a hidden valley in Faerûn
As the small party approached the curve around the side of the hill they'd stepped out on, they would be assaulted by a number of unexpected things. Clanking of iron on stone. Smoke scented with strange herbs that sizzled in the air as it passed them. Shouts followed by the cracking of a whip. A strange droning sound that would eventually distinguish itself as a continuous chant.
In a valley mostly cut off from the surrounding area, a cluster of tents stood away from an open-pit dig site. The glint of sunlight off their tools was the only real evidence that there was anyone wielding them in the pit, so dirty were the few workers. Everywhere around stood people in in flowing grey robes. A few presided over the pit, while more milled about in camp. A group of 6 were clustered around a large cauldron - the source of both the smoke and the chanting.
Main entrances to the camp were guarded by armed mages, but the small goat trails up the hills were left unguarded. They were counting on their numbers and their perceived power to dissuade any from interrupting their enterprise.
Again, the whip cracked, this time followed by a cry of pain.
"Stop it! Leave him alone! Can't you see he is tired?" a shrill voice echoed off the walls. Below, a petite, thin figure moved to stand between the guard with the whip and the sagging brown mass of a person behind her. Her features were largely obscured by dirt, but her stance radiated a commanding presence. The whip descended on her and she did not flinch away, even as it tore at her chest.
"Get back to work!"
"After you let him have a drink and a rest."
*crack* "You don't make the rules, twig. If you keep slowing us down, I'll have him digging a second shift!"
At this, the small figure's shoulders drooped. She looked over her shoulder at the man struggling to stand, using his pick to push himself up before raising his tool to get back to work.
*crack*
The slight figure registered this strike with little more than a longer blink before she moved back into her position on the other side of the pit and began working at the same steady pace she had before.
Finding Home
Re: Finding Home
Fira-Nar
As much as she didn't want to hear what Anakita was saying, the Ranger had already been quite helpful - and she was someone who seemed to care about her life and whether or not she could read things. It was enough to get her to back down from the high of possibly solving a problem to think on other possible solutions.
"I don't really want to be more different than I already am..." she began, furrowing her brow in thought. "But I guess if I'm not hexed...I should think of something else to help. Even if it is just until the hex gets lifted."
The argonian pulled the book out from under her armpit and stared at the cover with its floating, curling letters.
"You know, the signs carved in stone in towns don't move a much. I just thought it was because they are only one word that I could figure out what they said faster. But maybe...maybe it's because they aren't so...curly? Why would anyone want to make letters look like this anyway?"
She pointed once again at the offending script - by all accounts, a lovely hand.
As much as she didn't want to hear what Anakita was saying, the Ranger had already been quite helpful - and she was someone who seemed to care about her life and whether or not she could read things. It was enough to get her to back down from the high of possibly solving a problem to think on other possible solutions.
"I don't really want to be more different than I already am..." she began, furrowing her brow in thought. "But I guess if I'm not hexed...I should think of something else to help. Even if it is just until the hex gets lifted."
The argonian pulled the book out from under her armpit and stared at the cover with its floating, curling letters.
"You know, the signs carved in stone in towns don't move a much. I just thought it was because they are only one word that I could figure out what they said faster. But maybe...maybe it's because they aren't so...curly? Why would anyone want to make letters look like this anyway?"
She pointed once again at the offending script - by all accounts, a lovely hand.
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Monkey Kitty
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- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Finding Home
Anakita Snakecharm
Anakita frowned at the page, as if her scowl might intimidate it into choosing to be more readable.
"That is really curly," the Ranger agreed. "Hm. I have an idea. Here."
She grabbed some parchment and a quill, and rewrote the first few sentences on the page. Unlike the book, however, Anakita used no embellishment. She wrote in clear, straight strokes, making each letter bold and distinct.
"How 'bout this?" she asked, pushing the paper in Fira's direction. "Is that any better?"
Anakita frowned at the page, as if her scowl might intimidate it into choosing to be more readable.
"That is really curly," the Ranger agreed. "Hm. I have an idea. Here."
She grabbed some parchment and a quill, and rewrote the first few sentences on the page. Unlike the book, however, Anakita used no embellishment. She wrote in clear, straight strokes, making each letter bold and distinct.
"How 'bout this?" she asked, pushing the paper in Fira's direction. "Is that any better?"
