Lightning in a Bottle (RP)

Gronk has been living in a room at the inn in Olmsford, working nights and weekends as a performer, a stage magician. Given the late hours, he often sleeps in, prefering to awake closer to noon. However, he is up early today, excited about his progress on his research on the mists that have fascinated him since he first heard about them. This morning, he is in his room reading and taking notes and muttering to himself. He is in terrible condition, having been up most of the night making his final exhausting preparations. Every so often, he starts to nod off to sleep as he is working, leaving small ink spots on his notes.

Albert knocks on the door of Gronk's house. "Hello? Anyone home?"

"Hello? I'm here? Unless I owe you money. In that case, I moved across the sea, never to be seen again

Gronk outs down his book and pen and opens the door.

Albert scratches his head at the somewhat dubious yet interesting response. "Uhm... No. No money owed here." He says. "Are you the one they call the mystic? If so, we need your help."

I guess that's me. What can I do you for? And what are you offering?

"Sorry to bother you, sir." Albert says. "But my friend here was attacked by a strange creature that appeared from the mist. And we were hoping maybe you would know something about it." He points to Roald but his voice seems hesitant. Unsure if what he's saying will make him look like a mad man or trigger some strange knowledge to a world he knows nothing about.

"Is there any way you could help us?" Since they have very little to offer, Albert decides to ignore that question for now.

'' Ever since my face feels numb and cold. Tonight we were walking in the mist and it got worse, it has to be related in someway... No?

"Oh, excellent! I've been looking for the perfect specimen to finish my research! Here, let me get a sample.

Gronk grabs a specimen jar off the nearby shelf and quickly uses the tip of one of his un-inked quills to scratch off a small bit of flesh from the affected region of Roald's face. He does so without asking permission and quickly enough that no one has time to object.

"Now then, I'm sure that wasn't pleasant but its for the better. This specimen should hopefully be what I need to finish my research project. I've been studying this mist, working to characterize its magical properties. Tomorrow I will attempt to disburse it for the betterment of Olmsford, but not before I trap myself a little bottle of the stuff for further study. You are welcome to join me if you wish- it should be quite safe, according to my notes.

Turning to Roald, he adds,

"You said you were attacked by a monster of the mists? Tell me all about it- what did it look like? Did it live in the mist? How did it attack? Where did the attack occur?"

Roald scratches his face where gronk took the 'sample'.
"Yes, a creature, errr. We were at the inn on our way here. I thought I heard a knock on my window at night, so I opened it and mist started pouring in" Roald leaves out the part about there not being a balcony to support the guy knocking at the window.
"Next thing I know, some sort of critter was attacking my friend Daryl. So we tried to help him but the damn thing was lightning fast. It got me in the face too. Looked like somekind of raccoon but... more viscious."
Talking about the event makes Roald scratch his face some more.

"I hit the thing with my belt in Raynor's name." Albert adds "That got rid of it, but somehow it didn't feel like it was defeated. More like scared off. Have you heard of these creatures before?"

When Gronk mentions the plans for tomorrow, albert is interested. "Tomorrow you say? Well... To be honest we should get on the road as soon as we can. We have packages to deliver. But maybe we could be of assistance?" He looks at Theo to see his reaction since Theo was still doubting the correct course of action for himself.

"I have only heard scattered reports of creatures in the mist, and my reference books seem unfortunately light on the subject. It is an honor to meet one who faced a beast of the mist and survived to make a report."

Gronk briefly consults one of his books.

"Odd. It says here that most who encounter the beasts of the mist are 'ripped bodily assunder,' which seems to conflict with your description of an incorporeal creature and the lack of physical marks on your face. Perhaps there is more than one beast hiding in these shadows?

At any rate, I would be greatful for the company. This line of work gets dreadfully lonely, and I could always use the extra security, since the beasts are clearly afoot. If we must rush, perhaps we can go at nightfall. I need a few hours to 'prepare.'"

Gronk looks longingly at his cot in the corner and his eyelids begin to sag in anticipation.

"Return in four... no, make it five, hour's time and we can set forth."

"MORE BEASTS?!?!" Albert says in disbelief. "Like we haven't got enough problems already!" He lets out a sigh. "I suppose it needs to be done. Who knows what will happen if we don't stop that mist. Since we have a long road ahead, we need to be able to sleep safely at night."

Reluctantly, he agrees to meet Gronk later that day and decides to spend some time in a bath house before visiting the local temple.

Ezmaray is an hour from town. If it's evening, then she would be exploring a beaver dam in a marshy area in an attempt to set up some effective conibear traps and catch some beavers.

Roald joins Albert at the bath house and spends some time in the temple too. He is not use to 'doing temply things ' but his recently found religion makes him wanna go with Albert to express his dedication.
I should talk to Albert about what is expected from me...

In the bath house he expressed his doubts about heading into the mist once again. And now, in the silence of the temple he worries even harder.

At last he stands up and waits for the others outside.

Lost in thoughts, Roald stands at the temple door, leaning against the wall, one knee bend, his foot resting against the wall.
The sun's already setting and his stomach is growling.
what's keeping him?
He suppresses the urge of going back in and saying something.

"One of you go make sure that lady is okay. The other can stay with me while I set up this ritual."

With that, Gronk begins to set up the ritual he has been preparing to handle the mists.

"Hmm.. I can't really see an easy way to reach her." Albert says. He tries to envision a path down to the dam. When that fails, he decides to whistle at her to get her attention and try to sign to her that she should head home quickly.

Ezmaray, having discovered the beavers' favorite pass-through spot in the dam, stands knee-deep in the river, 330 conibear in hand. She takes a moment to double-check the safeties of the trap, then pauses to wipe a mosquito from her brow with a muscular forearm, leaving a smear of mud on her forehead. This is cold, dirty work -- certainly not her favorite game to hunt -- but beggars can't be choosers.

In this moment, a loud whistle breaks the relative silence. Ezmaray's head shoots up and she squints with stormy grey eyes up the hill to see a man waving her direction. What the hell? She throws her free hand up in a confused, frustrated gesture. Catching game was hard enough around here without the locals stomping around and making noise.

The lady obviously looks confused. Albert tries to shout, hoping the valley will carry the sound. "Miss! You may be in danger! We suggest going home immediately." He too has noticed the wisps of mist starting to form. "On second thought. How about you make your way to us, if possible?" He asks her.

Then he turns to Roald. "I'm not sure we have time for this distraction, but we can't just leave her there, right? Knowing what might happen in the mist."

'' alright alright, I'll try and get a little closer, maybe then we can tell her of the danger''
Roald is a bit disgruntled by the way Gronk is telling everyone what to do.
Maybe he's preoccupied with his ritual... A tad uncertain of the outcome...? Maybe it's just me, I haven't been myself since the thing attacked me.
He tries to shake the feeling and heads down to the dam or as close as needed anyway, there is no use in walking here alone when the mists come in.

Ezmaray cocks her head to the side, puzzled. Did one of those men actually call her 'Miss'?? Were they mocking her? She stares for a moment longer. Eh... Probably not.... They seemed agitated.

Oh, for frack's sake.... She sighs as she watches one of the figures start to descend down the slope toward her, obliviously stumbling through underbrush like a regular townie. With a subtle roll of her eyes, she hooks the trap back onto her pack and sloshes toward the figure to learn what all the hubbub was about.

As the man finally makes it down the hill to the edge of the river and enters within earshot, Ezme hails him with one hand, calling:

"The toilet paper rolled downhill for what reason?" Her voice has a distinct foreign accent, her aspect as flat as her vowels as she continues to wade toward the man. "To get to the bottom," she finishes. She smirks ever so slightly as she eyes the fellow.

As Roald gets closer, the woman stops what she is doing and walks in Roald's direction.
He halts at the bank of the river and tries to hear her words over the splashing of the water.
Toilet paper? I must have misheard her...
'' You should go home, there is a thick mist about to form!'' He shouts over the river.
Her answer comes immediately
- TO GET TO THE BOTTOM!

