Tarithnesti - Morning Comes to the Forest

07 Deepkolt 349 AC

AT THE OTHER FARMHOUSE

Kysek floats above the trees, his eyes trained to the east, scanning the forest and the river. He calculates the distance back to Tarithnesti - just over an hour on griffonback. It would have to do. He sends a message to Romulus telling him of his intention; he says, “Enemies coming, heading to assist Ornforithalas; they’re going to need it based on my search.”

"Understood," the halfling replies, "I'll have the troops form up and we will be there as fast as we can."

Dusk arrives a minute later, her keen eyes picking out her master's form above the treetops. She swoops down and he swings into the saddle with practiced ease. The elf point her toward the city and gives her the lead as he threads and buckles the straps that will keep him in place during combat.

The pair fly north and east, racing toward the elven city. The sun continues to rise, reminding Kysek that he has been up all night. The miles pass below, trees and hills flashing past in a blur.

AT THE FIRST FARMSTEAD

Grotto helps to gather the fallen for transport. His eyes well in tears. In the farmhouse, beyond the opening blasted in the wall by a giant's hurled boulder, he finds two of the scouts, both pierced with several Draconian arrows. He bows his head and stops to eulogize the fallen, "Our friends gave their life for the freedom of this land. Let us not forget their sacrifice. Their lives will not be lost in vain. We will see that the scourge of the land, the enemy of our people, will never feel rest or peace as long as they terrorize us. We will avenge our comrades! Justice will prevail in our war!" Grotto's sadness turns to anger. He turns away from the group to again gather the dead for transport. He feels his runes burn his skin. "Can't you see now is not a good time?" Grotto lashes out to the unseen being causing the runes to sizzle.

The runes continue to burn, but the sensation shifts. The heat does not vanish but it is pushed aside. For a moment, the anger, the crimson bull of hate stalls at the edge of his thoughts. It does not vanish but it is forced to back away, to surrender ground it had never intended to lose. A steady presence steps into that opening- the Golden Bison.

It is not loud, it makes no demands. It stands, an anchor against a storm, patient, unyielding, measured. Where vengeance threatened to spur Grotto into unthinking motion, the dwarf is filled with calm and a sense of purpose.

Grotto relishes the wave of peace that that washes over him. His mind frees from the constant beckoning of the chaos the ruins provide. With his thoughts cleared, he is better able to focus on the wounded

He continues to honor the fallen. He says a prayer to Hanseath knowing these warriors will have a place at his table after falling in battle. "Great Hanseath, welcome my fallen Brothers to your arms. They fought bravely in this war. Watch over their souls in your halls"

Ra’ziir takes the wand, looking it over with his Arcane Sight for signs of what type of magic it holds. His mystic vision reveals that the wand is imbued with conjuration magic. Combined with Raven saying the armored figure used it to heal one of the giants leads him to believe that it is a Wand of Healing, although he is unable to discern the potency. As he wipes the soot and charred bits of of the slender baton, he finds a word etched into the shaft, "Voahraan", which he recognizes a draconic for "remove wounds".

Ra’ziir calls Grotto over and hands him the wand. "The command word is 'Voahraan". Test this on Redclaw’s wing."

The scarred dwarf touches the injured limb and speaks the word. Magic flows and within moments, Redclaw’s injuries fade, becoming less pronounced.

"Tend to our wounded. We can leave as soon as that is taken care of," the bladesinger tells him.

Ra’ziir focuses his Arcane Sight on the pendant and any other suspected magical trinkets.

"Bulls, Bison, what other bovine are in my head these days? Do I have a brain or a petting zoo in my head? I have to figure out who is helping me!" Grotto thinks to himself between giving sutures and wrapping bandages

Raven oversees the burial of the giants, directing Ra'ziir's elemental to dig a long trench. The captured mage strains at the shovel, unused to physical labor, also under his watchful eye.

As the bodies are loaded, Ra'ziir uses prestidigitation to clean the wounds that felled them and otherwise make them more presentable for when they are received by their families. As he does, he quietly speaks to the dead, thanking them for their sacrifice and wishing them a safe journey into the afterlife.

