At the Mage Tower
Ann’s tiger with laser eyes painting that hangs over the bar at the Ten Fang Fury Bingle Banx sees you pointing up, seeking Keledek, and he starts pointing down, seeking the bridge. He shakes his head in a fast, worried No but he is not despairing. Fi the Xetardimesinonal dewlling is nitact, Vlotbrug is safe. The dewling is more than a hnuderd tewnyt feet awya, too fra for Message, for cretain.
You get no Message traction, either, and no response to the password. Then you Send. Click. The connection takes, easy; Keledek is on the plane. You know how he looks---tall, imposing, reserved, cold, even dangerous -- but his voice in your head is warm and scratchy with relief.
Bingle Premise. My most affectionate greetings. A pause. We lost Phidira. Three words, a wealth of sorrow. Then, in more level tones. We're attempting to open your Pocket Sigil, seeking evacuation for the townsfolk. Only failure. So far.
So the Undine Mouth is currently under Crabber's Cove peppering Pim's highly dangerous and maybe unstable pirson with experimental magics? On brand. If they get it going, somehow, then what? Shove in fishermen and kids who might land trapped with Pim, or safe in Vallos, or in a Hell or...IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR VILLAGE? Lucky that Falco attached the tunnels! You can get to them from Ten Fang Fury. Which is good, because outside the tower, you hear a herd of undead and lolloping and squelching past, and then the distant hiss and thunk of Yuan-ti foot soldiers engaging them as they storm the gate.
Outside the Tannery-Temple of Luminar
Falco and Fela, Seshanassenia never minded her lair in the tunnels until it got full of rowdy lizards with dubious volume knobs and no understanding of the word "privacy." As you go, she says, Getting along? Mm. Too busy killing zombies to kill each other,. more like.
FeliceTempest, You are unhappy with Nithe's defection, but Falco is comforting. Felice is hurrying you all at a good clip toward the Tannery, but she chuckles when you ask if the Princess will give up her memories,. Why sell a speck of her scant self, when she has those boys and can drill into their skulls and pour out all they ever were for Bramble. It's what they do, these drow women, yes?
Her green eyes flash. Approval? She is a Zhent, after all. What is a Zhent? Shrug! But you have gathered they have teeth. Felice certainly does, and as for lady drow, well, you heard the song the boy-drow taught to Falco. You witnessed what a matriarch---his own mother---did to Vorn. Inside the wreck of Lady Nithe, you always sensed teeth, and perhaps what she loved in you was --- yours. The siren, not the cleric, drew her in, and the Cleric has grown so strong on your interplanar travels. The cleric's inherent goodness, whatever that means, becomes more ascendant the longer you keep feet.
Your goodness holds you here, seeking a plan to save your father. What holds Felice here? She breaks this train of thought to add to Falco's explanation of the Meat Willow: **Say as you will of these undead fishies, they are made of meat. This horror-tree doesn't mind it spoiled, and makes puppets that fight on our side. We are each of us recycling the other. They have---succeeded a few times. To see this can break those of un-strong mind. Be wary."
Falco Cypress coughs something that sounds suspiciously like Hin-whipped, but then says, quite seriously for a fey Bramble caught most of her loose Willows, but even so, it's bad. Lily Market is hard to find, unless she means for you to find it, but these undead are immune to mind-tricks. If the source of these horrors isn't soon plugged, the Market will fall, and our trees with it. Think of us as your canaries. If we drop dead, you know the Market is lost.
And us soon after. Glad as I am to have reinforcements, you have arrived only in time to die with us, I fear. Unless ... you have another plan? Wellgar says. He looks so tired. They all do. He drops his voice. I've cast Augury and Divination, over and over, seeking hope and finding none. In three days time, some process will complete---perhaps this wedding you spoke of -- and then we all die. The bones say so, and the stars and tea leaves and entrails and every other damn thing that I ask.
Felice says, The undead have increased so much since Clareen left. If we fall, the swamps are wholly lost---and every rift lost with them---for what remains of every sentient community is all here, now.
Fela Every rift lost? Worse. Every rift will be in the power of whoever controls these undead! Even Slurry Market will be theirs, once they find the temporal fold in the sea that leads to her island. Every rift, leaking snail poos. They will salt the poo into this awful bio-weapon, and who knows where the ambition ends.
