Forgotten Blood IV: Bloodflower

Log Info

• Title: Forgotten Blood IV: Bloodflower

• GM: Harkashan

• Characters: Aragos, Carver, Gramarye, Lokir, Reithak, DM: Harkashan

• Place: Akochilistli Kuauhtla - Am'shere

Iluiyotl iuixochimeh. A festival of flowers. A celebration for the heavy work of the Gathering and Hunting castes and the enormous loads they and their Swiftclaws have carried through the centuries on the large wooden 'Euakaxitl' that would carry flowers, spices, bones and more.

All around, there's constant work and hubub. New Euakaxitl being crafted by various members of the community in beautiful patterns. Finishing touches being applied.

Akochilistli Kuauhtla, the community close to the portal on Am'shere's side, is one of the main sites of this celebration. People from within and outside of Am'shere are in attendance.

In large, blissfully unaware of a plot by the Charnites, who have been crafting a magical disease to turn Sith-makar into Forgotten to suit their own selfish needs. And while there are Shamans on the look-out for the disease itself... they certainly do not know of a critical matter...

Right now, it's sunny. There's constant animal-song in the distance. The occasional roar of a Thunderlizard. Right now, a new group of adventurers is just arriving to the outskirts of the Akochilistli Kuauhtla community - with the hopes of seeing the Flower Festival, or otherwise visit this community. The large Ziggurat is well off in the distance, but its mighty flame that is the center of Akochilistli Kuauhtla can be seen from even this far away.

There's the scent of recent rain in the air still, creating a subtle 'mist' just at peoples feet. The road they've walked, dangerous due to its nature of just Being in Am'shere, has left the group a bit tired. The moisture of yesternight's rain clinging to them with the heat. For the softskins, it's rather uncomfortable. But nothing a cool drink will not fix...

When Reithak suddenly senses a spell of Sending touch her mind...

The robe-wearing wizard-war golem Gramarye has shifted herself to be in the rear of the group, staying close to the dark-haired man with purple eyes, impressively-sized sword, and armor. The brass-plated golem is an odd thing in that she resembles more a life-sized doll than anything, her face plate a perfectly wrought facsimile of a young woman's face in a light smile. The dark eyes, however, remind one that she is a construct.

It's not until she speaks, her lips unmoving, that the dark eyes blink with light for every syllable. "Father," she intones in a neutral young woman's voice, "do not be concerned. I will keep you safe from this disease while we are here."

Between heat and humidity and armor, Aragos is far from feeling terribly friendly. He looks around the jungle in general for any sort of danger that might be the offing, but for the moment things seem quiet. Which is just as well though he's none too pleased to be wearing this much metal when it seems unlikely that they are about to be attacked. Not that he can take it off. Still, there's a village here and a village means there should be something to drink. A something that he can hope is alcoholic in nature.

"Gramarye," He glances at her as she speaks and a wry smile touches his lips. "It'll be a hearty disease indeed if it breaches Vardama's protections." He offers her a light and comforting pat on her shoulder. It's odd, because the moment his purple eyes are away from her, he looks haunted by something. Weary in a way that is not easily defined in words. "We should stick together nonetheless. I need a drink." With that he starts to head toward the village proper.

Carver sits astride her horse, and at first glance seems competent enough to not need reins to guide the mare; only the press of a knee, or a sharp click of a tongue required. If this proves true under the duress of combat remains to be seen. Outside her leathers and furs, her silhouette seems much reduced, more of the colorful tattoos and paint visible across sun-bronzed skin. At the promise of safety from disease, and her own memory of the last disease that 'ate' away at her, her sullen scoff says plenty about envy.

'Lambchop' gives a sharp shake of her head at the distant roars of the great beast, drawing the ranger's attention back forward. "Don't think them stomach achin' made it this far. Though ain't stuck me nose anywhere near the jungle since the las' visit went tits-up, but I know a good though' whens been spoken. Could use for a big ol' fruity lizard drink."

Lokir has never met a sunny day he regretted. Truer still of time spent outdoors filled with animal song, hubub, or general festivity. Toss in an actual festival, and what more could one ask for in life?!

He strides along, eyes and ears alert for fun and frolic, humming softly to himself as his morale and spirits soar.

Reithak was in their normally good spirits as she wandered down the paths to the village, or at least, she appeared to be at first glance. It was clear that they were more than a bit agitated, and it wasn't just wings that swatted at some of the insects hovering around. "You know, when she was telling me about this place, she didn't tell me about all the bugs around here." The egalrin laughs. "Maybe they're more bearable when you're covered in scales. But I've still got feathers and they're still bugging me! Hope all of you without them are holding up alright. Gotta stay focused so we make sure that all of this is safe, you know?"

The inquisitor finally comes to a stop as she closes her eyes for a moment, holding up one hand. A few more moments before she blinks and looks to the others. "Well, hang on, I know I could go for something to dip my beak into, but drinks will have to wait, sorry to say. If you need to cool off real quick I can dump some water on ya, but no time." She speaks up, loudly to the others. "Got word from shaman Harkashan that they've got real good intel on charnites moving in on this place, so it's a good thing we're all here. That and, they've got a purpose in mind coming here. Turns out there was a child who was almost kidnapped here, apparently immune to the disease they're using. And they're planning on making it no longer a failed kidnapping. Don't got a name, but recently almost kidnapped child is a lot to go on still."

GAME: Lokir rolls perception: (8)+7: 15
GAME: Lokir rolls 1d20: (13): 13

As Reithak takes a minor lead, she comes up to a crossroads of sorts. It's not exactly a 'road' as much as a 'commonly walked path'. A common occurrence within the Am'shere jungle. The big stone burners at the edges of the crossroads indicate entering a region of civilization itself. The paths to the left and right 'wind around' the community, where-as going forward goes into the community proper. In as far as this little part of outskirts could be considered part of Akochilistli Kuauhtla.

To the Northeast of the crossroads, stands what looks like a larger building which doesn't have much in the way of any noise coming from it. But against it, perhaps owned by the owner of the domocile, is a beautiful red tent. There's baskets of spices right outside of it, and there's a powerful (and spicy) aroma coming from the place. Crushed peppers and the like allow their scent to drift towards the Adventurers.

"I do not require sustenance as you do, Father, but I will join you in your search for the substance identified as alcohol." Gramarye replies to Aragos as she follows behind the armored man.

Her head pivots mechanically in the direction of Reithak as the egalrin talks. "Query: objective is to secure the village against the Charnites who seek to kidnap the child?" The mage wants to make sure she has the understanding of the situation.