'' YES! Me and my friends will get to the bottom of this!''
He shouts back at her.
'' But it's not safe here, you should go home''
''Be careful now, the current looks very strong and unpredictable ''
Roald doesn't have to shout anymore, the woman seems to be holding her balance pretty good while wading. She looks quite strong as well.
He helps her out of the water onto the bank. More out of politeness then out of need.
'' Hi, I'm Roald, I came to warn you about the mist that is about to come out. Me and my friends are investigating it after a strange encounter we had last night. Do you live far from here? If you can't make it back in time I suggest you stay with us until we go back''

Ezmaray nods and brushes the long bangs of her pixie-cut hair out of her eyes, momentarily disoriented over the fact this "Roald" -- she still can't get over the fact that folks just introduce themselves by their first names here -- had assisted her out of the river like she were a proper lady.

"Not far at all," she responds to his question with a nod. She turns, trodding barefoot down the bank. "As they say, 'Home is where the haversack is.'" Roald notices that the pack on her back bulges with camping gear, but the muscular woman bears the weight effortlessly.

Ezmaray flops down onto a boulder, brushing off her feet and sliding them into a pair of deer-hide moccasins. She leans over to tie the leather laces and unroll her worn earth-tone harem pants.

"I would not traipse too close to those mists," she warns. "They drive away all my game. It is bad portent."

Albert turns his attention back to the mystic when Roald goes off to see to the lady. The man is busy with some of his trinkets and not paying attention to Albert at this time. "Uhm... I'm sorry, I don't think I've caught your name." He says inquisitively. "Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've given you mine either. Albert's the name. And that over there is Roald."

After a quick introduction, he asks what he was going to. "What exactly are you planning to do? And what are you expecting the result to be?"

"Ladies and gentlement... or in this case, just gentleman- today, I will, for your amusement and amazement, perform a magic trick sure to astound and astonish."

Gronk has switched into full performer mode here. While he was bossy earlier, it was more out of exhaustion and preoccupation with his research. Now, he is a stage performer in charge of his performance, so he assumes an air of confidence and authority, as if he expects others to comply with his requests out of a desire for the show to succeed. This is so second nature of him that he does not even realize that he has made the switch.

"I, the great and powerful Gronk, will do the impossible. I will now attempt, before your eyes, to bottle this mist you see before you. Yes, you heard that right! I will control the very weather and bend this unnatural fog to my will. For those skeptics out there, this is actually two tricks- I will capture a sample of fog in my bottle, and I will dispel the remaining fog so it bothers us no longer. First, I will need a volunteer from the audience."

Gronk looks at Albert, who is the only member of the audience. He pretends to survey the crowd, looking for a volunteer. Eventually, his eyes settle again on Albert.

"You, young man! What's your name?" Without waiting for a response, he continues, "Lovely, you shall be my assistant tonight. Please be a dear and help me prepare my stage."

He hands the candles from his bag to Albert to place around the area, and begins drawing many intricate symbols on the ground, consulting one of the various books and notebooks he brought with him every few seconds. He also sets up a small table in the middle and sets it with a notebook, the vial he will be trapping the mist in, and his other ritual items.

"With everything set, we will wait until the others return to finish the show." With that, Gronk sits down to wait.

Ezmaray straightens and stands. "Kind of you to come all this way to warn me. Shall we...?" she says to Roald, nodding in the direction of the bridge. "...I will show you better way to climb back up. Slightly less... mm... scenic." The corner of her mouth twitches slightly, and she gestures for him to follow as she starts to make her way up the hill.

Albert is taken by surprise with the sudden show being put on by Gronk. He is even more baffled when he gets called a 'young man'. That hasn't happened to him for many years now. But he will gladly take the compliment. "Uhm... Albert." Then he gets some candles shoved into his hands, which he sets around the area indicated by the mystic. He lights them one by one as the tendrils of mist start to become more frequent. They might not have a lot of time.

Is this guy the real deal? Or did we make a mistake? Is something he asks himself. He's also unsure of how he feels about such a ritual. The temple had always told him that any ritual aside from a divine one was bad news and should be stopped and/or reported immediately. But he didn't feel much of a responsibility towards the temple at this time. He was Raynor's implement, yes. But not the temple's, in his view.

Not wanting to disturb the mystic's concentration, he keeps quiet until Roald can get back. With or without company.

More mist is spreading in the valley, the other side of the river is getting hazy already.
''yes please, we should hurry a little too. I've been in these mists before and I didn't like it one bit.... It sort of numbs me. ''
Maybe he shouldn't have said they have to hurry because Roald is hardly keeping up with her. She clearly has experience walking in the wild.
'' I'm sorry but I didn't catch your name?''

"House Felder, born of Brahm the Trapper of Dalhurst…" she calls as she hikes uphill with long, steady strides. She pauses in her track, realizing she was expected to offer up a given name. "Call me… Ezmaray?" she frowns. "No.... Ezmaray is more like placeholder than real name." Fortunately for Roald, the woman's flummoxed cessation allows him some to catch up. The minute he arrives, she turns and keeps on trudging on without allowing him a chance to catch his breath. Finally she says without turning: "My sisters call me Ezme. That will do."

'' Well, nice to meet you Ezme and thank you for showing me this path.''
I think...
Usually it's Roald who has to watch his pace not to exhaust Albert, now he is on the 'receiving end'
Approaching the top he already hears Gronk's voice rolling over the land. He can't make up the words, but they sound very important.

Gronk sees Roald arrive back at the table with the lady from across the valley. "Welcome, newcomers! You're looking lovely as always! Take your seats- we were just about to begin."

With a flourish, Gronk moves his hands in an intricate pattern and a large flame springs forth from the center of the table. (In reality, he made big gestures to conceal the lighter he used to ignite the bowl full of flammable fuel he had already placed on the table.)

"That's better- now you can all see me properly." The fire simmers down as some of the initial fuel is burnt off. "For my first act, I will capture this mist-" he guestures to the growing mist- "in this bottle-" he gestures to the vial on the table. "I have already spent countless hours preparing myself- mind, body, and spirit- to master the forces of nature..." As an aside, he adds, "...and countless hours preparing this vial to do the capturing for me."

Taking off the cork from the vial, Gronk yells "Behold!" Smoke curls from inside the bottle, from no discernible source, and Gronk places the vial into the flaming bowl. "Tempestus, keeper of foul weather, I call upon you to capture this mist, to be released again at my will. Consider your debt paid in full."

With that, Gronk drops the sample he took from Roald into the vial and looks up expectantly at the audience. Nothing happens.

Gronk waits another moment, letting the tension build... then, with a flourish of his hands, he throws his arms open wides and yells as a bright light flashes out of the ritual bowl. (Again, the flourish of the hands conceals Gronk sneakily adding more fuel to his fire from a concealed bag on the table.) When the fire returns to normal, it is plain to see that a sample of mist is swirling darkly in the vial, as if trapped there by a magical force. Gronk places the stopper on the vial and hands it to Albert.

"Pass that around for me, please. Everyone must gaze upon our might and magic."

Albert is impressed by the ritual, though less impressed by the over the top act going with it. It gets him thinking about how he comes across when talking about Raynor. He shakes the thought. No way his proclamations are like this. But to each their own. At least it seems that Gronk is not just pretending. This man could be a valuable aid in their endeavors. He makes a mental note. Probably something to talk to Roald about later.

After taking the vial, he walks over to the others to show it. "Welcome, miss" he says to the woman, who now looks much more sturdy than at first glance. She probably would have been just fine without our help. runs through Albert's mind. "My name is Albert." He adds with a warm smile.

The most defining features of Albert are his blue vest and the iron-tipped staff sticking out from behind his back. His curly hair with receding hairline billows in the breeze and a scruffy but trimmed beard surrounds his mouth. His clothes, although a bit dirty, look quite new or recently repaired to a decent standard. His eyes and words give off a warm and serene vibe, with a good bit of confidence behind it.

Upon reaching the bridge, Ezmaray's attention is at first captured by the incredibly handsome man who appears to be putting on some sort of... performance? Though she'd of course heard of occult powers, magic was not really something you encountered back in Dalhurst. She is both cautious and secretly impressed, though you might not guess this by her stoic countenance. Her eyes are curiously fixed on the vial as it is handed over to the gentleman in the blue vest and carried over.
There it is again! "Miss." Her eyes dart to the face of the blue-vested man addressing her, confirming that there is indeed no trace of sarcasm there. Contrary, there is a kindness and sincerity to his expression. It strikes her that this was the sort of man who, when shaking your hand, would place his other palm on top, giving a gentle squeeze and somehow filling your own breast with warmth and a sense that you are truly being seen.

This was its own sort of magic, one which she is similarly on guard against. How special could anyone's affection be, after all, if they offer it to folks so freely?

