Something's Wrong, And Getting Worse [IC]

[JNAProductions]

OOC Thread (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?641495-Something-s-Wrong-And-Getting-Worse-OOC&p=25344890)


You find yourselves at The Prancing Pony-a rather rundown, shoddy, and skeevy tavern. You're not concerned about the other patrons-if they start a fight, you can handle yourself.

There are a few people here, though, that you don't often see. Under normal circumstances... You wouldn't care. Strangers come, strangers go. But given what just happened... Maybe you should investigate.

What will you do?

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

A woman wrapped in expensive indigo robes pushes open the tavern door with her shoulder and steps in from the light drizzle outside. With a practiced motion, she tucks her metal cane under her arm and pulls down her hood, revealing one long goat horn and her black hair brushed over the stump of the other.

Queria's life has always been a relatively sheltered one, but the big city is her element, and a skeevy tavern is a feature unique to big cities. They fill a niche where their hostile atmosphere becomes an asset, trading expensive hospitality for budget exclusivity. This in turn can revive the tight-knit atmosphere conducive to telling people about your weird prophetic dreams.

This in mind, she props her cane against the side of the bar, takes a stool and taps an electrum piece on the counter. "Something tall enough for a long conversation," she says. A soft-spoken soprano, slightly raspy from age and forge fumes. "Can I tell you something?"

[Khosan]

Grix wasn't a tavern regular by any means. His death and the unusual circumstances of his rebirth had seen the end of his appetite. Adding to that, it wasn't often that someone like him was even allowed in. The Prancing Pony fell in the perfect, narrow band of bars just seedy enough to not care about his condition, but not so seedy that a fight was particularly likely, and also cheap enough to accept his grubby money with minimal complaint. Though he didn't need to eat, there was still something comforting about the act, and it was this that sometimes drew him back to the Pony.

Comfort is high on his list today, after a long day of preaching to another crowd of hecklers. The little, discolored kobold sits quietly in his corner of the tavern, by all appearances a poor, blind beggar, his milky white eyes drifting back and forth, bundled up in greasy, mottled rags, cradling a walking stick as he enjoys a quiet meal. Behind that is a storm of nervous energy. His eyes, quite functional, dart from person to person in the tavern, never staying on each one long, his fungal support network has been acting up, warranting extra layers to keep it (literally) under wraps, and he could not bring himself to put his staff, his spellcasting focus, down, not even for the bread he came for, not even for a moment.

Queria's entrance draws Grix's attention. Rich blood, he sniffs, Trouble. Could be? Could be. Target or thrill-seeker, his reptilian nostrils flare the moment the electrum touches the counter, Target. Grix shifts uncomfortably, fighting the instinct to leave her to the mugging she was bound for and himself to his paranoid musing. After a moment, thinking better of it, he forces himself to his feet and makes his way over, tapping his staff to uphold some illusion about being blind. Maintaining a comfortable distance, he leans on his staff and looks off to the side, not directly at the tiefling, as he speaks in a voice not unlike a half-drowned frog, "Cost of an ear, not so high here. Will get far more than what you ask, showing that sort of coin. Silver, more than enough." Anticipating a question, he taps his staff against his head, pointing to a tiny hole between his dulled scales, then at his eyes, "Before the asking, know the sound. Have to."

[Spectre]

Upstairs?

Two bloodshot eyes suddenly flash open in fear, wide as saucers. "Holy sh*t!" curses a woman tangled up in sheets. She scrambles upright to hunch over the side of a bed that wasn't hers, or anybody else's that she knew. As she scans the room, Laverne reaches up to gingerly rub at her temple as she takes in every painful ray of light peering in from beyond busted blinds. "Nnrgh, where... the hell?" A beat. "Wait, was I dreaming? No, can't have... nrgh."

With a wince, Laverne shuts her eyes tight once more. "Damn head is killing me," she mutters through her teeth. Looking around, she didn't notice any discarded clothes. Had she simply barged her way into an empty room and crashed there? Unfortunately, Laverne couldn't quite recall. However, the three empty bottles of mead in the corner didn't paint a pretty picture. "Need a bath. And a drink. Hair of the dog, right?"

Fifteen minutes later, Laverne stumbles down to the bar. She looks something like a vagrant in her current state, as the bard's good looks can't quite make up for the trail of vomit that has dribbled down her corset, unbeknownst to the bleary-eyed patron. Was it hers? One could hope.

She leans up against the bar before barking for its keeper. "Oi, something for me damn head!"

"And be quick about it, 'fore I ruin the bar!"

"M'feeling queasy..."

[JNAProductions]

The barkeep's seen it before. He wordlessly slides glasses over-a tall ale, and a plain water.

He does roll his eyes at Grix, though-the act is fooling absolutely no one.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"To be fair, I was expecting some drinks, too," says Queria to the strange kobold, half-facetiously. "Besides, you don't know what I wanted to talk about."

Queria picks up the ale glass in her right hand while her left remains conspicuously absent. She was never going to ask about the coin thing. Still, Grix successfully stole her attention before she could ask the barkeep any questions. At this point she may as well let him in on what she's up to.

"You are a sort of druidic priest, right?" Q wouldn't normally assume that about someone based on their appearance, but this one proselytizing mushroom-kobold is pretty famous around here. "How are you at interpreting strange dreams? I was wondering whether anyone else was having them, particularly with themes of dimming light and dark fire..."

She takes a small sip of her drink and swallows to get it out of her mouth as soon as possible. Ale was never her favorite, but that's what she gets for not specifying her order beyond the size.

[Khosan]

Grix recoils at the mere mention of the word 'priest.' "Eugh! No priest, no priest," he shudders, pulling his rags tighter and glancing over his shoulder to confirm no stray member of the clergy was looming behind him. He then turns back, and resumes looking down and off to the side of the tiefling, as if he hadn't just very obviously had a look around, "No, no, no. No church, No others. Just Grix. Druidic...Fine. Acceptable description, but imperfect."

When Queria first mentions dreams, Grix looks uninterested and is on the verge of telling her that dreams are just dreams, until she mentions the dimming light. He immediately abandons any notion of appearing blind and looks her dead in the eye, drawing closer the tiefling girl, "Darkness. Silence. Wrongness. Not dreams, not," he waves a hand to dispel the notion, exposing a bit of mycelial fungus in the process, "Real. Or vision granted," he extends a finger with each option then, point made, he places that same hand on his chest, "Attacked, recently. Middle of the city, late at night. Unnatural silence fell, every sound but mine, gone. Saw a figure, a knife. Came at me and...nothing. Woke up. No injuries, nothing lost. But know it was real. Cannot be dream. Cannot dream."

The kobold finally calms down, having climbed to stand on a stool next to Queria and gotten uncomfortably close in his fervor to share his story with someone who might understand. He takes a deep breath and slumps into his seat, "Hoped to find others, spread warning if none. Something wrong, something coming, but not sure what."

[JNAProductions]

Insight, Investigation, or Perception check.

Pick one, and roll it or declare passive.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Queria instinctively crosses her legs and holds out her beer glass as though it would somehow protect her from an impending kobold tackle, but as the little guy goes on she figures out his harmless intentions and relaxes.

"That could certainly be real," she says, her eyes meeting Grix's as she sets down her drink. "An opportunist could have found you walking alone. A silence spell requires some skill to cast but is reasonably accessible. The gap in your memory is only natural if you were knocked unconscious..."

And they probably didn't find anything on you worth stealing, she almost says, but she decides to leave that part out. There's no need to be rude, here.