Raven records each of their names. Once the giants are buried and the bodies are loaded, he indicates that he is ready to leave.

ON THE EASTERN RIDGES

Ornforithalas and his scouts spread out along the ridge, taking care not to silhouette themselves against the rapidly brightening sky.

Silent feet move across the frozen ground, mottled cloaks of white, gray, and green give them the appearance of ghosts floating between the trees.

Njigba and two of his fellow warriors reach the river, concealing themselves in the underbrush - eyes trained on the far bank.

Nothing. No movement. No telltale wisp of breath fogging in the cold morning air.

Above, on a rocky, limestone bluff, Lethien waits, a crystal-tipped arrow with holes drilled through it, strung but not drawn. When fired, the arrow would shriek - loudly, and warn others that the enemy had been sighted.

Still nothing.

Ornforithalas hunkers down, eyes and ears ever alert. He waits.

And the longer he and his men watch the riverbank, the more it begins to feel like they aren't the ones doing the watching.

THE PROTECTOR'S TOWER 

The river flows silently by while Eilra summons guards from the Tower to cordon off the derelict rowboat.

Parnitha keeps her gaze fixed upriver, calculating routes, estimating the speed of the current, wondering how far the boat could have drifted.

Lieutenant Fenar steps up behind her, his boots making barely a whisper of sound on the wooden dock.

"Commander, since it came from upriver, we should send scouts to investigate. Whatever was in that boat, may still be lurking in the area. Perhaps, we could pull some of quarry guards?"

Parnitha turns slightly, studying him. “And if that’s what they want? To draw us out thin?”

Fenar doesn’t hesitate. “Then we send them anyway. Better to know than wait to be surprised.”

Eilra returns, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair back into her braid. “The boat’s secured. I’ve posted two guards and sent for a mage from the tower. They’ll bring containment salts and warding chalk.”

“Good,” Parnitha says. “No one touches the residue until we understand it.”

Her gaze shifts, briefly, to the dark scoring along the inside of the boat—the strange, pitted marks where wood has been eaten away. Maybe one of your mage friends or the dwarf will be able to identify the acid's source.

Fenar walks back toward the boat. "If this acid is still active, it would be an unusual blend."

Eilra glances toward him. "You sound certain."

"... an educated guess," he replies. "There have been reports of Draconians who dissolve into acid when slain."

The wind shifts, blowing the faint, chemical stink from the quarantined boat. One of the guards wrinkles his nose and steps back.

Eilra lowers her voice. “If it is draconian, they shouldn’t be this far upriver without being seen.”

“Unless,” Fenar says quietly, “they aren’t coming along the river.” Fenar gestures across the river. "Maybe something slipped in with the refugees."

Parnitha clenched her jaw and then spoke, "Eilra,” she said, “signal the far watch. Double their patrols. No one crosses without challenge and verification.”
“At once. And send for Cedron. I would speak with him about this privately."

Eilra moves, calling orders down the dock, her voice carrying with crisp authority.

AT THE CRYSTAL QUARRY

“Supplies!” Cedron hears through the static of his own thoughts. “This is no time to be distracted.” He tells himself.

As Shadow disappears with the first group of children, Cedron realizes what must be done. He continues gathering the children into groups the same number as the first. He then instructs a few of the older children to gather supplies. “Group them by food, first aid, and weapons,” he guides. As they work, Cedron moves to the entrances and ensures that there are no other refugees and that the perimeter is secured. Spearmen from the Protector's Tower stand in the shadows of the mine shaft's entrance, alert for possible danger.

Cassidy jumps to his feet, eager to help. The kender works his way over to a He group of older children, crouching low among them. His voice drops just enough to feel conspiratorial, though it still carries.
“Now, when he says weapons, he means anything that makes a loud noise, a bright flash, or a very unhappy enemy. Don’t limit yourselves to the obvious. Creativity is key.”

A nervous child holds up a kitchen knife. Cassidy beams. “Oh, excellent start! Classic. Reliable. Also good for apples—if we had any apples. Do we have apples?” He glances around, momentarily distracted before snapping back.

While Cedron is surveying the entry tunnel to the Crystal Caverns, a small pig-tailed girl approaches him nervously, a folded note held in her tiny hands.