To the Northwest of the crossroads, what looks like a small little oasis. The light of the sun is playing with the clear waters within, and there's a bronze Sith-makar dancing on a tiny little island in the midst of the oasis. They're using what looks like a spear or sorts, creating what almost seems like a sword-dance of swords. Or more aptly, a spear-dance. It's very serene looking, and they let the tip of the spear drift on the water at times.

Aragos watches Reithak move ahead of him and frowns at them. He's never worked with any of these people before, doesn't know what a 'Harkashan' is. Just that they're here because of Charnite threats. "Primary objective is to find the child." He says to Gramarye, stomping forward in a manner that suggests that he is not in the best mood. "Alcohol will have to wait."

"We coul' kidnap the child, that'd really throw the plot for a loop." Carver suggests, with an airy tone that suggests the suggestion was made in jest. She leans forward to watch the dancing Sith-Makar, nodding at his form. "Pretty. Not sure how much use dancin' is when you really got some of the bloody things wailin' in your face but pretty all the same. Maybe it'd be better if we split up, cover more ground, try to ... eh, whassit? Gather intel. That'd be the better play, innit?"

Reithak shakes her head in Gramarye's direction. "At least in my opinion, our first objective should be to track down this child. Make sure they're accounted for and safe." The egalrin answers. "But we can't neglect our job and reason for coming out here, especially since they might use that as a cover for escaping with them."

The egalrin claps her hands together, and almost seems to grin. "So! I think we should work on both. I think finding who's in charge here is a good place to start in regards to the child, they're most likely to have a handle on recent events, and can point us in the direction of where they might be, or who would know. I can go talk to some other folk in the meantime, maybe see if anyone weirder than me has been seen around here recently, or any strange shipments come in. Don't entirely know what or how they're planning, yet."

GAME: Carver rolls Perception: (16)+11: 27

Lokir eyes Carver, following in the direction of the dancing Sith-makar. "I'd rather nap and kid, personally. Luckily, we find ourselves in an ideal place for both. Looks a little sleepy and peaceful today--no extra security or anything of the sort." With a slight twiddle of his fingers, an oily stick of butter appears in Lokir's hand from beneath his cloak. "I'll stay close and try to grease some wheels." Appreciating the skill and technique of the water dance, Lokir gently approaches and does his best impression of being a good member of an audience.

Approaching closer to the Sith-makar dancing over the Oasis, her presence is noticed. They make eye-contact for just a moment. If they overheard Carver from that far away though, they're not letting it be known.

Notably however, closer like this, Carver will spot that the strange light around the pond isn't just reflections from the sun. The Sith-makar seems to almost be executing some kind of ritual, or practicing something, that is creating an almost rainbow-like effect around them. Almost mesmerizing in a ways, the way it seems to lure in the attention.

GAME: Lokir rolls perception: (5)+7: 12
GAME: Lokir rolls Will: (13)+4: 17
GAME: Carver rolls Will (8)+4: 12
GAME: Lokir rolls Perform/Oratory (14)+8: 22

"Understood. Objective: Find the leader of this settlement. Initiating social protocol: schmoozing." Gramarye suddenly detaches from Aragos and goes in the slight opposite direction of Carver and Lokir. "Please follow me, Father."

She's not exactly leaving him much room to say no otherwise.

Aragos glares after the egalrin. "Can't understand a damn word they're saying." He mutters to himself, steadily trudging toward the food. Kids, are drawn to food. Food, interesting things. Like the light-show over to his left, and trouble. Only Gramarye is heading elsewhere and... she's not wrong. Finding the person in charge here should mean that they know this child. Hopefully. If not... they can search the food stall later.

As Reithak heads further up the street, if one can call it that, they step further into the community. There's another building going north-east on the road itself. And from it... a wonderful smell. Bakery smell. Baked goods as much as they can desire. Various wraps, little buns, cakes and the likes. And the building is rather sizable! Notable is the smell of something... pastry, but also oil-fried.

Carver pulls up short, blinking rapidly. It's not like her to space out. So, why this sudden desire to daydream? Her raccoon eyes, heavy on the coal around and in the sockets, narrow suspiciously. Uncertain on the proper social etiquettes, not graced with the guile of a bard, nor the patience of a saint she cups her hands around her mouth and hollers.

"Oi, Dance-Boy. What are you doin'?"

Approaching the tent close to the crossroads itself, a bit further back from where Reithak is, Aragos and Gramarye pass the tent of spices. The smell is an assault on their senses... but not entirely unpleasant this close by. Pots upon pots of spices. The Sith-makar heading the place immediately calls out to them; "Please, please! Softskinssss, step in!" <Tradespeak>

Lokir takes a gentle entrance as he nears the oasis. Watching quietly as the spear and its wielder move in time, swaying and dipping, skimming the water with grace, Lokir politely observes--a life on the stage being excellent preparation for showing appreciation for other performers. Nudging Carver gently in the ribs, Lokir does his best to smooth over their entrance. "Dancing with more elegance and grace than my fair century of training could manage. Such beauty...it makes one's soul sing." Lokir bows in appreciation. "Thank you for sharing your gift of culture to the...well...less-than-cultured."

Lokir takes a gentle entrance as he nears the oasis. Watching quietly as the spear and its wielder move in time, swaying and dipping, skimming the water with grace, Lokir politely observes--a life on the stage being excellent preparation for showing appreciation for other performers. Nudging Carver gently in thr ribs, Lokir does his best to smooth over their entrance. "Dancing with more elegance and grace than my fair century of training could manage. Such beauty...it makes one's soul sing." Lokir bows in appreciation. "Thank you for sharing your gift of culture to the...well...less-than-cultured."

"Dancing!" The bronze Sith-makar answers Carver as he asks what he's doing. After all, this much seems obvious from description. But, it does halt their dance a bit. And the rainbow-like effects begins to fade, every so slowly.

Taking in Lokir's more diplomatic approach, the Sith-makar touches a hand to their chest and makes a bit of a bow.

"I am Tlilpopin. I am one of the dancers for the festival tomorrow." He explains. "My role is to dazzle and create wonderment and happiness in the hearts of the people."

There's a blink in Gramarye's obsidian eyes. And then she intones: "Query. By 'softskin', do you refer to the flesh material matter that organic lifeforms are composed of?" she asks. "If so, I am not greeted. I am not an organic lifeform and do not have flesh."

It appears the schmoozing protocol is... less than schmoozing and more like punctual. "Query: where is the leader of this settlement?"

GAME: Aragos rolls Diplomacy (6)+9: 15

"Magic is cheatin' a bit, innit?" Carver says, rubbing at where Lokir pokes her with a sullen glare directed his way. "I mean, seens these elves righ'? They talk about all their adventures an' as far as I can tell, they spen' most of them skipping all of it with magic and teleportin' from here to tither. I sedunced a big ole' slime once with dance. Dinnit need magic, s'all I'm sayin'. Anyway..."

