The startling sound is such that a small spring bursts in Deimus's chest, the 'twak' echoing in response to the query. After a moment of hesitation, Deimus answers, looking uneasily at Hrungnir: "No, my name is Deimus. We- I am worried. What is going on here?"
He doesn't move further in the room though and turns his attention back to the door, fearful.
There is a long silence, or at least it seems long before the same silvery voice "The fey came demanding fealty to their queen...those who resisted were taken or killed outright. I saw Sister Bira escape in the madness that followed...but I was captured and bound here, within my sanctum." another pause "None have come in a long while now...your voice, its modulated isn't it? Are you a child of Rava?"
When the elves depart the scene, Carnadine turns his full attention toward the hypnotized animals and those near them. The noble dhampir attempts to discover who is actually holding the prey fast and wonders what will happen when their magical trap expires, Surely, they cannot hold it forever.
It would be honorable to kill these animals in melee. The fey baron hunted them, so they are a noble prey. Wonder if the animals will disappear into black mists like the fey hunters.
Staying as high as possible, Lexi crept towards the direction the voice was coming, hoping to see the creature that was speaking.
Seeing the beasts being held by the spell, Raseri turns to Kjeta.
"What magics do you have to calm the beasts? Thor has not seen fit to grant me such spells."
”Bloody hell. Not here too. Hope this isn’t a fey trick though.” Hrungnir muttered.
In the Shrine of Fate, Deimus's heart-machine pumps a dark oil as the fate of the worshippers is made known to him. He replies: "I am a child of Rava. A very young one, tzhough my former self was much older. I am deeply troubled by your wordz. Is there any way I can help you?"
Discovering who imprisoned the animals, with the human's question to the dwarf. Carnadine casually approaches the two in a non-threatening manner. He waits to overhear the dwarf's reply.
This noble dhampir stands a little over six feet tall with alabaster skin and jet black hair pulled back in a fashionable short tail. He readies a shield emblazoned gules, a skull argent. And, his matching crimson tabard is decorated to announce his status as a noble within the Order of Knights Incorporeal and overlays splint armor which tapers to fit a slim build. His weapon’s belt carries a longsword and two handaxes.
If the dwarf is holding the prison, then they might have to kill the animals, which would be a good hunt.
From her perch high on the wall, Lexi can just barely see through the gap noting a bound hand of some figure, sitting in a chair some 20 ft beyond the door.
At Deimus concerns, the voice returns "Come, free me from these bindings so I might start the rituals of the day afresh...the strands of fate will not spin without my work..."
Deimus hesitates. Crouching under his cloak, he tries to find an angle to see into the room, without stepping into the room.
Deimus lines his eye up with the crack in the door, peering into the Oracle's private sanctum. A slight rush pierces his psyche, as he had always heard it was somehow 'wrong' to enter this door and that the Oracle should be able to complete his work undisturbed. Still, it seems his plea is genuine, being bound to a chair which might almost be called a lounge sofa with thick ropes. The room is lit by candlelight and glistens off many shiny objects of likely brass make, ceremonial instruments and apparatus of forgotten rituals only an expert like the Oracle could comprehend. There is also the strange, sweet and musty stink of perhaps incense.
After the wounded were taken care of and the wreckage cleaned up, Raseri looks to see if the man looking over them is still around. It was late now, late enough that she isn't sure of the wisdom of going to the walls, at least not when she's dressed like she's looking for trouble. After a moment of looking, Raseri heads into the brewery and leaves several minutes later by another door, Her helmet and more conspicuous weapons now with the rest of her gear. Under her cloak is her armor and her hammer at her hip while a shield is slung over her shoulder. She exits by a different door than she entered before making her way back to the city wall.
Coming up behind the metallic kobold, Hrungnir said ”Ye gonna help her, lad? I’ll watch your back for any fey trickery. But seems wrong to leave someone stuck like that.”
Kjeta sighs with relief as the hunters turn tail...but then looks at the hypnotized beasts and frowns.
"I'd kinda hoped they'd fade away with the hunters, but no luck, it seems. I'll see if I can persuade them to leave the city, but if I can't I'm afraid we may need to slay them.
"Hold on a sec. This calls for another drink!" Kjeta takes another swig of her blessed brew, and then approaches the animals. Letting her spell end, she says in as soothing a voice as she can manage.
