SIDE QUEST XI

MARCH OF THE FACELESS SWARM

Standing together in the bones of what was once Romboni’s circus, the Flowers didn’t have long to rest before the ground beneath their feet crumbled away. Taylan and Travis vanished from view into a series of tunnels below, while the rest of the party were able to scramble back in time to avoid the cave-in. As the dust cleared they called out, searching desperately for signs of their friends, but all they could see was swarms of the giant ants stirring below. They heard Taylan cry out his teleport spell, and with a surge of arcane power sensed he and Travis had relocated away from the immediate danger. But as minutes stretched on, they looked uneasily at each other as the duo never reappeared.

The group heard calls and looked up towards the Varisians waiting on the edge of the clearing, where they all noticed rising smoke getting closer, and assumed it was from the earlier fireballs. Peter and Eska ran over to ask what the next move would be, should they retreat from the forest or would they need to go down into the pit to rescue the missing. Calli used one of the Flowers’ scrolls of sending, and reached out to Taylan, “Forest is on fire, we may need to relocate, where are you, are you safe?”

His voice replied frantic and full of tension, “With Travis. Master Roche’s house. Things are... complicated. Not a good time."

A chill went through her, and she relayed the information to the others. Before they could say much more, however, ants came charging out of the forest behind them. Unlike the others they had seen, these were even larger and seemingly much bulkier. Calli recognized them as knight ants, the bodyguards of a nest, who come out to defend when their homes are under threat. She launched into a lively tune to inspire courage in their party, and took a few steps away from the approaching insects.

As she moved away, Byron ran directly at one, pouncing upon it and making three solid blows with his spiked gauntlets into the reinforced carapace that cracked its head open and rent it from the segmented body. Nearby ants turned on him, attempting to sever him in two with their massive mandibles, but Byron’s footwork was honed from years of fighting to keep him out of reach.

Other ants continued on their charge towards the rest of the people, and Nightingale deftly turned one into a sizzling kebab with his magically charged rapier. Peter and Eska rushed back to their caravans to help the other Varisians fend off the new attacks.

Calli wasn’t keen on getting any closer, so pulled out her bardic shortbow and took aim at one of the big beasties menacing Byron. Part of the training her half-elven father had insisted she receive was archery, though it didn’t interest her much. She took aim, and with a twang more akin to a harp than a bow, she released two arrows in quick succession that emitted a melodic ringing like a tuning fork as they flew. They zipped past Byron’s shoulder and buried themselves into the creature, causing him to curse in surprise. He turned to see it had been Calli, and having never seen that before- much less from her- she again climbed in his estimation.

“Nice shooting!” He shouted, before palming one of the bolts further into the ant’s skull, then getting his fingers into the hole and wrenching the head apart as he had done the previous creature. Ant innards joined the worm viscera he was already covered by. He turned and drove a clawed fist into the other ant menacing him, but slipped a bit on the gore, leaving himself open for retaliation. Even with the misstep, it was unable to strike Byron’s nimble form, jaws glancing harmlessly off his breastplate and stinger missing entirely.

They began to hear buzzing, and from the open pit came (comparatively) smaller ants on translucent wings who took to the air and spit at Calli and Nightingale. Gale’s went wide, but a glob of sizzling acid struck the bard in her face, and she shrieked in pain. Nightingale’s eyes narrowed and he whispered arcane words that caused him to grow in size before closing the distance on the new targets. Calli turned her bow on the ant that had hit her, burying an arrow into it in revenge. The winged ants were harder to hit than the larger enforcers, and her second shot sailed past.

Focker, who’d been hovering nervously waiting til he could be of use, swooped over to Calli and touched her shoulder with a glowing claw, healing the damage she’d sustained. Rune pouted, claiming she could’ve done that, too, had she been asked.

Byron continued his killing streak. He ripped one of the long legs off his massive opponent, and as the body dipped towards him he lept upon it, driving a claw down into the base of it’s skull so that it collapsed beneath him. Byron saw Gale stalking towards the flying creatures, and called out for the magus to brace himself, as the only way for him to reach would be to climb.