All the same, she feels herself unwillingly drawn to the man. She would offer a handshake to test her theory, but the vial in his grasp made that impossible. Instead she straightens and nods formal greeting. "Call me Ezme." Despite local custom, that still didn't feel like a proper introduction. "House Felder, born of Brahm the Trapper of Dalhurst..." she finishes briskly.

Albert shows everyone the vial and makes a mental note of 'the Trapper of Dalhurst' when nodding to Ezme after the introduction. That name rang a bell. He had probably heard stories about this in his tavern, but there was no time to dwell on that right now.

Roald is completely in awe of the smoke/mist in the vial.
When it is passed to him he has to be nudged to pass it on to the next person.
How in Raynor's name is this possible
He has heard of magic before, but never seen it in this way. Performed by a devine intervention yes, performed by a human on his own... No.
He even forgets to introduce Ezme to the others.

Gronk sees the mixture of awe and uncertainty on everyone's faces, something he is used to seeing as a professional stage performer, and decides to continue with his work.

"For my next trick, I will make this mist-" he gestures to the mist thickening around them- "disperse with only the strength of my will. A moment of silence, if you please."

When the audience falls quiet, Gronk begins to concentate, eyes closed. After a long pause, he picks up a challace on the table and takes a large gulp. (The challace contains the quicksilver necessary for the ritual). As liquid fire courses through his body, he begins to glow a faint but perceptible light, and the space around him feels tense, as if magically charged.

With another flourish, the flaming bowl shoots higher than before, Gronk adds a new ritual vessel to the flames to contain new magic components. To this bowl, he adds a dash of quicksilver from the challace, and he begins a rhythmic chanting. The language is strange and cannot be understood, even by Gronk, but the sound is primal and feels like it resonates through the space and adds structure to the tension. After a few moments of chanting, Gronk picks up the ritual blade on the table, swishing it deftly from hand to hand in a form of ritual dance designed to honor the blade and the tradition surrounding it. All eyes are captivate on this man dancing and chanting in the fire light, when he lets out a scream louder than before. The knife glints as it slices through the darkness, leaving a short, jagged gash across Gronk's forearm. The blood that drips from this wound is collected in the ritual bowl for several moments before Gronk bandages his arm with a grimace.

"An offering to the spirit who will be my lovely assistant for this one," Gronk adds by way of explanation. In a booming voice, he intones, "Come forth, Obscurios, and be bound by my magic. Enjoy the feast that I have set for you, and lie in readiness for my command."

An eerie feeling creeps over the table and the nearby audience. The tension feels thicker, more sinister, as Gronk resumes his chant and dance as before. Within a minute, the scent of his blood fills the air, mingling with the smell of smoke and quicksilver. The fire grows continually higher, without any assistance from Gronk, until it threatens to engulf the whole table in flames. Gronk is sweating from the heat and the exertion, and his sweat falls into the ritual bowl as he works. At the height of the ritual fervor, an inhuman screach fills the area, mixing with Gronk's own shriek. The fire extinguishes, silence falls across the clearing, and Gronk lies motionless on the floor for a moment. After he recovers slightly, he raised his hands, still lying down, and says, "Ta-da...." His hands fall back and he rests for a minute.

Heck ya! I did it!!

On a hit the mist clears.
On a 7-9 choose 1, on a 10+ choose 2, on a 12+ all three:
· the effect lasts for a while, else the mist will be back before you can complete your task.
· the effect is far-reaching, else it is local to the party.
· it does not attract unwanted attention, else it does.

After a brief theatrical pause, Gronk stands up (hiding his wooziness) and bows.

"The mist is gone from this place. We should not see it for a while longer. It may still be elsewhere, but that is not our concern."

Gronk stops to think for a second. "Once the mist is gone, we may be able to find the Beasts that hide within." He looks around curiously, enticed by the thought of another sample.

Ezmaray is disturbed both by the mystic's methodology and by the spell's apparent effectiveness. Body tense and prepared for flight or fight, she looks around herself as the mist disperses, then straightens with undisguised shock at the sight of the girl beyond the bridge.

"Shireen??"

Had Richie TOLD his little sister where they'd fled to? The trapper's brow furrows into a concerned frown, her hand reaching out to warn the girl just before the young one disappeared into the mists.

"Frack!" the trapper curses under her breath. Without further ado, Ezme charges in pursuit of the little girl.

Ezme slows her pace a little to make sure she doesn't lose the girl's trail.

"Shireen?!" she calls. "It's Ezmaray... House Felder!"

I think Gronk will stay where he is and try to recover.

If Roald was shocked by the mist in the vial, the second part of the ritual really blows him of his feet. The fire, the chanting,... Gronk does know how to make a show, and Roald is taking it all in like a 4 year old.
He whispers to Albert from the corner of his mouth:
'' I don't like this Albert, it gives me the creeps... Ya think it's...evil? ''
Then the mist starts to clear and the silhouette of a girl emerges from it. Roald squints his eyes to get a better look at her but almost immediately she makes a sign and runs back into the mist.
''NO, don't!''
He stretches his arm as if to grab her and hold her back.
He hesitates, asking himself if he should go after her... But the mist... Just thinking about it makes his face itch.
Then Ezme storms into the mist too and he is both relieved and worried at the same time.
Under normal circumstances he would follow her without giving it a second thought but this evening has been too much already.
He walks to the edge of the mist and starts calling her name.

Ezmaray freezes momentarily in her tracks, head darting in the direction of the scream and the glowing light.

"Trackers don't get sidetracked." Her father's stony voice springs to mind. She snorts once through her nose, her eyes squinting, then turns back to the path before her. She wouldn't go stumbling into the evening mists in pursuit of some anonymous sound or light without even a trail to follow. That person, whoever they are, would have to fend for themselves. But Shireen -- she was just a kid.

"Stop, Shireen. Let me catch up to you," she calls a little softer now, keenly aware that dangers lurk in their midst.

Ezme will not leave the track. If it leads into the reeds, then she will quickly follow it there. Otherwise, she will ignore the voice. Something is odd here, and she doesn't fully trust her senses.

The trapper pulls out her hunting knife, gripping it tightly. Her eyes keep darting in the direction of any sounds she hears, on guard against attack, but honestly, she acknowledges that her stealth and her scouting skills are probably her greatest protection in this moment.

With a flash of surprise, Ezmaray wonders if she was ever actually tracking Shireen!?

Before her sudden insight into the situation, Ezmaray's first terrified thought is RABIES.

Her father had lost two good friends to the disease and had drilled into her the proper protocol upon encountering an aggressive carrier: Don't run. Back away slowly.

But then, as the other puzzle pieces fall into place, she sees that a different tactic is in order.

This creature was no forest animal. It was intelligent, scheming.... Clearly, it was fierce enough to take down one person alone, else it would not have lured her here, however it was not merely attempting to overpower her, relying instead on deception and the element of surprise to take down its prey. This suggests there was a chance it could be overcome by brute force in a fair fight, though she'd be better off if she regained the element of surprise. Speed and strength were her allies, but her best chance at surviving this encounter would likely involve rejoining the others, if possible.

Attempting to track her own winding prints back to the others would take too long in this mist, especially if this creature has a keen sense of hearing or smell. She needed to move fast. She needed to lose this creature, pronto.

Reeds. A perennial species of grass. Found in wet areas. Especially known to grow along rivers.

After some quick mental calculations, Ezmaray swiftly and quietly withdraws to make as fast as she can for the river (hopefully!). Her plan: to use the river to hide her scent/tracks and guide her directly back to the bridge.

Hearing the creature move towards her and feeling the fix of its gaze as she attempts to ease away from the reeds, Ezme immediately realizes that her lofty hopes of a sneaky retreat are absolutely in vain.

BRUTE FORCE IT IS, THEN!

With a loud and furious roar, she ducks low to avoid the creature's upward launch toward her face and drives her shoulder into its body as she slashes forward with the hunting knife.

Gronk looks at Albert and Roald.

"Hey guys, if someone helps me up, we can go explore the mist region for monsters. I could always use more samples!"

Staring down her foe and baring her teeth in a snarl, Ezmaray looks not unlike one of the large carnivores she's been known to take down. Seeing the creature's reaction to her blade, she barks a loud, manic laugh and slashes the air, holding her ground to assert dominance.