"I'd suggest you go to a guard with this, but with nothing stolen and no evidence of harm, there would be nothing they could do. This figure, could you describe them? What was so, 'wrong,' about them?"

Passive Investigation: 18

[Khosan]

"Not my point," Grix shakes his head, "Besides, fights not necessarily...logical. Very dumb, often. Where I live, often about sending message, marking territory, sometimes just anger. Never beat someone without witness, or without letting know who's giving it." The kobold cackles at Queria's suggestion of going to the guards, a laugh best described as a kind of damp wheeze. He ends his little laughing fit plainly, as if stating a fact, "Guards don't care."

"Thought you wanted to talk about a dream. But fine, fine. Know my talking not clearest, will try." Grix steeples his fingers and looks down at the floor, contemplative. After a brief pause, he starts again, "Was retuning home. Long day had gotten away from me. It was late, dark. Took a shortcut, into an alley and...silence. No wind, no tavern chatter, no footsteps but mine. But even those sounds were...wrong. Muffled. Then heard another. Not my steps but another's. Loud, and coming closer. Saw them at the end of the alley. Couldn't...see them, though. Indistinct. Unclear. Except the knife. They charged, tried to run but...black." His shoulders relax as he finishes his retelling, releasing the tension that had been building up within him, "The wrongness is...it sits in the chest. Feel it, but can't give it form."

"Told mine. Now tell yours. My attack for your dream."

Passive Perception - 17

Grix is a little focused on his conversation at the moment.

[Spectre]

Laverne snatches the glass up and sets it to her lips as soon as it slides her way. She then loudly and messily downs the entire glass before slamming it back down on the table and reaching for the ale. As with the glass of water, the bard downs the entire tankard in one go, refusing to pause even as the ale trickles down her chin. With a gasp, she wipes her face with her sleeve and tosses the tankard down upon the bar with a clamorous thud and a loud, raucous hoot. "Ha! By the sea god's briny balls, I needed that!"

She then lets out a roar, much to the chagrin of nearby patrons, before pounding her fist down into the wood. "Another one, keeper! Hells, sink me why don't you!" In her rush to secure some relief from her pounding headache, Laverne hardly noticed the strangers at the far end of the bar. Now saturated with ale, she clambers up onto a stool. As she does, she's careful to lift one leg up on a higher rung, revealing several small knives strapped to one of her tall, cuffed boots.

She was heavily armed, and she wanted everyone to know it - for better or worse (but preferably worse).

While waiting for her second tankard, she subtly scans the room.


OOC: Perception (11)

Laverne isn't entirely sure she's seeing straight yet. :smalltongue:

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Queria wishes she could be more surprised about the derisive laughter. "Note to self: Complain to father about a lack of law enforcement oversight."

"Yes, I feel that, too," she says as Grix gets to the part about the wrongness in his chest. His story has a more dreamlike quality when he explains it at length, and it rules out the silence spell theory, but it seems the exact details aren't going to be as important as that shared feeling.

She nods and takes a breath to start explaining her story when a roar further down the bar nearly startles her off of her stool. After a couple seconds staring at the big lady who really wants everyone to think she's a pirate for some reason, she collects herself and starts over.

"I should probably start from the beginning, since I'm not sure exactly when my studies ended and the dream began. I was in the library, trying to fill in a table of differently-scaled kinetic singularities for a diagram I was making, when suddenly I needed a very specific passage. I forget what exactly I was looking for, but just when I thought I'd found it, the candles in the room suddenly went out. After a moment of utter darkness, too dim to read by, one candle flickered back to life on its own. Suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity, I slowly drew closer to it. As I approached the flame became dark and cold, and began to consume the world at the edge of my vision as I entered in..."

She blinks, snapping out of a trance she hadn't realized she'd entered. "...and suddenly I woke up, sitting at the writing desk, the book I'd thought I found was gone and forgotten. It had been a long night, so I retired to bed after that, but even after a night's sleep I couldn't shake the sense that something was very wrong."

[JNAProductions]

Laverne notices nothing much.

Grix and Queria, though, can tell the rest of the crowd is listening in-not every last person, but you're drawing interest. People are paying attention to you-and that might not be a good thing.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Queria's fingers twitch as she counts something. "Interesting," she says, amused. "I count at least five people tellingly avoiding eye contact with us right now." In truth, she didn't expect so many to actually care about this. Physical danger notwithstanding, this is going to be way easier than she thought.

She picks up her drink and uses it to gesture to someone at the closest table. They're the closest person who's still staring. "What do you think? Does any of this sound familiar to you?"

[JNAProductions]

"What?" the man Queria gestures to says, at first. "I, uh, don't know what you're talking about."

The man is clearly not being fully dishonest, but he ain't being wholly honest either. He legitimately doesn't know for sure what you're talking about-but the implication, that he wasn't listening and that's why, is a lie.

Advantage is because you caught him off-guard.

The barkeep is currently located at the far end of the counter. His intuition is telling him that there's trouble afoot, and he hasn't made it this long at the The Prancing Pony by getting involved where he doesn't belong.

The man you're speaking to is at a table with three other folk-two dwarves, one of which you spoke to, a human, and an elf. They're scarred and tattooed, looking the part of the thugs typical to the Pony.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"No, I'm serious," Queria drops from her stool and approaches the table. "Unexpected nightmares, visions, lights and sounds mysteriously going out. Have any of you heard of things like that lately?"

She gets the feeling that the answer will still be no, but at the very least this should drain their motivation to eavesdrop.

[roll0]

[Khosan]

Grix nods along to Queria's telling of her version. It's clear he doesn't really grasp the idea of 'kinetic singularities' or why one might want to diagram one, much less multiple, but he keeps up with the rest. He opens his mouth to respond, but before a word escapes his lips, he notices the eyes on them. Immediately, all the anxieties and paranoia he'd momentarily forgotten come right back. He once more tightens his grip on his staff.

As his tiefling companion goes to engage them in conversation, Grix follows, but maintains a distance behind, eyes darting back and forth as he assesses both targets and exits. Something else strange happens, though the effect is subtle. The earthy scent of mushrooms, a phenomenon which follows the little kobold wherever he goes, fades ever so slightly for everyone but Queria, for whom it intensifies. A voice, a chorus of voices wholly unlike Grix's ragged croaks, sings within the girl's head, <Should it come to blows, rally behind our Lord Grix. We shall protect.> Groaning and clearly annoyed, Grix rubs his throat and mutters under his breath, "Not a 'lord,' just Grix."

[JNAProductions]

"No, I'm serious," Queria drops from her stool and approaches the table. "Unexpected nightmares, visions, lights and sounds mysteriously going out. Have any of you heard of things like that lately?"

She gets the feeling that the answer will still be no, but at the very least this should drain their motivation to eavesdrop.

[roll0]

"No... No, not at all," the man replies. "Er, any of you guys know anything like that?"

The direct confrontation has seemed to... Not exactly cow them, so to say, but it's certainly dampened their enthusiasm. They respond with a small chorus of "No", and looking at the other tables, there's a lot of head-shaking and nothing in the way of affirmatives.

There is, however, a single person looking to make a quick escape. They're covered up in a heavy cloak-not that unusual for this time and place-so you can't see their face or make out much of a body type. They're moving behind the crowd, clearly trying to avoid notice, but unfortunately for them, in their haste, they knock a glass down, drawing attention their way.

With the glass clattering on the ground, they seem to decide "to hell with it" and make a rush for the exit.