The winged bugs, concerned by both arrows and the incoming giant human, elevated themselves even higher into the air and spit again, but at the greater distance their aim was unreliable and the globs fell harmlessly to the side.

Nightingale had been too enraged at the harm done to Calli to properly take in what Byron suggested, and instead activated his badge, and vanished on the spot, reappearing above one of the flying ants and landing hard on its back. It wavered, and the extra weight dropped it lower in the air as it struggled to remain airborne.

Calli continued shooting at the ant she’d harmed, continuing to land every other musical arrow.

Seeing Gale’s bug drooping, Byron took a running jump and carved up into it’s thorax from below with a vicious claw. He landed neatly in a roll, and as he stood from it in one smooth motion he flicked the gore off his fist.

The flying ant being attacked from both sides panicked, and barrel rolled to try and shake free the magus, but was unable to dislodge him. The other spat at Calli again, but continued to miss. Once Gale’s righted itself, in a move as mad as it was brave, he jumped and crashed down into the joint between thorax and abdomen, which severed the bug in two and sent them crashing back to earth.

Calli sent a final two arrows at the remaining ant, and one pierced into it’s bulbous eye to finish it off.

They heard Peter call for them, and saw the Varisians had been doing an admirable job defending from ants themselves. He shouted, “I’ve just remembered, there’s a small hamlet just on the other side of these trees, they might be in danger as well! We’ll make a break for it back through the trees to Mother and Father, will you go on and warn the villagers?”

The Flowers agreed, and asked for the Varisians to let them use one of their caravans for the task. They wished each other luck, and separated on their missions.

————————————————————

The smell of smoke was thick on the air, billowing around them. They heard more buzzing through the smoke, and Calli spurred the horses on from the driver’s bench. She had handed off her cherrywood and ivory crossbow taken from the Arkona Palace to Byron, keeping her bardic shortbow over one shoulder, and Nightingale had shrunk down to his normal size. The men sat either side of her, watching out behind them to ensure ants didn’t get too near as they fled. Focker perched on the roof of the caravan, and tiny Rune nestled at Calli’s side. As they rattled away, the smoke in the air seemed to change, becoming more wet. More like a fog, or a mist, than a smoke. Nightingale knew fog isn’t unusual along the river, and as they were quite near, the party simply suspected it was being caught up in the smoke.

Byron turned just in time and noticed the side of the road ahead drop away into an escarpment. Harmless for casual travelers, more dangerous when moving at speed. He warned Calli in time for her to wrangle the horse, so that only one wheel was temporarily suspended in air, and everyone held tight to the cart.

They continued speeding along, galloping onto a long bridge over a deep crevasse. About half way across, they began hearing loud cracks, and the cart tilted dangerously. Apparently the weight of the horse, cart, and Flowers together was too much for the old thing, and it was falling out from under them. Calli whipped the reigns, and called out encouragement for the horse to push as hard as it could. It responded, hitting its max speed, but the lurch of the boost caused Byron to tumble from his perch. He shot out a hand and caught woodwork of the bridge, forearm straining, and managed to grab with his other as well. Below him he watched as sections of bridge fell away around him, hearing the crash below long moments later, emphasizing how catastrophic a fall would be.

Once the cart had reached the other side safely, Calli pulled hard to stop the wagon, and both Nightingale and Calli stood to look desperately behind her for signs of their lost barbarian. Focker took to the air nervously, and they all felt great relief when they spotted him climbing back to his feet on the remaining section of bridge. He carefully, as fast as he dared, rejoined them on the cart. The relief didn’t last long.

From the crevasse swarmed more ants, but as they watched them approach the strange foggy smoke rolled in between the ants and the Flowers, and they heard more large cracking sounds- not from the bridge, but the ants themselves. When they saw them again they had been twisted, elongated, and their eyes glowed a wicked red.

Calmly, Nightingale suggested, “Calli, go.”