"Easy now. Good doggie deer, boar, and bear. Easy. No one wants to hurt you."
Up close, you can tell these are no normal woodlands creatures. The boar's tusks are so finely polished you can see your warped reflection in them, its dusty ashen coat seems to be made of hairs which all split into 3 on the ends, almost resembling tiny feathers. Semi-translucent, it gives the boar a ghostly appearance. The deer is just as odd, its antlers like a dark pine bark, nearly black contrasting with its white fur. Finally, from up close you note the bear has three stubby horns forming a triangle on its forehead, just barely cresting over the shaggly skin.
But all seem to respond to Kjeta's movements, being disarmed by the unassuming dwarf's gait and practiced, sympathetic tone. The trio followed the divinely inspired brewer forth through the city.
Ras meanwhile had 3 horse corpses to get rid of, no short order. But luckily after a few minutes the guard arrive and help load the beasts onto a cart. They joke about selling the meat to a dive inn, to wind up in their discount stew.
Carnadine will silently follow the dwarf and menagerie through the city providing a stalwart procession. He readies to slay the fey creatures if they escape the hypnotic pattern, but with the feigned casualness of a sheathed sword. And, he avoids and prevents others from distracting the dwarf who might lose the mental prison of the creatures.
Deimus nods at Hrungnir and clicks his neck, his lubricant hiccuping inside his chest as though he was swallowing hard, then steps with reverence in the sanctum. Without a word, and moving as fast as he can, he works on the ropes restraining the Oracle, without looking at the man, keeping his eye locked on his task.
Once the task is done, he walks backwards, head bowed, back to the door and out of the sanctum.
Lexi and Hrungnir let the gearforged enter the private sanctum alone to face whatever secrets it stores. Inside, Deimus noticed a dense smoke lingering in the air from strange clay tablets smoldering...minus nostrils, he could only imagine their fragrance. He kept his head down advancing towards the Oracle, steps muffled on an intricately woven carpet.
The bindings came off surprisingly easy, but Deimus could guess why...the Oracle was little more than skin and bone. His eyes were deeply sunken into their sockets and seemed almost grotesquely huge, but he didn't look directly...just catching a hint at the periphery of his vision receptors.
The Oracle did not rise, but relaxed on the couch/chair and cracked his knuckles. Just as Deimus was about to go "Won't you stay? I could give you a gift of fate...?"
Exiting the brewery the light of the stars hits Raseri, and she feels a strange sensation...
Carnadine trails the herd and their drunken shepard towards the gates, making quite the scene "A 47 point buck!" a toothless old ranger shouts, nearly toppling off the side of his bench. "Mom? Will my new teeth be shiny like that piggy?" inquires a little girl of the mirror like tusks. "Praise Ninkash!" another 3-sheeter echos down the alleys.
A few try to get close, but the dhampir interjects himself menacingly between any who breach a certain perimeter, and slowly they make their way out of the city. Canadine and Kjeta note for themselves that the familiar Clockwork Guardians, the never eating never sleeping eternal guardians of the gate...are gone. Replaced indeed with fey in white tabards with a black moon.
The same crowd of city guard is nearby, apparently taking a break. "Keep thinking..." the captain urges "There must be something we haven't tried..."
Raseri pauses as she she feels the icy tingle of something... strange. The song she'd been humming stops as she looks around. Her hands shift, the one holding her shield's strap moving it to make it easier to put it up quickly and the other feeling the head of her warhammer at her belt. Something all too much like fear creeps into her heart, like frost gathering on a chill night.
"Ge bith cò thu, seall dhut fhèin. Tha fios agam gu bheil thu ann."
Her words, she notes with some satisfaction, are clear and steady. She wonders for a moment if she should have just damned the consequences and carried all of her weapons.
After releasing the menagerie, the noble dhampir asks the human and dwarf. "So, did you see those fey guardians at the gate?"
"The baron thought that he was in the fey city of Zobeck. How would we know if we were in the fey city of Zobeck, or in the Midgard city of Zobeck?"
There is no response, but your skin starts to itch as if it is extremely dry in winter, flaking off so much you can't resist to scratch and scratch and scratch. Looking down at your hands, your skin seems to have turned a pale white...but maybe its just a trick of the light? Backing inside for a moment, you note that in fact, all the color is draining from your body...becoming nothing but black and white with no shades in between.