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 914
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Finding Home
Tempest and Cullen Rutherford, Ulga gra-Shatul, and Githia Acarra
The four of them were crouched in a ravine, flat against the soil, staring across at an archaeology-dig-meets-labor-camp run by a group of cultists, who were apparently searching for the same artifact.
Githia had been a little surprised that the others wanted to stop - accustomed as she was to traveling with a group of refugees who could barely assure their own survival, let alone see to anyone else. They had the incantation and could easily get to the relic faster than the cultists, after all. And Githia was too deep in the mindset of, 'there's probably nothing we can do.'
This group seemed to think differently, though. When they'd spotted the encampment, Cullen had said, "We probably ought to do something about that," and no one had disagreed.
"We should," Tempest agreed. "But it's going to be tricky."
And that was what brought their to their current position. Watching. Observing for weaknesses.
"We'll need to enlist some of the stronger prisoners," Cullen eventually whispered. "That will help with the issue of being so outnumbered. That one who just stood up to the guard, perhaps?"
They edged a little closer, painstakingly, careful not to be seen.
When they were in position, Tempest did a faint whistle imitating a bird call. Whether the prisoner in question would seize on the signal of course remained to be seen.
The four of them were crouched in a ravine, flat against the soil, staring across at an archaeology-dig-meets-labor-camp run by a group of cultists, who were apparently searching for the same artifact.
Githia had been a little surprised that the others wanted to stop - accustomed as she was to traveling with a group of refugees who could barely assure their own survival, let alone see to anyone else. They had the incantation and could easily get to the relic faster than the cultists, after all. And Githia was too deep in the mindset of, 'there's probably nothing we can do.'
This group seemed to think differently, though. When they'd spotted the encampment, Cullen had said, "We probably ought to do something about that," and no one had disagreed.
"We should," Tempest agreed. "But it's going to be tricky."
And that was what brought their to their current position. Watching. Observing for weaknesses.
"We'll need to enlist some of the stronger prisoners," Cullen eventually whispered. "That will help with the issue of being so outnumbered. That one who just stood up to the guard, perhaps?"
They edged a little closer, painstakingly, careful not to be seen.
When they were in position, Tempest did a faint whistle imitating a bird call. Whether the prisoner in question would seize on the signal of course remained to be seen.
Re: Finding Home
Fira-Nar
Fira watched intently as Anakita carefully wrote out the words from the book on a piece of paper. While the reading issue had come up sort of by accident, she was now prepared - and determined - to not let out the fact that she couldn't write either. The two seemed to go together, so struggle and failure with one had led to a lack of trying with the other. Perhaps because learning to write usually involved copying letters - which moved so much that she wasn't sure what they were supposed to look like to begin with. She set those memories aside as she took the paper from Anakita.
"Hmmm. Well, they aren't wiggling around so much. And the words aren't switching places, just the letters. They are more kind of...flipping around? It's like I'm reading forward and backward at the same time. Which is still easier than having to chase the words around the page! So, um, yeah? I think...I think this helps. A lot. Actually, a lot. How...huh."
The argonian looked up, her chest suddenly feeling rather tight. She chewed on her words for a bit before sharing them.
"Thank-you. For taking the time. For trying to help me with something so...dumb...no, so weirdly hard. I get that other people don't have this problem and you stuck with it anyway. Thanks. I think...I think maybe I could get better at this...reading stuff."
Fira watched intently as Anakita carefully wrote out the words from the book on a piece of paper. While the reading issue had come up sort of by accident, she was now prepared - and determined - to not let out the fact that she couldn't write either. The two seemed to go together, so struggle and failure with one had led to a lack of trying with the other. Perhaps because learning to write usually involved copying letters - which moved so much that she wasn't sure what they were supposed to look like to begin with. She set those memories aside as she took the paper from Anakita.
"Hmmm. Well, they aren't wiggling around so much. And the words aren't switching places, just the letters. They are more kind of...flipping around? It's like I'm reading forward and backward at the same time. Which is still easier than having to chase the words around the page! So, um, yeah? I think...I think this helps. A lot. Actually, a lot. How...huh."
The argonian looked up, her chest suddenly feeling rather tight. She chewed on her words for a bit before sharing them.