[Khosan]

Though a bit preoccupied trying to persuade his fungal friends about his worthiness (or in this case unworthiness) of certain titles, Grix does catch wise to the individual lurking behind the crowd. Not wasting a moment, Grix leaps into action, rushing toward the same exit in hopes of preventing their escape.

[Khosan]

Grix darts through the crowd, weaving through the forest of legs (both biological and chair) to block the door before the mysterious runner could escape. Not that he's much of an obstacle, not even two and a half feet tall, but that's what friends are for. Grix grunts, "Little help?" And his fungal friends answer so gracious a call. Two enormous, yellow-green pseudopods erupt from the back of his neck, so large that smaller pseudopods shoot out to stabilize themselves against the doorframe. "Cease!" Grix shouts, holding up a hand which is soon mimicked by one of his new appendages, <Pray, obey our Lord's command!>

Action: Dash
Move: Grix moves to block the door
Bonus Action: Spending 1 Ki, Grix uses Arms of the Astral Self

And an [roll0] check

[JNAProductions]

The fleeing target stops suddenly, almost knocking themselves over with the suddenness. They glance back, and see the rest of the patrons don't seem inclined to help. "I-" they start to say, but stop.

They drop to their knees, dry heaving. Some of you might step a little closer, to see fully what's going on, but you're wise enough to not get too close. The dry heaving turns into vomiting-but instead of the usual brown slurry, you see whites and yellows, and it clinks and clatters on the stone floor of the Pony. It keeps coming, and looking at the growing pile, you can tell its teeth.

Nice check! I'll also give advantage for those arms, not that it's really needed right now-but in the future, if you think something is worthy of (dis)advantage, just add an extra roll. I'll ignore it if it wasn't QUITE worthy of the extra die, but it'll help just in case.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

It all unfolds too quickly for Queria to really react. While Grix and his spore army are dashing to the door, she's still setting her glass down on the eavesdroppers' table. "Thank you. Excuse me."

She picks up her cane from the side of the bar and proceeds to meet Grix by the door. When she finally processes what's happening, she looks at the goo-arm-wielding kobold suspiciously. She can't say she's ever heard of a tooth-vomit spell, but if there exists a druid who casts one, it would probably be Grix.

"If this this is your doing, you can stop it now..."

It doesn't take more than a second to establish that it isn't. "I see. That's worrying." She tucks her cane under her arm and goes to lift the cloaked figure's shoulder to help them stand and walk. "Come on, let's get outside, shall we?"

[JNAProductions]

Queria grabs the cloaked humanoid, but they don't respond. It doesn't seem like they'll be stopping the teeth without some kind of help.

They'll be dead soon, if nothing is done.

[Khosan]

Grix looks at his hand, the surprise clear on his face that he didn't expect it to work. Even his pseudopods seem surprised, sharing a 'look' at one another (though lacking anything like eyes or a face) and shrugging in unison. The 'threat' passed, his bulbous, amorphous appendages shrink down to a less ungainly size, from about a foot in diameter to less than an inch, though just as long.

The kobold balks at the accusation that he was behind the teeth, "What! Rude! No touching, no magicking." Grix folds his arms across his chest indignantly, a stance soon mimicked by his symbiotic buddies. He narrows his eyes at them as they enter the top of his field of vision and snorts, "Fine, some magic. But none to hurt. Unless needed." The left pseudopod flexes, while the right rolls its 'eyes' (really just its own tip) at the other's showing off.

Grix walks over to their new sick friend, "Not a doctor, but teeth can be sharp. If bleeding in throat, or clogged, could die." Not waiting for a response from someone expelling an alarming amount of enamel, he immediately begins manhandling them, pulling their head forward and their jaw open to take a look inside and see what's going on, "Need to look. Sorry."

[roll0], to see how exactly they're physically dealing with the amount of teeth coming out. Looking for blockages and bleeding mostly.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Queria watches Grix do their thing and gets the gist of what's going on. She's not a professional healer by any stretch either, but she's generally aware of the concept of internal bleeding.

She pulls a leather-bound notebook from the folds of her robe, its cover elaborately stitched with red and indigo patterns evoking her family shield. It flips open in her hand and its pages seem fan out on their own, opening to the infusion she needs. "We need to find the cause, but for now I can at least buy some time. Cure Light Wounds!"

With that command word and a flick of her thumb, a paragraph of glowing runes lift off the notebook page and stamp themselves on the clasp of the patient's cloak to do their work.

[Khosan]

Grix has no idea what he's looking at. Aside from teeth. A lot of teeth. Teeth that kept pelting him in the face. Grix swats some molars out of his eyes and pulls himself away from the dental disaster, "Right. It's teeth. Can't see anything else, so...ehm..." He puts a hand on his neck, tapping his mysterious fungus, "Need...fixing, reversion, restoration. Quick, please," the fungus, in response, shifts and shudders, spreading its mycelial tendrils on to his waiting hand. The new fungus begins to glow, a subtle but noticeable blue even in the light of the tavern. Grix pulls his hands away, thin, luminescent blue strands trailing from his fingers back towards his throat, and he smears the substance across their neck. This magical mycelium pulsates, much like the stuff it came from, and spreads around the point of contact as Grix once again directs his spores, "Dig deep. Fix, repair, restore. Do not linger after." Soon after, the glowing blue patches vanish beneath the surface of the skin.

Grix casts Lesser Restoration on our poor, toothy friend.

[JNAProductions]

The flow of teeth slows, then stops. The cloaked figure is, by now, thoroughly unconscious. The other patrons look at the pile of teeth, not saying anything-in shock, it seems.

What will you do?

Right. The cloak dude is no longer dying! Feel free to kidnap them. :P

[Khosan]

The last of Grix's restorative fungus creeps away up his arm and returning to the main colony, "Thank you," he says with a sigh. Weird day. He looks around at all the stunned faces in the crowd, frowning and narrowing his eyes. Attention. Too much. Need to distract, get distance.

His eyes dart back to the barman, to whom he scuttles over, "Sorry for trouble." He digs through his pockets and drops four gold pieces on the counter, "Enough for round of drinks for everyone? And room upstairs. Need to talk with the...ehm," Grix glances back at the unconscious victim, wondering what to call them, before he settles on the name "tooth fairy? Just need a word. They can have room after."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Queria was ready to just take the injured cloak-owner outside for this, but if the street shaman thinks a room is in order, she'll defer to his judgement and take them upstairs. Rather than adding to the situation's indignity dragging them up the stairs, she flips her book to another scroll-page. "Levitate."

The unconscious urchin floats lazily into the air. Queria hooks her cane on their hood and pulls them behind her to wait for Grix and the room key.

"Ah, but where are my manners, I haven't introduced myself yet!" she says when the kobold catches up and unlocks the door. "I am Queria Taadhe. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Grix."

[JNAProductions]

You take the floating body up to the room the barkeep gives you the key for. You have a feeling you're going to be talked about-and perhaps followed, when you decide to leave. But that is a bridge to cross when it comes, not for now.

When you're in the room, you plunk the body on a chair. Removing the cloak, you see a sickly, gaunt man-pale as the midnight moon, and barely any thicker than a skeleton. His mouth, open slightly, is now missing all its teeth-it might not've been before, but whatever caused him to start disgorging molars has left him free of teeth entirely.

You can awaken him now, or let him rouse on his own.

[Khosan]

"Just Grix, no titles. Hate titles." There was a time when he was a Mr. Grix, but it was quite short and ended with him bleeding out in a gutter. "Taadhe? The coin counters?" Grix looks Queria up and down, properly this time, actually taking in her missing arm and prosthetics, "Finance getting more competitive?" Grix cackles, less derisively than the last time, but still sounding an awful lot like a chain-smoking crocodile, but very quickly calms down and looks introspective, "Don't mean to bring up bad memories. Sorry."