But you laugh, your sheer character making the change so frivolous you notice it less and less, until within minutes you cant even notice the itch and your color seems to be restored. Was that the best they could do?
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What was the false cold compared to the harshness of even a mild Northlands winter? The laugh starts only as a chuckle, but grows into a howling gale that has her doubled over. What a fool she is being! She is blessed by Thor. Her steps are thunder and her very words can call down his lightning. There is no need for furtive action when a storm of thunder is at your call.
A few minutes later, Raseri leaves by the front, the iris of her eyes glowing and crackling with caged lightning. Thunder rumbles around her and the ground trembles at her passing. Her helmet shimmers in the starlight as she walks out, once again arrayed for battle. No fey tricksters would defeat her without a fight.
Not long after releasing the fey creatures, thunder rumbles from the way you had come and the very ground beneath your feet trembles from the approaching storm. Marching up, her eyes aglow with lightning, you see Raseri, the symbols of her faith clear for all to see hanging from her neck and ready for a fight it seems with shield, hammer, bow, blade, and maul all seeming to crackle with energy.
"It seems fairies still muddle their minds," she says pointing to the soldiers trying to comprehend what is going on. "Shall we see if they are so inclined to meddle with ours," she asks, a wolf's grin spreading on her face beneath the helmet she wears.
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You mentally cycle through the heraldry your background has afforded you...the white field was common enough, the giants of Jotenheim bore the red skull of Aurgelmir on a white field. But no, even in the light it was clearly a crescent moon, not a skull. House Salzbach of the Grand Duchy of Dorning held a yellow crescent chief over a red rook on a blue field...no. The Canton of Melana wore an white upper field, but it was a lower field of green with 3 gold stars, not a moon. Perhaps the Maritime Republic of Triolo? A white field with worm oruborous...the circular shape could be a moon, but that didnt make sense...Triolo here in the crossroads? No. Kalpostan, the Provine of the Heart was a white crescent on black...the complete opposite of these fey.
There was simply nothing in the lexicon of Midgard to match it.
Watching the Gearforged enter, Lexi decided to wait for him to start screaming; when no screaming immediately occurred, she decided to wait and see what happened next.
After finally getting the animals safely outside the city gates, Kjeta wipes her brow with some relief. "Phew! Praise Ninkash!"
Nodding to the well-dressed pale man, she raises her tankard and adds, "And thank you, citizen, for keeping the gawkers back. I was worried that boy in the green tunic was going to get himself trampled.
"Kjeta Strongmalt, at yer service." She holds out her hand in greeting. "And yes, I didn't want to take my eyes off those beasts for too long, but I did notice that. Queerest sight, eh?"
As Raseri rejoins the conversation, she says, "Aye, I have a few questions for those fae, alright!"
Raseri starts to lead the way to the stairs she'd seen the guards fail so utterly to climb up when she notices Carnadine's presence.
"Well met southlander. I am Raseri Whitescale, Priestess of Thor. I see you have meet the good brew-mother here," she says with a bow of her own. "Are you certain you want to be involved? There is a greater chance of fey mischief if you come with us."
She turns before Carnadine has a chance to reply and heads for the stairs, her eyes still aglow, but the thunder and trembling has faded from her steps.
Carnadine welcomes the introduction by the dwarf with a genuine, fanged smile and politely replies, "Carnadine of Bruvik, Knight Incorporeal. Well met and well done with the menagerie, Kjeta Stongmalt. I thought for sure we would have had to slay those strange creatures in the streets." He feigns acceptance of the rudeness of the priestess of Thor, as she walks away without receiving his introduction. But, what can you expect from a Thordottir.
He begins to follow Raseri side by side with Kjeta, continuing the conversation with the dwarf, "yes, questions for certain. There are too many fey events of late to be a coincidence. Perhaps, those fey guards would have more information about this fey city of Zobeck. However, if you mean them harm for just being fey, I will not partake. They are clearly in the service of a noble fey and attacking them would be an assault on a fey noble court."
Deimus whiz and nods at the Oracle's offer, then thinks twice and adds: "It would be the greatest of honour. That being said, I would be claiming to be more than I am if I did not mention my companions. Without them, I would not have had the courage to even come near the temple, let alone enter this sanctum and untie you, Oracle. Should I invite them as well?"