She sat back down, told everyone to hold on, and got the horse moving again.

Byron and Gale discussed the possibility of them leading the ants to the very hamlet they were trying to save, but they conceded they didn’t know enough about where they were heading to try and avoid it should they even want to. They would continue on the main road. But for good measure, Nightingale dropped his final fireball on the cluster of tenacious ants chasing behind. Some fell away dead, however more simply clambered over them and took their place in the chase, but he had bought them a bit more breathing room with the attack.

Ahead in the road a new obstacle appeared in the form of a fallen tree, the thick trunk making passage impossible. She launched into singing an inspire competence tune as she again yanked on the reigns to ensure they would all stop before colliding. The horse proved up to the task, Nightingale rode out the sudden stop without issue, and Byron was more prepared this time and managed to elegantly leap off the caravan and land neatly to the side.

Byron patted the stressed horse, trying to calm it, “You’re okay, you’re okay,” and then he looked up at Calli with a cheeky grin, “Good driving. You’re okay, too.” He then inspected the tree fallen and could see it was freshly and intentionally felled. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of someone in the fog, but they vanished into the thickening mist before he could tell who it was. He warned the others to be alert.

They knew they’d have to leave the cart behind, as the sounds of the ants were getting nearer, so Byron began releasing the tethers on the horse to free it from its burden, and mounted it. He offered a hand to Calli, who joined him astride and readied her shortbow in case something got too near. Nightingale summoned his own ghost horse and commented that it seemed odd the smoke had gone, and it was only a thick mist closing in. Calli felt Rune burrow deeper into her clothes, and looked down at her lyrakien to see the small winged woman shivering in terror. She told Calli in a small shaking voice that the mist was full of evil on all sides. The mist itself, somehow, was evil.

A small owl chose that moment to reveal itself from within the fallen tree, looking incredibly cross. Focker and it seemed to have a short conversation the others couldn’t understand, and then the owl fluttered over and began following behind the drake. They spurred on the horses and lept the tree, able to go much faster now that they’d shed the caravan, and were able to leave the ants behind.

The fog had become so thick they could only just see the road ahead, when they came rapidly upon a low stone wall only four feet tall. Just outside a gap in the wall were two guardsmen carrying lanterns to try and see through the midday fog. They lowered their sharpened spears and demanded the Flowers to announce whether they were friend or foe. Nightingale began by demanding entrance, but Byron and Calli both replied ‘Friend’ in unison. The guards seemed like they wanted to submit them to further questioning, but the Flowers simply charged past as one of the guards suggested they should ask the Reeve.

As they passed through the wall, all mist vanished, so that they could see clearly the small hamlet they had entered. Rune poked her head out of Calli’s cleavage where she’d been hiding, and said it felt much better within the walls, though not entirely free from the blanket of evil, but there didn’t seem to be any magic consecration or anything to account for it.

In the town square were a cluster of people, various ages and professions, standing together looking worried. Around them were a 20-foot watchtower, an inn called the Crooked Goose, a blacksmiths, a large fancier two-story house, a chapel of some sort, and then a handful more various nondescript buildings.

An armored man stepped forward to slightly angle himself between the newcomers and a noble-looking man, clearly his bodyguard, and the noble addressed them in a cultured voice, “Welcome to Wickton Hollow. Tell me, is the fog really as thick as it looked out there?”

They learned from him that it had rolled in an hour before, and they’d never seen the like before. Byron warned them of the giant ants incoming, and how the bridge had fallen away. Screams from the entrance let them know there was truth to his words as one of the guards was snatched away by one of the twisted ants.

An elderly looking man approached from the chapel holding aloft a holy symbol that none of the Flowers had ever seen before. It was a simple iron cudgel. He commanded the vile fiends outside to stand down, and the noises of the ants seemed to recede away a bit. Another villager addressed him as Father Gregor, and asked if he knew what was happening, but said he was as confused as the others. He simply heard a scream and came to assist.

Calli sensed he was dissembling, but couldn’t quite discern what part was the lie.