"Also...the Yellow," the kobold pulls down a rag to point at the colony of fungus on his neck, "Very magic mold. They...help me live. Can do a lot. Ask and they'll help." His pseudopods, still hanging around though starting to dry out and crackle, nod along, <We only seek to help. Our Lord-> "Not a lord <-has provided us with many righteous causes.>

During all this discussion, Grix has taken the sheets from the bed and used them to tie up the toothless man. "Give signal, and I'll wake him. Will let you do talking. Can...monitor with Yellow."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Queria doesn't even follow Grix's gaze to her not-arm. She just shrugs, trying not to seem annoyed. She's over it.

"Fascinating," she says as The Yellow is introduced. "Well, it's good to meet you too, Yellow. Now, let's go get some water for our friend here. Then we'll wake him, if you're sure his condition is stable."

Once she has some water to offer, Q straightens up to watch the patient, ready to ask them how they're feeling as soon as they come to.

[JNAProductions]

It takes some gentle shaking, but the man is roused. He lets out a low moan, clearly not feeling well. Queria offers her glass to him, and he nods in thanks, grabbing it and taking a sip. As he drinks, his eyes go wide.

"My... My teeth!" he gums out.

I have no idea what sounds he'd be failing to make without teeth, but assume that that's what happening.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"I know. Here," the one-horned noble hands him the glass of water. "We may be able to have some dentures made. Beyond that, are you alright? Do you remember what happened?"

[JNAProductions]

"There was... There was..." he mutters. "My son-my son!" He tries to get up, but whatever curse afflicted him left weak enough to simply gently press down on his shoulders and keep him seated. You don't think he'll attack or anything, but you do keep yourself on guard.

When he sees there's no point in struggling, he slumps into the chair. "Last I fully remember, they were taking people. I hid my son and myself, but I was larger. Couldn't hide as well. So when it was clear I couldn't hide... I tried to fight."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Let's slow down," Q says calmly. "There is no sense rushing out until we know where we're going, yes?"

"You say it's the last thing you remember. Where were you when this happened? Do you remember how you came to be in the Prancing Pony afterward - the tavern?"

[Khosan]

Grix sits against the door to the room, both blocking an exit and listening for any eavesdroppers. The Yellow, meanwhile, plays a much more active role, subtly probing their temporary prisoner's surface thoughts (and communicating them to Queria as they come).

Grix uses Detect Thoughts from his Telepathic feat, continuously reading surface thoughts.

And an active perception check: [roll0]

[JNAProductions]

The man's mind is racing, a blur of thought after thought. They're focused about where you'd expect them to be, though-things like "How did I get here?" "Is my son okay? Did he make it out?" "Why are my teeth gone?" "Prancing Pony?" "My son, my son, my son," "Who are these people?" "What happened?"

He's being honest, though, far as you can tell in his brain.

"I've never heard of that tavern in my life. I'm from Jegg," he says.

It takes a moment to recall, but you think you've seen Jegg on a map or two. It's some tiny village, east of here. It is, in fact, past another city entirely. Quite a considerable distance.

"I was at home-we all were, or in the fields. They just... I can barely describe them-it hurt to look at them, and that was before they started to take people."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"I see. Given how far you were displaced, it's certainly not just a vision or a nightmare. What is your name?" Q hears the old man's name and repeats it back to him. "I am Queria Taddhe. Somehow, since that kidnapping incident, you seem to have been brought all the way to downtown Leandra, and apparently had your memories blocked in the meantime." She picks up her cane as though getting ready to leave. "Come with us. If you were taken from Jegg, that is where our investigation begins."

It's the kind of command that nobles are prone to giving when they take their positions for granted, made as though everyone's already on board with her being in charge.

[Khosan]

"I am Grix." Grix waves from near the door with the second round of introductions, his fungal limbs by now fully receded. "Jegg? Hm." He taps his chin, thinking, "What day was it? When you were taken." Could be sleep magic? Portals? "And how many 'thems'? One, few or many?" Grix helpfully holds up a number of fingers for each option, one for one, five for few and a full ten for many. "And hard to look at, how? Indistinct? Formless?"

"Also, fair to answer answers with answers. You threw up teeth. Lots of teeth. Impressed, honestly. Once kept some spare teeth under tongue, spat them out when punched, to seem more hurt and end fights sooner. Don't recommend; pointy, distracting, bad if swallowed. But you had more than four mouthfuls in there. Very strange. Could try to get false teeth to replace, but maybe not time."

Grix nods at Queria's suggestion "Probably best. Think, better to stay out of sight. Still don't like this. Going out blind, leaving familiar ground."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"You were definitely under some kind of spell," says Queria. She's not familiar enough with the kobold's sense of humor to know how much of the tooth stuff is serious, but the scared old man probably needs some context. "Although, we haven't really examined the vomit's contents, have we? I assumed it was all conjured magically, but it's possible that they were used as a vector for the enchantment."

She opens her purse - a satchel at her hip, custom-embroidered much like her book's cover - and produces a one-horned steel visor with gold accents. It fits over the stump of her missing horn and covers her eyes and temples like a mask.

"I'll scan the teeth for magical residue, assuming they haven't discorporated." She taps the mask, indicating that that's what it's for. "Then we can work out the logistics of our journey East. I... should be able to charter a carriage to Clout, albeit not a very stealthy one."

As the group proceeds downstairs, Q doesn't account for The Yellow still having Detect Thoughts turned on.

I'll have to borrow one of my family's drivers. They don't usually go that far. Maybe I can convince mother if I tell her I'm going for a date. She glances over her shoulder at the two following her. Not with either of these two. I'll have to make someone up.

She'll cast Detect Magic once we find the tooth pile. If it's hiding or was already swept up, or if perhaps one tooth is magic and it's hiding, she'll roll Investigate: [roll0]

[JNAProductions]

Down below, the teeth pile is exactly where you left it. It seems like people aren't inclined to interact with it-not after seeing it appear in the first place.

The teeth have faint conjuration remnants, but nothing actively magical on them at the moment.

In the room, the man introduces himself, finally. "I'm David. David Mully," he says. "I was taken just after harvest-I couldn't tell you the exact date, though. The things that kidnapped... A lot of them. Dozens, at least-they kind of blurred together."

A new harvest is coming up soon, so David was kidnapped just shy of a year ago, assuming it was last year and he's not actually been gone for many years.

[Khosan]

"No carriage! Want to avoid attention. Only taxmen go to Jegg in a carriage and no one wants to talk to taxmen."

Grix nods, happy with David's answers, but soon grimaces, Have to tell him. Will know, before long. He scratches his head, trying to think of a way to phrase what he's about to say, "No...no, no...no, no. Ehh...Fine. David? David. Take a breath, please?" Grix puts a hand on David's knee, the largest, steadiest part of the man's body that the 2'5" kobold can actually reach, "Last harvest was...nearly a year ago. New one coming soon."

Gonna toss in a [roll0] check to maybe not have David freak out.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

It takes a minute fussing with something in her book downstairs, but Q eventually returns satisfied with her study of the conjured molars. She's still sustaining her spell, as long as she's cast it, so she can give poor David a quick once-over as well.

He looks rather agitated, which makes sense given the situation. Q wasn't there for the conversation, but the time discrepancy didn't escape her either. "As I suspected, the teeth seem to have been magically conjured or summoned, though they are also seemingly permanent, which is odd. David, though you say you don't have an exact date - do you at least recall which year it is?"