The point. "You got a medicine woman? Whassit, a Shaman? Wise Man or Gooseberry Peddler?"

Aragos blinks at Gramarye and then grins at her. He chuckles lightly at the words and looks at the person that she'd addressed. "Yes, if you wouldn't mind directing us to someone who knows most everyone around here that would be very helpful." He actually manages to be less than insulting, maybe his mood is changing thanks to Gramarye's amusing tidbits. Stranger things could happen.

Icnoyopa, the one heading up the spice store with all the pots, touches a hand to one of their horns for a moment. The same way a softskin might touch their head for a lost hat. "Ah, apologies. Softskins and... metalskin?" He both states and inquires at the same time.

"The leader of this settlement? Ah, I'm afraid she's currently deep in preparations at the Ziggurat. I don't think they'll be available any time soon." He admits regretfully. "Did you have business with her?"

"Either way - if you are looking for people who know everyone... I think that's all of us honestly. We have a tight-knit community here."

The Sith-makar Carver speaks to raises his browline a bit. Touching his left hand to his hip and leaning on their spear with the right. Notably, there's crystals in the spear itself. "I... no, I do not think I've seen an elf before. Are they really as stuck-up as the gobbos say?" The Sith-makar inquires, noticing that while he's introduced himself, Carver has not yet done so.

Then, a squint of his eyes. Medicine woman. Wise man. Gooseberry peddler?

It's not hard to read that Carver is clearly starting to insult the dancer - and they're losing patience. Not answering her at the moment.

GAME: Reithak rolls Sense Motive (16)+8: 24

"Well, I'd be happy to come in if you're welcoming us!" The larger egalrin hums as she moves to do just that. "At least from what I know, it's a catch all for most non sith-makar. After all, sith-makar got soft skin too, by definition, and I've met some pretty rugged giantborn. Don't worry, you're welcome here, and you can trust her." Reithak elaborates with a chuckle. "Smells real good in here! What do you do with all these spices? If they're for cooking, I'd love to know more, and if they're for something else I'd love to hear it too, but I'm going to be honest with you." She continues once stepping inside, doffing her hat and offering a brief bow. "I'm doing some work here before the festival gets underway, I was wondering if you received any new orders recently here? Or if you know any traders that you haven't seen before leading up to the festival? I want to make sure things go smoothly here, because I want to come back later when I have the time to peruse and buy some."

GAME: Lokir rolls Perform/Oratory (9)+8: 17

Lokir pulls his traveling hood back, revealing his pointed ears. "I should certainly hope not! I believe my companion's dull barbs are meant for my ears...sharp as they are." Smiling widely, the wild elf continues. "I am Lokir. And if I may say, spreading wonderment and happiness is among the highest and most noble callings in a world too often frought with peril for the old and young." Lokir pauses knowingly. "Even children aren't always spared from danger in these times."

"Of course. Welcome in, Skysister." Icnoyopa bids the Egalrin a warm welcome. The moment she steps in, it seems like Icnoyopa's mood improves a bit. A bit of shine to their eyes. The topic shifts to spices, and this is where they shine.

"Welcome, welcome." He then immediately moves to one of the jars and opens it up, letting a smell that is like a combination of a nut commonly found in the Egalrin Aerys, mixed with a more subtle mild spice. He takes a small wooden spoon, and then offers it to Reithak, along with a second spoon of honey-like sap.

"It's for cooking, and for house aroma." He bids to her. "Try this. Combine those two, and then lick it from the spoon."

Icnoyopa then motions his hand. "I call it... a Fusion Food experience. I trade with other merchants who come through, and try to find combinations that go well together. This is an Egalrin/Sith-makar fusion recipe I came up with. Do you like it?"

As the topic shifts to other traders, Icnoyopa shakes his head. "There have been many traders. Iluiyotl iuixochimeh issss a popular festival. Many come here." He admits. "I think some of them are staying around here, where it's a bit quieter than... what do you call it? 'Down Tomato'?" Down Town.

Gramarye seems entirely unconcerned with the spices. What use does a war golem wizard have for sensations she will never know nor understand? "Query: have you seen a child in a situation that has been assessed to be potentially lethal to the child's health?"

There's a blink in her eyes. "The child is not presently in danger but could be, as the child has been in danger before." Good going, Gramarye.

GAME: Carver rolls Spellcraft (4)+6: 10

Aragos watches Reithak walk into the building and subtly backs away. In truth he doesn't understand the strange egalrin, and being away from them? Sounds like an excellent idea to him. So he motions for Gramarye to follow him and quietly begins to make his way toward the place where it'd been indicated that the leader of this little village was. Busy or not... Aragos intended to talk to them. "Gramarye, leave it be and follow me." Where does she even come up with the way she puts things sometimes?

"Ah! You are... oh, so the pointy ears means that you are 'Elf'? So that is how this works." The Sith-makar remarks, clearly learning something new. Softskins are very confusing to Sith-makar. Sometimes when they are short, they are Halflings. Sometimes they are gnomes. Sometimes they are just human children. And sometimes they are just old humans who get very insulted for getting called a Gnome.

But as Lokir brings up the matter of the children not always spared, the Sith-makar before them is immediately hit with a wry and sad kind of melancholy. "... yes." In a very personal kind of way.

Icnoyopa remarks; "You're going to have to be a bit more specific, ssssoftskins and metalskinsss." He notes. "Children in Am'shere are always in danger from the wildlife." He remarks...

Only to watch as Gramarye and Aragos begin to wander northwards.

So he looks back to Reithak in confusion.

Strange softskins.

GAME: Carver rolls Sense Motive (16)+3: 19
GAME: Lokir rolls Perform/Oratory (6)+8: 14

"Oh, I recognize that, a lot of coniferous nuts grow up in the mountains, and, is that dun morden pine nut in there?" The egalrin wonders, taking both spoons and mixing them together, before a long tongue sticks out to try the spoonful. "That's really good! I'll have to get some of that to share with some other egalrin I know in Alexandria. And I get it, but you know, the more people you know, the easier it gets right? I'm sure that some people wouldn't be able to tell a makari child from a kobold, the way that you might be unsure of a gnome or a halfling, but that's why getting to understand people is important."

Reithak does look back to Gramarye and Aragos, one brow raised for a moment, before she sighs. "Sorry, that's why we're here. Danger from charnites, do you know anything about a child who was nearly abducted, recently?"

Carver shifts uncomfortably at the emotional weight behind the Sith-Makar's words. Hard to miss them. Even for someone whose conversational skills are as blunt as a well-used spoon; someone more fit to ranging alone than dancing with many. Still...

"What was their name?"