"Thank-you. For taking the time. For trying to help me with something so...dumb...no, so weirdly hard. I get that other people don't have this problem and you stuck with it anyway. Thanks. I think...I think maybe I could get better at this...reading stuff."
Re: Finding Home
Sayen
They were a monstrous ungrateful lot, considering she'd spent all that time digging them out from under an avalanche outside of Hoelbrak. She had lain aside her mace and dug each one out with her shield. Once she'd pulled the last of the strange pale men to safety, well, she could only assume she'd been conked on the head. Everything had gone black and she'd woken up with a splitting headache in a strange place - and stripped down to her undergarments, to add insult to injury. Then she'd been ferried around to this new land and dumped into the pit. There were few words to describe such people.
A monstrous ungrateful lot.
The days were long under the sun, but she toiled away in spite of it. In spite of the meagre gruel. In spite of the pain inflicted upon herself and others by the guards. She wasn't sure what she was digging for, but she hoped she found it so she could bury it again. At least the work kept her in fighting form. The pick was no heavier than her mace and she focused on her form as she worked.
Waste not, want not.
It was just another day in the pit when something curious happened. A strange birdsong floated out from among the rocks above. Curious because she hadn't heard any birds since her arrival, probably due to the stench of the smoke belching from the spell-cauldron. Hmm. She squinted up at the sky, then resumed picking at the dirt.
___
After a short time passed, a fine soprano voice floated out of the pit.
"Sing a song of silver,
A pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds,
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to singEUAH"
The song was interrupted by the crack of the whip and a shriek from the unsuspecting singer. The guard stood poised with his arm raised.
"You there! If you have enough energy to sing, you aren't working hard enough!"
"Oh my Fayund, you really have cut it badly this time." A second elf in grey robes had approached and now stood next to the guard with his hands folded serenely in front of him, looking down at the battered slave.
"You know, where we come from, we bleed sap from trees and cook it down into a syrup. It's delicious." the guard sneered, licking his lips then laughing at the slave's terrified face.
"Well, at this rate, we'll have to tap her soon before you bleed her dry with your heavy hand!" the second elf's tone was light as he jokingly chastised his comrade.
The two shared another chuckle before the second man left the guard to his duties.
"Get back to work! Stop giving me excuses to use this!" Fayund roared and snapped the whip above the small thing's head.
They were a monstrous ungrateful lot, considering she'd spent all that time digging them out from under an avalanche outside of Hoelbrak. She had lain aside her mace and dug each one out with her shield. Once she'd pulled the last of the strange pale men to safety, well, she could only assume she'd been conked on the head. Everything had gone black and she'd woken up with a splitting headache in a strange place - and stripped down to her undergarments, to add insult to injury. Then she'd been ferried around to this new land and dumped into the pit. There were few words to describe such people.
A monstrous ungrateful lot.
The days were long under the sun, but she toiled away in spite of it. In spite of the meagre gruel. In spite of the pain inflicted upon herself and others by the guards. She wasn't sure what she was digging for, but she hoped she found it so she could bury it again. At least the work kept her in fighting form. The pick was no heavier than her mace and she focused on her form as she worked.
Waste not, want not.
It was just another day in the pit when something curious happened. A strange birdsong floated out from among the rocks above. Curious because she hadn't heard any birds since her arrival, probably due to the stench of the smoke belching from the spell-cauldron. Hmm. She squinted up at the sky, then resumed picking at the dirt.
___
After a short time passed, a fine soprano voice floated out of the pit.
"Sing a song of silver,
A pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds,
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to singEUAH"
The song was interrupted by the crack of the whip and a shriek from the unsuspecting singer. The guard stood poised with his arm raised.
"You there! If you have enough energy to sing, you aren't working hard enough!"
"Oh my Fayund, you really have cut it badly this time." A second elf in grey robes had approached and now stood next to the guard with his hands folded serenely in front of him, looking down at the battered slave.
"You know, where we come from, we bleed sap from trees and cook it down into a syrup. It's delicious." the guard sneered, licking his lips then laughing at the slave's terrified face.
"Well, at this rate, we'll have to tap her soon before you bleed her dry with your heavy hand!" the second elf's tone was light as he jokingly chastised his comrade.
The two shared another chuckle before the second man left the guard to his duties.