[roll0]

[JNAProductions]

David looks rather concerned about the apparent passage of time. He tries to stand, still unsteady, and says "It was the 80th year of King Drizzled's reign, I think. When is it now?"

That'd put his disappearance at last year's harvest.

He's very worried. Not at all comforted.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"The eighty-first," Queria replies. It's not much of a relief to her, either. "Just a reminder that it could have been worse, I suppose. I hope they haven't been operating under our noses for decades or something."

"Now, on to the task of getting you home. You'll be a spark of hope for anyone still there." She puts away her mask, revealing a furrowed brow as she recalls Grix's worries earlier. "I suppose I wouldn't know how not to travel like a tax collector. We could take the carriage to the city and walk from there, if that's better somehow. Frankly, though, I wouldn't mind some attention if it means drawing these shadowy villains out into the light."

[Khosan]

"Merchants, sometimes travelers, by wagon or donkey. Actually good timing. Jegg small, not a lot of regular travel, but still have to move harvest. New harvest soon, so should be some merchants going to sell tools, buy crops." Mushrooms 'helpfully' sprout from the back of Grix's head every time he says harvest or crops. "Offer magic, protection or money for ride, should be easy." Grix grabs the toadstools from his scalp, not even flinching, "Not these though. Headshrooms bad. Have to guide Yellow through food creation."

[JNAProductions]

Still looking quite concerned, David nods. "Home... If anyone is left. Home would be good."

Move on to travel for Jegg?

[Spectre]

Having somehow found her way back to the bottom of a glass in record time, Laverne missed out on the earlier action. Under normal circumstances, the promise of a thrilling chase would have been more than enough to justify getting herself involved, but in this case, the barbarian's throbbing headache had other plans. After some time spent slumped over the bar, Laverne manages to tear herself away from her bottle just in time to spot Queria, Grix, and David by the tavern door.

"Oi, you three," she calls out in a gravelly voice, "couldn't 'elp but overhearin' that you're looking for a way out o' the city, quick-and-quiet like." Her dark eyes narrow and dart toward Queria, establishing intense contact. Tieflings were unusual enough, but one dressed how she was? She couldn't possibly be local, and her fine robes marked her (in Laverne's eyes) as a practitioner of the arcane. Perhaps the wretched little guy was some sort of familiar? Laverne rests her gloved hands upon her hips.

"Might just know someone." She shifts her body weight to one side and offers up a sharp, conspiratorial grin.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Wow, that's an intense look. The tiefling arcanist can barely spare a glance to look back at Grix, as invested as he is in the trip's privacy, and David, who must just want his nightmare to be over.

"It seems I'm outvoted," Q sighs. "I'm relieved, really. My own plan would have been quite annoying to arrange." She nods to the pirate lady and holds open the door with her cane. "After you."

Once everyone's out the door and en route to Laverne's mystery caravan, Queria feels more free to ask questions. "So, what gave you the sudden interest in our party, miss...?"

As far as Q knows, it's quite possible that she had also overheard the dream conversation and didn't want to speak up in the bar. Once the group has exchanged names again, Q quietly starts to review their intent and the mysteries they're pursuing in unnecessary detail.

"Of course, we have no direct evidence that David's experience and our dreams are connected," she says after some paragraphs of catch-up, "but since Grix ostensibly does not dream, it's possible that someone intended to capture him, but could not retain him as they did David. Or, perhaps they've developed entrancing visions like mine as a new modus operandi..."

Now would be a good time to interrupt, if Sam wants to bring up her own spooky dream.

[Khosan]

Grix shrugs, leaning against his staff, "Can't prove connection, but similarities unsettling. Shadowy figures, silence and darkness. Lost time could be another. Don't sleep, don't dream, but lost consciousness? Strange, strange."

Looking up at the pirate woman, the moldy kobold narrows his eyes "This advice come at a cost?"

[Spectre]

Laverne flashes a crooked grin as the arcanist holds the door open for her. "Ha. My thanks." After the barbarian steps through the entry and out into the muddy street her gaze briefly settles upon Queria's cane. "Proper lady, are ye?" she pries with narrowed eyes, gesturing with her chin down toward the cane. In response to the tiefling's question regarding her interest in the party, Laverne shrugs. "What can I say? Ye look rich, and these don't pay for themselves." With a snicker, she points up to her gold earring.

Just then, the little kobold speaks up. Still running with the assumption that Grix was some sort of familiar, Laverne squats down onto one knee before him so as to come down to his level. "'Course it does! You lot won't be footing the bill, though." With a smug look on her face, the barbarian lowers her voice. "See, he and I, we've a friendly understanding: I keep the guards from poking around his business, and in exchange, I take a monthly cut. Oh, plus a finder's fee, o'course!"

Glancing back up to Queria, Laverne asks, "Oi, where'd ye find this little guy? Seen a lot of peculiar sh*t in my life, but nothing like 'im." Was he a demon or something? Some sort of large, deformed imp? She rises to her feet again before reaching for Queria's hand to shake. "Name's Sam, but most folk call Laverne." As she introduces herself, Laverne's eyes meet Queria's once again. The barbarian squints as the tiefling catches her up on the story so far. Troubled by what she hears, Laverne skeptically relates the details of her own dream.

"So, in summary, er... passed out at the bar last night, woke up 'alfway but it weren't really waking, right?"

"Heard a voice. Warning me. Dunno why, nor what about. Wouldn't say."

"Ye... don't think it means anything, do ye? "

[JNAProductions]

Laverne knows of a somewhat shady merchant-not an evil man, but certainly not one who operates within the bounds of the law. But he's just the kind of man who won't ask many questions, and will transport just about anything for the right price. Laverne had a meeting with him this evening, to collect her share, but it looks like she'll be exchanging some of that for transport instead.

David isn't particularly thrilled to be operating outside the law, but he's far more concerned to be getting home and finding out what happened to Jegg. So, he offers no complaints while the details are hashed out.

I'm not gonna keep strict track of finances. I'll assume that Laverne and Queria have a decent amount of cash, and Grix probably has a few valuable trinkets (maybe a platinum piece or three, and a few gems) but so long as you don't abuse not tracking money, I won't bother tracking it. :)

When evening falls, Laverne leads you outside the city. A decent-sized carriage pulls up, filled with rugs and carpets. "Laverne-you brought guests," the man says. Laverne did inform you of his name in advance-it's Amir. "Care to explain why?"

She starts by mentioning that her share might be a little light this time, which does bring a smile to Amir's face. She then says that everyone here needs transport to Jegg, which crashes his smile like a ton of bricks. "Jegg... You don't travel that way much, do you? Jegg's gone."

David moves towards Amir. "What do you mean?" he asks, torn between anger and sadness.

"Calm down! Calm down," Amir replies. "It's not my fault-but about a year ago, little less than... No one knows what happened, but there was a blood-red flash that lit up the sky, and when a traveler went there... Gone. No buildings, no people, just a signpost saying 'Here Stood Jegg'."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"I don't like how this is the first I've heard of this," says Queria as her first thought. She turns to Laverne. "I can't be the only one who hasn't, right? I admit that I was pretty busy with my own projects at the time, but I would think such an event would be harder to ignore."

Based on their earlier conversation, Laverne's read on Queria is that she is first: genuinely invested in finding the source of these phenomena, second: local to the city but clearly more from the high-class side, and third: very not used to the idea of keeping secrets. It would be reasonable to conclude that if you need her to conceal her noble identity, or indeed to withhold information of any kind, you will need to explicitly tell her so.