As Aragos and Gramarye get closer to the north, they pass towards the bakery. The wonderful smells getting more and more notable. Within, as they peek their heads in near the south entrance or one of the windows, they spot a Sith-makar talking to a much younger Sith-makar. The young one gnoshing on that looks like some kind of fried 'stick' of dough.

To the West of the bakery, there's a bunch of hotstones that this community is so well known for. The smoke from active lava-flow beneath the town is coming from beneath the central stone. Another young Sith-makar is laying on one of the stones, just relaxing, staring up at the skies. Trying its best to 'whistle', but failing... what with Sith-makar historically not having the biology needed to whistle real well. But boy are they trying!

To the north, near a second small crossroad, is what looks like a stone 'forum'. An elderly Sith-makar with beautiful dress sounds like they are chanting. Wise and observant eyes constantly watching the world around them.

"The Charnites? Is this about this 'disease' nonsense? We've not seen any signs of this." The Sith-makar answers Reithak. Seeming like they're not so quick to believe there could be any such kind of risk to their big community.

But when the topic shifts to someone who nearly got abducted, he furrows his brow. "I heard about this. Yes. Ehm, I don't know much about this. But I know that old Xocoh was one of the Shamans involved in investigating that. Nasty businesssss, that."

GAME: Aragos rolls Perception (5)+1: 6

Aragos continues heading further north until he spots a bakery, diverting just for a few seconds. Kids are always - eventually - attracted to food. So it's a good bet that the kid has made a beeline here for the safety and security of a familiar smell as well as the fact that it was full of things to fill a growing child's always-empty belly. Not that he knows what the child looks like, how old they are, or anything. He sighs. Hopefully he'll know what he's found if he finds it.

Spotting the young-looking Sith with the older one, Aragos uncomfortably clears his throat and heads toward the pair. "Um... Hello." He greets the pair and then remembers his manners. "Peace on your nests."

At Carver's question, Tlilpopin shakes his head. "We... do not name them, until they are at least a year of age." He answers her. Most Sith-makar have gotten used to this way of life. In fact, egg-parents are often not the ones who end up becoming the 'family' to their offspring. Instead, it tends to be their caste. But Tlilpopin was clearly heavily affected by this.

"Suppose, iffin the world is as cruel as it is in the plains, that makes sense. In Dran, they tell us, names have powers. Makes you whole. Guess it's like that here, makes it so you got feet firmly on the earth? What name woul' you give them?" She pats 'Lambchop' at the question, who gives a shake of her head. "Clear that one's still there. Might be a good way to honor them. Makes them more than just ache in the heart."

"Oh hello mister!" The Sith-makar child answers. He's wearing a super fetching little red coat and the like, wearing small nice jewels. They look young, like they were perhaps just a few years of age. But their common is not at all bad!

"Peace on your nest. Welcome to Matlalihuitl's Baked Good Em... empr... Emperor!"

"Emporium." Matlalihuitl corrects the child.

"Yes, Emporiurium!" The child tries to repeat. "Please, try this."

He then picks up a bowl of chocolate-like aloe of sorts, putting it on the table next to Aragos, and then offers him a 'free sample' of a fried stick like thing. It's covered in sugar and cinnamon spice.

The child then looks around to Gramarye and asks; "Does the armored lady also want some?"

"Thank you for your time, and letting me know what you could. I appreciate it. How much is it for that egalrin-makari fusion spice you let me try?" The egalrin hums, already fishing around for her coin purse. "And do you know where I might be able to find old Xocoh around now? It's nasty business, that's why I want to make sure everything will be safe." Reithak nods. "I don't believe it's nonsense, so be careful, alright?"

The Sith-makar feels uncomfortable as the topic remains on their unnamed and rather dead child. So he lifts his hand and remarks; "Excuse me." Before he begins to wander away.

Lokir nods sadly. "My first home was among the trees, not unlike you. My people are long-lived, but nature has its way even among my kind. I've found that those who perform often do so by drawing upon a well of experience...tragedy not least." As Lokir speaks, a sunflower appears from beneath his robe and floats gently, blooming and then wilting rapidly with age. Lokir pauses--"Yet the natural course is one thing. Deeds unnatural are yet another. Not to put any rain on this wonderful parade, but a rumor had even floated to us along our way here of a sordid kidnapping of a village youth..." Lokir shakes his head in true disgust.

"Engaging modified social protocol," Gramarye intones from behind Aragos. "I am Grace Reason Amity Miracle August Revelry Young Earnest--designation GRAMARYE."

And then a blink in the obsidian eyes.

"Peace on your nests," Gramarye offers, except it's a mimic--in her feminine voice--of the way that Aragos had said it.

Then her head pivots down to the child.

"I do not require sustenance to maintain my mainframe. Please redistribute your sustenance to other lifeforms who are in need of it." Gramarye is ever-polite as she declines the child.

"Xocoh should be a bit up north at the Keeper's Forum." Icnoyopa answers Reithak, dealing with the coin as needed and offers a bt of pleasantry. "Please, finish your business with the child. But after that, please return." Recognizing the importance of what Reithak is talking about at least.

Aragos helpfully takes a piece of the chocolate-like aloe to distract the child and the shopkeeper from any oddity of Gramarye's introduction. "I'm Aragos." He offers. "I was just wondering... We're looking for a kid that got into trouble recently. Not that they're in trouble now, but... we want to talk to them because they might be able to help us."

Earnestly he looks between the pair. "Anything you can tell us would help."

"Grace Re... heeey, those are all just words." The child answers Gramarye. "You're funny." Iuinen remarks. They then turn back to Aragos and tilts their head. "One sample per person." They decide.

Which makes the silver-scaled Matlalihuitl behind him smile. In as far as Sith-makar smile. What with those teeth being exposed.

The child then tilts their head. "Trouble? We're all well behaved children mister. We don't get into any trouble." Clearly not understanding what Aragos is asking.

Lokir watches as the dancer moves off. "Some tragedies leave a lifelong scar." He turns to Carver with a smile. "Shall we rejoin the others?" Lokir moves off to enter the village, making his way towards the very visibile Egalrin.

"Eh, I'm no good at speakin' with people." Carver admits with a shrug. "I'm going to go look aroun'. See if I can see any signs of camps, maybe of scouts lookin' to close in the jaws."

She does not follow, instead moving to the outside of the village to nose around.

As Carver starts heading towards the west from the main crossroads, she soon starts to notice that the forest here thickens. It isn't long before it starts to feel a bit dangerous. It feels like she must gather her party before venturing forth...

There is a building to the north though, she can barely see through the trees.

Carver will trust her instincts, clicking her tongue to the back of her teeth. She will guide her steed toward the north, and the building.

"Thank you for your time. I'll be back, I promise, but for now, you're right, I should be on this." The egalrin nods, offering another bow of her head as she heads out of the tent, and up to find the keeper's forum.