"Get back to work! Stop giving me excuses to use this!" Fayund roared and snapped the whip above the small thing's head.
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 914
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Finding Home
Anakita Snakecharm
"You're welcome," Anakita replied cheerfully. "It's not dumb. Sometimes things are hard for one person but not another. I bet there are a lot of scholars who would say it's easy to read but hard to swing around that big sword like you do - but that part is easy for you. It's okay. It takes all kinds."
For Anakita, the hard part was finding the right words to say. She'd agonized about it for many years. Finally, though, she'd decided to just say what felt right to her. If others thought it was wrong, so be it.
"I can keep trying to help you if you want. I know I don't look like it, but I'm actually pretty good at reading and writing. I taught my children to read and write so they'd be ready to go to school, so I guess I'm decent at that part too. If you want. We can see if we can find a way to make the letters stand still too."
"You're welcome," Anakita replied cheerfully. "It's not dumb. Sometimes things are hard for one person but not another. I bet there are a lot of scholars who would say it's easy to read but hard to swing around that big sword like you do - but that part is easy for you. It's okay. It takes all kinds."
For Anakita, the hard part was finding the right words to say. She'd agonized about it for many years. Finally, though, she'd decided to just say what felt right to her. If others thought it was wrong, so be it.
"I can keep trying to help you if you want. I know I don't look like it, but I'm actually pretty good at reading and writing. I taught my children to read and write so they'd be ready to go to school, so I guess I'm decent at that part too. If you want. We can see if we can find a way to make the letters stand still too."
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 914
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Finding Home
Tempest and Cullen Rutherford, Ulga gra-Shatul, and Githia Acarra
Another whispered conversation followed.
"Well, we have an answer," Cullen said. "But does anyone know the question? Twenty-four prisoners? Or guards? Or paces from our location?"
There was a moment of silence as the group glanced between each other, but no one had brilliant insight.
"I... have an idea," Githia said hesitantly. "She knows songs, right? Can anyone do a magpie call?"
Tempest looked startled. "Yes, I can, but... why?"
"There's another rhyme about magpies," Githia explained hastily, before she changed her mind and lost her nerve. "One for sorrow, two for mirth. Maybe it's too... I don't know, abstract? But she's pretty cheerful, and the guards are a pretty sad thing; mirth, and sorrow. And then seven is a secret never to be told... so if we get seven back, it's something else, or she doesn't want us to do anything - so, hopefully not seven, because that'll be confusing. Anyway, if you do a magpie call, maybe she'll get the idea and reply."
Another shared glance between the group. "I will admit it's a longshot," Tempest said. "It is a bit abstract. But I don't have any better ideas."
"It could lead to her having to confront the guards again," Cullen reminded them.
And of course, no one wanted her to be beaten or berated again.
"But she might be forced to do that anyway," Tempest said. "At least we're trying to help."
"If things get too bad, we can always run in with swords drawn," Cullen replied - with perhaps a hint of resignation. "As your officially appointed military advisor, Tempest, that is not my recommendation. We've done it before, though, and I'm sure if we have to go charging in today, it won't be the last."
Another whispered conversation followed.
"Well, we have an answer," Cullen said. "But does anyone know the question? Twenty-four prisoners? Or guards? Or paces from our location?"
There was a moment of silence as the group glanced between each other, but no one had brilliant insight.
"I... have an idea," Githia said hesitantly. "She knows songs, right? Can anyone do a magpie call?"
Tempest looked startled. "Yes, I can, but... why?"
"There's another rhyme about magpies," Githia explained hastily, before she changed her mind and lost her nerve. "One for sorrow, two for mirth. Maybe it's too... I don't know, abstract? But she's pretty cheerful, and the guards are a pretty sad thing; mirth, and sorrow. And then seven is a secret never to be told... so if we get seven back, it's something else, or she doesn't want us to do anything - so, hopefully not seven, because that'll be confusing. Anyway, if you do a magpie call, maybe she'll get the idea and reply."
Another shared glance between the group. "I will admit it's a longshot," Tempest said. "It is a bit abstract. But I don't have any better ideas."
"It could lead to her having to confront the guards again," Cullen reminded them.
And of course, no one wanted her to be beaten or berated again.
"But she might be forced to do that anyway," Tempest said. "At least we're trying to help."