"I must have been careless. If nothing else, the economic impact of a town suddenly disappearing should have demanded my family's attention," Q continues. Such rambling comes more naturally than simply saying, hmm. "A bright red flash is so inconsistent with everything we've seen so far, it feels like someone tried to disguise the event. To all the world, it must have seemed like a meteor strike. Wait." She suddenly stops, indicating that she's thought of something actually productive to say. "Amir, you said there was a signpost? Was that an embellishment for the story, or was it really already there when the crater was discovered?"

[JNAProductions]

"I didn't see it myself," Amir replies. "But someone I know well did. I might not trust him with my life, but I've never known him to exaggerate stories like that. And if it was an embellishment... Hell of a weird one."

David looks to Amir. "Did anyone flee Jegg? Did anyone survive?"

Amir shrugs. "If they did, they'd have gone further east. You're from there, right? What's the safe place you'd run to, if something went bad?"

Thinking a moment, he says "The monastery. The... The one to the east, in the valley."

For Queria, Jegg was tiny. Your family would've noticed a discrepancy, but the amount would be so small that Jegg vanishing would be a blip at most.

For everyone, History check for the monastery!

The Monastery Of The Stony Egg. Run by a Tabaxi.

The Tabaxi master's name is Dog. They... They don't worship the titular stony egg, but it's at the center of a lot of parables.

Overall, good folk, far as you know.

[Khosan]

"Gone?!" Grix's head practically dislocates as he whips his head around to Amir, absolutely dumbfounded by the insane statement the man just made. It's not as if Grix knew anyone from Jegg, or was even particularly aware of it aside from having a passing familiarity with the city's nearest neighbors. But to hear that it had up and vanished...

After the explanations, Grix sits in stunned silence, his staff and ratty bindle at his feet, gently massaging his temple, "Okay. Okay. So, gone. Related? Probably. Different scale though. Small as Jegg is, no, was. Dozens gone, like," he snaps his fingers, "Instant. Bad. Bad. Can't though. Can't leave this be. Have to look. See."

Grix barely reacts to mention of a monastery, simply sighing, "Fine. Should be fine. Will see."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Agreed," Queria says in response to Grix's thoughts on the matter before returning her attention to David. "I believe I know the one. They would be the custodians of the Stony Egg, correct? Then our new aim is to head there. Though, Jegg's former location will be on the way anyway, so it could still be worth investigating for ourselves."

Of course, this brings us to Sam's transporter. "Amir, are you prepared to take us that far? I imagine it will entail and extra two days from you, depending on whether the monastery is part of your usual route."

[JNAProductions]

"It won't be free," Amir says, businesslike in tone. But his face softens a little. "But I can manage it. I didn't really know anyone from Jegg-but by the same token, I've nothing against anyone from there. I won't be fighting, but I'll do what I can to help."

David gives a wan, toothless smile. "Thank you, sir."

Amir waves David off as he heads for the carriage. "Don't mention it. We'll leave in ten minutes or so, if everyone is ready-gotta give my horses a few minutes to rest, at least."

If there are no objections, I'll scoot us forward through time to the next interesting bit. :)

[JNAProductions]

True to his word, Amir has the horses and carriage ready within ten minutes. You find a good spot to sit amongst the fabric, and idle the time away. Amir's focus is on the travel, but he's talkative during rests.

You travel for while, close to three weeks. You've brought rations enough to last the trip, but you do do a spot of hunting and foraging to have fresh food. The roads are pretty safe, and while there's an occasional spot of risk with animals, nothing that's hard to handle, really. Eventually, you depart the main road, heading down a worn, small road towards where Jegg once stood.

The terrain is as you'd expect-mostly fields and plains, empty farmland overgrown with weeds now. David grows increasingly agitated, seeing the remnants of his home. And then, in the area the village itself once stood, a perfectly flat bit of land. In the center, a signpost, with text too small to read at this distance.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

During the trip, Queria lets the survivalist and the warrior handle the hunting and gathering, but she manages to pull her own weight. In between taking random notes, maintaining the carriage itself, and starting magical cooking fires, she helps pass the time by recalling some of the parables of the Stony Egg. Eventually, three weeks exhausts even Q's capacity for yammering on, so she's pretty quiet by the time they arrive at Jegg.

"It is as Amir's friend told it," she says coldly, "right down to the taunting sign. The trail will probably be cold by now, but nothing plows a village under without leaving something behind. Let's inspect the area for patterns in the earth. At the very least, we can determine whether your home was buried or disassembled and moved elsewhere."

[Khosan]

During the trip, Grix chooses a corner of the wagon, hunkers down, goes limp and remains absolutely motionless for the entire three week journey. He doesn't speak, he doesn't breathe, he doesn't so much as blink. By all appearances, dead. The Yellow, however, is much more active. Within the first day or so, it spreads like a wave to cover his body in a vast, glistening, yellow, mycelial network and slowly continues to expand and grow from there. Around noon on the second day, a number of mushrooms sprout from Grix's snout - long, thin, flower-shaped mushrooms, with pale yellow gills and vibrant orange, indented caps, which smell very faintly of apricots. When, somewhat predictably, no one picks them, the mycelial veins reorganize themselves to spell out PLEASE ENJOY on both sides of Grix's nose. Somewhere in the middle of the second week, still struggling to get people to pick its bounty, the Yellow has spread to the nearest sides of the wagon, and begun to sprout different kinds of edible mushrooms, including a few variety of smooth white mushrooms, a small black-capped ball, and one with an unusual honeycombed cap. Near the end of week three, Grix's body is almost entirely hidden under the ever expanding Yellow mold.

Shortly before Grix reawakens, his entire external fungal network collapses in a matter of minutes. Some of the edible mushrooms remain, some form miniscule spore pods, but much of it retreats back into its kobold host, leaving little sign of its expansive growth. Awake, Grix dryly smacks his lips, and groggily glances back and forth. He sweeps the edible mushrooms into his bindle, and the spore pods into the main colony on his neck.

Grix hops out of the cart, bindle in tow, "Thanks," and starts surveying the land. He was more used to cityscapes than landscapes, but even he could tell this was wrong. Grix makes his way towards the sign, just to double check if what Amir said is true, grabbing handfuls of the local plant-life to inspect on the way and reaching out with the Yellow to feel for magical energies.

Grix casts Goodberry a lot during the ride over.

At the scene, ritual casting Detect Magic to look for magic.

[roll0] seeing if he can discern anything weird about the local plants where Jegg was.
[roll1] just in case because of Detect Magic.
[roll2] and also just looking at stuff in general.
[roll3] just in case because of Detect Magic, again.

[JNAProductions]

Queria is able to recall the founding story of the Stony Egg.

Their leader, Dog, found what he thought to be an egg. He took the egg, seemingly from the middle of nowhere, and nurtured it. But it never hatched. Eventually, he realized it was a rock. But, he had learned much from his compassion, however misguided it was, and sought to teach others of ways to view the world differently.
The area nearest the center, where Jegg itself stood, has not grown so well. The rest is about what you'd expect.
Yup, Jegg's gone. And... Honestly, you can't figure out how, or why.

But the sign is odd-its made of some kind of material you don't recognize. And, after a little more snooping, you realize its shadow is wrong. It always points north-northwest, no matter what direction the sun shines on it from.

You aren't able to find much more details from this check-but you can recognize the writing on the sign, from now on. If whoever wrote it writes again and you see that? You'll recognize it.

