The Gargoyle of House Evan (IC)

[Arjen the Red]

The missing gargoyle of House Evan.

[Arjen the Red]

Spoiler: Map of Aglarond

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Millennia ago the Yuirwood of Aglarond was home to a nation of Star Elves. As often is the course of history, the nation fell into ruin and humans moved into the area along with the elves. One such city, Veltalar, grew to be the most powerful. While the humans brought many benefits to the the region, many saw their introduction as an affront to the fey races. The Cult of Voldini is one such group.

Recently, the Voldini have discovered an ancient fey text called the Tome of Twilight Boughs that seemed to describe a ritual that would allow a lost temple of the ancient Yuir gods to be brought from the Feywild back to Aglarond. Rumors are that they have not completely translated this book for the ritual. The cultists are hoping to bring back one of the Yuir gods, Relkath and they are getting close; the ritual is bringing the temple back but not permanently. Instead, the temple appears and disappears, never remaining in the world for more than a single night. They need experts in the lore. It has been known that the Evan family has such knowledge. Danos Evan, who disappeared five years ago, is often to be considered the expert and one who may hold the secret to the ancient text.

Unfortunately, the ritual has the side effect of corrupting nature, and the fey creatures especially, whenever the temple is called forth from the Feywild. The normally docile fey and wildlife of the area are causing no end of problems for the farmers, hunters, and woodsman who make their home near the forest. You and your companions live in the village of Halendos, less than a day's journey from Veltalar. The village is a peaceful one, everything is laid back and the community cares about the environment that they live within. The quaint wooden buildings are all painted in bright forest colors. Almost every home has a garden, and many of them have sodden roofs from which flowers and vines grow freely.

Others in the village of Halendos know of your abilities as a group. It is evening time, the sun just setting, and word reaches you that a trio of half-elf farmers are asking a word of you.

[Ridai]

Receiving the news, Cyrielle thanks the young man for passing the word along, adding a radiant smile and making the young man leave in rather good spirits. Deciding not delay such matters until tomorrow, the young noble dons her gear, sure to take her lantern and matches with her, tells her family where she is going and heads out, down the path through their well-tended front yard gardens. It is a fine day for an evening walk, the wind lightly playing with her flaming red hair as she takes in the matching sunset. She is wearing adventurer's gear, finely crafted to be sure, but looking like it has actually been in use and is carried with confidence based in experience. She was told that Wes and Sherlock were informed as well, so she decides to meet them there, softly humming a self-composed song, her graceful steps following her own music.

[fendrin]

Wes

Returning from a lovely dinner with his beloved Marielle, Wes casually strolls through the village with the relaxed ease of a nobleman and the poise of a trained fencer. Dressed in fine clothes, his left hand rests casually on the pommel of his rapier, preventing the scabbard-bound blade from swinging about.
As he approaches the designated meeting spot, he catches sight of Cyri and waves, calling out to her.

"Good evening!"

[Ridai]

Cyrielle smiles and waves back, their paths aligning. "It is a good evening indeed, but I imagine yours is even lovelier by far, not to mention Mary's." They make a wonderful couple. Cyrielle has often listened to Wes and Marielle go on and on about the other and be all out of sorts before a date, but of all the things in life to sit through, those occasions are among the ones she does not mind at all.

"Have you heard what this is about?"

[fendrin]

Wes

Wes smiles in response to to Cyri's comment about his evening being better than hers.

"No," he responds to her query, "I have no idea what this might be about."

[Ridai]

"Hmm..." Cyrielle inclines her head in thought, absentmindedly brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Perhaps trouble with the fey, though I hope this is not the case. Oh well, we will hear when we get there." She dismisses the idle theorizing with a wave of her hand wreathed in a fine glove. A part of her hopes for a mystery, as she would love a challenge, while another would rather have a direct and solvable problem to quickly relieve the farmers of whatever issue that troubles them.

[Arjen the Red]

You approach the market square, even at this hour the villages busiest spot. Vendors form a tight circle of tables with their wares out for display. Fine wool from the Moonshaes, ornate pottery from Akanul, and casks of potent dwarven ales from the East Rift.

