PM to join Missing Memories and Crying Statues

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Once again she appreciates the companionship and teamwork that had been missing from her life for a while now. Barricaded behind the devastation of loosing her bond-mate and the slow climb to recovery had kept her alone for too long. It seemed time passed much more pleasantly with company and life seemed a little brighter, especially today on a creek bank skirted with gurgling, sun-sparkly waters. “Get it! Get it! Get it!” Salara roots Oleander on enjoying the suspense of will-he/won’t-he as he juggles, pounces, and tosses the fish about the bank. Finally landing at her feet she drops her pole and reaches for the mud-slimed body past its last gasp and shudder, picking it up without issue with sharp nails piercing its brown spotted flesh. Displayed to its full length she looks up with a wild grin, a feral glint in her eyes to see Oleander instead looking towards camp and calling out his concern. Her grin turns serious as she slips the fish into her pack and straightens to listen, chin tilted towards the caravan, hearing again the squirrel rustling nearby but with a montage of voices in the backdrop. To her mind, there was nothing in the sounds such as rage, pain, fear, clashing weapons that indicated immediate danger. Regardless not on guard duty but always guarding, she nods her head and quickly begins gathering her things. “I don’t hear any immediate threat or attack but something is surely going on which makes it worth checking out.” She looks past the tuft of tall grass she’d sat her kit behind and immediately stills without even a breath. In the blink of an eye her mind begins processing what she sees; while, with the reflexes of her nature, lunging into a well-practiced pounce. Elbow deep into her fishing tackle is a little grey lump of a…man…lifting her bell with the clapper held silent in a tiny globbed fist. It looks up with a ‘caught’ expression O’ing its mouth. Straight-armed, she watches as her hands drop, the bell falls away jingle jangling in alarm, and her grasping fingers encircling and squeezing nearly through the creature’s body. “Get IT,” she cries as it twists oddly this way and that then POPS right out of her hands. Surprise and forward momentum finally catch up to her, as whatever it is darts between her legs and she tumbles ignominiously skidding on her face through sand, creek gravel and grasses with an “Oooof”. As quickly as she can get her palms and a knee to the ground under her she pushes herself up to see if it had escaped.

[Oleander Soleran]

Oleander

It took Oleander a short moment to wrap his mind around what he was seeing, and then a single word popped into his mind – Pycon. He had heard of the little clay men before, and had he not seen one once on the bazaar in Stormhold Castle, he would have dismissed them as fairy tale characters. The tiny clay men could stand still as statues, but apparently, they could also be more agile and slippery than bitey worms in a bucket of water. The lump of clay with arms and legs strangely deformed to fit through Salara’s fist, then fled into the forest as fast as its uneven limbs allowed.

Oleander took a tick too long to react, then he stormed after the little poison dwarf. Salara had fallen, but she was already lifting her face from the sand, so he would check on her later. He needed to concentrate on the fugitive first.

The trail the Pycon had taken was marked by swaying ferns and leaves close to the ground, and at the edge of his vision, Oleander could still see it moving. He sprinted after it, but the little creature was unexpectedly fast, despite its short legs. Oleander managed to keep up for a while, dodging trees and taking sharp turns through the forest, but eventually, his endurance dwindled. His breath came more heavily, and once again, he cursed his suboptimal state of fitness. Salara was somewhere behind him, but it felt like she was catching up, while the Pycon increased the distance between them. Another rustle in the underbrush, and it was gone.

Oleander swore as he approached the thicket the creature had vanished into and slowed down to catch his breath. There was no point in hurrying now, the little runt was gone. When he divided the thicket with both arms, he could see a small tunnel leading underground. The Pycon’s escape route, impossible for him to follow. He had no way of telling with route the tunnel took underground, so he left it be and turned around to look for Salara and a way back to the brook and his equipment. There was no point in closing this entrance to the Pycon’s tunnel system, it probably had more holes like this, and the Pycons would still live here when the caravan was long gone.

Oleander had not been especially careful or light-footed while hunting the Pycon, so the trail his body had taken through the forest was rather obvious. With a sigh, he started walking back, more slowly, this time.

[Kesh Baldur]

Kesh enjoyed the little man's excitement and optimism, most people he had run into were men of action and little words, Warriors, bandits, mercenaries but never ran into a scholar. Not since he was quite young and first met the race that was called humans.

