I'm sorry. Who are you?

“You are a murderer!”

The adventurers all look stunned. They begin to question each other and the shop keep. They begin to become indignant. “Us? Who? What are you talking about?”

Blue and Red mutter, shocked, annoyed with Green for his accusations. “What are you doing? These are customers!”

A determined Green sternly stares down the group, larger than he remembers, his eyes narrowing, his bony finger pointing. “You are a murderer.”

Red and Blue turn and go inside arguing in low voices.

Jhalo walks a few steps from the group and notes the finger does not follow him. Wik moves next and he notices the finger follows him. A low laugh and a flash of an aware grin passes across his face.

He confesses to killing the wizard, “Is it because I wear his cloak?”

Ooma adds, “Besides, I killed that dude, man. Come on, guys. We spent a lot of money in here. Can we have an explanation.”

Green looks at Wik, “Would you care to explain?”

Jhalo pipes up. “You know, it’s the funniest thing, I keep hearing there’s this guy who looks exactly like my friend here but with a different hair colour and a different skin colour. Could that be who you’re talking about? Yah?”

Green (ignore the reference to Blue and/or Red in the video...) folds his small arms, “You think we don’t know colour?” he says disdainfully.

The group interjects with their own accusations, inferring that Green may be mad, a man, or a racist. Heated words are exchanged.

“Are you speaking of the prefect? He attacked me.” Wik bleats.

Anger begins to build in the group as this Halfling; this Sprite, Brownie, Pixie, Gnome – whatever he is – haughtily snubs them with his superior attitude.

“You know we’ve saved more people than we’ve killed. Just sayin’. You sold us a bunch of weapons, do you really want to start something now?”

Morgan puffs up, eyes narrowed, anger bubbling, “Why are we arguing this? I’ll just punch you over this palisade if you don’t apologise for what you said right now.”

Green, looks at him, “Try it.” He smiles as he steps back across the threshold, inside.

Jhalo, with a cool head and moderate temper, notices something. “Hey, guys, guys. You realise he’s not calling guards or anything, we can just walk away.”

“Go talk to whatshername, Edith, and ask her how we saved her kid.” Ooma tosses.

This is unimpressive to Green. “I care not for that family.”

This again, riles the group as they defend themselves against this arrogant being. Tessalia muttering, “Small people, small minds – little pricks!”

The group twirls around and stomps off, Ooma sneering over her shoulder, “And if something attacks you, we’ll not be helping you.”

Jhalo adds in a stage-whisper, “Unless it’s really profitable.”

The Crayol’s watch the group leave.

As soon as they are away, Tessalia looks to Wik, “So, did you kill someone?”

Wik looks sheepish, “About four months ago I was relieving a family of the burden of having far too many pieces of fine jewellery. The owner of the jewellery interrupted me. In the ensuing battle, he was killed.” Wik shrugs. “Redistribution of wealth, you know.”

As a group they seem to take this story in stride. Tessalia nods, “Well, of course.” Amaril and Morgan file away the information that there may be a bounty on Wik’s head should they return to Triton.

They continue walking, deciding to let Ichabod lead for a while.

A discussion of a fabled thief, Robin Hood and Little Joan, who has biiiig....eyes, ensues.

They walk for hours, spying a large lake in the distance. As they get closer, they notice about five or six boats floating, fishing in the lake. A few people in each boat, either tossing nets or throwing lines from poles in the water.

There are no houses or buildings around the lake that can be seen. The path goes left and right and, Morgan, wanting to be away from Ichabod defiantly waits until she chooses her direction before going the opposite way.

As the group is about three-quarters of the way along the shore, through the trees, a bright light flashes in the centre of the lake and they notice the boats have disappeared. They are not pulled up on the shore. A mystery to be sure.

It is getting toward dusk as the group reconvenes at the opposite end of the lake, following Ichabod who is following an animal trail, into the woods again, they stop when she announces, “This will make a good spot to rest for the night.”

The rustle of setting up a small camp, unfurling blankets and rations; the lighting of a small fire disturbs the night birds and insects.

Tired, the group falls asleep quickly, trusting each watch to do their jobs. Jhalo hands out goodberries to the injured who gobble them thankfully.

As the second watch passes its halfway point, about twenty firefly-like lights can be seen flitting about. These lights flutter close to Morgan and he blinks as he is sure they look like people! Nervous he pulls out his new shiny, silver cross, mumbling, “What the hell are you?”

He hears mumbles and a few words, “Pretty, shiny, nice, sleep.”

Morgan hunches over, curling his finger, beckoning them. One comes to within about a foot. Morgan asks nervously, “Do you know anything about magic?”