A woman wielding a hammer, clearly the blacksmith, challenged the Flowers for answers, wanting to ensure they were not the cause of the strange fog and monsters. They again explained they had only come to warn them of the ants, as they’d been set upon while at the circus grounds over the bridge. At this the villagers expressed more confusion, they didn’t know of any circus grounds. Calli simplified they had been heading north, and one of the villagers queried if they had been heading to Greyhawk. It was the Flowers’ turn to be confused, as none of them had ever heard of such a place, and Calli asked if it was another village.

“We sometimes refer to it as the big village down the road, yes,” the nobleman joked. Further conversation revealed no one within the hamlet had ever heard of Korvosa, either.

The Flowers suggested they all consider evacuating to Greyhawk until the mist and ants could be dealt with, or at the very least fortifying their position. During this discussion Nightingale dismissed his ghost horse, leading to whispers from villagers that he was a wizard, so he must be headed to Greyhawk after all. Still unsure whether to trust the newcomers, they pressed what they had meant about the bridge being out. Byron again explained they’d ridden over and it, and someone said if they took horses on it they weren’t surprised it collapsed, as the narrow thing was only meant for people to walk across. Nightingale said they’d had a cart as well, it was a much larger bridge over a ravine than the one the people spoke of. Everyone was completely baffled, as they didn’t know of any ravine, either.

As everyone tried to figure out what had happened, Nightingale addressed the religious man and asked him what his symbol was, admitting he had been having a bit of a crisis of faith recently. Father Gregor was shocked to hear he didn’t know of Cuthbert of the Cudgel, and said he would be happy to discuss it with a potential convert once they’d dealt with the immediate threat. Gregor then chided the villagers for not yet giving the visitors any hospitality, pointing out they had come to warn Wickton of danger, and as such had done them a good service.

The nobleman apologized for the suspicion, admitting the fog had everyone on edge, and welcomed them again. He called to a man named Flynn who was standing near the doorway of the inn and asked him to swap out the horse. Flynn said he didn’t recognize the horse, and they learned the Hollow was a way station for messengers. Flynn would ensure they had fresh horses as they passed through to and from Greyhawk. He hitched the horse to a rail outside, and invited everyone into the Crooked Goose for a hot meal.

Inside Flynn went to busy himself in the kitchen, but the Flowers asked if they wouldn’t be of more use helping with setting reinforcements for the hamlet. The Reeve and his bodyguard followed them into the inn and asked how many of the ants they should expect, and assured them Beatrice- the blacksmith- and the others had begun erecting barriers. Byron pointed out the walls were too low to be much of a barrier to the unnatural ants, and after some discussion the Reeve agreed to house the children within the stone chapel as it would be most difficult for the ants to burrow into. The Reeve left to put more urgency into proceedings on the advice of the Flowers.

From the corner of the inn, a traveling merchant had been watching the conversation with the interest of someone with nothing better to be doing. The rather plain middle-aged human woman inquired where they came from, and said she was from the Mist Marshes, but had never seen mist as thick as the fog surrounding the hamlet. Her name was Joy, and she apologized for no one having heard of Korvosa, saying it must be farther south than they tend to travel. When asked of the nearest sizable town, she suggested the city-state of Greyhawk as if that should be obvious. Calli asked if she had a map, and the merchant keen for a sale began digging through her bags.

At that moment Focker swooped into the inn with the small owl following him, and both Flynn and Joy cried out in surprise. Calli reassured them he was with their party, and then paused, and asked Focker if the owl would be joining more permanently.

“Oh yes. This is Owllett, he’s with me now. His idea- not mine.” Focker went on to confirm that he’d done a sweep and there seemed to be no immediate danger around the walls for the moment.

Joy finally found a map, “This is the Flanaess,” and spread it across the table.

“Pardon? Your flat ass?” Nightingale seemed shocked.

The woman gave a sly smile, revealing a dimple, “Cheeky. No, the Flanaess, the world we’re in?”