"How very interesting, and these things are everywhere? I must not have seen them due to the fact that we have no buildings to abandon where I am from. We live atop of trees only using what we need, then when we were awake we would be on the ground in groups. How small are they? Do they have a leader?" He asked as they traveled, he laughed as the man almost hit him in the nose.

"Do not worry Tollivant I'm sorry to say but your strike might only feel like a fly landing on my face." He continued to laugh at the thought of him having to fight someone.

Kesh was more than happy to tell him about his kind.

"We were once a primitive race, living in the woods as animals, then we were blessed by the goddess of the forest Caiyha and through her grace we evolved into what you see here now. Most of us are quite passive, never leaving the woods, some like me feel the urge to travel for a time before taking our place in our homes. We are a tribe like people with an alpha that is the tribes leader, contests are held in order to keep the strongest and wisest as the leader. The losers must leave the tribe and may join another if they are accepted. All the alphas then become like a council, where they discuss much about our survival and such things. We also-" Kesh's ears perked back and his thought processes became distracted. A noise came from the direction of the camp.

"Something is wrong, sorry friend but our trip must be put on hold, something is happening at the camp and we need to be there in case it is bandits or other forms of trouble. I'm sorry for what I am about to do, just hold onto me!" He explained but did not wait for a reply as he grabbed the man and placed him on his back as he began to sprint back towards the camp, where the sounds became louder.

[Karyk]

The grumbling in the crowd of people who'd been stolen from was louder, as people began dredging up old rivalries and slights with one another. Arguing started, people were shouting at each other, yelling, accusing one another of being the thief. It was exploding all around the shipwright. People were starting to get physical. Karyk knew that if this many people had been stolen from, it couldn't have been any one person. No one could be that good, that quickly. He stomped over to a pair of men grappling, and did what his sister and mother would do to him. He grabbed each of them by the ear, hearing them both scream in pain and rage. He stood them both up, pushed them both backwards from each other with a firm shove in the chest, pointing at glaring at one who tried to rush back in. Then he yelled loudly for everyone to hear. "ENOUGH!" A tense silence passed through everyone, "Look at this whale shyke we're muckin' through." He glared at one of the men who'd been grappling, "Merv, we all know Jorrin there didn't rob ya. He petched your wife. Everyone knows. You know it. Don't use this as an excuse to vent your sails." He passed his glare around at everyone, as Merv stomped off. "We don't know who robbed us blind. But it sure as shyke ain't every petchin' person here. That don't make no sense." "We're gonna find who did this, and we're gonna find a suitin' punishment for 'em. Now step up to help, or shut up and go back to your business." Several of the nearer scouts had returned to the camp and Karyk waved them over. A few other people, faces familiar that wanted to help came over as well. The rest of the crowd dispersed, grumbling, some asking who put the stupid shipwright in charge, and others suggesting that he did it. But at the end of the day, the items stolen were baubles, nothing people would sorely miss. Talking to his gathered group, "I know this ain't the type of restin' we've been wantin. But we gotta sort this out if we can. So let's look into this as best we can. Talk to people, find what they saw. Secure the perimeter again, if anything, will put people at ease that this weren't done by someone from outside. Anyone got anythin' to add?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Meanwhile a little black haired girl over by one of the fires tugged at her mom's skirt, "Mummy, where'd my doll go? I wasn't done playing with him." "Raven honey, you don't have a doll. Leave mummy be while I cook." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As Kesh and Tollivant were heading back, they'd be able to hear quiet giggling all around them as they moved. Soft, low to the ground, and it would stop once they reached the caravan. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Way out on the edge of the perimeter, a scout found a trail of unusual circle tracks leading to the farmhouse after investigating what had spooked some of the animals. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A drunkard was at his own campfire was laughing as he told a story to any who would listen about a squirrel he'd seen wearing a necklace.