GAME: Lokir rolls Perception (17)+7: 24
GAME: Lokir rolls Perform/Oratory (9)+8: 17

Going up north, Carver finds what looks like a warehouse building. Looking through the windows, it looks like the door is to the north. There's a Sith-makar within currently working on moving tubs of flowers around.

As Lokir and Reithak approach the Keeper's Forum towards the north of the road, an old Sith-makar shifts their head. It's not hard to spot that this one's eyes do not move when they turn their head. There's two blue 'beads' instead of pupils within their head. Yet, they are perfectly well aware of their approach.

"Please. Come closer." The Keeper, Xocoh, asks of them. "You seek answers about the Silvren child. Do you not?" They ask to them.

"Query: Are there children who have been nearly abducted?" Gramarye inquires with the child that's speaking to both her and Aragos. "By individuals who have self-identified as being from the nation of Charn?" She does not modulate her language at any point for the child's understanding. It means that she's talking to the child like an adult, and that might be beneficial--or it can backfire in her face.

The child they are talking to goes; "Oh! Oh, you must mean Ollin!" Iuinen remarks. "I don't know about any Charn people who have come through here. But if you are looking for Ollin, I think they're still around somewhere right now. I think their caretaker is watching them at the moment."

Aragos pops the sample into his mouth and immediately almost chokes on it. Lesson: Don't eat when Gramarye is about to talk. He coughs once and chews properly, swallowing the tasty morsel. "That's the trouble I was referring to. The kind that goes looking for you rather than the other way 'round."

He nods when the child is identified and smiles. "Can you point me in the direction of where this Ollin is?"

Carver tries the door, and if it shall open, will advance into the building. Unless it's locked, then it shall be an awkward moment of pulling... then pushing timidly, then knocking.

GAME: Aragos rolls Diplomacy (8)+9: 17

At Aragos' question, Iuinen nods his head. "Yeah, uhm... but I don't think I'm supposed to say..."

But Matlalihuitl remarks; "These are Adventurers. I do not sense evil from them."

Followed by the child looking back, then to Aragos and Gramarye again. "O-okay. They're to the east of the bakery!"

As Carver knocks and pulls on the door a bit, there is the sound of footsteps approaching her. Soon, the door opens, and a gruff and massive Sith-makar stands before her, leaning down towards her. "Ye'. Wot you want? You starting trouble like them last merchants?" Momoztzi - the worker at the warehouse - demands to know.

Lokir nods politely, though he suspects the elder's vision may not be what it once was. "Thank you for your hospitality. In truth, I've journeyed here in no small part to witness the Flower Festival--but the story of a kidnapped youth had made its way down the road to us. A terrible abomination, as I had heard it." Lokir respectfully approaches the elder. "Is there any truth to it, wise sir?"

GAME: Lokir rolls Perform/Oratory (2)+8: 10

"Hrrm... yes. I do sense a grave danger. But... not so soon. Not yet. Something else will befall this place soon." They tilt their head, furrowing their brow. Trying to gaze 'past' this.

They pull out a collection of bones from their pocket, and strew them onto the ground before them. They then reach down, and begin to gingerly touch each of them. They cannot see. So they are taking their time learning what bones rolled into what positions.

"Yes... a child is in danger. I feel... Undeath."

"Identification of child and location received," Gramarye intones. "Thank you for your cooperation in this matter. Terminating social protocol."

She turns to leave, but then she pauses. "Please accompany me if there are no further matters to discuss, Father."

Ah-hah, a breath of fresh air. A lead! Something that can be latched onto without stumbling like a drunk cow into the tragic backstory of a Dancer and their lost child, which was handled with as much grace AS a drunken cow inquiring about said Dancer's tragic backstory.

"I am not! An' not 'ere to see the sights. Got a job see, adventure-guild licensed adventuree." Uncertified.

She crosses her arms as she looks way up, "You had some trouble with some merchants? They still in town?" She leans to look past him, as if sure that the Charn invasion source will be here in this cramped warehouse. "Moving flowers back there?"

GAME: Aragos rolls Perception (12)+1: 13
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20 (10): 10
GAME: Gramarye rolls Perception (5)+2: 7
GAME: Gramarye rolls Perception (19)+2: 21
GAME: Gramarye rolls 1d20 (8): 8

Aragos nods to the pair seriously. "My gratitude." He offers and then heads out of the building with his companion. He shivers uncomfortably as they exit. "I don't like this." He wants to draw his sword, but that'd scare off the villagers. Instead he palms a dagger and heads toward the buildings they were indicated toward. "Be ready for a fight."

"Yeah, real creepy types." The big Sith-makar answers, loosening up a bit when Carver mentions being from the Adventurer's guild. "Yeah, they 'rented' -" (big finger quotes) "- one of the houses south near the crossroads. Right next to the spice shop. Came in here, just opened the door and started opening the baskets. Something about children playing hide and seek. Gave me the scalies."

Reithak joins the others in meeting with the elder, and the egalrin lets the others speak. "Peace on you nest, honored elder, as it is sorely needed right now." The egalrin finally greets, doffing their hat and bowing, in case the elder had a way of seeing as well. "It seems my allies know something, so I should join them. There may be danger, and, I'm worried about the disease if they've got plans for it. Do you have a plan in place?" The egalrin wonders, waiting for an answer before following the others.

Lokir spits to the side and pulls a bit of salt from his pouch, which soon follows in an arc over his shoulder. "If one were to lean on the scales of fate...how could one most help the living and the young?"

The Keeper shakes their head. "I am a Keeper. I leave such matters to the Shamans." He answers Reithak. "I am just worried about what comes in a few days..." Their brow furrowed. "Fire... molten... a great eruption..."

As Lokir asks about how one most could help the living and young, they consider this for a moment... then answers; "You must steel your mind. And walk with purpose."

Carver has no shame. "They jus' opened the door, without even knockin'? What a load of mules, without a lick of salt between 'em." She looks back to the crossroads with a thoughtful expression. "Righ'. Rented home, new in town. Distinct lack of appreciation of private property. Cultist, or..." Adventurers. She balls up a hand and gently punches the big guy in the arm. Whap. "Thanks, you big hunk of meat." Then she quickly about-faces to investigate someone ELSE'S home.

Gramarye's head pivots to the bushes by them as she and Aragos go to leave. Then a mouse creeps out, sniffs the air, and then runs back into the bushes. Another blink in her eyes.

"Aaaaaaaah." It's a completely monotone noise that leaves Gramarye. And then her head pivots to Aragos. "The mouse protocol has concluded."

And so she goes with Aragos to walk east, in search of the child and the caretaker.

