Chapter 4: A Darkened Mirror

[Jeff]

Belarin's Group

The speaker seems to move forward, and you hear the sound of heavy hooves. A shape emerges from the night into Streko's light...

A centaur. Proud and tall, brown-coated, with a very long mane of dark hair flowing from his head and down his back. His only garment is a quiver strapped across his chest and back, but you see no sign of a bow. His size is proportioned larger than a man's, but the sleekness of his muscular body is suggestive more of an elf than a human. He exudes power, his presence feeling more like that of an untamed and very dangerous beast.

Grim-faced, he approaches Belarin, staring down at him with suspicion. But he kneels ever so slightly on his forelegs, a graceful gesture, and holds out his hands.

"Give the Lady Eftith to me, human," he says. "You will wait here for the third term of your agreement. Your companions are not far behind you."

Kal's Group

It quickly becomes evident that Kal's magelight was necessary. Tangled underbrush, and even some inconspicuous ditches reveal themselves under his light as you move further into the dark forest.

We are being observed, Matheu says.

Only a few minutes into the wood you spy a light further ahead in the gloom: a distant sunrod.

[Darren]

"Of course we are," Kal mutters under his breath. He glances around the forest with obvious mistrust. Whatever he thinks of Alvek, he has no love for the fey, either.

[Ken]

Belarin can't help but be impressed by the primal power exuded by the centaur. He gently places Eftith in his arms, saying softly, "We found her immersed in some arcane liquid ... we cleaned it off as best we could, but she's weak...." His voice trails off.

At the mention of his companions' nearness, Belarin's eyes quickly meet those of Charis and Streko, but he doesn't turn his body away from the centaur.

[mike]

We are being observed, Matheu says.

"We are always being observed," Torhak says quietly. There is a wistful tone in his deep voice. "Fate watches over us all, little dragon. It watches us, and the roads we walk down. It sees the roads that bring us together, and those that lead us apart."

Torhak looks over at Alvek. "Your road is at an end, sorcerer. And my own road leads, I think, far from here ... and back to the beginning, beneath the mountains."

[Jeff]

Belarin's Group

"Thank you," the centaur says, cradling the small fey. Despite the strength in his voice, Belarin detects genuity in the words.

The mighty creature turns to leave, then pauses halfway around. "You are not clean," he says, looking upon your party.

And indeed under the centaur's scrutiny, and Streko's bright light, you can see how soiled your ordeal within Shadowcrest Manor has made you. Blood from multiple men and women, foulness from the zombies, reddish ooze, and more: all of it is caked on your clothing and armor, marring your weapons.

"There is a spring to the east," the centaur goes on, pointing with one bare arm into the darkness. "Go and rid yourselves of this taint. Then will you be fit to speak to the Wood Mistress."

"I would love to do that just," Charis says, smiling for the first time in a while. Her eyes linger on Eftith for a moment, then she follows the centaur's gesture.

"Your companions will be made to follow your light," the centaur says, indicating Streko. "Go."

With that, he turns and trods off into the dark forest.

[Ken]

"Thank you," says Belarin warmly and wearily. After the centaur leaves, he says to the others, "Well, I for one relish the opportunity to get zombie dust and ogre brains out of my hair and nostrils. Shall we? After you, my Lady Charis...."

He happily walks in the direction indicated.

[Joe]

Streko frowns a bit. "I admit to needed a bit of a bath, but so many lives hang in our ability to defeat Malov quickly...delays seem imprudent. However, seeing as there appears to be no choice other than the clean one, I shall follow close behind."

He lifts the sunrod a little higher, hoping his friends behind him can see their way to joining them soon.

[Jeff]

Belarin's Group

Belarin, Charis, Streko, and Goran (looking solemn at the moment) walk in the direction the centaur indicated and soon hear the gentle murmur of water. Belarin notes that normally a forest at night is a bit louder: small, nocturnal animals emerging, the distant voices of owls and loons, and so on. But the Whisper Woods is rather hushed; only the rustle of leaves by gentle winds creates its own whisper. In contrast the flowing water is louder.

Streko's sunrod casts its light across the banks of a wide but shallow, shin-deep brook, which appears to flow out from beneath a series of rock piles like tiny waterfalls. The white-golden light plays across its surface and seems to scatter in a multitude of directions, refracted into a rainbow of colors. Faerie influence is at work here.

