard who’d made a pact with a demon, with anyone’s guess who was in charge.
 
He grinned at the group with a smile as sharp as a sacrificial knife.
Nabhi pictured himself raising a knee to his chest and thrusting a kick forward to knock the table into the lady medusa, but then he heard her words. Again it was very strange the way she worded everything.   As she stepped around the table, Nabhi stepped, adjusting their relative position only a little.   When she said, “Do you really know what you’ve stepped into? Do you? I think you haven’t,” Nabhi snatched the knife from the table, and brandished the loaf of stale bread at his opponent. It seemed unintimidating, and he flicked the bread to an explosion of crumbs on the floor, making it appear much more useful as a weapon.   But Nabhi's intent was not to strike with the knife, nor even throw it. He wanted the dangerous turtle somewhere in the room to have plenty of distracting snacks.   "You should run," she said and prepared to attack with the meteor hammer again, by the looks of things.   Nabhi opened his hand, allowing the knife to spin harmlessly in the air, catching the light as much as the Ring of Spider Climb on his finger.   Nabhi quick-stepped up the wall in an arcing path, hands ready to attempt to deflect the meteor hammer this time, should she loose it again. He felt only a little thankfulness that Brother Shia made the new initiates practice deflecting arrows mostly while hanging from a rope, or balancing on a rooftop, or leaping from a horse, seemingly impractical situations, one and all.   Then two arrows embedded into the cabinet, perfect stepping stones to land him at the lady medusa's flank, ready to apply a wrestling hold to both her arms.   While moving, "Where did he apply these runes to you?" he asked her, "And if I bought Gotrel for what he is worth and sold him for what he THINKS he's worth, how much money would I make?"
Grapple(d20+CMB+2 for Improved Grapple) | 1d20+10
16
Sun, Jul 12th 2026 06:41

Inside, where events take an unexpected, yet inevitable turn…

 
The knife spun like steel judgment looking to give a verdict, as Nabhi scaled wall, embedded arrows, and hope. A short trip, as he landed behind the medusa woman, pinning her arms in a wrestling hold.
 
As Nabhi’s arms went to lock in place, the woman walked her own path. Floor, table, then up and over. She bent backwards to plant her feet on the kitchen cabinet, until she was bracing between Nabhi and cabinet, suspended over him. Medusa face to medusa face.
 
Nabhi’s grapple was half effective—but so was the medusa woman’s counter grapple in return. Grapple locked grapple as Nabhi instantly recognized the motion, memory clicking into place.
 
A shinobi.
 
She smiled, as sweet as poisoned honey; her hair tendrils wavered in a silent breeze all their own.
 
“The runes? Spine. Shoulders. Neck. After all, where else would they go if one wanted to control a puppet. The neck rune is quite a mess now. Gotrel’s ego is bigger than his common sense.” Her smile survived the bitter note to her words. “I came to kill him but got cocky. Careless. I’d blame Brother Squirrel for this, but even he wouldn’t stoop to this nonsense.”
 
A brief contest of strength proved Nabhi’s hold was going nowhere, but neither was hers.
 
“As for Gotrel himself? Ha!” A genuine laugh echoed off the still kitchen walls. Motions, voices, an a stale wind slapped the world outside across the mouth. “If you sold that rotten bastard, then counted your profits? You’d be counting air and coming up short. He thinks he’s worth more than his demon-riddled hide actually is worth.”
 
She jerked again, making no progress.
 
“I’m Miyomoto Amari Fumiko,” she said with a short nod. “It’s very upsetting that you’ll have to die. Tell me your name so I can light a candle to your ancestors.”
Sun, Jul 12th 2026 10:02

The problem of the rabbits, clearly made imminent by the pack of coyotes behind them, is precisely the sort of thing Chaliimriia knows others are better-skilled to solve. Before the rabbits can be treated more than a wind-bath to remove those runes, the problem of the coyotes must be solved.
That will be most simply accomplished if the wizard foe is not available.
 
Chaliimriia reflects that, purely on the basis of the foe's stance and presentation, he intends to make a dramatic speech.
Her cultured heart shudders at the raffishness of it.
 
In the motion of altering her bow's orientation to point toward the new threats, Chaliimriia naturally gathers the dangling holy pendant into tighter grasp with the last two fingers of her left hand. No need to let it dangle -- that might reduce the strength of her shot, or interfere with the aim of her arrow. She sweeps from ellbow height up to full extension, sighting on the point a thumb's length below the foe's solar plexus. Her shot would need to travel through the core of her windwall: she adjusts upward, plotting a parabolic arc foreshortened after the wall adds speed to the shaft.
Concentrating, she nocks the ready arrow, fully draws the bow--
-- tumbling hailstones glimmer in Chaliimriia's eyes --
-- and calls down a divine red Lightning Arc from the sky directly onto the foe's spinal column.
Mon, Jul 13th 2026 01:24

Outside… BLAMMO!

 
The wall of wind moaned like a banshee that’d lost a bet. It rippled the air with a vengeance above the grass. Chaliimriia drew her bow, taking aim at the wizard beyond the maelstrom.
 
He opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t. Instead, he frowned, glaring at the wall of wind. Muttering, words lost to the rushing gale, he stomped closer—and opened his mouth again…
 
The lightning arc cascaded from the suddenly stormy sky, punctuating an unspoken opinion about anything he had to say. Divine electricity hit him like a fist from the heavens. Energy cascaded through him until his teeth glowed like tiny lanterns in the night. The wizard was picked up, shaken like a rag doll after being washed, then tossed back into the grass.
 
A groan sizzled up from the wizard that melted into a single, “… ow… I gotta get me something like that…”
 
Smoke curled from the elven wizard’s ears a second later, as if from an overheated kettle. Not far behind, a pack of five werecoyotes drew up to a collective halt. Concern and worry passed over their muzzles at the sight of the steaming wizard. The rabbits lost no time in looking for a dozen places to hide in as many directions. Finding none, half ran for the house with Nahbi, the other half branched off toward Kavi, Tomas, Chaliimriia, and Sulini.
Considering their situation, Nahbi couldn't really avoid closely inspecting Miyomoto's neck, how the magical rune had been imprinted on it, and how she had managed to mar it to render it's magic less potent. He wondered how he (or his companions) could possibly do the same to her dreadful spine and shoulder tattoos.   Thunder clapped outside the window.   Nabhi had an idea. Actually it was a very old idea.   "I am Nabhi ot’Esera Badal Rockbreaker of the Singing Sting Temple. It is very kind of you, but I doubt you will be able to kill me in these tight quarters," Nabhi told her while struggling lightly and kicking at his canvas shoulder bag on the floor until its contents spilled out, "Many people die from a scorpion in their shoe," he struggled to see in the dim light where his favorite calligraphy pen and vials of permanent ink had rolled, "One must shoo a scorpion out into the open sunlight to have any chance against it," he continued, "And in a moment, I believe I will have you tied up in your own meteor hammer," and without letting go of her clothing, he lunged down to grab that vial of black ink.