After a minute of scanning the crowd Cyri spots Aldritch, one of the half-elf farmers. He is accompanied by two others who are introduced as Thelgood and Grear. They don't look much you all decide, just typical farmers of this area.

"Good evening Lady Cyrielle," Aldritch says proudly. "We appreciate your coming. The fey....they have somehow become quite mean-spirited as of late. Playing tricks, stealing our crops, and destroying our equipment. Quite unlike them."

[Ridai]

"Good evening, gentlemen." Cyrielle is at ease as she greets the farmers. "I have feared as much. Can you tell us further details? When did they attack, where, what kind of fey did this, anything else you noticed or that was off?"

[Darth_Versity]

The crowd begins to shuffle aside and give bemused looks to the area around their kneecaps as a line of smoke drifts between them. Sherlock finally appears out of an small gap between the assembled smallfolk, his trademark pipe sat firmly in his hand.

"Aye Aldritch, I too would like to know more on this as you have refused to elaborate until my companions here arrived." he nods in the direction of the other two. "Cyri, Wes. Glad you could make it."

[Ridai]

"Glad to have you with us, Sherlock."

[fendrin]

Wes

Wes doffs his hat to the farmers and his gnomish partner.

"We will of course investigate. Please, tell us all you can. Most importantly, do they attack frequently, and is at night or during the day? I would not want anyone to be hurt while we stand here talking."

[Arjen the Red]

"Faeries we think," Aldritch said when the others had arrived. "The thing is, its never really been much of a problem. We don't bother them, they don't bother us. We've tried to catch them, but the bastards are quick. Very hard to catch. The others nodded at him. "They've been attacking our crops, slashing and even burning them. One of our plow oxen was murdered not more than a ten day ago. It has to stop!"

Thelgood continued: "There is an ancient oak tree just inside the forrest south of here. The tree sits in the middle of a small meadow. The fey often play there at night. That may be your best chance."

"We don't have much, but should you need coin to pay for supplies I'm sure we can get it together for you. Unless, Lady Cyri can foot the bill herself?" Grear said, looking sheepishly at the party.

[Ridai]

With a look, Cyrielle lets the man know that "Cyri" is reserved for good friends and family. She is not a stickler for etiquette, but a little mutual respect should not be too much to ask, especially when asking for help. She also notes Grear's tone, offering financial aid where none is wanted and pre-emptively wanting to worm out of it. It can't be helped right now, unfortunate as it is, but every group of people has its ups and downs. "No, we do not require funds. We will investigate tonight to find out what has the fey so worked up."

[Darth_Versity]

"If indeed it is the fey." Sherlock adds, while casually puffing on his pipe. "Tell me gentlemen, what leads you to believe they are the cause? The oxen that was killed, was it left whole or had any of it been taken or consumed?"

[Arjen the Red]

Grear picked up on the look by Cyri and blushed. "Sorry my lady," he stated sheepishly.

Well, I'd like to trust my own two eyes," Aldritch replied. "We know what faeries look like around here, it was faeries. The ox was killed and left to rot."

[Ridai]

Cyrielle lays a gloved hand onto Grear's shoulder. "It's alright, Grear. Just keep it in mind in the future," she calms him, adding a charming smile. As opposed to the aloof, distant and greedy nobles that are so common in this world and in stories, what Cyrielle says is not a veiled "or else", but forgiveness and just a reminder between two adults. Nothing less, nothing more.

She takes a step back again and looks to her companions. "Do you have further questions for the gentlemen?"

[fendrin]

Wes

Some income would have been nice. Oh well, these farmers are clearly in trouble, and their livelihood has already taken a hit.

"No, Lady Cyrielle," He says, smiling and putting an almost imperceptible emphasis on the 'elle' "I have no further questions. Gentlemen, I would recommend that you go home and attend to your families. Keep everyone indoors tonight. If fairies are slaughtering livestock, there's no guarantee that they won't attack people." He pauses. "I do have one favor to ask. While we go to the old oak, would one of you mind delivering a message to the Evan household for me? I would not want my lady to think I had simply disappeared."

Like her brother did.

OOC:
In case it's not obvious, the italics represent Wes' internal dialogue, not something he actually says aloud.

[Arjen the Red]

"Of course, we can let house Evan know. Please be careful," he added. They all bowed gracefully to the three of you and turned to make their way to their homes.