The water is instantly refreshing. Charis is the first to step out into it, removing nothing yet, letting the water flow over her clothing, boots, and damaged leather armor. She shivers in the cool night air as she douses her hair in the water, but doesn't appear to be overly chilled by the water, either.

Goran follows, but lingers on the edge, kneeling and tentatively placing his hands in the water first. "A sweven memory of the Eldeen," he murmurs to no one, smiling to himself. His eyes still have the sinister goat pupils, but he seems more like himself now than he has in the last couple hours.

[Jeff]

Kal's Group

Alvek looks warily at Torhak at his cryptic words.

Matheu regards Torhak, too. You speak without knowing of the Draconic Prophecy. A controversial power, indeed. But I do believe that fate has a hand in all of this. As great as your own will to subvert it.[/color]

Before Kal can lead his group further, a fierce rustle in the underbrush heralds the arrival of the fey. Four short men emerge, bearing heavy, serrated scythes attached to crooken staves. Each is as tall as Torhak, but wiry, with leathery, cracked-looking brown skin, leering, exaggerated faces, and wearing ugly, misshapen caps the color of filthy and rust.

One of them laughs with hideous delight. "Unhand your noble-man," he says to Kal and Torhak, but with his eyes fixed on Alvek. These fey look old, their faces lined like old men. Although their heads have only wisps of hair, their eyebrows are thick and overlong.

"The lord of the manor must answer as in the manner of lords," the fey man says with a wide grin. Every tooth revealed is far too large for his size, and every one of them sharp.

Alvek tenses. "This is your last chance, d'Deneith," he whispers. "Give me to them...and you'll relinquish all bargaining power."

One of the fey men points in the direction of the distant sunrod-light. "Your friends await there, where you must go to await the Mistress."

[Darren]

Kal's face displays a weariness that has come with the burdens of the last few days. The lines are perhaps a little deeper than they were when all this began. Kal's voice is heavy, serious, but there is no tone of threat. He is also not pleading, instead speaking as a diplomat might. "I must speak with the Mistress of the Woods before the prisoner is released to you. There are matters of grave concern to those both within these woods and those outside of them. I have no intention of breaking the bargain we made with her, but I wish to discuss with her the altering of the terms. Can you arrange for us to talk?"

[Jeff]

Kal's Group

Four pairs of eyes turn on Kal. The foremost of the fey men takes a step closer and squints up at Kal, who stands almost two heads taller. Again the fey conveys the presence of a gnome, but a gnome perhaps less glib and exceedingly prone to violence.

"Ain't handing him over, eh?" There is an eagerness in the gnarled man's voice, as if spoiling for a fight. It's hard to tell these strange fey apart, but Kal has the feeling they've met this one before. In fact, the cap on his head is markedly redder than those of his fellows, owing to the fresh blood of the Shadowcrest guard he killed only a few hours ago.

But the fey shakes his head, disappointment dawning in his voice. "There'll be plenty of time for flapping your tongue, man-o'-the-city, and this lord among fools"—he gestures at Alvek with his scythe—"will surely be present then. We will take him with us now, and you will wash up. Then will you address the Wood Mistress. You are concerned for your armed and armored armsman, are you not? He, too, will be there."

The fey takes another step closer, and Kal can smell the coppery tang of blood, probably from the man's cap. "Give him here, pretty boy," his toothy smile fading away and true menace in his eyes. The three fey behind him take combative stances, bracing their scythes in two hands.

They want to kill you, Matheu offers Kal and Torhak both, but they won't unless you resist. They are honorary servants of this Wood Mistress and will obey whatever orders she has given them regarding your well being. The fey are flighty and unreliable, but generally honor their words if they do give it.

[Darren]

Kalarian shows no reaction to the threats of the redcaps. He looks around at each of them with no emotion, his eyes finally resting on Alvek. He nods, saying quietly, "Your own works have wrought this." Then he takes a step away from Alvek, indicating that he is releasing the man into the fey's custody. "Your mistress, then? I would like to speak with her without further delay."

[Jeff]

Kal's Group

Two of the fey grab Alvek roughly, while a third jabs him in the back with the head of the scythe. The nobleman grunts from the pain but tries to keep calm.

The one speaking to Kal turns to face their new captive. He fishes into his pocket with one hand, pointing behind him with the other—what might be southeast, toward the distant light. "Without further delay, human, means you going that way first."