"If things get too bad, we can always run in with swords drawn," Cullen replied - with perhaps a hint of resignation. "As your officially appointed military advisor, Tempest, that is not my recommendation. We've done it before, though, and I'm sure if we have to go charging in today, it won't be the last."
Re: Finding Home
Sayen
Another bird call. This time, she could tell where the sound had originated. It would help her send a reply message without having to be as loud.
Of course, what sort of reply was expected?
Sayen contined to work at rhe dirt wall before her, pondering on this new conundrum. Perhaps her reply had been too abstract. Maybe they didn't know the song...she nearly paused mid-stroke - or they did and they were asking for more information. After all, how were they to know who the blackbirds represented in her version of the tale?
So, if they understood it was a message, why change the bird song? What was special about this new call? Sayen thought on this a bit longer. She had heard many birds in her travels, and there was that pretty one with the long tail. Magpie! That was the bird she was trying to remember. The name automatically brought the words of another song to mind...
And she realized that might have been the point. Another counting song with birds. But how was she to tell them she had meant about twenty-odd guards?
"Five for silver."
The grey robes of her captors seemed close enough to silver. She'd whisper-sang the the four note line directly toward the rocks she hoped still hid some would-be rescuer.
Another bird call. This time, she could tell where the sound had originated. It would help her send a reply message without having to be as loud.
Of course, what sort of reply was expected?
Sayen contined to work at rhe dirt wall before her, pondering on this new conundrum. Perhaps her reply had been too abstract. Maybe they didn't know the song...she nearly paused mid-stroke - or they did and they were asking for more information. After all, how were they to know who the blackbirds represented in her version of the tale?
So, if they understood it was a message, why change the bird song? What was special about this new call? Sayen thought on this a bit longer. She had heard many birds in her travels, and there was that pretty one with the long tail. Magpie! That was the bird she was trying to remember. The name automatically brought the words of another song to mind...
And she realized that might have been the point. Another counting song with birds. But how was she to tell them she had meant about twenty-odd guards?
"Five for silver."
The grey robes of her captors seemed close enough to silver. She'd whisper-sang the the four note line directly toward the rocks she hoped still hid some would-be rescuer.
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Monkey Kitty
- Posts: 914
- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Finding Home
Tempest and Cullen Rutherford, Ulga gra-Shatul, and Githia Acarra
“Well, that seems a clear enough answer,” Cullen said when the song fragment came back. “Silver - the grey cloaks. She’s giving us an approximate tally of the enemies we’ll be facing. I… don’t hate those numbers. It will be challenging, but I think it’s doable, especially with a mage to patch us up if things get dicey. I’d rather not just run in and face them all at the same time, though. If we find a defensible position and lure them in a few at a time, we can hopefully reduce their numbers before the whole camp is alerted. And if we’re very lucky, some of the prisoners may even join in when they see rescue is imminent.”
They took up a position at the end of a small culvert. Tempest would be positioned behind those with swords, saving as much of her mana as possible. There would likely be freed prisoners to heal, as well as their own if things went badly.
“I’ll go try to draw a few of them in,” Githia said.
Cullen’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? It will be a dangerous job. I wasn’t trying to volunteer someone other than myself for it.”
“I’m sure,” Githia said. Ticking things off on her fingers, “I’m wearing leather armor and you have a metal breastplate, so I’ll be able to lure them in more quietly. I won’t reflect sunlight like you. And if I do get caught, I’m from here, so there will be a lot fewer questions about why I might be sneaking around than why travelers from another plane have taken an interest.”
Cullen nodded. “That makes sense. Alright. We’ll have your back as needed.”
It wasn’t. Githia was almost silent as she snuck to the mouth of the culvert, threw a stone that landed at the feet of a pair of nearby guards, and retreated.
When they went to investigate, the others were lying in wait.
__________________________________________________________________________
Sayen
From her position in the pit, Sayen could not see or hear much of anything outside of the grunts of her fellow prisoners, the clang of their tools and the scraping of shovels on dirt. It struck her that the agony was suddenly greater with the knowledge that someone was out there, but their intentions were completely unknown. She had heard bird calls, right? She wasn’t losing her mind?
Something was happening in the camp. She looked over her shoulder as she heard shouting, saw their guard turning away from the dig site.