"You don't like that, do you, you wanklespangler?!" she growls, stepping forward menacingly and pointing with the blade. "I know you can talk! What the frack are you? What do you want?!"

Ezmaray is caught off guard. She has never encountered a ... foe? ... like this before. How intelligent was this creature? Panting heavily, she keeps her blade out and stands with legs bent and charged with energy, ready to lunge at any given notice.

When she speaks, however, her voice is more level than before.

"Friends do not trick friends. Friends do not pounce on friends and try to claw them..." She eyes it suspiciously, trying to get a good look at it so she can place what sort of creature it might be. "What do you really want?" She tosses her head with agitation. "Where are you even from??"

Roald hears a distant scream, muffled by the mist.
He draws his sword.
''You can only be brave when you're scared''
He calls to the others:
'' I'm going in, we can't leave her to die. Someone help that man up and follow me, if we stay together we'll be fine.''
The last part doesn't come out as certain as he wished it would.

Roald walks carefully into the mist in the direction of the sound.
Every other minute he calls out Ezme's name.

Ezmaray grimaces. This creature was either unable or unwilling to give her straight answers, and now her wounds are really starting to get to her....

Ezmaray grits her teeth and, through sheer power of will alone, manages not to scratch the lacerations down her back and chest.

"The knife stays," she says firmly as she registers the creature's unspoken request. "You will have to earn that kind of trust."

Ezme cocks her head at the sound of Roald's voice calling from a distance. Without turning away from the creature, Ezme raises the hunter's trill -- a high pitched warble that sounds vaguely like a wild animal, though distinctively not like any native fauna in this area. The sound carries well and is commonly used to aid with communication over long distances, especially in emergency situations. Tonight she uses it to deliver an SOS.

Ezme has the distinct impression that she's running out of time. She might need to just kill this creature and then make a run for the river in case there are more out there. But she wants answers.

"Are you alone? Do you eat people? Do you hunt them for sport? Answer me straight, and maybe I let you live," she growls.

It took her longer than usual because of the distracting itch, but it finally sinks in that this creature is only repeating words Ezmaray has already said.

"Then why did you attack me? Or that guy back there?" she gestures back the direction where she last heard Roald calling. "Do you need something? Help? Protection? Food? Transportation? Power? ... Magic??? Do you serve someone??" She pauses, then tags on the following words to help boost the creature's vocabulary: "I, me, they, them, he, she, him, her, it, if, be, to, and, of, good, bad, danger, monster, mist, blood, master, home, woods...."

Everything about this situation is incredibly disturbing and creepy, and Ezmaray half expects to wake any minute from the nightmare. Surely she is dreaming??

Ezmaray slowly eases closer to the creature, her voice intense. "How far away is your master? Nearby? A day's walk? Many days'...??"

The sound of Ezme's voice gives Roald a boost. He turns in her direction, sword still in his hand.
His face feels cold and itchy and... Wet.
It's probably just little drops of mist

Roald can't stand the itching feeling any longer, twice he scratches his wound.

Still holding her blade out in front of her, Ezmaray slowly reaches with her other hand for the stainless steel conibear trap and unhooks it from her pack. "My friends and I need to talk to your master. Would you bring us to them or tell us where they are? Yes... no... cannot...?

"Hold up, y'little wankle! You do not understand." She subtly removes the safeties from the trap as she speaks. She crouches down closer to the creature, blade still out, but not in a threatening fashion. As she continues speaking, her voice sounds almost friendly. "I cannot go alone. It is too unsafe. We must fetch my other friends first, so they can come with us. Come with me to them, and then we can all go together to talk with your master...."

Ezmaray does the hunters trill one more time -- using morse code to signal a clear SOS. She's starting to worry this trill is more a local practice than she realized, or something only known by those in her trade....?

Well, whatever. She would handle this on her own if she had to. Nothing new there.

From her crouched position, Ezmaray places one moccasined foot inside the conibear as she pries the springs open to set it with one-hand. "But Wankle...." she coos as she works. "You have to earn my trust still. We are not friends yet. We are friends after you show me... Until then I need my other friends to come with me. You understand?"

Her eyes briefly dart to the creature's armpit to see if there's anything odd about it.

Ezme raises her eyebrows and emits a (fake) surprised gasp as she swings the knife around distractingly. "I don't believe I've ever used the word 'love,' with you, Wankle! Wherever did you hear THAT one?" Her eyes quickly dart behind the creature as if seeing someone behind it. "Is that Albert?" She quickly finishes setting the trap.

Ezmaray suddenly hisses with pain, drawing her hand away from the trap upon setting it. A drop of blood forms on her finger where it had gotten pinched in the springs.

Encouraging the creature's distraction, Ezmaray squeezes her injured finger to cause more blood to bubble up. As the creature stares transfixed, she sheaths her blade and grips the trap with her right hand. With a sudden lunge, she attempts to toss the trap onto one of its limbs. Her objective: to trap the creature without killing it.

Seeing the trap fly right through the creature and land (mostly) harmlessly to the ground, Ezme exhales loudly with frustration.
"Would you rather I have used the knife?!?" she spits back a little defensively. In truth, she feels oddly guilty upon witnessing the creature's dismay. Had it honestly considered her a friend? She'd assumed it was trying to deceive her again. "I didn't want to hurt you. Just wanted to convince you to come with me." Trying to resist the overwhelming urge to itch her wounds, Ezme rises back to her feet to collect the trap and reattach it to her pack. She shakes her head. "I must get back to the others before they get themselves killed looking for me. Walk with me if you like."

Seeing that there is no immediate threat to her person, Ezmaray will take this moment to look down and assess the severity of her wounds.

In shock, Ezmaray lifts her hands to her chest where she feels the pain, but hesitates to touch it. She spins, astonished, back to Wankle. "You scratched me...! I feel it! Why can I not see my wounds!?!"

Deeply disturbed, Ezmaray tentatively touches the wounded area with her hand.

This was ... the wrong move. Ezmaray had demonstrated incredible willpower up until this moment, but touching the injuries inflames them even more, causing them to itch unbearably. She itches them twice.

With much effort, Ezme pulls her hands away from scratching. Deep breaths. She mustn't panic. She needs to focus. Step 1: orient yourself.

She pauses in place, listening for the river. Having identified what she thinks is the gentle sound of rushing water, the trapper steps carefully toward it, calling to the creature as she walks.

"You look concerned, Wankle," she observes, trying to work some kindness into her voice. "Does your master require a certain number of people to... to 'feed' them every night? Do they hurt you if you fail to deliver? Because that hardly seems fair to you...."

Again the same strange animal-like sound reaches Roald through the mist.
He is confused... Which way to go now
He pauses for a moment to overthink the situation.

What to do... Follow the voice, or the scream...
Roald decides to keep his bearing and continues to walk in the direction of Ezme's voice.
He is walking through knee high vegetation and his boots are soaked. The new leather cloak keeps most of the moisture of off his pants. Still, walking is becoming more and more uncomfortable.

'' EZMEEE!''

A sort of odd animal noise wakes Albert from his fascination with the vial of mist and the flaming bowl. As a disciple of Raynor, fire has always had a certain hold on him. "Help you up. Uhm... Yes... Of course!" He walks over to Gronk to help him and sees his bandaged forearm. The blood has completely soaked the cloth and Albert is pretty sure that this amount of blood loss would make any person weak at the knees.

"Stay there for a bit." He tells him. "Try to relax. I'm not exactly sure what to think of your display, Mystic." Albert gets on his knees next to Gronk and continues. "But I'd like to give you the benefit of the doubt. Now, speaking of doubt... For my next trick." He says the last part just as Gronk did before. "I will try to aid a person in need."

With both hands touching Gronk's arm, he closes his eyes and raises his head to the sky.
"A mystic's magic may be true
Which part it plays knows only you.
A greater goal awaits us all
In Raynor's wisdom we stand tall.
Although the night be full of mist
Please help this fallen ritualist."

Albert waits for the familiar feeling of Raynor's glory to envelope him once more.

Albert blinks as his vision adjusts to the low light again. He looks down to see the situation has not changed. "Nothing happened?" He says hesitantly. Was this a sign from Raynor that he doesn't condone ritual magic? Was it the mist causing this? He had definitely felt Raynor's presence. But something was blocking the power from flowing into the object of his focus. Which in this case was Gronk.