From his pocket he pulls out a strip of cloth, which he begins to stuff into Alvek's mouth. The cloth is soiled and blood-stained, and is made from a blue and violet silken material.

Alvek's eyes widen with alarm at the sight of it, and he tries to say something. But his words are immediatley muffled. The four gnarled men march their captive off into the rustling darkness in a different direction.

Their leader's voice calls back: "Follow us and you will join the lord in his fate."

Tangat's nose is pointed toward the light, and his tail begins to wage. Kal knows he's caught a familiar and friendly scent.

[Darren]

"Go," Kal says in the Halfling tongue. "Join them, if your heart can be so light." Watching his friend run off, Kal stands for a moment, watching in the direction that Alvek was taken. Then he raises his sharrash a little higher, allowing the magelight to burn a bit brighter as he follows in the direction that Tangat has gone.

[Joe]

Streko removes his robes with no hint of embarassment and enters the brook. The water IS indeed refreshing, soothing not just the aches in his hairy feet, but something deeper within his soul. He splashes around, attempting not to frolick. He wipes the last few weeks of grime and blood from him.

"I but I had time to wash the filth from my holy robes, I would do so, but I fear we cannot afford to delay our journey for too long."

Still, Streko kneels in the waters, allowing the current to wash over him, around him and carry his worries away as best they can.

[Ken]

Belarin watches Charis relax in the water, an pleasant smile on his face. Then he quickly jumps into the water. After about 20 seconds, he resurfaces. "Oh, Raeshara's breasts, that feels magnificent! What a day. Yes, good Streko, we likely don't have a long time to linger, but I'll enjoy this sensation - and the view - for a few minutes longer." He wades back to the edge and takes off his shirt, wringing out the blood, gore, and other vile substances that have splattered it over the day.

[Jeff]

Belarin, Streko, and Charis gradually become aware that soft, multicolored lights have appeared among the nearby branches, casting the clear-running stream in a pleasant ambience. Streko's sunrod, lying on the dry bank while he washes, seems to have dimmed to allow this new light to suffuse the area. Goran still seems distracted, but has stepped out further into the water to allow it to move across his boots and lower leg.

While still washing and enjoying the soothing waters, a rustling sound in the woods suddenly spits out a very happy-looking dog. Tangat bounds into view, splashing in the water and barking only a few times to announce his arrive.

Then another light approaches: a magelight glowing from Kal's sharrash. The Deneith heir and Torhak step into view. Kal notices upon reaching the others that Matheu seems to have taken his leave again.

The group is reunited. Goran looks up at Kal, goat-eyes still unnerving to see, but with a gentle smile on his face. "These waters will help....repress the evil within."

[Darren]

Kalarian smiles and places his hands on Goran's shoulders. "That's good my friend," he says soothingly. "Very good. Be cleansed, then." Kalarian does not move into the waters, seating himself on a rock nearby, his sharrash leaned against his shoulder as he watches his companions, almost looking through them.

[Jeff]

Despite his reluctance, Kal is keenly aware of how badly his clothing and armor reeks. Tangat, smelling like wet dog now, looks at him remorsefully.

"Did you meet the centaur, too?" Charis says to Kal. "You'd better at least make a show of cleaning up a little if you want to find out about Amal. I think they're on our side, but they're quite fixed about this cleansing business."

[Joe]

Streko also smiles warmly at Kal. "It refreshes the soul, if not the body, my friend. For the fight with Malov that is to come, I would recommend as much refreshment as you can endure."

He splashes some water Kal's way and laughs as he dunks himself beneath the water. "And while you're at it, dear Kalarian, would you please toss me my robes and extinguish the sunrod. I don't believe we will be needing it, but my clothing definitely needs to be cleaned. And I doubt I will catch cold from wearing clean, wet robes...Olladra willing, of course." With that, he dives once again beneath the surface of the brook, his short legs making it easier to sink to the bottom and explode upwards in joyous exuberation.

[Darren]

Kal moves to pick up Streko's clothing, tossing them to the halfling. He looks about and moves to the water's edge, allowing the water to lap over his boots. He stands still for a moment, then angrily strikes down at the water with his sharrash. "Nine Hells! This is a waste of time! Why will the lady not show herself so we can attend to the business at hand?"