As Aragos and Gramarye approach the house to the east of the bakery - or rather, a collection of houses with thin walls between them - they spot a silvren Sith-makar sitting around with a frumpy grumpy face. Watching over them is a massive and... kind of butch looking Sith-makar. Who eyes the two approaching and steps towards the entrance to block their way.

Lokir nods and gathers himself. "Thank you for your wisdom and vision." Lokir prepares to rejoin the rest of his party...walking with purpose, as his heart and head determine.

Aragos gives Gramarye an odd look. "You have a... mouse protocol?" You know what... she won't forget he asked, but he's going to forget that she has one. He peers at the young sith and then the one blocking their access to the child. "Peace on your nest." He offers and then continues. "We're looking for Ollin. We've heard from someone that there are some people after them. Which means we need to get them someplace safe. Now." He's tense. Far more tense than he should be.

GAME: Carver rolls Perception (18)+11: 29
GAME: Aragos rolls Perception (5)+1: 6
GAME: Gramarye rolls Perception (2)+2: 4

Approaching the house she was warned of, Carver notices that the door is locked. The insides are rather... well... bare-bones. But more importantly, the barrel... it looks strange. It takes a bit of time to get a good look at it from a corner. But she spots what looks like the subtle hints that it's actually... a coffin in disguise.

GAME: Aragos uses DETECT EVIL.
GAME: Gramarye casts Bull's Strength.

Aragos and Gramarye in the meantime, are quickly introduced to...

"Chicacapan. And you two are?" Insistent on their names. Or why they are asking about Ollin. After all, Ollin has almost been kidnapped before. And when these two just approach and ask to take the child to take them 'somewhere safe'.

Aragos puts his head on a swivel, just... checking. That bad feeling from earlier is creeping up his spine in the worst way. "Something wicked this way comes." He says cooly. He turns and draws his sword. "No time for pleasantries. Get ready for a fight!" He puts his back to the sith-makar and glares in the direction of the evil he senses.

GAME: Lokir rolls Perception (14)+7: 21
GAME: Carver rolls Disable Device (7)+2: 9

Carver slaps her forehead, as her axe does little but gouge the frame and ruin the decor. Nervously, she peers around, tucking the tool away as she does... only to try another way, the windows this time.

"Father override engaged. Initiating combat module." Gramarye's voice drops an octave, and her eyes go from obsidian to bright crimson.

"Delivering spell to enhance strength. Target: Father." Gramarye intones the incantation and delivers a spell to enhance Aragos's athleticism. The magic washes onto the man beside her. "Awaiting orders, Commander-Father."

As Aragos warns of trouble, there is rustling in the bushes again...

That mouse that had been spotted suddenly runs out, chased by something. Followed by three figures stepping forth. Each wearing black hoods. Staring at those before them. It's hard to tell who or what they are in that moment.

Until the one on the left, fine yellow eyes, lifts their hand towards Aragos and then... makes a strange come-hither motion. A whispering lisp of a sound escaping them. Seemingly aiming to draw them close...

GAME: Aragos rolls Will (13)+8+2: 23

Lambchop stomps her feet, and Carver gives her a look. A very quick moment of recognition, with her one hand in the cookie jar. Samira waits for Carver to mount, prepping an action to full run as soon as she is.

GAME: Reithak uses JUDGMENT.
GAME: Reithak casts Divine Favor.

Reithak glares at the figures that appear before them, and just as quickly, the rapier is drawn in one hand as they step closer to the door. "We were made aware of some unsavory folk that might be after the child you have with you, and I think we found some of the people trying to do so." Reithak says to the sith-makar she sees at the door. "We'll do our best to hold them off, but be careful, and mind the door, please."

The egalrin takes a heavily gloved hand and holds it to their vest, and the holy symbol pulled up and out of it. "Fire in the heart steels me for battle." The egalrin almost whistles, causing the blade of their sword to glow for a brief moment, as she takes on a duelist's stance, or at least, what one may approximate for one. <Auran>

GAME: Lokir uses Inspire Courage.

Lokir makes a beeline to his heart's purpose, finding himself quickly amongst his comrades and facing down some overly dramatic and unwelcome robed figures. "Aye...fire in the heart, steel in the hand, purpose in the air--let's put things right. FOR THE CHILDREN!" With a flourish, Lokir draws his rapier, and those around feel a bit more confident knowing that whatever else, they won't be the most inept one on the battlefield.

GAME: Gramarye casts Unerring Weapon.

"Delivering spell to enhance weapon. Target: Father." More arcane magic wells up from within Gramarye, and she reaches out to once again touch Aragos, the magic transferring from her to him.

"I continue to await orders, Commander-Father," Gramarye intones. The wizard war golem waits patiently. She will see him through this combat.

GAME: Aragos rolls Greatsword (3)+9: 12
GAME: Aragos rolls Greatsword (9)+9: 18

Aragos steps to the side, shaking his head. "It's... It's trying to control my thoughts." There's a worried undertone to his words, a fear that he can not shake. "Vardama save me."

The prayer seems to bolster the paladin, and he quickly brings his massive blade to bear on the creature trying to get to the child. No. Not another child. NEVER.

Blood.

Screaming.

"TO THE HALLS WITH YOU!" He cries out in rage and fear, slitting the creature across the chest. It starts to smoke and burn immediately. Turning to dust. He pants in the aftermath, shivering. "Grameyre. Do you have anything to protect people's minds?"

GAME: Carver rolls Composite Longbow +1 (14)+6: 20

Carver hops astride 'Lambchop' in one smooth motion, and is off to the races, her mare's hooves glowing spectral blue as some manner of minor enchantment mimics the speed of the wind; with both their hair streaming backwards. A single shot leaves its impression upon the robed menace, but not without a whiny of pain from her steed and a display of anger from the ranger.

GAME: Harkashan rolls 1d20+6 (12)+6: 18
GAME: Harkashan rolls 1d3 (3): 3
GAME: Aragos rolls Will (2)+8: 10
GAME: Aragos rolls Will (20)+8: 28
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d4 (4): 4

As Aragos begins to resist the hooded one with the golden-yellow eyes, they slither their hand forward. Wincing as one of their own is slain. Watching the drift of dust burst up.

Behind them, Carver rushes in on their steed, firing a bow into one of their other allies. Two hooded figures remain, the golden-eyed one's subordinate rushing Carver and jumping onto Samira's flank, stabbing in with a dagger...

Only for the golden eyed one to throw their hand forward again. The whispering is getting louder. The others around Aragos can practically hear the tension on their own minds.

"Come to me. Be mine... free yourself!"

It's coming again. The cool blackness at the edges of his mind. Golden eyes lock with purple and he puts a hand to his head. He can feel his mind slipping. Going to that dark place where someone else has control. Where he doesn't exist. Where... Tears slip free his eyes and he screams in defiance at the one trying to control him. "NO!"