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

“Oleander! Wait!” Salara shouts towards his departing back as he races after the elusive creature without hesitation. She didn’t know what it was or if there were more like it but everyone knew it wasn’t safe to move alone through the Wildlands; except perhaps for someone like Kesh. Who knew what one or more of these clay men could do in their own territory? Something so small may have other defenses for larger predators. Traps? Ambush? And even if the strange creatures were harmless, the young man could be a tasty morsel for any number of unknown beasts. Besides, she knew facing Hortense with any kind of bad news without her brother at Salara’s side would be worse than anything the Wildland’s could conceive. Digging in her heals to chase, she couldn’t help but be impressed at his tenacity as they covered some rough ground quickly. Soon she sees him in the distance returning along his broken trail, not unexpectedly, with empty hands. Her jaw unclenches in relief, taking a deep breath she slows to meet him and says, somewhat indignantly, “Can you believe that?! It knew exactly what it was doing and that it had been caught red handed.” Looking at her palms she expected to feel a film of clay residue but they were clean. Cupping them over her nose for a sniff all she could smell was plain ole muddy fish slime. “Its body was cold as mud and it twisted right out of my hands! I’ve never seen anything like it.” She rubbed them down the front of her breeches regardless, still feeling the cool, grainy, malleable ...flesh…as it squished through her fingers. Her tongue moved delicately over a fattening lip and her abrasions stung like the dickens but there was no way she was going to touch to see how badly she’d scuffed herself up in the fall until she scrubbed her hands well. Surely it wasn't too bad and certainly very minor. As innocuous as their incident had seemed, she couldn’t hold back a shudder of foreboding. “We need to get back to the caravan to find out what the stir is and let them know what we’ve found.”

[Tollivant Brennson]

'What do you mean sorry, what are you going to.... aaaaaaarrrrrgghhhhyyyaaaahooooo!' Tollivant's yell of surprise and fear as he felt himself being tossed up onto Kesh's back like a feather quickly turned into a roar of exhilaration as the Jamoura started running through the trees. The scrawny young man had to cling on for dear life, hoping he was not hurting Kesh by pulling too heard on his fur, but knowing that if he didn't grasp it hard he would tumble straight to the ground. Once he had found a good grip, though, the feeling of racing through the fields perched high on Kesh's back was a thrill he had never had before. The air rushed past his face - in one quick, jerky motion he managed to take off his hat and glasses and press them against his chest so they would not blow off - and in his newly semi-blind state he simply let himself enjoy the sensation of speed as the trees blurred past. Kesh's back was broad and stable, and he trusted the gentle Jamoura not to drop him.

Once the initial rush of excitement had worn off and he could settle into the ride, he noticed another noise over the roar of the air and the pounding of Kesh's feet: the sound of quiet laughter, somewhere between cheerful and mischievous. There was nobody visible, but he could see grass rustling in the field nearby in a way that could not have been caused by the gentle breeze. Pycons! he thought with elation, so there are some in the farmhouse! He thought about asking Kesh to stop so he could investigate, but they were approaching the campsite now and he could see that there was indeed some sort of trouble brewing, so he knew his curiosity would have to wait until they had found out what was going on.

It had taken them 15 chimes to get as far as they had, but now that he was no longer slowing them down, and Kesh could move at top speed, it was only a little more than 5 chimes before they started approaching the campsite. As they slowed down, Tollivant hastily crammed his hat back onto his windswept hair, and replaced his glasses. He could see a group of people crowded around Karyk, who looked flustered and was shouting orders at some of the scouts. Other groups were huddled together, muttering and throwing irritated glances the shipwright's way. Tollivant hopped off Kesh's back and headed over to where Karky was. 'What's going on?' he asked, out of breath. 'Can I do anything? Oh, and I think I was right,' he added as an afterthought, 'I believe there are Pycons in that farmhouse, even though we didn't make it that far. As we were coming back I heard laughter and there were small things moving in the grass, I'm sure it must be them. Just imagine how lucky we are to have come across them, not many people can say they've actually met...!' But seeing the look of anxiety on Karyk's face he trailed off. 'Sorry. What's going on again?' He looked around for the rest of their group and saw Salara and Oleander running from some trees across the other side of the campsite - they seemed like they had discovered something as well, and Salara's face looked bruised. Tollivant started to feel a bit worried as he soaked up the tension in the camp. He waited expectantly for someone to tell him what was going on, and to hear what Salara and Oleander had to say.

[Kesh Baldur]

Kesh could hear the laughter and movement of the grass but had to make sure that he made it to the camp in time. If these little things that Tollivant was talking to him about earlier were actually here and were running about the camp it would cause chaos and if they knew what they were doing, they must trying to split the camp apart and take what was needed in the chaos, but what could they be looking for, do they eat or want material items? Kesh thought and wondered as he went. This began to worry him, as he had seen people become vile monsters in the midst of chaos, so he picked up the pace with Tollivant on his back, grasping his hair tightly but not enough for Kesh to feel any pain, just the presence that he was still there and had not fallen off. Karyk needed his support, if not his size alone to help in the calming of the crowd.