"I... I found this... under my pillow," she tells him, passing him the paper.

There is something unsettling in the way she says it—not fear, but confusion.

Cedron takes the note.
The paper is cool. Too cool.
Unnaturally so.
The fold is precise, deliberate. No name marks the outside.

He unfolds it. The handwriting is precise, slightly hurried in places, as if written between duties rather than during crisis.

It reads:
Sir,
I am Lady Maxillia Dentitia, Tooth Fairy of Dentalus.
I hope this letter reaches you safely. It is not my habit to trouble mortals, but I have been told—by Wickerbell, who speaks highly of you—that you are someone who may be willing to help where others cannot.
My lands are in distress. Something has taken root there that is not of my making, and my people are being forced to abandon homes they should never have needed to leave.
I do not ask for command or obligation—only for aid, if you are able.
If you choose not to come, I will understand. If you do, I will be in your debt.
— Lady Maxillia Dentitia

“Thank you for bringing me this message.” Cedron says to the pig-tailed girl, “Please share with the Lady Dentitia that I will discuss her request with my companions, and if Progress favors us in our current struggles, then we shall  make effort to provide assistance.”

"How am I supposed to that?" the child asks. "I don't have any other loose teeth right now. That letter was under my pillow with a silver piece and the tooth I left there was gone..." The girl grins, revealing a gap-toothed smile.

MEANWHILE, IN SILVANOST

Shadow looks down at the child. “Those who are there will have to endure and will have a chance to use these supplies we are gathering and I have just the thing... a Magic Bag! It is HUGE inside, like a wagon full of SUPPLIES!” Shadow raise the bag over his head and spins around to show it to all the kids. “Help Cor and the others fill the Sack of Bigness with (and he holds his hand to his ear) Supplies!” He opens the bag of holding and sits it on the ground and reaches over and grabs a spear and places the obviously too long object into the “Sack of Bigness” placing it in partially and back out to show how the bag is on the inside. “Points up, please!” He leaves the kids that have stayed to help Cor load the bag while he speaks with Alara more quietly to the side.

Cor takes control of the bag and tries to impose a semblance of order on the children as they brings spears, dried fruits wrapped in cloth, blankets, a whole bucket of water.... Every single thing that disappears into the depths of the sack, elict rounds of laughter from the kids.

And for just a moment, they are not waiting for war. They are helping.

“Lady Alara, I fear we will have to endure this first wave of the Dragon Army. The next wave may have wounded. Be ready. I will need to take back water skins, bandages, splits, and some food to give the troops energy. And arrows. Spears.  Whatever you can spare.” He looks around to see how the others are doing and he worries about the others at the farmhouses.

“I can take a few volunteers to go back and protect the children with me. If you know of anyone crazy enough to go back with me, that is. Might be a one way trip.”  Shadow pauses and adds “But if not, there will be songs sung about them and their bravery.”

Alara shakes her head, "There are few left in the city who are not already part of the defense force, I'm afraid but I will ask if there are any who can volunteer to aid in Tarithnesti's defense."

She stops an elderly woman, "Aleta, please, bring whatever medical supplies that can be spared - bandages, clean water, herbs for poultices from the storeroom at the end of the second hall."

The woman nods and disappears into the warren of passageways that, until recently, held the dusty heirlooms of House Royal.

Alara turns back to Shadow, "Most supplies have been sent to support the defenders at Sithelnost, even closer to the front than you in Tarithnesti. They have been facing heavy assaults from the Blue Dragonarmy but there are rumors that the Green Highlord, Sallah Khan has come down from Khur to apply additional pressure. From what I hear, the city will not be able to hold put much longer."

“I am not sure my friends can help but if you’ll show me on a map, I will see what we can do once we are done at Tarithnesti.” He says optimistically. He seems lost in thought for a moment. “How far away is it?” He adds after a few seconds.

"From here? Fifteen leagues as the griffon flies." Alara replies as she unrolls a map.

Shadow looks at it for a moment, "What is this place, the 'Charmed Woods'?"

"A battle was fought there between Silvanos Goldeneye defeated a great dragon, claiming these lands for our people at the end of the First Dragonwar."