He hates this person. Loathes them with everything he is. He's almost on his knees with the effort of staying where he is. The effort of not blackening his blade with the blood of those under his protection. Vardama. Mentally he begs her for help. Not this time. Please gods, not this time. Let him stand. Let him stand!

The lisping slithering voice from the one before Aragos continues to creep in the air! The pain, the control slipping away from Aragos. That same feeling. The same way that once, his mind slipped away. That call out for Vardama in his mind when...

A touch. Just a touch.

He can't even tell if it's really there. But fingers slip onto his shoulder. Claws, almost like a dragon's. At the edge of his vision he sees it. Just a shimmer. A silvery presence. And a single word. A subtle whisper. Just one word. Sing.

And in that moment, a release. A push back. A divine energy springs from his mind, and the figure before Aragos suddenly crumbles back and reels, hissing.

GAME: Reithak rolls Repeating Heavy Crossbow (17)+7: 24
GAME: Reithak rolls 1d10+2 (5)+2: 7

Reithak keeps their post at the door, and the egalrin draws the large crossbow from their back instead. The egalrin takes aim, and with a sudden urge to take a nudge just slightly to the left, the sinew twangs loudly, sending a bolt into the mage's side. "You will not do any more harm here today!" The inquisitor shouts, already working the mechanism to ready another bolt.

GAME: Lokir casts Grease.
GAME: Harkashan rolls 1d20+10: 23

Lokir reaches with grim determination beneath his cloak. Out comes his left hand, wielding...a stick of butter. "The power of grease compels you!" With the smell of bacon in the air, a brown oily slick spurts from Lokir's hand and soars over the head of the robed figure in the middle, raining inconvenient and slippery fat upon its cloak and soaking the ground. "Uh....watch your step, folks." With that, Lokir finds his way behind Gramarye, to shield him from embarassment.

GAME: Gramarye casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Gramarye rolls 1d4+1 (4)+1: 5
GAME: Gramarye rolls 1d4+1 (1)+1: 2

"I do not have anything prepared to prevent mind control," Gramarye replies. "I apologize for my failing in this matter, Commander-Father. It will be rectified."

And then her head pivots in the direction of the thing that's trying to control her Father's head. "Distributing arcane ordnance." The incantation goes and magic spins out from her into her hands, resulting in two arcane missiles spinning out and striking the enemy.

GAME: Aragos rolls Greatsword 1d20+11 (9)+11: 20
GAME: Aragos rolls Greatsword 1d20+11 (14)+11: 25
GAME: Aragos rolls 2d6+1+7 (7)+1+8: 15

Aragos glances at Gramarye. "If he gains control of me; put me down Gramarye." His tone brooks no argument, and he knows that he can trust her in this. She's done it before. She'll do it again if necessary. He trusts her in a way he's not trusted anyone before in his life. He swallows, eyes set on his enemy and charges the one trying to control his mind; his blade sweeps across, bloodying the hooded figure handily.

"Breath is currency to be spent!

Lord's of Sorrow,

Using fear!

Life, life, life, is your toy!

But not I!"

Aragos's voice rises in an ancient dirge, singing for his goddess and for those that have died to men like this.

GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+3-1+4+2 (13)+3-1+4+2: 21
GAME: Carver rolls Composite Longbow 1d20+10 (1)+10: 11
GAME: Carver rolls Composite Longbow 1d20+10 (10)+10: 20
GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+1 (2)+1: 3

Samira kicks out with her hooves, forcing the man's head down low, and wheels about to bring her face near his. It is by sheer grace of luck that the robed figure is not trampled as the powerful muscles of a full-grown Dran steed barrels into and through him. Carver, on the other hand, turns back and draws the full arc of her bowstring to her cheek. Waiting for when the figure stands to put an arrow through him even as she is carried to a safer distance.

GAME: Aragos rolls Greatsword 1d20+9 (2)+9: 11
GAME: Aragos rolls Fortitude 1d20+9 (3)+9: 12
GAME: Harkashan rolls 2d6 (2)+(6): 8

The hooded golden-eyed figure hisses as the crossbow bolt sharply tears into their shoulder. Followed by Gramarye collapsing them with arcane bolts! They hiss in pain, stumbling back, grabbing at their clothing. Under their hand, they create a quick small spell of 'darkness', hiding their body from the sunlight.

Notably, when the Lokir sends his magic out against the hooded golden-eyed figure, it slips under their feet but... it's like they are not actually standing on the ground. More like, on a layer of nothingness no more than half an inch above the ground.

Though they can't see their face very well, they can see those almost glowing eyes. Sneering at them. Hatred writ in their eyes. A hatred that grows as Aragos sings.

A violent hiss once more, almost like an angry cat. "That song! Stop that! STOP THAT!" She demands of him, before she screeches, "STOP THAT!" As a screech tears across his body, trying to rip his body and mind apart!

GAME: Reithak rolls 1d20+8 (6)+8: 14

Reithak wants to move up to engage the mage, but she refuses to leave an opening for them to reach the house, and the people inside. The egalrin readies their crossbow again, and another shot whistles through the air, this time, going too wide.

GAME: Lokir uses INSPIRE COURAGE.
GAME: Lokir rolls Longbow 1d20+6 (20)+6: 26
GAME: Lokir rolls Longbow 1d20+6 (2)+6: 8
GAME: Lokir rolls 1d8+1 (7)+1: 8

Lokir let's his rapier clatter to the ground with visible disgust (and a bit of butter on the hilt). With practiced ease, a composite longbow swings out from under Lokir's cloak, an arrow already notched and ready. With a smooth wipe of buttered fingers against the arrowhead and shaft, Lokir smiles grimly at the golden-eyed target. "Order up...one greased arrow. Fly true!" A twang and satisfying THUNK answer Lokir's hopes and dreams.

GAME: Gramarye casts Acid Arrow.
GAME: Gramarye rolls 1d20+4 (8)+4: 12
GAME: Gramarye rolls 1d20+4 (20)+4: 24
GAME: Gramarye rolls 4d8: (4)+(2)+(4)+(4): 14

"Father!" Is that... concern? Emotion from Gramarye's voice? It's a little bit, a little waver in the exclamation that suggests something more to the war golem wizard. She darts forward on the battlefield, looking at the golden-eyed enemy with eyes that are still quite red.

"Distributing acid ordnance." But Gramarye's magic surges up more than it ordinarily would around her, perhaps overextending a bit more than she ought to. The blow is unleashed in one acidic bolt that strikes hard into the enemy.

The crimson eyes stare down the enemy. "Do. Not. Touch. Father." Gramarye is angry.