She wasn’t losing her mind. The bird calls happened. The person up in the hills was real.
Now was their opportunity. Without making her idea known to the other enslaved beings, Sayen hefted her pickaxe and turned to run at the cliff below the guard. She plunged the crude tool into the dirt and used it as a step to hop up onto the camp proper’s elevation. And found herself toe to toe with her chief abuser. Certainly not eye to eye as the man towered over her, lips curled in a sneer and his hand drawn back as if to swat a very small fly.
The ‘fly’ punched him in his tender area. He seemed at least as surprised by the action as he was pained. Staggering back, he held out the butt of his whip as a short-term defense as Sayen advanced on him. He called out something in a language she didn’t understand and soon found herself surrounded by flowing grey cloaks.
Sayen grinned at her tormentor, raised her fist in the air and shouted, “For great justice!” before slamming her fist into the ground, bringing herself down to one knee in doing so.
A few sarcastic chuckles were heard in the circle, but those died out as a large circular glowing rune appeared in the dirt. Half a second later, the elves were screaming as they were set ablaze with bright blue fire. Sayen staggered to her feet. She wasn’t sure when it got so dark, but the fire…the fire guided her.
“No syrup for you!” she screeched as the tiny sylvari drew back her arm and planted her fist into the face of Fayund the torturer.
__________________________________________________________________________
Tempest and Cullen Rutherford
Cullen gestured toward the small person they’d been communicating with in bird whistles. “I think she’s in shock,” he said. “Or perhaps a head injury…”
Tempest nodded. “If I can get closer to her, I’ll help her.”
By this point, secrecy was a thing of the past - but at least they’d managed to thin the enemy numbers before having to take them head on. The Orc and the Tiefling were holding their ground handily as Tempest and Cullen made their way over to assist.
The most immediate problem was the circle of grey cloaked figures surrounding her - though they were now helpfully on fire. Cullen was used to fighting mages, and the cultists hadn’t packed enough muscle. He cut through them fairly quickly, with Tempest’s magic swirling around him, providing support and replenishment. Finally, only one remained - the one she had punched with an audacity Cullen admired. Cullen finished the job by putting a sword through the torturer, while Tempest offered the tree person her hand.
“Are you injured?” Tempest asked. It seemed self-evident, but it was hard to tell under all the mud and grime. “I can heal you.”
__________________________________________________________________________
Sayen
“Oh! Are you the little bird I was singing to?” Sayen beamed up at Tempest, taking the proffered hand and rising, albeit slowly. “Thank-you so very much - and you as well.” She nodded at Cullen. “I can’t think of a better ending for this lot.”
The sylvari glared down at the still forms of the grey-cloaked elves, her breathing growing ragged and her grip on Tempest’s hand tightening. The feeling seemed to pass as quickly as it came and she put her free hand to her temple, closing her eyes. She set Tempest free even as her body sway as a branch in a light breeze.
“Oh, I think I just need some water. But my fellow prisoners certainly do need healing if they are going to be able to return to their families!”
Sayen stepped to the edge of the pit and put her hands around her mouth while she shouted, “It’s alright! We’ve been rescued! You can all go home!”
The silver-haired human man who had been the target of the pit-keeper’s ire earlier peeked out from around a cart piled high with rocks. Seeing Tempest and Cullen and deciding they didn’t look like the elf cultists, at least, he stepped out and gestured behind him. Three more people shuffled forward. Some less covered in dirt than others, but all looking hungry and worn. Their clothing would suggest to Githia that they were all locals of this world, should she see them.
“Is what she says true?” Inquired the man, bolder now without the threat of the whip hanging over him. No small amount of suspicion still hung in his voice as though he couldn’t be certain that whoever this new party was wouldn’t just replace the elves as their slave drivers. “We can return to our homes?”
“I don’t get to return home. My home isn’t here. This world is very strange. I’m not too sure how to get back to where I’m from..” Sayen whispered to Tempest, in too loud of a voice to truly be a whisper. She briefly appeared saddened by this, but instantly perked up a second later, adding “I know! I could come along with you! I’m sure I can be a great help in whatever…it is…that you do…are doing…you saved me - really it is the least I can do! Let me go find my armour and weapons - I know they took them. They must be here somewhere!”