[Khosan]

Grix wades through the long grasses that now dominate the area where Jegg once stood, a lone red blob in a sea of greens and yellows. At the lone manmade landmark, he stops and inspects more of the plants, taking handfuls of wilted leaves and discolored grasses, sniffing some and offering others up to the Yellow to inspect. He places a hand on his hip and scratches his brow, "Bad soil? Bit weird for a farm. Growing bad." Grix climbs on top of the sign to try to get a better view of his surroundings.

Doing a [roll0] check like I should've last time, because he's actually good at it. Final result is 19, adding the 3 from Knowledge from a Past Life rolled in the OOC.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Queria instinctively holds out her arm to warn the others away from the sign. "Something is wrong here. That shadow..."

Q dons her mask and activates it, not bothering with the ritual this time. She puts on a gauntlet from her bag and runs her gloved finger down the face of the sign.

Can't use Guidance and Detect Magic at the same time, but the spooky sign can't go un-detected.

Arcana: [roll0]

[JNAProductions]

Looking across the landscape, you see few signs of animal life. And nothing hostile, or that notable beyond what's already been seen.
Yup, that shadow ain't right. But it isn't pinging as any school of magic you recognize.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"It isn't any worldly substance. I can't think of anything intelligent to say about it, except that it could be something out of one of our visions."

Queria steps back from the evil sign. Her gauntlet begins to heats up as she prepares a cantrip, its silver metal glowing a golden yellow. "This is probably impulsive of me, but I want to try and destroy it. Any objections?"

[Khosan]

"None," Grix hops down and slaps the sign for good measure, "Might do some digging. Could be something below. Also, could feel out with Yellow. Long shot, but maybe something hidden?"

With some distance from the soon-to-be-exploded signage, Grix sits down in the grass, closes his eyes and lets the Yellow's spores expand, searching for minds beyond their own.

Grix casts Detect Thoughts from his Telepathic feat, just hoping he detects some brain activity outside of them.

[JNAProductions]

Grix does not detect anything sentient nearby, save for his companions.

Amir's thoughts are a bit jumbled, but thoroughly nervous, and he says "I'll... I'm going to wait by the carriage, if you're messing with that sign. Don't know what it's gonna do."

Looking at that, it might make Amir sound suspicious, but his thoughts aren't malicious-just worried about safety.

[Khosan]

Failing to find any interesting discoveries with his other means of investigation, Grix cracks his knuckles and places both palms on the ground, "Time to dig." "One..." He takes a deep breath in. "Two... His back arches upwards. "THREE!" An enormous mushroom erupts from the ground, carrying with it a mound of dirt that quickly slides off to the side. Large as it is, it doesn't appear to be long for the world, as soon as the dirt it displaced is gone, it loses all structural integrity, flopping weekly over to one side, rapidly deflating and ultimately vanishing.

Grix repeats the process a few more times, building up a respectable pile of dirt and a dirty downward slope.

Grix casts Mold Earth, a lot. Mostly just kind of slowly digging down for like...ten minutes. I think that'd get about 20 feet down, unless he hits something, like a rock.

[JNAProductions]

The ground quickly becomes much more packed in, and it takes considerably more effort to move smaller amounts of earth. Beneath the ground is exactly what you'd expect-dirt, some rocks, worms, bugs.

However, no matter if you move the earth near the signpost, it stays perfectly still.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

After finishing her notes on the writing and confirming that no one minds, Queria raises the palm of her gauntlet and aims for the base of the sign. "Bonfire!"

Presumably, it seems immune. She watches it not burn for about ten seconds before she gets a bad feeling and dismisses it.

[JNAProductions]

The sign does not burn.
The shadow remains the same, even with the fire at its base.

[Khosan]

Grix crawls out of his hole, barely any dirtier than when he went in, just in time to see Queria set the sign on fire. He tilts his head, mystified by its lack of reaction. As soon as the fire has gone, Grix crawls over to further abuse the posting. First a light push, then a heavier shove, and finally an all out punch.

[JNAProductions]

Grix manages nothing more than a bruise on his hand.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"That leaves us with either an exceedingly potent illusion, or an otherworldly material. It might be anchored to space in a coterminous plane of existence?" Queria rubs her temple while her book floats at her shoulder sympathetically. Looking at this sign is starting to give her a headache. "At any rate, I believe that's all we can do here for now. Let's continue toward the monastery."

[Khosan]

Grix shakes his bruised hand out, "Mmm. My question, who does this? Thought, at first, memorial, from lone survivor but...no, can't be. It has to be, must be, from the takers. Don't think anyone from Jegg capable of this, no one strong enough otherwise would pass through here. But why? What is goal?" Grix rubs, in tiny circular motions, his head just behind his eyes, a headache of his own forming, "Not a threat. Not a ransom. Shame, maybe? Apology? Only if accidental, but...not sure how. Strange, strange."

With a heavy sigh, the mostly dead kobold starts walking back to the cart, "Monastery best bet. Might need some help, before we go. Probably noticed...bit weird?" He motions towards his face, drawing attention to his eyes and scars, especially his throat, "Look a bit...dead. Not actually, kind of, but churches rare to accept. Don't want to cause panic. Better to plan now, than later. Need disguise or excuse."

[JNAProductions]

Amir calls over, from his safe distance. "Any luck?"

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"It still feels like a taunt to me," Q says under her breath, "but you're right; we have no idea what sort of alien minds we're dealing with here. As for your appearance..."

Amir calls over, disrupting her train of thought. She walks back to join the rest of the group in the cart. "Not really. It's impervious and immobile, as though it's anchored in some incorporeal world instead of this one. At least we'll know if we find anything else like it."

She returns to her conversation with Grix when he catches up. "Anyway, you are a druid, right? Most druidic traditions are even more hostile to necromancy than the church, so I'd inferred that everything you've done to your body was to accommodate your fungal companions. I imagine Brother Dog would understand that."

[JNAProductions]

You get situated in the carriage, and Amir starts you on your path again. He goes perhaps a little faster than is wise, to get out of the immediate area, but slows down to a more normal pace once you're back on a main path.

A few more days pass, and you approach the foothills of a mountain. A decent-sized building is there, built in a rounded architectural style, and with a sizeable garden in front, being tended to by a young halfling woman in a robe. She waves as you approach, setting her tools down. "Good day, travelers!" she calls out. "What brings you here today?"

[Khosan]

"Me? Druid? Ehh..." Grix screws his face up as he contemplates how best to answer, squeezing one eye shut and staring hard at the ground, "Never met a druid before. Lived in city, whole life, so no chance to meet, just heard stories. So, me druid? No. Yellow though? Probably. I ask, they answer, best they can. Never magically trained, but can kind of feel it out. Mostly learned to fight in life, learning magic as we go." On the subject of his body, Grix drums his chin some more, "Was not my choice to be this. Died. Was murdered, even. But don't feel bad. Deserved. Well-deserved," the hint of a sneer crosses his face, remembering the sort of person he used to be, though he soon shakes it, "Got dumped in sewer, left there for...never sure how long. But a while, yes. Long enough to lose some fingers. Hard to explain waking back up, after that. Don't think it was death magic, necro-stuff. But feel now like...like a big ship, with big crew. Get to be captain, in control, but can't work alone."


On the cart, Grix does not, this time, go stiff in the corner, answering questions and just trying to be a little less...dead. Edible mushrooms do continue to sprout from him, but he politely picks, cleans, and hands them out instead of inviting people to do so themselves this time.


