Baráel
uses the power of nature focused through his Green Faith to drive all of Gaia’s
horrid, swamp-borne disease from her body in a ritual that transferred the
contagion to a host of bloated toads gathered by moonlight for that purpose.
Hardy creatures whose warty little bodies do not succumb easily to the rigors
of fever and sickness. By midday, she was hale and hardy with a blush in her
cheeks and a healthy glow returned to her celestial elven skin. Even Baráel was
heard to comment that he would never guess that that very morning she wandered
in the grey gardens before Pharasma’s boneyard, close to her final judgment.
With
words of thanks she plans to set off to the Grotto of the Holy Pool to meet
again with these strangers who have rescued her from the foul Demoniac Tiefling
and her wicked Diabolist Half-Fiend lover, only to save her a second time in a
single day from the awful and insidious swamp-fever contracted as she lay
prisoner amid the swarms of mosquitos and exposed to the sick and infested water
for hours. They did her true favor by carrying her arduously over land to the
home of the Ancient High Druid.
Baráel
holds her only a moment longer to commune strangely with her Raven Familiar Mórërovail*
in hushed rapid avian language more akin to a babble of grumbling croaking than
any coherent speech she has ever shared with him. In the end though, He hops
from one claw to the other, ruffling his wings, eager to be off before the way
of the path that Baráel has given him drifts from his memory. But safely does
he guide Gaia through the wood, avoiding the den of the wolf-mother with her
new hungry cubs, skirting the demesne of the Tatzlwyrm, senses sharp for its
vexing slither through the leafy canopy til just after midday, they slip
quietly into the midst of the hard working heroes.
Quick
Jim Barleycorn has a plan for the Dark Faun. A crushing, smashing plan that
entail hours of hard work in the late spring afternoon. Jim’s double pendulum
hammer and anvil trap requires that together, our heroes chop down a big tree,
cut it into two huge foot log-lengths, fashion rope and vines into a
support-harness for the logs, climb other massive trees to secure the
ropes/vines at a fulcrum point capable of supporting the inertial weight of the
log at the full apex of it's swing, and then pull and haul two 16ft logs weighing 2 tons each up into the canopy
of other nearby trees ( and securing them against the enormous continual pressure
of their sheer weight straining to come swinging down every second with a
profusion of very strong vines/ropes ). This near miraculous feat of
engineering (and scooby-doo monster catching) takes 6 hours of continual hard
labor by everyone involved. Leaving barely enough time to take the carcass of
the bolt-ridden boar, newly dubbed ‘Quick Tim’ and spit it on a large branch
over a goodly fire to roast. It’s delicious porky-ham scent traveling through
the woods for miles and attracting all manner of hungry predator, and hopefully
the Dark Faun.
Gaia
and Quick Jim settle in around the campfire to act as bait to lure the Faerie
monster into the campsite and the path of their swinging log-trap, while
Belton, under the watchful eye of the Leshy, takes the bear figurine from the
set of ivory carvings produced from the pool and stirs the pure spring water
with the idol in the crude stone bowl. Then, drinking the water he slides into
a stupor and drifts from his body across the forest to a snuffling, foraging
bear overtaking its will and guiding it back toward the camp to be fight the
Dark Faun, eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the evil fairy.
Belton-Bear
is the first to find the creeping assailant. As it approaches through the woods
from the northeast. His keen bear nose smells the otherworldly stench of the
Blight. A moldy, leprous, decay that the wicked cannibal fairy exudes after its
lifetime of lurking in dour places in darkness stewing in its own spite, evil
and hate for mortal-kind and thirsting for the sweet blood of innocents and
tender flesh of The New God’s faithful. Belton pick up the pace to intercept
the creature when he scents a rapidly approaching hunting cat coming from the
same direction. In moments the Leopard is upon him and it breaks into a
circling, growling approach, taking in its larger, heavier foes and looking for
a sign of weakness to exploit. The instinct of the Cat is to flee the obviously
greater foe but the magical compulsion of its summoning will not allow it.
Belton sees through the bears eye the force of the magic overwhelming the
jungle predator and pushing it on into battle. It swipes! And its claws strike
Belton-Bears face along the muzzle and snout but the Bears hide is thick and
tough, bred for fights with other Bears. He barely registers the blow before he
lets the bear’s instincts go and observes as two massive claws sweep out from
the right and the left ripping and battering the leopard in bone-crushing blows
that drive the creature to the ground. Belton-Bear follows up with a huge,
gaping-jawed bite to the exposed spine and neck of the fallen cat and crushes
its vertebrae like chalk, killing it instantly. Meanwhile the Fairy has
approached the camp.
Not
without wile are the fey. And this dark creature is no exception. Summoning up with
a thought the illusion called Dancing Lights by mortals and on its heels, the evocation known as Ghost Sound his fairie powers sweep forth behind the trees that separate his victims from
him and the sound of massive, bull-sized footfalls approach the camp through
the trees accompanied by a bleak, sepulchral, baleful witch-light that flashes
and moves behind the ancient massive oaks and maples surrounding the Grotto of
the Pool. The party despairs for a moment, wondering what this new threat could
be.