With that, the little sylvari stumbled toward the tents, looping in and out of doorways in her search. Four tents in, a joyous squeal followed by “They’re here!” heralded her success.
____________________________________________________________________________
Tempest and Cullen Rutherford
“You are free,” Tempest confirmed. “Your ordeal is over. Wherever you wish to go - home, or anyplace else.”
Cullen added, “Unfortunately we don’t have supplies to offer you, but feel free to loot the camp for anything you can find. Food, useful items - gold, if you find any, to compensate you for your troubles. That’s the best we can do.”
“We wish you a safe journey,” Tempest said with a small bow.
The party waited curiously while the tree woman - Sylvari, as Tempest thought she’d heard Anakita refer to them - dug around and returned with her belongings. They exchanged a look. Cullen shrugged.
“Wouldn’t hurt to have another set of hands,” Ulga suggested.
“You’re welcome to accompany us if you wish,” Tempest told the tree woman when she returned. She introduced them each by name, then explained, “We’re seeking an artifact. We believe we can use it to preserve the lives of the people of at least one world - maybe more. But the journey will no doubt be perilous. We want to make sure you understand that you are taking a risk. But if you wish to do so, we will be grateful for your help.”
“Well, that seems a clear enough answer,” Cullen said when the song fragment came back. “Silver - the grey cloaks. She’s giving us an approximate tally of the enemies we’ll be facing. I… don’t hate those numbers. It will be challenging, but I think it’s doable, especially with a mage to patch us up if things get dicey. I’d rather not just run in and face them all at the same time, though. If we find a defensible position and lure them in a few at a time, we can hopefully reduce their numbers before the whole camp is alerted. And if we’re very lucky, some of the prisoners may even join in when they see rescue is imminent.”
They took up a position at the end of a small culvert. Tempest would be positioned behind those with swords, saving as much of her mana as possible. There would likely be freed prisoners to heal, as well as their own if things went badly.
“I’ll go try to draw a few of them in,” Githia said.
Cullen’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? It will be a dangerous job. I wasn’t trying to volunteer someone other than myself for it.”
“I’m sure,” Githia said. Ticking things off on her fingers, “I’m wearing leather armor and you have a metal breastplate, so I’ll be able to lure them in more quietly. I won’t reflect sunlight like you. And if I do get caught, I’m from here, so there will be a lot fewer questions about why I might be sneaking around than why travelers from another plane have taken an interest.”
Cullen nodded. “That makes sense. Alright. We’ll have your back as needed.”
It wasn’t. Githia was almost silent as she snuck to the mouth of the culvert, threw a stone that landed at the feet of a pair of nearby guards, and retreated.
When they went to investigate, the others were lying in wait.
__________________________________________________________________________
Sayen
From her position in the pit, Sayen could not see or hear much of anything outside of the grunts of her fellow prisoners, the clang of their tools and the scraping of shovels on dirt. It struck her that the agony was suddenly greater with the knowledge that someone was out there, but their intentions were completely unknown. She had heard bird calls, right? She wasn’t losing her mind?
Something was happening in the camp. She looked over her shoulder as she heard shouting, saw their guard turning away from the dig site.
She wasn’t losing her mind. The bird calls happened. The person up in the hills was real.
Now was their opportunity. Without making her idea known to the other enslaved beings, Sayen hefted her pickaxe and turned to run at the cliff below the guard. She plunged the crude tool into the dirt and used it as a step to hop up onto the camp proper’s elevation. And found herself toe to toe with her chief abuser. Certainly not eye to eye as the man towered over her, lips curled in a sneer and his hand drawn back as if to swat a very small fly.
The ‘fly’ punched him in his tender area. He seemed at least as surprised by the action as he was pained. Staggering back, he held out the butt of his whip as a short-term defense as Sayen advanced on him. He called out something in a language she didn’t understand and soon found herself surrounded by flowing grey cloaks.
Sayen grinned at her tormentor, raised her fist in the air and shouted, “For great justice!” before slamming her fist into the ground, bringing herself down to one knee in doing so.
A few sarcastic chuckles were heard in the circle, but those died out as a large circular glowing rune appeared in the dirt. Half a second later, the elves were screaming as they were set ablaze with bright blue fire. Sayen staggered to her feet. She wasn’t sure when it got so dark, but the fire…the fire guided her.