"I... uh... Don't understand." He looks up to ask Roald for his opinion. But Roald is not here. "Roald?" He calls out. Come to think of it, neither is the woman. "Gronk! Did you see where they went? Roald and, uhm, Ezme." He manages to remember the name. "Did they get pulled into the mist?" His heart starts to race with the thought of his friend being in danger out there.

Ezme stops and looks in the direction of the voice. There might be some poor bloke over there, calling for her. Maybe. Maybe not, though. If she tried yelling back, how would they know for sure that it was her? More importantly, how could she convince them to stay together and meet her at the bridge?

The trapper glances back at Wankle. She needed to outwit him and any out there like him, to tap into some sort of cultural understanding that these creatures might be clueless about....

Cultural understanding?? Not exactly her area of expertise, given she is an outsider here....

Ezmaray's mind flits to one of her older sisters. Mindri was something of musician -- only as a hobby, of course, though she was admittedly quite gifted and had become knowledgable enough on the topic to fancy herself an "expert." She liked the sound of her own voice, for sure, and so she frequently harped to others about such topics as musical form and craftsmanship, fancying that she sounded quite elevated when she did so. Thank goodness she'd been married away first. That's all Ezmaray had to say on the matter.

At any rate, when Ezme was home during the summer she would escort Mindri and her other sisters to see the traveling performers whenever they came to town. Some of the tunes she heard on these outings had a sneaky way of worming their way in her head and following her into her reclusion in the wilds, leaving silky, invisible threads that forever tied her back to other human beings.

Today, she would cast those threads out like a fisher of men.

Standing there by the river, gazing at Wankle's sulking form, Ezmaray whistles loud and clear the first popular song she can think of that has a bridge section -- and then she repeats the bridge section, again and again and again.

So these city folk don't know the hunter's trill? Let's see if they know music.

Roald tries to keep himself from scratching but. It. Is. Sooo. Hard. And it feels soooo good. A couple of times his hand goes for his face but he manages to restrain himself.

what is that high pitched sound? This mist is screwing with my senses

Lost in thought and trying to hear the sound again he loses focus and scratches his wound.

There it is again!

Roald quickly turns around and holds his breath. The faint whistling sound is carried by a small breeze of wind.

I know this

All the time hanging around in bars is finally having some use.
but what were the words...
quietly he sings along with the part that is repeated.

When the times are dark and evil rules
There's no need for jesters nor for fools
Oh my knight, get me out of this mess
come and save this damsel in distress

Over and over again the song is repeated, and he carefully walks in the direction of the music.

Ezmaray continues to whistle, occasionally pausing to listen to her environs. She doesn't hear a voice calling for her; this seems like a promising sign. Her ruse might just be working!

After a bit, Ezme switches songs, once again focusing on the bridge of the new melody. As she does so, she slips off her moccasins so she can wade in the river waters and leave behind no scent that can be tracked. She gives Wankle a playful wink, taking a few steps in the direction of the bridge. As long as she keeps switching songs, these creatures will have a hard time keeping up and imitating her.

Ezmaray suddenly freezes in her tracks, her song falling silent. If the creature could only use words in her voice that it had heard her say, then...

She spins urgently back to Wankle. "Wankle! Was Shireen actually in these woods?!"

Ezme swiftly takes two steps back to see if Wankle is still there.

Ezmaray stops and stares at the space where the creature vanished, her expression first one of frantic dismay, and then growing anger. At the sound of chuckling, she looks around herself, her lip curling into a snarl. She looks down the river toward the sobbing. She looks up the river toward the bridge. She clenches her fist with angst and frustration.

This choice is not easy, but Ezmaray knows enough about bate and traps for one thing to be clear: they wanted her to hear that sobbing through this blanket of silence....

Ezmaray grimaces, makes an obscene gesture to the air, then trudges upriver toward the bridge. "I will not fall for the childish games of person who is too chicken to face me like man!"

If Shireen was out there, if she could be rescued, Ezme would do it on her own terms, even it meant working with the accursed magic of that mystic.

As she walks, Ezmaray continues to whistle bridges, looking as if she doesn't have a care in the world.

.... Inside, she fumes.

Roald keeps walking in the direction of the Whistling, at first he doesn't even notice that the direction changed. But when the song changes too he pays a little more attention, stops for a minute and listens carefully.
Is it moving?

Gronk replies to Albert, "These wounds are more than flesh and blood- they are the cost of my magic. That may be why your healing did not work, although I appreciate the attempt."

Gronk rises to his knees, then to his feet with no small but of effort. He looks a but worse for wear, but he can travel for a bit if he moves at a steady pace. Setting off in the direction Roald went, he says to Albert, "Come on, we need to clear the mist around Roald before he is attacked again. Once we have him, we can bearte him for running off without thinking, and then we can go find that other girl. I'm sure they could not have gone far."

With that, Gronk heads off with Albert in the direction Roald went.

Ezmaray puts four fingers in her mouth, doing the wolf whistle as loud as she can to draw the attention of the men. She makes a dash to catch up to them before they leave the bridge. Her feet are so numb, she can't even feel the small cuts she's probably sustaining in her rush.

Albert is still a bit confused about why Raynor's healing didn't work, but he nods when Gronk explains it. "I see. This is the price of ritual magic then." He replies. "No wonder it is feared and no longer tolerated in most regions."

He helps Gronk get onto his feet. "Right, with us clearing the mist, we can find them and get them back safely." He agrees with Gronk. "I'm right behind you." At this, Albert grabs his staff from behind his back and grasps it firmly. Hopefully he won't need it.

"I've been hearing whisteling. But I can't pinpoint which direction it came from. The mist is not only confusing our eyes, but also our ears." After walking a little while, he decides to call you. "ROALD?" He calls out the name a few times and waits for a reply.

There is a loud rustling and a cry as Ezmaray of House Folder bursts from the underbrush growing beneath the bridge. She pants heavily, barefoot and clutching her moccasins in a tight fist, her face twisted with consternation as she regards the two men who turn to face her.

"House Roald?" she huffs to Albert. It's more a statement than a question.

Roald walks around in the mist, getting more anxious with each step.
"Roald you dumbass, you should know better than this.''
He has no other option than to admit to himself he's lost. The whistling has faded away and stopped some time ago. But being to stubborn to just sit down and wait for rescue, Roald keeps walking while shouting EZME! once in a while.
There is completely no landmark in sight, or earshot to orientate himself.

Albert recognizes Ezmaray, though her expression suggests something has happened to her recently. At least they are together again, and as long as Gronk can keep the mist at bay, they should be safe. "Yes, Roald. Have you seen him?" he asks her in an urgent tone. "We can't find him."

Ezme frowns and gives a single, brief head shake no. Recognizing her cue, she wordlessly starts checking the edges of the road for a track to follow. Eventually finding Roald's trail, she gestures to it and summons the others over. "He left the road here."

She nods her head approvingly toward the iron tip of Albert's staff as she watches them approach. "The mist creature I encountered out there was afraid of metal."

The trapper takes a moment to pull her moccasins back over her numb, scraped up feet, her eyes studying the forest warily as she does so.

"I do not think any creature of the mist will outright kill us or our friends... More am I concerned about the master...." She gives the others a meaningful look. "The mist is serving someone nearby, feeding them power by inflicting some sort of strange, invisible damage...."

Ezme grits her teeth, resisting the urge to touch one of the terrible gashes the mistling had inflicted upon her. Thank the gods the itch was wearing off now. She'd been half afraid she'd lose her mind from it.

Having slipped her moccasins back on, Ezme straightens, pulls out her dagger, and nods that she's ready. "Stay close, mystic," she growls a little suspiciously.

"You've seen the creature? Did it look like..." Albert describes what he saw when they were attacked at the inn. "That thing scratched Roald and Daryl."

He listens intently to what Ezme has to say. "How do you know all this?" Did Ezmaray have something to do with this mist? She seemed to know a lot after seeming so oblivious at first. And now she was leading the group to Roald... or... danger?

"How do we know you're not in on this and leading us to the creature?" He decides to demand outright. No time for playing games.

Ezme nods to confirm the creature's appearance, then grunts with surprise and a bit of respect at Albert's expression of suspicion.

"I am stranger to you," she acknowledges. "I am also tracker and your best chance at finding your friend. Trust me or not; the longer we stand here chatting, the more you risk that man's life," she says urgently, pointing the direction Roald left. "I will say this," she adds, her lip curling into a snarl, "Gods willing, I will lead us to this creature, and we will end this here and now. They tried to mess with my head in those woods. They laughed at me. No one laughs at House Felder." She turns, following the trail and muttering under her breath: "... unless Ezme cracks terrible joke."