"So long as I do not see them endanger the innocent, I will not raise my arms against them without provocation," Raseri answers, a little anger flickering at the suggestion that she'd wantonly slaughter them without cause. "Hospitality is paid with hospitality, and violence against the weak with contempt. I care not their allegiance nor how 'highly born' their lord is. Southlanders put too much stock in one's blood and not enough in their deeds. Remember that Carnadine of Bruvik, and I do not think you shall find any quarrel with me."
"Ah, but one's blood is so very important." The noble dhampir's genuine smile accentuates his large white canines.
"Remember that Raseri Whitescale, and you should not find a quarrel with me."
"As you will." the Oracle stated knowingly.
The captain's eyes widen as the trio of adventures attempt to approach the fey. He seems desperate for a solution and encourages them on, dabbing his sweaty brow saying "Some trickery shields them...we've not made sense of it. You'd be a friend of the guard to get them down, for sure."
The fey are roughly 120 ft up the wall, with the path to them fairly clear. Enter the barbican door, ascend the spiral steps...the door is even open. But as the group starts to move forward, there is a strange disorientation you can't quite put your finger on. After about 10 minutes of walking towards the steps, you find you are right back where you started.
"Hmm," Raseri gives Carnadine a puzzled look, then an exaggerated sniff. "Strange, you do not smell like a wolf." She turns her attention back to the stairs and resumes her march towards them. "I have never seen the value of bloodlines. We all bleed the same color. We all are born from a mother's womb while she screams in agony. The way some prattle on about it, you would think a noble's blood some grand elixir that could cure any ailment or banish any curse while turning anything into gold and silver."
The young-seeming woman shakes her head as she looks at the stairs and tries to discern what fey trick may be upon them.
"Should one's birth seal one's fate? Are the lowly doomed to be lowly? Are heroic deeds naught but fodder for the skalds to spin their tales from? Nay. Let those who have power prove they have earned it by deed and let those who are laggards and dullards fall to a station more befitting their talents. That is the way of the Northlands, Carnadine of Bruvik, where the winters care not for one's bloodline. That is why I put little into southlander titles. They do not reveal a person's true character, but hide it."
She does not mention that she is uncertain how she is so sure of what her homeland was like and why she doesn't care one tittle for the nobility of the south. She took their coin, but that is as far as her loyalty goes. They haven't earned her trust nor her loyalty, nor ahs this Carnadine. Something about him makes her uneasy. Is it the teeth? She has heard of lands nearby ruled by the dead that feast on the blood of the living. Is he one of them and not a werewolf as she had assumed? The air around her grows cold with a chill breeze gusting around them for just a moment before stilling.
She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. She needed to focus on the task at hand, getting up the stairs without getting made a fool or killed.
Seeing the twisting of the stairs, Raseri decides to take a different route up the stairs.
"Feasgar math, Am faod sinn tighinn," she calls up to the fey on the walls, even as she wondered what had inspired her to try asking politely. She takes up her maul like a walking staff and taps the butt end of it on the cobbles as the head's runes start to glow with stormlight. Her smile is wide and welcoming, like that of a friend.
The fey seem to hear Ras, but only give the slightest of glances before turning their backs.
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"An dèanadh am fear a tha ag òrdachadh dhut an t-urram a bhith a ’bruidhinn rinn?"
The smile fades, an expression a little too close to worry for Raseri's taste replacing it.
"I am liking these stairs less and less," she quietly tells Kjeta and Carnadine as she waits for a reply. "I wonder what tricks they have in store for those more clever than the guards that should be up there."
Ras, they seem to be murmuring to each other but you can't understand the meaning of the words...it seems like a language related to Sylvan but it sounds like extra vowels are inserted and strung together in longer strands...
"Dondialon, is that one addressing us you think?"
"*scoff* I should hope not, my good Montylgrue. A well-bred woman never attempts to force her acquaintance upon another, especially at such distance. Even the ocean wave tickles the earth before setting her bounds, after all. Besides, what difference does it make anticipating an introduction that will never occur? Those...course-walkers...are a silly affair altogether."
"Course-walkers? Aha! Clever Dondialon, the course they are on and their coarse nature."
After speaking, one slaps the other on the back and they both laugh, turning away again.
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Ras, yes, despite there being no mention of hamsters nor elderberries, your warrior instincts confirm you are being taunted.