The paladin stands where he is, blood dripping from his ears from the strength of the attack laid out against him. Shaking his head to clear his vision. His body doesn't want to move. His hands are numb on his sword. But his mind can still think. The lyrics dance through his thoughts, a litany against this creature that dares steal into the corners of his being.

Perhaps he will teach the words to Gramarye.

Not that he's any sort of singer.

Caver's bowshot drops the creature and Aragos moves forward once more, his sword pinioning it to the ground in spite of its death.

"My prayers reach out to Her,

My Goddess accepts it all,

As long as it's from me,

Though you seek to evade death,

You can not escape its sting."

Aragos slumps to the ground, wearied by the battle. He turns his eyes toward where the child is and bows his head. It had been too close. Too close by far. "Does anyone require healing?" He inquires from the ground.

GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+6 (10)+6: 16
GAME: Carver rolls Composite Longbow 1d20+10 (16)+10: 26
GAME: Carver rolls Composite Longbow 1d20+10 (20)+9: 29
GAME: Carver rolls Composite Longbow 1d20+10 (18)+9: 27
GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+2+1d8+2 (7)+2+(6)+2: 20

Samira races forward, seconds behind a barrage of crossbow bolts and darts laced with acid. The bite? Not effective, dodged by the hissing abomination. Carver, astride, levels her weapon and from 'actually' point-blank range fires a rapid flurry of shots admist the chaos, before riding Samira past the chaos with great howling shriek of victory.

The assault on the golden-eyed one continues. Even as it manages to daze Aragos into a momentary stupor, it gives Lokir a quick chance to get it with another bolt. This one years across their cheek and comes out the other way, creating what must be a viscious scar across their face.

The shriek is horrifying, almost like a banshee's. Another spell of darkness quickly draped over their face, hiding themselves from the Sun, stumbling back. Only for a series of acid-splashes to spray across their body.

They're quick. The hooded figure is immensely quick. Inhumanly quick. A celerity beyond the norm. It quickly grabs Samira's face as it charges, and with inhuman stretch, pushes its biting assault away from them! But the Adventurers' assault holds up. And when that acid assault from Gramarye rips apart some of their clothing. The hood is torn away, exposing the pale faced Vampire to the sun. They hiss, their face immediately searing away. A beautiful dark haired visage turned into a melting painful boiling patch in mere seconds! They try to bring up a vision of darkness over their face, partially blocking its viscious assault on the Vampire's body.

They stumble back, hobbled, hissing, turning...

And begins to run.

Only for Carver's arrows to find their purchase. Stabbing into their body with intense purpose, and causing their body and spells to falter...

And their body to go up in a sea of flash-fire! Their robes burning along with them!

A battle that took just a few seconds. Chicacapan has stood watch, but they recognized very well what was happening. They didn't interfere, too worried that anyone might slip by to get to the child. But now that this is all over, they speak up. "I understand now... they are still after Ollin. But why?" He rumbles. Ollin walking up behind Chicacapan and holding onto his tail, looking around his hefty bulk at the Adventurers.

Reithak sighs as she sees the final foe fall, and she unloads her crossbow, giving the others a thumbs up. "Nice job all! Did a lot more than me, but I wanted to make sure they'd be alright in there. Speaking of which, you alright? And anyone need some aid?" She asks, before turning back to the door. "They're after Ollin because they believe them to be immune to something they're working on, and they want her for some related reasons." The egalrin elaborates. "We're here to help keep them safe, and get to the bottom of this."

Carver slowly wheels around, still a-flushed with adrenaline. Samira stomps nervously, some of the emotional bond between companions bleeding through. The ranger's cackle is manic, especially at the realization that it is the walking soulless that they so recently dispatched. "Nightseekers, out in the sun?" She slaps her knee before laughing again. "Never though' I would see the like. Must be desperate, or their master had them by the bollocks." She looks over the others, even as Aragos inquires to their health. Something gives her pause, and she taps her forehead. "Wow! What timing, righ' before this I found a bloody coffin! HAH!"

The vampire's burned up in the sun and Gramarye still has her hand up like she prepares to cast a spell. "Exiting combat module," she says in her normal voice, the crimson hue disappearing from her glass eyes and turning them back to their obsidian hue. She walks over to Aragos. "Running diagnostics and systems assessment. Systems integrity: intact. I am uninjured, Father. However, I recommend that you heal yourself."

She extends a hand out to him. One that was made by her artificer to resemble the perfectly manicured hand of a young woman, cast forever in bronze. "Please." The word is uncharacteristic for her. A tiny waver in the voice. "I will bring you to anyone who will be able to assist you in this capacity."

Lokir picks up his sword from the ground and wipes the dirt off the blade with his pants. "Yet another successful battle, my trusted friend. You did nothing." Sheathing the rapier and slinging his longbow beneath his cloak, Lokir's hand emerges with a small bouquet of wild woodland flowers for Ollin. "Sorry for the excitement, little one. Here's a gift from my home village to yours..." Straightening up, Lokir turns to Carver. "A coffin? Was it empty?"

Aragos looks at Gramarye's hand. He can hardly hear her through the damage to his ears, but he knows. He understands. The paladin nods to her and takes her hand. He lays the other one on his own chest and puts a burst of healing on himself that eases the ache in his ears. He hasn't quite let go of her hand and he seems to realize this belatedly, rubbing his fingers over the top of a hand that can not truly know his touch - not the way a human would - but she knows its there. "You did good."

His voice is gruff and he heads back to the others, releasing her hand and looking at the child that they'd saved. "It doesn't matter why they want the child. Only that they're willing to risk everything to have them. We must destroy the coffins, and secure the child in the safest location that we can find."

"What does... Immune mean?" Ollin asks of Chicacapan. Who in turn looks at Ollin and rumbles; "Oh sweetheart. It means that your blood could be used to help people not get the disease that the evil Charnites tried to inflict on you and the rest of our people."

He then looks to Reithak and the rest. "In that case, I would like to request you help me protect Ollin for the next few days while we root out any further Charnite presence amongst our midst."

It seems Chicacapan is willing to work with the team on all of this at this point.

"Probably, think you're lookin' at... well, used to be lookin' at one that might have been brought in through the coffin." Carver says, motioning vaguely to the pile of ash and the charred grass remains. "Ah, righ'. Coffin. In. One. I ain't been seeing many. Not yet. If we have and there's more of that creature then we've a big problem." She finally slips off Samira, looking over the wound.

"I think you migh' need to take a look at the flowers too. I think this lot may have tampered with 'em somehow." Snort.

"It's a, uh, budding conspiracy."

Carver's howling laughter at her own joke is more hideous than the vampire's dying shriek.

Lokir shakes his head sadly. "I think our comedy act needs a bit of tinkering."