Albert realizes that Ezme is right. She is his best chance of finding Roald in this mist. One thing was for sure. He will not be laughing at house Felder an time soon. The trapper kinda scared him.

"Very well. Lead the way."

Ezmaray tries to work as quickly as she can. In the shadow of the trees, the moonlight is dimmed, and she stops briefly to light a torch to help her detect the lingering hints of Roald's passage.

Before long, the crew hears a rustling sound ahead and a loud call of "EZME!!!" The trapper holds up her hand, motioning for the others to keep silent and proceed with caution. This could very well be another trick....

When the man they're tracking pauses to look around himself, she hands Albert the torch and signals to the others to stay a little ways back as she sneaks closer.

Certainly this person moves, sounds, and acts like the fellow she'd met a bit ago...? But even if it is him, she may have to convince him that she is not an illusion...

"...Roald?" she says softly to get his attention. She holds her blade up cautiously between them, ready to defend herself if necessary. As he turns to look at her, she says very seriously, "What do you call snail that is not moving?"

This tree looks familiar, I must be on the right path now.
Roald is still wandering around in the mist.
What's that sound?? And is that a light or is my mind playing tricks again?
Roald stops and looks around if he can spot the flickering light again when a voice coming from behind makes him turn around.
It's Ezme, a sigh of relief escapes his mouth.
Before he can say her name she speaks to him: "what do you call snail that isn't moving"

"Ezme? Are you alright? Thank Raynor I found you at last, we should get back to the others. It looks as this mist is finaly clearing"
Roald sheaths his sword and walks in her direction, completely ignoring the weird question.
"Did you find that girl you were looking for? Come, follow me, I know the way! We can talk while we walk."

Ezme is confused. "Roald" sheathed his sword and is displaying a somewhat appropriate emotional response to seeing her (though altogether too trusting, given the circumstances!). His verbal response to her cue was incorrect, however. Maybe this was yet another illusion, trying to trick her into lowering her guard....

I mean, surely Roald knew the snail joke? Everyone knows the snail joke... or was that just in her home country? Frack!

Hunting knife still out and heart pounding, Ezmaray backs away cautiously as the man nears, nearly tripping over a root as she steps backward.

"Roald..." She warns him back as she tries to regain her footing. She'd try a different one... "Roald -- Knock, knock."

She gives him a very intense look.

''What are you looking at? Is my face bleeding? It sure feels like it." Roald's hand goes up to his face but he manages to suppress the urge at the last moment.

What a strange woman, why won't she move?

'' This is no time for knock, knock jokes Ezme, we really have to get out of this mist. It's dangerous: it's screwing with my head and who knows what creatures are lurking around"
Only when he speaks the words, the meaning of what he just said trickles through.

There is a woman with a drawn knife speaking gibberish staring at you...

His hand goes back to his sword and he takes a step back.
" It is you? Isn't it? Tell me the name of my friend!"

Ezmaray's tension eases a little at Roald's comment about the inappropriateness of knock, knock jokes. She lowers her hunting knife and sheaths it, relaxing her stance.

"Albert! Mystic!" she calls over her shoulder. Crossing her arms, she regards Roald without further explanation or commentary, waiting quietly for the others to approach and check on their friend.

Albert shows up from behind Ezme. "Roald! Oh I'm so happy we found you." He looks him up and down for any wounds. "Are you alright? In Raynor's name, why did you run off? I was trying to tend to Gronk and when I looked up the two of you were gone."

Gronk steps forward and looks at Roald and Ezme.

"Looks like the party is back together now- no more running off into the mist! Let's just stay close and find the creature that is making this mist. Honestly, I bet if we just stood here and screamed loudly, it would come to us.

While we're at it, let's establish a secret password so we know we can trust each other since this mist seems to screw with everyone. I think the password should be 'Gronk is awesome.' I'll entertain objections, but I think it's a hit."

With that, Gronk starts yelling loudly, "Hey Mr. Beasty, come over here! We wanna know who is making all this fog. You might as well come see who is disturbing your peace, not to mention who is breaking up the mist here!"

Roald, finally realizing that he is the one being rescued instead of the other way around, is also glad to see that everybody is ok.
'' yeah... Well... I couldn't let her run around in the mist by herself you see...'' while scratching his head he notices that his face is not itching any longer.

He can't help but releasing a snorting sound when he hears '' Gronk is awesome''

Is this guy being serious? The trick with the mist in the vial was awesome of course, but a little humility wouldn't hurt.

He rolls his eyes at Albert.

'' How about somebody says 'knock knock', the other replies by showing the number of knocks with his fingers.''

Arms still folded, Ezmaray stares at Gronk as he makes a scene, her expression completely flat.

Her eyes soften ever so slightly after Roald's somewhat bashful explanation for his disappearance, but she shifts her weight and shakes her head after his last suggestion.

"None of you are understanding the situation. The mist creature knew my full title. It would seem they heard every word we said on the bridge, and they are very likely listening to us right now. There is no secret scheming in these woods." She narrows her eyes, looking off into the trees. "It is even possible that they can read minds... How did they know to lure me into the mists with that image of Shireen -- the girl?" The trapper looks... troubled.

Albert too rolls his eyes at Gronk. It seems to him he doesn't see the seriousness of the situation. Or perhaps he's covering fear with bad jokes. "I'm inclined to go for Roald's suggestion." He says a bit awkwardly. "But if what Ezme is saying is correct, then we just have to keep an eye on each other at all times. And stay out of the mist. As long as we stick with Gronk that should be fine."

"Roald, what did you see when we were in the mist before? Did they try to lure you as well?" He asks.

'' I didn't see a lot actually, but I heard whistling, and it came from all different directions. ''

Ezme smirks humorlessly. "They can imitate our voices and the sounds we make. Even whistling, apparently." Her eyes study the gentle movement of the mist as it slinks through the forest around their circle of safety. Brow furrowing, she nods thanks to Albert and accepts the torch back from him, then walks up to a large Douglas fir, resting her hand on the soft moss adhering to its furrowed, corky exterior. She looks the tree up and down, then inspects another nearby.

"Moss typically grows on the north side; it is shadier," she notes as she circles a third tree. "In this case, also on the west -- encouraged by moisture carried in by coastal mists." She stops, frowning into the distance. "But these mists are drifting downhill from the northeast. These are not natural coastal mists at all." She turns seriously to the others. "I think we know what direction our source is."

"No, no. I mean at the inn." Albert clarifies to Roald. "Didn't you see an illusion too?"

"Fine, have it your way, we can do the knock thing. But that's lame." Gronk gives Ronald and Albert a silly look of childish annoyance as he says this.

"Come on people, let's follow the mists. Some of us need our beauty rest, and I'm not getting any younger. Ezme, lead the way!"

Gronk sets off at a faster walk, having recovered a little more from his earlier performance. There were more mysteries to be studied tonight, and with a little bit of luck, one more show to perform.

Gronk's fast walk turns into a jog, and then into a bit of a run, to the point where his previous magic does not have time to clear the mist around him. He thinks he will have to be in the midst of the mist to finally meet the creatures within.

Ezmaray furrows her brow at the mention of the man at the window as she speed walks alongside the others in the direction of the northeast. "I met creature in the mist just now. It suggested that it served master nearby -- that those it clawed were feeding its master power... somehow. It also said that you, Roald, need something..." She gives him a curious look, but asks no further questions.

She easily keeps pace with Gronk as he breaks into a jog, but frowns with concern. As torchbearer, she struggles to divide herself between the mystic and the others so as not to leave anyone completely in the dark.

"Hold up, Mystic!" she calls, agitated. One minute he's telling them all not to run off, and then this...! What was this odd man about??

"Where are you going?" Albert asks Gronk, who suddenly runs off shouting taunts. He turns to Roald "I think the mist might have gotten into his head or something. It seems like his brain got foggy." He shrugs, confused by what's going on. As the mist creeps closer, he realizes that he has to start moving, and does just that.

Gronk continues to forge ahead towards the source of the mist. He knows he is weak at the moment, but he is driven on by an insatiable curiosity to finally encounter what he has been studying so intensely. As he heads in the direction Ezme pointed out, he notices the mist getting thicker, as if they are beating the source.