Deimus moves to the edge of the door frame and waves Hrungnir and, if he spots her or she lets him spot her, Lexi.
"I accept the gift of fate you so generously offered, Oracle." he says solemnly, bowing his head down in respect.
Carnadine welcomes the introduction by the dwarf with a genuine, fanged smile and politely replies, "Carnadine of Bruvik, Knight Incorporeal. Well met and well done with the menagerie, Kjeta Stongmalt. I thought for sure we would have had to slay those strange creatures in the streets." He feigns acceptance of the rudeness of the priestess of Thor, as she walks away without receiving his introduction. But, what can you expect from a Thordottir.
He begins to follow Raseri side by side with Kjeta, continuing the conversation with the dwarf, "yes, questions for certain. There are too many fey events of late to be a coincidence. Perhaps, those fey guards would have more information about this fey city of Zobeck. However, if you mean them harm for just being fey, I will not partake. They are clearly in the service of a noble fey and attacking them would be an assault on a fey noble court."
Kjeta's eyes go wide, briefly, when Carnadine flashes his teeth, and she tries to hide a shiver.
"Believe me, with the Mother of Ales as my witness, I'd rather be spreading the Good Brews--and helping folks gain holy freedom from their inhibitions--than bashing in skulls. That said, the first two fae incursions I've seen here have come in with them drawing blood, and I'll protect the weak and humble whene'er I'm able.
"...And speaking of the Good Brews...I happen to have a blessed batch here, if you'd like a taste."
"I can't tell what they're saying--or what you are for that matter--but I take it they aren't sending a guide, in which case..."
Kjeta starts to slowly, steadily follow the path forward, looking for clues that might help her to avoid being fooled by fae trickery.
The dwarf couldn't make sense of it, her ancestral instincts were usually spot on about gentle slopes and she was always guided by a clear direction, but something about the patch of ground was twisted and out of sync with its surroundings. In her heart she empathized with the frustrated guard.
"Of course, come, let us begin..." he lifts a strange mechanical charcoal stylus and a few stiff cards of bleached paper. The Oracle's grotesque, sunken eyes begin to glow as bright yellow orbs...filling the empty spaces of his flesh. The movements of his writing become rapidly blurry, and the creaking of his joints strongly suggests some kind of metallic mechanus beneath the skin. After a few moments, a small stack of cards is full of text, which he bundles ceremoniously with preserving oils, a white ribbon, and a waxy spider seal. "You will open it when you are ready." He pauses a moment for any further questions, but if he recieves none continues "Now leave me. I must redress the wards of the sanctum. If you see Sister Bira, tell her I'm sorry I missed her..." he grins a humble yet creepy grin.
The Thordottir does not understand innuendo and really does not appreciate lineage. The noble dhampir stores that away in his memory of individuals who he meets.
"Well, thank you, Kjeta Strongmalt." The knight accepts her brew and drinks deeply. "And, a good brew, it is. Well done."
Carnadine follows the human and dwarf until it's clear that they are going no where fast.
He steps back from the wall to have the best to see and be seen by the fey guards. He stows his shield and cups his mouth to shout up to the fey.
Silence from above. Then, the captain offers "Its no use, those elven snoots are just toying with us. We tried this earlier..."
He unshoulders a very heavy metal crossbow, cranking it down with such tension it like to burst. Setting a mean looking quarrel with white fletching into place, he first drops his little wooden guardy stool next to his left knee and fires directly at the fey...
Amazingly the quarrel's path is incredibly complex, a series of loops and curves that knot over itself multiple times, spanning nearly half the distance radially between the captain and the fey...and impossibly, comes to stick the little guardy stool from behind!
"Figure feet do the same...Collegium was here at nightfall, tried the same with a bolt of acid...guess he set his ward to the wrong face. Won't be sitting easy anytime soon. I'd like to flay them damn elves...or quit." Though surely not being serious about quitting, its equally clear the experience is not resting well in his psyche.
Raseri's expression darkens as her eyes narrow in a frown.
"They are mocking me," she says plainly while Carnadine shouts up to them.
The noble dhampir shrugs and nods to thank the captain. Then, turns to Raseri and Kjeta. "Well, I have business at the city archives. It was genuine pleasure to meet you two ladies. Hope our paths cross again."
He would welcome them if they wish to accompany him and equally bids them adieu if they do not.