Byron, Calli, and Gale all leaned over and inspected the sheet of inked hide. It was in poor condition, with tears and holes, and most startlingly resembled no geography they’d ever seen before. Indeed there was a city marked, bigger than Korvosa, labeled ‘Greyhawk’ not too far from where Joy said they were currently sat. They didn’t recognize the name of any towns, land features, or rivers, anywhere on it. Calli and Nightingale looked at each other, wide eyes, and realized together that somehow the mist transported them to an entirely different plane.

“This isn’t right… we’re not in the correct world!” Calli slumped into the seat across from Joy.

“Oh, so you’re travelling wizards,” Joy surmised.

“Not intentionally,” the bard added.

“So you’re not part of the Council of Eight?”

Gale shook his head to indicate the name was unfamiliar to them, and Joy continued, “You know, Mordenkainen, Otto, Bigby, Otiluke… No?”

Byron admitted, “I’m entirely confused.”

The half-elf tried to explain, “Somehow when we went through the mist it sent us to another world.”

“That’s supposed to demystify me?”

Flynn arrived with bowls of a chunky stew for them, and Nightingale picked up a bowl in each hand. “Look,” he began, “This bowl is the world we come from. And this bowl is the world we’re on now. Somehow we’ve gone from here-” he removed the wooden spoon from the first bowl, “to here,” and he placed it in the other.

Calli used prestidigitation to create a map of their own world on the table they sat at to share with Joy and Flynn. “This is where we’re from.”

“We need to go back.” Byron declared.

“Whose the most powerful wizard in Greyhawk?” Nightingale asked.

“That would be Mordenkainen, but the easiest to contact on the council would likely be Otto,” Joy offered.

Feeling out of his depth, Byron left the others discussing magic and went outside to see how preparations were going to see if he could be of some use. Fences had been taken down and were now angled out at the gap in the walls at either side of the hamlet as rudimentary stakes. The wall of mist outside had formed a solid wall of fog all around, but completely stopped at the low stone wall. He went over to the blacksmith working hard at her anvil and inquired if she’d be able to create a wooden merlon or spikes along the wall to try and control the flow of the attacking ants. She raised an eyebrow, and then looked at the ground behind the anvil, and he could see she’d already begun creating a pile of iron spikes for the defenses.

“Forget I said anything. So you’ve done this sort of thing before?”

“In times of war, times of danger, sometimes it’s needed. Where did you say you were from again?” Beatrice went back to hammering away, but was sizing him up between strikes.

“Korvosa.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Don’t worry about it, from what I’m hearing we’re in a strange place. We’re in one bowl of food, and you all are in another bowl of food, and somehow the spoons got mixed.”

The woman furrowed her brow, “I don’t understand it.”

“Nor me. What I do appreciate, though, is a bloody good iron spike. If we can get some of your guys to mount those on the walls as soon as possible, it would help a lot.”

She assured him that was the plan, and was pleased he valued her work. He looked across the square and saw Father Gregor deep in conversation with another woman. The two glanced up at him, carried on talking a bit more, and then Gregor patted her on the shoulder and the Father headed back to the chapel while the woman moved along to another woman. Byron, used to being discussed in such a way around Korvosa due to his notoriety as a champion not to be messed with, didn’t think anything of it.

Calli purchased the map, and Joy happily dug into her stew, but Calli and Gale were too uneasy to eat anything. The Reeve and his heavily armored bodyguard returned and let them know the progress that had been made thus far. He mentioned he saw Byron chatting with Beatrice, and asked if he was Calli’s bodyguard, and she laughed, “One of them.”

The Reeve then asked for more information about where the ants had come from, and Calli explained that it seemed they’d somehow crossed over from another world. She pointed out the map on the table she had made, and he looked baffled by this information. Nightingale again picked up the bowls of stew and went through his analogy for the nobleman, but he didn’t get on with it much more than Byron had. They asked him how far Greyhawk was, and were distressed to learn it was a week and a half’s travel away.