Night has fully arrived as you prepare to leave the village of Halendos for the meadow. The air is crisp and clean and smell of cooking fires still fills your noses. It is quiet and peaceful, the moon rising over the tops of the trees. As you walk, a hunched, hooded figure with a cane hobbles past you. She pauses in her stride, head jerking up in your direction, and then turns to face you. You peer upon the face of a strikingly beautiful elven woman, her eyes piercing you like silver fire.

"Find the thrice-twined tree," she intones in a voice that sounds strangely distant. "Only the heart of light can quench the heart of darkness."

With that, the woman bows her head and continues on her way.

[Ridai]

Cyrielle is surprised, to say the least. Was this a vision of sorts or...

"Excuse me, do you have a moment, good lady?" Cyrielle gently lays a hand on the lady's shoulder and tries to get a glance at her face once more, to check if she still looks like the elf whose image has burned itself into her mind. She has a gentle expression on her face, meaning no harm.

[fendrin]

Wes

Wes catches Sherlock's eye as Cyrielle moves to intercept the woman. Pausing to let a little distance grow between him and the two elf-kin, he speaks softly to the gnome.

"Well that was... odd. What do you think: diviner, fey-touched, or just a little off in the head?"

[Arjen the Red]

The hooded figure turns, quite startled by Cyrille's touch on her shoulder, and pulls down her hood. A haggard, old crone looks back upon Cyri, and seeing her smile, relaxes. "Oh, I'm sorry dear you scared me. Can I help you?" she says, looking back with kind eyes herself.

[Ridai]

"Oh no, madame, I am the one who should apologize. I'm afraid that I am a little too forward at times." Cyrielle's smile carries her sincerity. "It has been brought to the attention of my and my dear friends' attention that the farmers are troubled by fey. We are planning to find and meet the fey gathering nearby to see if we can peacefully resolve this issue. Do you happen to know what might have agitated the fey? We have also come across a mention of a 'thrice-twined tree' and are rather puzzled what that might refer to, if it is related at all. Have you perhaps heard stories about such a thing or know what it might mean?" Cyrielle respectfully asks the crone. The elderly have experienced and heard many things throughout their lives, as well as shifting forms of folklore, so perhaps she might be able to share a bit of knowledge (or wisdom) with them.

[Arjen the Red]

The others jumped a bit as the once beautiful elven woman was now transformed into an elderly town's woman. "I'm afraid I don't know much my lady. No, thrice-twinded tree? No, nothing comes to mind. All I know are that the fey are angry.

She smiles politely, turns, and continues on her way home for the evening.

[Ridai]

Even though they didn't learn anything, Cyrielle still gives a half bow and a nod. "Thank you very much for your time, madame."

Cyrielle returns to her friends. "Well, shall we?" she asks as if nothing of note happened.

[fendrin]

Wes

"Yes, let's." He gestures towards the path. "Ladies first?"

[Arjen the Red]

It is well into the night when you finally arrive at the tree-surrounded meadow described by the farmers. The sky is clear and the moon and stars shine brightly, but a faint taint of darkness and corruption seems to hang from each tree branch. An ancient oak, apparently near death, stands in the center of the meadow. Several tiny fey creatures with gossamer wings flit, giggle, and chortle as they play in the air, dancing and cavorting around the massive tree.

[Ridai]

Preferring to act with care in this matter, Cyrielle first tries to see if there is anything peculiar about the oak tree or the pixies. The atmosphere in the woods is more than a little uncomfortable and chances are that there is a good reason for this. Pixies are playful, but usually they are not wont to be mean-spirited.

Wisdom check (1d20+1)[4]

[Darth_Versity]

Sherlock looks around the the tree before making any attempt to approach the fey. Could this be the 'Thrice Twined tree' that the old woman spoke of? Either way, a passive approach would be of no use.

"Greetings my friends." he begins while approaching the mischievous creatures. "We appologise for disturbing you, but the local farmers have been having some problems and we were hoping you could help shed some light on the situation."

[Ridai]

With Sherlock heading out to the tree, Cyrielle walks with him. Her partial elven heritage likely won't help her, but perhaps a bit of natural charm might speak to their normal playful nature.