A smiling nod, “Yes, we know magic.”

Morgan directs them toward Ichabod’s belongings distracting them from his cross. “That staff she carries is full of magic.” A few go eagerly over to peer at Ichabod.

The firelights are flitting about each person. Some are waking with the light touches and small giggles, others snore onward.

 As Ooma awakens sleepily, she leaps up and hollers. Some of the group wake, others turn over and sleep on. As she yells, the fireflies freeze solid, gather together and fly off into the darkness of the forest.

Grumbles are heard through the camp as they see nothing worth of Ooma’s shout. Morgan fakes sleep and then snorts awake, yawning. “No, no, I didn’t fall asleep,” he shifts to be comfortable, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jhalo chucks an acorn at him, he and Tessalia remaining awake for their uneventful watch, sleepily waking Ooma and Wik to take over.

Ooma and Wik awaken for their watch sitting beside the fire, Ooma stirring the coals, Wik staring outward, into the forest. Benji snuggles between them.

As the morning dawns, grey and purple streaks turning slowly to pink, a peaceful idyllic watch is suddenly interrupted as Wik spies about twenty firefly lights bobbing and darting in their direction, entering the camp determinedly.

As if a well oiled machine, they break off, three to each of the adventurers and two toward Ichabod, poking and turning their belongings over, stealing bright and shinies. Ooma smacks at them, clapping her hands.

Wik shouts, “Attack! We’re under attack!” Waking everyone, creating confusion and discombobulation, their arms flailing about brushing at the critters.

These gnat-like creatures dart and dive relentlessly.

As our group awakens fully, they become more organised, and begin to attack in a concerted order.

Jhalo charms three of the wee-folk into listening to him and to stop attacking.

The others continue persistently. As a unit the human-pixie-like fireflies draw tiny bows and nock tiny arrows that, when released and hit their target, surprisingly hurt! Several of the arrows fall to the ground, but six find their way into two members, Tessalia and Morgan. As they enter, a warmth flows through their veins and arteries speedily, and it is only a few seconds before they become confused and befuddled, disoriented and unaware.

Wik leaps around trying to grab his belongings and the fireflies giggle and laugh at his actions. He holds a tiny gem up and the one that has not absconded with his boxes, gleefully snatches the item and flits about hoping for more.

Ooma claps her hands, capturing one, killing it instantly. It slumps like a large dragonfly. Ooma chucks it into the fire and the flames leap and soar as high as the treetops and in multi-colours, before dying back to small embers.

Amaril turns and look through the trees for the ones who’ve flown off.

Jhalo calls to the ones he’s befriended and asks them to ask their friends to stop their attack, which they do, being cheerful with his thoughts in their minds. Their friends do not listen. Benjo barks exuberantly as the few paying him attention fly down and poke his butt.

Morgan sits and stares at the flying people amused and without intelligent thought.

Ichabod stands and brings her hands together high over her head. A golden light glows in her palms. She brings them down suddenly and they can see tiny golden threads, like spider-silk, stretching to each of the firefly-like creatures wrapping around them four times, stilling their motion. Ichabod begins chanting in Sylvan, her words low, “Gossamer wings, golden thread, faerie rings, home to bed.”

The golden threads float from her fingers, dimming as they do, riding back to the fireflies. As they reach the creatures they unwind until disappearing entirely. When the thread releases them the fireflies join together, rise and fly off into the woods.

The assembly tries to regroup. The morning noise and light is stealing over the area. Gathering their stuff from where it’s been flung, Jhalo notices Tessalia flapping her hands with a frightened, frantic appearance about her. “Tess? Are you alright?”

“Tess? Who’s Tess? What’s a Tess?” she responds anxiously.

Ooma, noticing Morgan sitting, staring at the events with a dumbfounded look, saunters over and offer him her wineskin. She gets worried when he lifts the skin and begins to pour the contents onto the ground! “That’s enough of that!” she takes the skin back. She looks to the rest, “We have a problem here.”

They look back and forth between each other, confounded. What has happened to these two fine people?

o0o

XP FOR SEPT. 9 – For NOT fighting with the Crayol’s, a bonus of 500XP each. For trekking over twelve hours in one day, 200XP each. For killing one ‘house-constructed’ Pixie-Firefly, 150XP to Ooma. For befriending three Pixie-Fireflies, 300XP to Jhalo.

Video link: < https://www.youtube.com/edit?o=U&video_id=sVzZHMEEtQ4 >

o0o

the boats captain, the boats...

Fledgling Dungeon Mistress,

khrys...

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