At the monastery, Grix is bundled up in far more layers than usual. He's pulled a hood up over his head, hiding much of his face, and has let down some bundled up rags, covering his hands and feet completely. As befitting his lack of social graces, Grix steps forward and addresses the halfling woman directly in a cold and serious manner, "We come with questions about Jegg."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Oh. Huh." Q seems a bit lost in thought as she hears out the kobold's story, then takes a breath and suddenly becomes quite animated. "So, they found you in that state and chose to help you, apropos of nothing? Grix, that's incredible! You've discovered a new, intelligent, naturally benevolent species! Yellow, do you understand how rare it is to find something like you?"

You can practically see the stars in her eyes as she gets into it, practically spilling out everything she knows about fungi and animate plants as she tries to categorize the gestalt entity now trapped in the cart with her. "-so you must yourself be comprised of hundreds of different component species, possibly bound together by a guiding spirit, which might also help explain your telepathic connection to other living beings. How do you decide which types of spores to grow into caps? No, I'm sorry, that's of course a silly question, I may as well ask an animal how they decide whether to flex this muscle or that-"

-

"Indeed," says Queria at the monastery, more mirroring the halfling's cheery mood as she steps forward on her cane. "First and foremost: is anyone from the diaspora still around? We've found someone they might want to meet." She turns around to make sure David is coming.

[JNAProductions]

Making me google words... I'd never heard of diaspora before. Thanks for adding to my vocabulary, but hopefully I'll never need to use it in real life!

"Hm?" the woman replies at first. "I, ah... Give me a moment!"

She looks you up and down, silently, as she moves closer. She examines Amir's cart, and gets a "Hey, watch the merchandise! I'm already losing money on this trip, I don't want anything damaged!" She obeys, being careful of the fabric, but still does a thorough examination.

David comes, awakening from his nap, and moves to stand next to you two.

The halfling woman, eventually, comes back to stand in front of you. "You're here with good intentions, yes? No harm to anyone within these walls, no malice in your hearts?"

David nods. You two agree as well. Amir thinks a moment, and says "I might try to turn a profit here-but given what we know, I'll keep the prices reasonable. If anyone even wants some rugs."

"Well... I believe you," she says. "I am Donna-it's a pleasure to meet you all! May I have your names?" she asks as she turns around, heading for the door. You introduce yourselves as she opens the door, a touch awkwardly due to her height, and she invites you in. "I will not be taking you directly to where our refugees are-they are... Still nervous, about newcomers."

David frowns. "Is there a young man in there? Looks like me, but younger, and should still have his teeth? Johnathan?"

She nods. "Johnathan has actually taken well-"

Cutting Donna off, David asks "Please-can you take me to him? He's my son, and... And..."

Donna's eyes close a moment, and she finishes, saying "He has taken well to our tutelage here. I believe he is meditating with Dog now. You will see him." You can see the tears in David's eyes, and he's practically running ahead of Donna.

Soon, you arrive at a central garden. The plantlife is subdued, but healthy. And in the center is a maroon-furred tabaxi, sitting by an egg. Next to him, a young man, perhaps 14, who looks similar to David. David runs ahead, shouting "Johnathan! Are you alright?"

"I am fine," he replies, his eyes opening. "Why-DAD!" he yells as soon as he sees who it is. He stands up and meets his dad a few paces ahead, hugging him close. "Gods above, dad, you're alive? And... Missing teeth? But you're alive! We all thought you were dead!"

"No-but... But... Johnathan, I'm so glad you're okay. I love you," David says.

Johnathan mutters "I love you too, dad," as he cries into his father's shoulder.

Dog's eyes finally open, and he smiles. "We should leave these two to their reunion. Good day, travelers-walk with me?" he says, standing up and heading towards you.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Of course," Queria nods. She follows Dog back onto the garden path until she's confident that the reunited family isn't listening. "I'm glad that you were able to keep Jegg's survivors safe. I'm afraid we don't yet know much about the event that drove them here. David, Johnathan's father, doesn't remember anything since he was abducted, but whatever had taken him has been operating at least as far as Leandra City."

Q's garish notebook appears and floats next to her. She takes a breath and prepares to flip through it for her notes on the shadowed visions and for David's account, but suddenly thinks the better of it.

"Perhaps it would be best to let you go first," she says, despite having already gone first by about 60 words. She wants to call the monk by his name, but she can't quite get over how rude it feels to call someone Dog to their face. "What do you know about the event? Was it described to you?"

[JNAProductions]

"Whatever happened in Jegg was traumatic," Dog tells you all. "It also happened at night-with that being said, I can't really speak to the truth of what they've told me. Not that they'd be lying-simply that what they know may not be as accurate as they would hope. The details that were consistent across all of them is that there were a multitude of creatures-it wasn't one being, but many. They didn't move fast, but nothing seemed to stop them. And... This is mostly speculation on my own part, but... I think they were searching. For what, though... Gods may know, but I do not."

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"I see... whatever they were looking for, they likely aren't telling. They had some kind of enchantment on David when we found him, but they severed their connection and wiped his memory rather than risk us questioning him. They almost killed him in the process - I don't suppose you you remember anyone else's report featuring teeth significantly? I can only assume they hold some symbolic significance to his captors..."

Q summons her pen and tries to piece together the parallels in events in diagram form. "That it happened at night doesn't seem very significant at first. That is when thieves and creatures of darkness operate by default. However, there may be more to it than that, as all of our own psychic visions also took place at night and had themes of falling darkness. Perhaps their organization has some special connection to the night... itself..."

She remembers something.

"Of course! Why didn't I notice it earlier?!" She desperately flips through her notes. "I didn't even think to draw the angle... There was a sign posted in the center of Jegg, made of some unnatural material. Its shadow was frozen in place; it didn't match the angle of the sun. If I'm right, the time when that shadow was frozen must correspond to the time of night when our villains are at the apex of their power, and the time of the Event." Her notes aren't helping. She opens to an empty page and draws a diagram of the planet, the sun and the moon. "On the night of the event, probably a few days before everyone arrived here, last harvest, do you happen to happen to recall the phase of the moon?"

[Khosan]

Grix seems content to let Queria ramble, standing quietly in the background like a grim little halfling, gripping his staff like a child might their security blanket. When Dog mentions that the attack on Jegg occurred at night, something clicks, "Mine, ours, our encounters, also at night." The kobold shifts forward, uncomfortably stepping into the spotlight he'd been trying to avoid, "We, also...victims? Targets? Not sure how to say. Had visions, figures in shadows, silence, darkness. Wrongness. Feel it still."

"Think...maybe takers are limited to act at night. Maybe harmed by daylight. But all three, at night, not coincidence."

[JNAProductions]

"I do not track the moon-it's been a long time since I've had to deal with werecreatures and I've fallen out of the habit of caring for that astrologicals," Dog says. "More than that, I'm not even sure I can tell you the exact day they were attacked-the people of Jegg weren't the type of folk to pay attention to calendars. Seasons, yes. Years, sure. Dates... Not as much."

He shrugs, and the path you walk down leads to a sheer wall, some 15' high. He starts scaling it as easily as he would walk, and continues. "Teeth, you say? It seemed David was missing his-what happened there?"

[Khosan]

"Not sure. We, not David, me and girl, were talking in tavern, about our visions, experiences. Saw someone sneaking, moved to stop. Scared them and...started vomiting teeth. Many teeth. Many times more than one should have." Grix pauses, reminded of Queria's accusations toward him back then, "Did nothing! Just scare! Fixed it even!" He tightens his grip on his staff, just in case the holy man tries anything, "Was David. Strange magic. Hadn't seen before."