He is vaguely aware of the others following behind him. "We must be getting close!" Gronk yells over his shoulder. "Don't fall behind!"

He will continue to travel towards the source until he finally reaches it.

This confirms it for Albert. Something in Gronks brain is not going right. That's probably why his healing didn't work. The mist has taken over this man's brain so he's not thinking clearly anymore. He thinks before calling out to Ezme, who is keeping up with Gronk easily.

"I think the mist messed with his brain and he's trying to get us lost. Why else would he do a ritual to clear the mist and then walk into it? It makes no sense. We need to restrain him to protect himself." He starts to walk a bit faster, trying to get ahead of Gronk to stop his progress.

Roald stays with Albert.
'' Gronk stop! It's dangerous! Let's think this through ''
He shouts while trying to keep up.
'' Albert, we have to stop him. I've been in the mist twice now, that's enough for me... ''

"Seems like we're going the in the right direction. When we get to the center, maybe instead of running away from my magic, I can leave it behind and we can use that to our advantage.". Gronk continues towards the thicker mist, slightly slower this time.

Ezmaray shares a wordless, concerned look with the others, then follows close behind Gronk. She draws her blade once again as the mists thicken, suspecting that she should probably be leading the way and tanking to protect the more vulnerable members of the party. "Be aware," she warns the mystic. "The mist creatures might be held back by this spell of yours, but we know nothing about their master. Despite your ... enthusiasm ... you still look weakened by your casting. You may not be safe, even inside this circle."

After a beat, she continues: "Mystic... What becomes of your protective spell if something happens to you...?"

Albert walks on a recites a prayer as he goes. "Raynor, watch over us as we walk through unseen lands. Be our light in the darkness. Let your fire burn within us to face the threats ahead." He focuses his gaze on the torch burning not too far from his vision. Even if it's just a personal feeling, it seems to him that the torch burns brighter and warmer than before.

He keeps a close eye on Roald, making sure to stick with him as he grabs his staff more firmly again. "Stay together, everyone."

Roald follows ezme's example and he too draws his sword.
'' Be careful, these creatures are fast as lightning '' he says as they walk side by side. '' Maybe we shouldn't think about that Ezme, let's hope we all get away with just a few scratches.''
Roald doesn't like the fact that he can't see where he's going. Walking in the dark is hard enough without making your way through this mist. Part of him is hoping it will soon be morning.
He witnessed the speed and ferociousness of the mistlings and they're a foe that's hard to fight.
'' Any idea why the one you met didn't go for your throat Ezme?''

"Clearly was my magnetic personality that won him over..." Ezme remarks dryly, eying the forest as she walks. The trapper takes a few more strides in silence, then sighs and says, "Let me offer tip to city guy who likes to rescue ladies like big hero. If you encounter large predator in deep, dark woods: do not run. That just triggers predatory instinct. He thinks 'Yummy little monkey snack!' yes?" She briefly graces Roald a look with brows raised before turning back to the path ahead.

"Animals. Monsters. Men. All the same. You talk big and make big noise. You puff up your chest and show them who is boss. Then they know their place."

If we had done that inside the temple we'd all be dead right now. Is the only thing Albert can think of when Ezme offers her advice. But there was no point in getting into such a discussion right now. He had to pay attention to the mist. Look for any movement or anomaly. Heck, even just where to put his feet was top priority right now.

"Right."Is all he says in a neutral tone. Not agreeing, but also not disagreeing with the statement. "Anyone see anything yet?"

"Should I become out of sorts, the magic will continue through my ritual blade." Gronk pulls out a well decorated knife and hands it to Esme. "Since you seem most likely to survive, maybe you should hold on to this."

At this point, Gronk starts to think about the danger that seems to be growing and decides to travel in the middle of the group where he will be the safest.

Ezme's brow quirks at Gronk's comment, but she accepts the ornate blade without dispute, offering him her hunting knife as protection. "Do not lose it," she warns. The hilt of the knife is carved of the smooth antler of a stag, bleached mostly white from frequent use out in the elements. The blade is razor sharp.

Though there appears to be less moss on these trees, sometimes the direction of the breezes off the ocean can provide some guidance... She lifts the torch to see what direction the flames are blowing, then frowns... The air appears to be unnaturally still. Lacking other options, the trapper forges ahead.

"You out there, Wankle?" she calls out into the mists. "I brought my friends. We're ready to meet your master...."

Albert continues to look around for movement in the mist.

With a surprised gasp, Ezme halts abruptly and raises one hand to signal to the others that something lies ahead. Glancing briefly back at them to make sure they are ready for action, she hesitantly reaches forward with the enchanted dagger to see if the wall is solid or... ?

Roald, still standing on Ezme's right side, sees the shapes from the corner of his eye. He quickly turns in their direction, but is too late to pinpoint an exact location.
''There's something there... Be careful everybody...'' He says in a low voice.
'' Let's move forward, but maybe a bit slower than before ''

"Yes, I see it too now." Albert says from the back of the group. Though he can't say for sure that it's not just in his imagination. He uses his staff to swipe through the mist where he believes he saw a shape moments ago. "I'm right behind you."

Ezme squints out at the movement in the mists as she tucks the blown out torch away.

"...Wankle...?" she calls. She waits a moment for a reply that never comes, then frowns thoughtfully. The trapper looks around herself until she spies a poplar tree, plucking a large leaf from it. "Let me... try something...." she says quietly as she removes the stem from the leaf and snaps it into two even pieces. Holding the stem pieces between her lips to free up a hand, she deftly folds the rest of the leaf and stitches the folded tabs into place using the two stem pins. Within seconds, she is holding a neat little leaf cup/basket. It's clear she has done this many times before.

She glances back at the boys with an awkward look on her face. "Now... Humor me, here...." Ezme sits down on a log and removes one of her moccasins to reveal a bloody gash on her big toe. Gritting her teeth, she aggressively rubs the area to get the blood flowing again, catching as much of the liquid in the leaf cup as she can. From the ground she grabs a fistful of something green and shoves it into her leather slipper before sliding her foot back in.

"Sphagnum moss. It's an antiseptic," she explains as she pockets some extra.

Carefully she lifts the cup of blood and peers out into the mists as she rises to her feet.

"Wankle.... We did not part on great terms. My apologies... I offer olive branch -- here is gift for you and your friends. I leave it here on this log.... There is not very much, so remember to share. Try not to fight over it too much."

She sets the offering down on the log, then whispers to the others. "Now we go. Quickly!" With that, she hauls it northeast!

'' Do you think they like... Blood?'' Roald asks while trying not to Trip over branches hidden in the mist which they are running into again.

This is getting stranger by the minute, I'm starting to wish I stayed behind with Daryl. Mistlings... Magic... Blood offerings... What's next... Shapeshifters

The recent events take him back to the temple, trying to figure out which adventure was weirder.

Albert gives a disapproving "Hmmm" at the sight of the blood cup. This is definitely not something he would consider nor condone. Hopefully this woman had some kind of idea what she was doing. She had been leading them through the mist effectively so far. He was still inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. But not understanding what was going on was starting to get on his nerves.

"Go where?" He asks after the urgent direction of Ezme.

Ezme grunts and nods an affirmative to Roald as she leads the group away from the offering.

"To the source, hopefully!" she whispers in response to Albert. She takes several more strides, then with a flash of confusion glances back at the blue-vested man as she pushes onward. "... Right??"

Where else? They'd said they were here to get to the bottom of this mist issue....

Ezme pauses in her tracks, peering out in the direction of the voice. "What is that way? ... And where would you have us go?"

"Another illusion?" Albert asks the group. "We can't trust the voice, can we?" He looks to Roald for answers, knowing full well that he doesn't have them. But what else can he do?

He tries to pinpoint where the sound is coming from. "Keep it talking for a bit." He tells Ezme.

"I think it's the mist creature I met earlier. Don't harm it unless it attacks," Ezmaray murmurs in response to Albert's inquiry. For some reason -- probably because of its clear act of personal restraint not to taste her blood during their first encounter -- she feels compelled to trust it... sort of.

"Is your mother the one you were speaking of when you referred to a master?" she asks.

It makes her feel anxious, hearing Wankle speak in Shireen's voice, using words and phrases she might have used...

Roald's eyes shoot from one side to the other trying to pinpoint the origin of the voice. He tightens his grip on his swordhandle. Though he is uncertain he could fight off several of these creatures at the same time.