“No syrup for you!” she screeched as the tiny sylvari drew back her arm and planted her fist into the face of Fayund the torturer.
__________________________________________________________________________
Tempest and Cullen Rutherford
Cullen gestured toward the small person they’d been communicating with in bird whistles. “I think she’s in shock,” he said. “Or perhaps a head injury…”
Tempest nodded. “If I can get closer to her, I’ll help her.”
By this point, secrecy was a thing of the past - but at least they’d managed to thin the enemy numbers before having to take them head on. The Orc and the Tiefling were holding their ground handily as Tempest and Cullen made their way over to assist.
The most immediate problem was the circle of grey cloaked figures surrounding her - though they were now helpfully on fire. Cullen was used to fighting mages, and the cultists hadn’t packed enough muscle. He cut through them fairly quickly, with Tempest’s magic swirling around him, providing support and replenishment. Finally, only one remained - the one she had punched with an audacity Cullen admired. Cullen finished the job by putting a sword through the torturer, while Tempest offered the tree person her hand.
“Are you injured?” Tempest asked. It seemed self-evident, but it was hard to tell under all the mud and grime. “I can heal you.”
__________________________________________________________________________
Sayen
“Oh! Are you the little bird I was singing to?” Sayen beamed up at Tempest, taking the proffered hand and rising, albeit slowly. “Thank-you so very much - and you as well.” She nodded at Cullen. “I can’t think of a better ending for this lot.”
The sylvari glared down at the still forms of the grey-cloaked elves, her breathing growing ragged and her grip on Tempest’s hand tightening. The feeling seemed to pass as quickly as it came and she put her free hand to her temple, closing her eyes. She set Tempest free even as her body sway as a branch in a light breeze.
“Oh, I think I just need some water. But my fellow prisoners certainly do need healing if they are going to be able to return to their families!”
Sayen stepped to the edge of the pit and put her hands around her mouth while she shouted, “It’s alright! We’ve been rescued! You can all go home!”
The silver-haired human man who had been the target of the pit-keeper’s ire earlier peeked out from around a cart piled high with rocks. Seeing Tempest and Cullen and deciding they didn’t look like the elf cultists, at least, he stepped out and gestured behind him. Three more people shuffled forward. Some less covered in dirt than others, but all looking hungry and worn. Their clothing would suggest to Githia that they were all locals of this world, should she see them.
“Is what she says true?” Inquired the man, bolder now without the threat of the whip hanging over him. No small amount of suspicion still hung in his voice as though he couldn’t be certain that whoever this new party was wouldn’t just replace the elves as their slave drivers. “We can return to our homes?”
“I don’t get to return home. My home isn’t here. This world is very strange. I’m not too sure how to get back to where I’m from..” Sayen whispered to Tempest, in too loud of a voice to truly be a whisper. She briefly appeared saddened by this, but instantly perked up a second later, adding “I know! I could come along with you! I’m sure I can be a great help in whatever…it is…that you do…are doing…you saved me - really it is the least I can do! Let me go find my armour and weapons - I know they took them. They must be here somewhere!”
With that, the little sylvari stumbled toward the tents, looping in and out of doorways in her search. Four tents in, a joyous squeal followed by “They’re here!” heralded her success.
____________________________________________________________________________
Tempest and Cullen Rutherford
“You are free,” Tempest confirmed. “Your ordeal is over. Wherever you wish to go - home, or anyplace else.”
Cullen added, “Unfortunately we don’t have supplies to offer you, but feel free to loot the camp for anything you can find. Food, useful items - gold, if you find any, to compensate you for your troubles. That’s the best we can do.”
“We wish you a safe journey,” Tempest said with a small bow.
The party waited curiously while the tree woman - Sylvari, as Tempest thought she’d heard Anakita refer to them - dug around and returned with her belongings. They exchanged a look. Cullen shrugged.
“Wouldn’t hurt to have another set of hands,” Ulga suggested.
“You’re welcome to accompany us if you wish,” Tempest told the tree woman when she returned. She introduced them each by name, then explained, “We’re seeking an artifact. We believe we can use it to preserve the lives of the people of at least one world - maybe more. But the journey will no doubt be perilous. We want to make sure you understand that you are taking a risk. But if you wish to do so, we will be grateful for your help.”