[Ken]

"My dear Lord Kalarian," says Belarin, "consider this a royal audience. Because that's what the 'Wood Mistress' is -- royalty. If you had an audience with the court in Fairhaven or, for a really fun time, Korth, would you expect to be welcomed there looking and smelling like the backside of a drunken orc? All right, maybe in Korth ... just jump in the water and get clean. You're attracting flies." He also splashes water at the dragonmarked heir.

[Joe]

Streko nces something odd. The dragonmark over his heart has a slight glow eminating from it. "Olladra's breath!" he mutters. The sensation he feels from it is one of warmth throughout his entire being. Just plain, simple warmth.

"My lady, I have been and always shall be yours," he says, unaware, or perhaps unconcerned, that anyone may hear him.

He closes his eyes for a moment and thanks Olladra for the many blessings she has provided him and his friends over the last few weeks. Then, beaming, he begins the task of washing his clothing of any evil residue and mostrous gore that might have stained it.

[Darren]

Kalarian sits heavily at the edge of the pool and begins splashing water onto his clothing, half-heartedly attempting to remove some of the stains. He scowls as he does so.

[Ken]

"One more thing," says Belarin, his tone a little more serious. He dunks his head in the water and shakes out his hair before continuing. "For completing the task -- I assume Alvek is in their custody now, yes? -- the Wood Mistress may offer us a gift. It's frequently the way of the fey. If so, I strongly urge you -- each of you -- to accept it. Turning down a gift is considered an insult." His gaze lingers on Kalarian. "For the sake of Amal, and Streko's sister, and yes, ourselves, let's leave graciously and not pick a fight with the fey in the heart of their power. Once we're back on the airship, you can drop a rock with a nasty note if you'd like."

[Darren]

Kalarian wades a little farther into the water, drawing nearer to Belarin. "I think we might need him," Kalarian says, eyeing the woods around them. "We're terribly short on information, and while I believe Alvek should answer for his crimes, I think he also has the potential to help us stop Malov. I think we need to use him to that end, THEN let him stand trial for his part. I fear that the fey may not see it that way, and then we are back to hunting blindly around Fairhaven, hoping that Malov shows himself with enough time for us to stop him." Kalarian scowls at Belarin. "Do you believe the fey will grant Alvek to us as a 'gift'?"

[Jeff]

The water is, in fact, only as deep as a human's shin, so Streko is not able to dive below the surface. Still, he is nearly four feet tall and the water is above his knee. The water level is at Torhak's knees, and the dwarf splashes some of the cool water upon his gore-covered armor, saying nothing as Kal and Belarin speak.

After a few minutes of talk, the current seems to quicken.

"Hey...." Charis mutters suddenly, "Are you seeing this?" She points down into the center of the stream, only feet away from everyone:

There you see a reflection in the running water, as if a woman were floating just above the surface—a very beautiful woman with green-tinted skin wrapped only in layers of translucent gossomar. But there is only a reflection, as if she can exist only within the water, and which runs too shallowly to accomodate a physical body.

The woman's image raises her arms above her head as if to stretch out, and you hear a distant song whose harmony merges with the murmer of the stream itself. Then the water level rises—somehow, without rising up onto the banks—and the current strengthens. Altough it pushes against you with greater force, it's not so strong as to knock anyone over or be a cause for alarm. But you brace your legs wider apart just in case, marveled by the supernatural change.

Tangat splashes over to Kal, his excitement sobered.

And then a drowsiness overcomes you. It seems as if the entire day's events are catching up to you all at once, and you are reminded of all you've been through today: waking early, leaving the airship, hiking to the empty village, pressing on only to encounter the masked fey, then walking to Shadowcrest Manor and the numerous fights within. It's too much, and you are more exhausted than you can remember feeling. Even the refreshing water can't seem to revive you from this weariness...

Sleep, induced by the power of the fey of the Whisper Wood, overtakes you. You feel your knees weakening, and your body collapses into the water. You feel no panick, and are only distantly aware that your companions seem to be falling at the same time. The water collects you in a soothing embrace and then all is quiet...

___________________________________

Yup, everyone's unconscious. I'm going to lock this thread now. Very temporarily, you'll be posting only in your private section—check back later! I will initiate new action there. Everyone goes this part alone.

And I'll let you know when we're back to the main thread and the next chapter!