When Kesh finally arrived at the camp, Tollivant already began asking the questions that he was thinking of, although in a different manner and wording that he would normally.

"The little man is right, these Pycons are running about the forest, we both heard their laughter and movements. They must be the ones that are causing this raucus within the camp."

He then saw Oleander, although he didn't know it at the time, and Salara come into the ranks of people. I wonder if they saw or heard the Pycons as well and maybe have more information than we do.

He first looked to Salara since he knew her from a previous adventure, "Salara, I am glad to see you again, what did you see out there, did those little creatures give you trouble?" He asked her as he saw markings on her face that indicated that something had happened out there in the woods.

"And you boy, did you see the same thing as Salara?" He asked looking over at Oleander.

He began thinking of what needed to be done, the people were getting restless and they needed to find out what was happening. Maybe we need to rally everyone and explain to them what is happening, but most people don't just believe heresay unless from a reliable source. Most people need physical proof to believe in such a thing as little clay monsters running around. He kept his thoughts to himself for the time being and waited for the others to respond.

[Oleander Soleran]

Oleander

The commotion grew louder the closer Salara and Oleander came to camp. It was hard to single out voices over the universal hum of agitated conversation and arguments. People had lost all kinds of belongings, he gathered, and he could just imagine who had taken them. Near the edge of camp, the pair of them ran into familiar faces – Kesh, Tollivant and Karyk seemed to be just as stressed out as everyone else, and Tollivant in particular looked a little dishevelled, as if he had run wildly through the forest mere minutes ago. Hortense was nowhere to be seen.

“Pycons,” he blurted, a little out of breath. Nobody looked particularly surprised. “Well, I guess you already figured as much.” He shot a side look at Salara, but the woman seemed content to let him do the explaining for now, so he elaborated: “They tried to steal Salara’s fishing equipment, but we noticed in time. Turns out they have a tunnel system in the woods, but we could not find out where they lead.”

A shout rose above the others and Oleander turned his head to see a scout approaching, obviously looking for Karyk, the head of the caravan. “They’re in the farmhouse,” the man announced, clearly out of breath from the run. “More than a dozen, slipping in and out through a crack in the door. It’s impossible to catch them, whatever they are.”

The farmhouse? This was news to Oleander, but the others looked even less surprised than they had before. If they already knew what was assaulting them and where the pycons dwelled, why were they standing around near the edge of camp instead of retaking everyone’s belongings? This was a bunch of shy, larcenous clay creatures, not a full-fledged army one needed a grand strategy to defeat. Still, Oleander was the last person fit to lead a party towards the farmhouse.

[Karyk]

There were so many concerned faces looking at him, so many voices trying to give helpful information, all eyes on him as the leader. It was a bit overwhelming. But Karyk did his best to put on a strong face, for he knew that whatever he decided, right or wrong, his people would go with it. These Pycon creatures were clearly involved, they'd been seen by people he could rely upon stealing. Or at least one Pycon had been. He faced Salara and Oleander, "Could ya both talk to anyone who saw anythin'? We need to know more. How many of 'em are there? What was taken?" He then turned to Tollivant and Kesh, "We need to know more about these Pycons. See if ya can get them to talk at the farmhouse. We don't know if all of 'em are involved or just bad apples?" "There's no need for that." Karyk turned to the source of the small, elderly voice. It was the shape of a dog, a sheep dog it seemed. "I am Advisor Skorin. We need to talk." Karyk crossed his arms as he stared down at the little creature, surprised it could talk. "I am Karyk Southwind. I speak for this caravan." The dog nodded and continued, "I come to seek your help. Earlier today a man arrived at our home. He spoke with many of our people. He wanted money and valuables. We had none to spare for him. But when he left, many of our young ones went missing. They are just children, and we are very worried for their safety. This man called himself Garresh. Is this man part of your group? Are the young ones with you?" By this point, people were trying to crowd around to see this Pycon, and hear his words. There were grumbles, some calling him a liar, others worrying for the children pycons. Karyk considered the man's words. He didn't know of anyone by that name, but the caravan did have people in it that he did not know. Not many, but a few. "We may have seen your young'uns. We are lookin' into some thefts, by Pycons. I'd be bettin' it was them. I don't know this man, Garresh. But we will see if he's one of ours." Karyk sat down, legs crossed, arms crossed. "Tell me more about this man." He looked over at his friends, "Please do as I asked." He didn't enjoy telling friends what to do, but this was clearly a delicate situation, and he wasn't necessarily the best choice for handling this. But he was in charge, he had no choice. "He wasn't real special or anything. About your height, no beard though. Messy black hair. He wore leather breeches, very worn on the inside of the legs. I think they were leather at least. We don't use clothes. He seemed to always be watching everything, eyes bouncing around. And he walked a bit.. funny. Like his pants didn't fit well or something. That's pretty much all we got. He didn't stick around for long. Karyk nodded at the man's words, but didn't really know if it was helpful. This didn't sound like anyone specific, and seemed as if it could be anyone. There were lots of men with black hair in the caravan. Karyk rubbed his temples, not sure what to do with this information. Hopefully his friends could discover something else useful.