Sif
hides behind a massive tree-trunk, preparing to ambush whatever comes with axe
and mighty sinew. Najáre, high in the trees, limber her throwing axe and
readies to spring Quick Jim’s crushing log-trap. Gaia, sends Kenai into
the air to circle the enemy and spy out its kind and its threat, careful not to
endanger itself by flying too close. Quick Jim, always a clever one, senses
something amiss with this new threat and brings his will to bear to disbelieve
the strange spectacle beyond the trees. And so the Fauns illusion is broken and
our heroes grit their teeth in anger at this foe whose too clever by half to
put itself in harm’s way so easily. They plot on how to goad it to emerge so
they can attack.
Quick
Jim acts first, taunting and challenging the creature from the campfire
belittling it and insulting its pride and vanity. As Belton-Bear makes his way
back to the clearing, the Dark Faun sets to his magical pipes and whistles up a
melody that pulls at the hearts and minds of the party. Most rebel and shake
off the enchantment but Belton, his mind already unfocused by the fusion with
the bear’s spirit, cannot overtake the Faun’s beauteous piping and falls fastly
into friendship with the creature. Charmed fully and convinces of the Fairie’s
good intentions. As the party sweeps in to assault the Unseelie menace, Belton
hesitates in disbelief and dismay at this warring between friends. Blows are
struck, Longsword, throwing axe, Battle Axe in a first foray against the
creature. These it seems to largely shrug off. Taking great cuts and stabs to
its body but fighting on as though barely wounded. A tough adversary indeed.
Belton-Bear
is very upset by this seemingly inexplicable chain of events. His old friends
are assaulting this new friend who is just getting mobbed by good old Quick
Jim, Lady Sif and the new pretty Elven recruit. Soon he can’t take the insanity
any longer, he rushes forward and interposes himself between the misunderstood
Fairy and his vigilante frineds. Roaring and whining for a stop to all this
madness. When Sif doesn’t seem even to consider the idea of giving quarter or
mercy to this thing, Belton-Bear performs a miraculous feat! With his soul, he
summons the Wings of the 36 Divine Celestial Soldier-Saints (http://westfell.blogspot.com/2014/02/wings-of-36-divine-celestial-soldier.html
) from his unconscious form nearly 75 feet away and the swarm of blades hurtle
across the forest and become a maelstrom surrounding the Celstial-born
Inquisitor and the Dark Faun. Now is when the Fairie slips and shows his wicked
hand. He locks eyes with Belton-Bear and unleashes a Command (http://paizo.com/prd/spells/command.html
) enchantment upon him. This so conflicts with everything Belton holds dear
that he reels in confusion, allowing the Bear-Spirit a moment of ascendancy
during which it begins to go berserk. Sensing that all may be lost but finally
shaking off the terrible charm of the evil Fey, Belton wrestles control of the
Bear’s body back long enough to charge through the fray straight off the
sinkhole edge into the Holy Pool 35 feet below. Some mercy of the gods then
parts Belton from the body of the Bear and send him and his wings spinning
through space back to his inert body on the pool’s shore. The bear recovers and
drags himself from the pool only to hurry off into the woods at a gallop from
this scene of eldritch madness. Belton Harrald, Inquisitor of Desna, ( Son of
the Solar Belgaer the Perfect Memory of the Third Choir of the Triad, and great
grandson of the legendary celestial beauty Astral Deva Astarael the Sorrowful,
also called Azrael the Fair among the peoples of Garund ) surges skyward from
the pit of the pool and dives like a fury to the Dark Faun to deal justice, so
enraged that he forgets his Inquisitor’s gifts and ripping a 9-Ringed Saber
from his wings, unleashes his fury on the Fairie in harmony with the assault of
mighty Sif, Ulfen Half-Elf Shield-Maiden of Frost-rimed BattleWall and the
crafty Najáre the Huntress Without Peer, ( adoptive Daughter of Ithayiga the
Tiger God of Ancient Avistan ). Together this avenging assembly of heroes rain
an avalanche of steel upon the wicked creature staggering back in horror as it’s
wounds seem to fade like a passing season from it’s flesh ( Meta-game: Damage
Reduction 10! Meaning for every rolled damage he takes, he removes ten from the
amount )
Now
the true cunning of the Merchant Princes of the burning sands of old Qadira is
shown. Najáre’s eyes narrow as the now-triumphant Dark Fairie offers a deal to
the brash assembly of heroes. In no uncertain terms they demand the creature’s
head, the only trophy for which the Leshy will reveal the Phial of Pure Water,
the next artifact of Nàrven in their quest. The Fairie emits a dark, sinister,
throaty laugh of wicked relish as he makes an unbelievable offer. He will TRADE
his head to the heroes, if in one year’s time, he may have their head in turn!
A madman’s bargain! Najáre agrees to take this deal, standing just to the lee
of the marking stone which reveals the place where Quick Jim’s clever trap will
strike. The fairie takes the bait and strides forward, all suave confident, a
demonic chuckle still croaking from his evil mouth. Only for the seemingly
disappeared Quick Jim to finally make his move. Having changed places with
Najáre duing the confusion of Belton’s flight from the battlefield, he now
commands the slipknot of the log-trap and with a master’s hand he plies his devastating
trap upon the Faun. Crashing the tons and tons of unyielding timber in a mighty
clap of destruction, smashing the cursed fairie to death upon the rocks and
leaves of the campsite floor. Ending his menace. With righteous fury, Belton
wastes no time in lopping off the pristine and unmarked head of the things and
taking this prize for our heroes to present to the weed Leshy on the nonce.