Ezmaray turns back to the others. "Call me crazy, but I feel inclined to trust it." She hands the enchanted dagger to Roald, then pulls off her pack, pawing through it for a rope. "I am going to go see if I can talk to it, but I will need to get out of range of the protective spell. You all can hold one end of rope, I hold the other. If you feel sharp tugs, come to me. If rope goes slack....well... " She smirks. "... It was nice not quite knowing you."

She holds one end of the rope and offers the other to anyone in the group who will take it. "Of course, any of you are free to join me, but I cannot guarantee your safety...."

"I will stay here and hold the rope." Albert says, not confident enough to head into the mist. "Will you permit me to try and bless you in Raynor's name before you go?" With the failed attempt to heal Gronk earlier, he's not sure it will do anything. Perhaps the mist is interfering with the divine power. Or maybe it was just Gronk. But he can at least try.

Raynor? Ezmaray's mouth sours ever-so-slightly as she hands the man one end of the rope. Seriously? This man, too?? He'd seemed so kind and affable, if a little (understandably) untrusting....

Shifting her weight uncomfortably, she pulls her end of the rope to her chest in a reflexively self-protective manner, then shakes her head. "That's... alright." Averting her gaze, she turns her head the direction Shireen's voice had wafted in come from. "... Blessing from Raynor in this case may be akin to putting target on my back...." she excuses.

Albert already had a hand stretched out to give a blessing, but then simply grabs the rope instead and replies "I'm not sure what you mean by that. But, very well." He puts his staff back behind his back so he can hold the rope firmly.

"Don't do anything foolish." Is the only other thing he can tell her, realizing that what Ezme was about to do would probably be described as foolish in and of itself. But who was Albert to judge? He had already done the same in similar situations. Funny how foolishness and bravery often are distinguished based on the outcome. Goes through his mind.

Ezmaray nods to Albert and turns to head out into the mist. She pauses, looking back at Gronk. Noting that he already had a dagger of his own strapped to his hip, she eyes the well-loved hunting knife she'd loaned him and extends a hand to request its return.

"If you do not mind... I would rather not go empty-handed."

Feeling slightly more ready with blade in hand, she then forges into the mist, gritting her teeth as her invisible wounds immediately start to itch once again. She squints her eyes into the fog. "Wankle...?" she calls.

Ezmaray squats down close to the creature. She winces, straining very hard not to scratch her wounds. "Will the source 'eat' me because I have been marked? ... Are the unmarked safe from them?" she whispers.

Ezme exhales and gazes off, her brow knit anxiously. She turns her attention back to the creature. "Wankle, it is very important for me to know... Was Shireen in these woods? Is she hurt? ... in danger?"

"Shireen... the little girl whose voice you are imitating...?"

"The voice is fine," she assures Wankle with a tinge of relief. She furrows her brow, not sure how to proceed. "My companions... they want to stop source from harming people. We do not have to fight it if there is other way... but IS there other way?"

"I can try to feed and take care of you, Wankle, as long as you do not scratch more people..."

She shakes her head, unsure about how to proceed. "Will source not talk to us? Can it not be stopped?"

Ezmaray groans between clenched teeth as the urge to scratch becomes unbearable, rubbing at her wounds with her wrist instead of her fingertips (as if that were somehow better!).

Sensing the presence, Ezmaray pauses in place and looks around herself.

"Hello...?" she calls to the source. She slowly starts following the rope back toward the others.

"Can our spell to hold back the mist -- Can it keep the source away?" she whispers to Wankle with urgency.

Ezmaray starts moving toward her companions. "Careful as we approach," she warns the creature, not sure how the mystic's spell will affect them. A thought occurs to her... She winces inwardly. "Wankle... When you get older, will you be like source?"

"Wankle?? Ezme pauses at the circle's border. If she can still feel Wankle's hand in hers, she will nudge them back away from the mist-less ring.

"I do not think you can come up to my friends.... They have magic that might hurt you. Stay near, but not too close."

She wipes her bloody fingers on her pants and tries to adjust her clothing to hide her wounds. When she returns to the others, she gestures to them to gather close and whispers conspiratorially: "I have befriended mist creature. It is warning me that source of this mist is hungry and will devour Roald from inside out because he has been marked, and rest of us are in danger, too.... This magical ring is no protection against source, should it choose to approach."

Gronk looks tired but still deeply curious about the source of the mist.

"I'm not going home without seeing the source with my own eyes. Maybe I could be a distraction for you to escape? You could take the mist spell and head home, to safety. I can buy you a little time, and I always have my bottle of mist as a backup. We can see how this 'source' looks a taste of its own medicine."

''Ezme, are you alright'' though she tries to hide her wounds, the blood colored stripes on her pants where her fingers were cleaned are quite visible.
''That was a very brave thing you did there''
Roald knows what the mist can do to a person who is already scratched. And was very hesitant to go back in himself. This new information doesn't help...
''If you are hurt, you should ask Albert to heal you, I've seen him do amazing things in Raynor's name. ''

''Gronk... We can not let you sacrifice yourself to save us. I'm sure there has to be a way we can all get back safe''

"I appreciate the sentiment, but this must be resolved. Maybe we can all confront the source together then?" We should go soon, before it learns too much about us."

After Roald's initial inquiry about her wellbeing, Ezme follows Roald's gaze to the blood on her pants.
"Got two bloody feet and pinched finger," she says, looking up and shrugging nonchalantly. "On the other hand, I'm alright."

Her eye twinkles briefly, amused over her own play on words, but her expression quickly sobers as the others discuss what action to take next. "My mistling friend insists it will kill us. The creature's life experience seems minimal, though, and it is hard to gauge how powerful the source really is.... How equipped are we to face magical foe?"

"Well if it's trying to kill us, then I suggest we don't dilly dally." Albert says. His hesitation from earlier has been replaced by determination. "We can either set up a defensive ambush or try to take it by surprise." He continues. "While I'm more inclined to do the first, I believe Gronk already plans to do the second." He looks at Gronk and then at the other two. "Anyone want to be the tie-breaker?"

To Ezme's questions, Albert's answer is "I don't have a special weapon, but Raynor has proven to aid us when we call upon his power in the past. Unfortunately the ways of the gods are mysterious and thus not a certainty."

'' Don't forget that Raynor blessed our weapons Albert, they helped us in the temple... They might help us now as well, you never now.''
'' In my opinion, we shouldn't fight. These creatures are so damn fast, I bet the source is even worse. But, if it comes to a fight, you know you can count on me.''

Ezme frowns, puzzled over what the difference might be between a defensive ambush and a surprise attack in this scenario. She shakes her head. Knowing that Shireen is safe, her anger at this mysterious source has diminished somewhat.

"I will not be first to raise arms against this being. From what Wankle said, I think it is person ... of some sort. People are capable of being reasoned with." She pauses, then adds begrudgingly: "Sometimes."

"Either way, I doubt surprise is an option. They know we are here."

"If we can solve this peacefully, so much the better!" Albert adds.

"Maybe we can send an emissary? Someone who can meet it in peaceful discussion?"

It wasn't a bad idea. Ezmaray folds her arms across her chest, her eyes scanning her companions. Who would she send? The rash and unpredictable mystic? The cleric of the god of conquest..? Certainly not the man marked as prey! And Wankle would likely throw a fit if she volunteered.... She grunts unsurely.

"I can go if no one else will." Gronk takes a hard look around to see if anyone else wants to join.

Ezme exhales audibly. She is very hesitant to send this strange man in alone. She couldn't quite trust that he wouldn't get himself killed or somehow make matters worse.

"I have... spoken... with the source. I think," she admits. "Just now we exchanged greetings from distance...."

"Maybe we should all go? We can leave the ritual knife here and walk into the mist?"

"I can get behind that idea." Albert nods to Gronk. "Will the knife remain to be a beacon of safety? We could run back to it if we need to."

Ezmaray nods. "Two groups of two, connected by rope. Group in back carries ritual dagger. Group in front walks just beyond spell's reach."

She hands one end of the rope to Roald. "I assume you would like to stay away from mist."

Roald accepts the rope.

''I like the idea of having the clearing close by, but you should be careful too, you know, I'm not the only one that's been scratched. Let's make sure the rope is kept tight, so in case of trouble you can give it a good tug and I'll come running in.''