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Salara was relieved to find everyone together and surprised to hear Oleander name the creatures as he explained what had happened to the two of them. She hadn’t realized he actually had some knowledge about what they were. And no, it didn’t seem a surprise for anyone else, as it appeared there was an infestation of the clay creatures plaguing everyone. So much so that she felt a bit intimidated by the idea of speaking to everyone who might have seen one. Turning her head to see Oleander’s reaction she already knew she’d do whatever was asked of her. Karyk had put himself forward to ensure they all had a place here and it was only right to support him when things got tough… that’s what friends were for. But instead, into their midst comes a dog-shaped creature. Regardless of its diminutive muddy appearance she noticed it still didn’t have a scent, canine or otherwise. As much as anything she was most surprised to hear it speak. After listening to its story, Salara was more than happy to sit down and hear the rest. Her curiosity would never forgive her otherwise. Leaning forward, she interjects her thoughts, the words sounding clinically considered, “I find it unlikely that someone not of our caravan would be traveling singly or within a group without one of our scouts, Kesh, or even Tollivant running across some sign. Other than wildlife and these Pycon, we haven’t noted a single soul. If his leathers were worn he is likely one of our solitary horsemen. If he was walking oddly he could either be a muscle-sore inexperienced rider; or, more likely because of the worn in-seam, someone who has become bow-legged from extensive riding. Unless of course the odd walk were due to an injury or physical deformity, which might be painful.” She looks toward Oleander, “Do you know if anyone like that has asked to be healed or treated with herbals or medically? Black hair and no beard might indicate one of our own youth, whom could have been out on a lark.” She turns to the err…dog, “I don’t think we can expect much assistance from these people with their items being taken. If this has been the antics of your children would you know a place where these ‘treasures’ may have been taken? An honest effort to make peace by returning their possessions might go a long way in encouraging identification of someone that has, up until now, been a trusted traveling companion.” Before the Pycon could speak a woman forced her way into their circle. She was frazzled and frantic, on the verge of tears, angry at the forefront to hide an inconsolable fear, “It’s em! It’s em as did it! My sweet wee girl, Raven’s gone missin’!” She accuses lunging at the stranger among them. As a guard, Salara felt the safety of anyone in their camp rested upon her hands; besides she was closest to the distraught mother, so she steps in quickly to separate the two. Holding her hands out she firmly grasps the woman’s arms at the shoulders. Her touch alone seems to suck all the strength from the woman who all but collapses into her arms weeping. Feeling somewhat awkward Salara looks around helplessly; Hortense would be so much better at this…. But firming her jaw, she shakes the woman gently. “Tell us what has happened,” she encourages softly. With a shuddering sob and glare at the Pycon through tear-washed eyes she spits, “It’s one of em as took her. My Raven was asking to play with her dolly.” She turns pleading eyes to each person in the circle, “She don’ have a doll any more. I think it was left behind in Zeltiva. I was rearranging the carriage so we would have a more comfortable ride. One minute she was there and next she was …was… gooone!” Missing pycon children and a now a human child? Salara wouldn’t jump to any conclusions so early; but considering the involvement of a potentially disgruntled man who may have kept himself largely unknown in the caravan didn’t sound good. She frowns fiercely glancing up to catch Karyk’s eye. Surely it couldn’t have been one of the guards? They all rode more bells on horseback than the caravan, would most likely be moving about individually, and would not be as well known for always being on guard duty. There was one dark-haired, clean-shaven guard whom she hadn't seen much of but his name was Loken, not Garresh. Whatever the case it surely couldn't be him. Hesitant to say anything further; but feeling the opinion of the group was essential she speaks up, “Could it have been one of the guards?”