You ask for news, and Wellgar lays out the specific problems they face succinctly: They don't know where the wedding is. They don't know how to stop it. The Undines have been looking into magical evacuation to no avail. They can't evacuate by land. The regular dangers of the swamps are all present, as well as undead. Sea is worse. All boats not in the harbor and fiercely defended have been burned or overrun by undead with help from a ship that lurks outside the harbor, appearing suddenly as if by magic to cannon boats that try to escape. Morale is low. Food is low.
Gand, now with War Hair As he nutshells these horrors in a terse monologue, Finn bursts out of the "temple" and grabs you up and spins you, hugging you so hard and thumping at your back. He lets you go and steps back---he looks so tired! (And yet, somehow the deep lavender circles make his eyes pop. Gah, your brother!) I knew you'd make it. Listen--- He pauses, then steals himself and blurts it all out, urgency outweighing his reluctance to hurt you. The order is disbanded. By the King. Most went to war, but a few rebelled and came here, of all damn places, seeking you and your leadership. What remains is your s to command, and that includes me, sis. Yeah. As soon as these guys got got declared enemies of the state and lost everything and are facing execution if they do escape this and return home---well, that's when I finally joined.
When you and I refused the marriage, Father disinherited the both of us and adopted that death-bitch, Clareen. He is now the commander of her mercenaries. They hold Kivalia's trade ports in Templetome, and Fela, the undead do not bother her mercs. They carry goods through the swamp, untroubled. Templetome is surrounded by swamp, but it stays safe upon its ridge because nothing attacks it. You understand? She is in league with the Red Feathers. She is leading them, I think. Vega Vissir is dead, and I think our ex-girlfriend is the Eye, now---unless Cinderrabbit is.
As for Saltmarsh? King Bryce has ceded this land to the wilds. This is no longer Kivalia, baby. His army, even spread thin with the war, can hold the mountain passes forever, against anything. So he ditched the swamp, even the sea out to 100 leagues is declared to be wilds. We're on our own, kid. No family, no country.
Wellgar startles at your last question, looking even more worried. Yes. Firewatch Island. A tiny rocky place with nothing on it save a hermitage built into the ruins of an ancient fortress. It is two days sail from here, with good wind. My brother Illgar serves the Moon there...as I said, he has not been answering my letters... He scribbles down co-ordinates for Falco. This island is in the area that has been declared Wilds by the King.
Party farther down the wall, almost to the gate, a group of about a dozen undead---Sauhuagin, a few orcs and sea elves, and a human (gods, Fela, is that one of the militia boys you saw drinking at the Wicker Goat a thousand years ago when you played chess with Inno there?) ---lurch out of the tree line. The Yuanti begin volleying arrows, staying tight to the gate. Wellgar says, A small wave. But it often heralds a larger one. I need to take my post. If there is nothing else? The council is at the Primewater Estate, if you need Gellan.
Gand adds, grinning, Or Queen Melisse. Why not? If that lady is going to die here, she is damn well going to do it in a crown...
Fela you know your brother. His banter is meant to shore up himself and you and all the others. But under? You can see your he is exhausted and hurt and in mourning and---most of all---afraid.
OOC
Guys, usually in town, we slow down. Not this time. If you need info, items, help, or story closure from a specific NPC, check for their location on the updated map at the top of this thread OR simply ask me where they are, then go right to them and do your interaction. I will fill the world in around you. TALK TO EACH OTHER! Make a plan OOC and get what you need here.
Perimeter fights are near-constant and can be deadly; if you join one, JUST RP, no rolls, no initiative, but please mark off any spell slots you use. I will roll for results. Joining these fights is only advised if you need to talk to an NPC who is in combat---unless your plan is, Protect Saltmarsh's perimeter until it falls and everyone dies 😃 Wellgar and everyone else is hoping you have a better plan.
EVERYONE around you feels exhausted, pressed, urgent, abandoned, and afraid. Please join me in building and sustaining this vibe; take words like "stroll" and "muse" out of your PC's lexicon, and make every round count. Check your action block. It is important to "Think" and "Talk to a party member" and "Move from here to there" but if your actions can be summarized by these things alone, you need to add something to your post.
#SAVESALTMARSH. I have total faith in you!