Byron returned to the inn as Nightingale was explaining the stew analogy again in more detail. The Reeve turned to his bodyguard, “I can’t make heads or tails of it. Lady Neem, does this make sense to you?”

The lady knight shook her head, “I’m sorry my lord, I’ve never encountered anything like it.”

“It’s wizard stuff, isn’t it?” Byron grumbled.

Neem looked him over briefly, doing a threat assessment of the brawler, and agreed. He sized her up in turn, and decided if it came to it she would definitely give him a good fight. Nightingale, seeing them eyeing each other up, activated his detect magic out of curiosity. What he found was that nothing, and no one, not even his own companions, were radiating any magic at all. Calli’s hair remained the magically influenced pink, however, so magic was working, just not pinging from his spell for some reason.

The Reeve realized they never exchanged names, and introduced himself as Aldric Thornwell. The Flowers introduced themselves, and then afterwards the Reeve looked at Joy expectantly. The merchant had apparently arrived not long before they did. She introduced herself to him, and the Flowers grew suspicious of their new companion. Calli sensed the woman was lying about something, but couldn’t place what.

————————————————————

Aldric, Neem, and Byron returned outside to check again on progress. Byron found the guard who’d been on watch with the unlucky soul who had been taken by the ants, and the man was in the middle of saying he’d never seen anything like it before, when out of the fog lurched one of the twisted knight ants, mandibles snapping. It was slowed enough by the rudimentary barricade for Byron to yank the guard out of the way with his left and take a swing with his right, forcing it’s massive head to rock from the blow. He screamed the alarm to warn the hamlet, and everyone rushed to their positions.

Calli ran out of the inn and seeing the ant, fired with her bow, but her arrows bounced off it’s hide. “Are they coming for us specifically?” she wondered aloud.

The ant caught Byron with it’s razor sharp jaws, drawing blood, and something more insubstantial- it felt as if his very will had been damaged. Close up he could see now the ant bore fire damage, this was definitely one that had been chasing them when Nightingale dropped his fireball. He could also see additional ants approaching from the fog.

Nightingale followed Calli out of the inn, and ran past her to Byron, laying a hand on the barbarian’s back. There was a gentle glow, and the scent of roses, and Byron felt a surge of extra strength course through his body. Even with the boost, however, Byron found it difficult to get through the shell of the evil ant bearing down on them.

Lady Neem charged across the square towards the action, but in her heavy plate was not as quick as Nightingale. From the tower an archer shot down at the ant, but his arrows had no more luck than Calli’s did. Some of the more average villagers screamed and ran for cover, one woman who had been heading to the tower took off in the opposite direction towards the chapel, while the Reeve and the blacksmith took up positions watching the the back entrance in case any were trying to sneak around.

Calli began singing to inspire courage in the hamlet. Ants began clambering over the wall and up the tower, while the one in combat with Byron took another bite of him, injuring him inside and out. Gale drew his rapier and hacked at the ant’s thorax, the first sliding off the toughened hide, but the second two cracking through and sending electricity into the wound.

Byron squared up and rained brutal hit after hit into the opening made in its chest, until finally there was room for him to plunge a fist inside and rip out a handful of vital guts that caused the ant to squeal and finally collapse. Focker glided in and healed Byron for a bit of the physical damage, but apologized he had nothing for the mental damage. Lady Neem and a chap with a sharpened stick engaged with the ant breaching the wall, and the archer in the tower continued peppering down into the ant climbing towards him. Beatrice turned and began rushing across to help the knight, in spite of the Reeve asking her to stay and help guard their entrance.

Calli backed up further into the square and wove a haste into her song, grabbing the Flowers, Neem, and the man with the makeshift spear. The real horse they rode in on whinnied in panic and reared up, desperate to get away from an ant who had rounded a corner near it. Nightingale caught sight of the ant up the tower and sent a scorching ray into it’s backside with an overhand pitch. Byron raced across the square to defend his horse from the fresh opponent, and it buried its stinger into his thigh as he approached. He did a colossal amount of damage with his spiked gauntlets, but the ant stubbornly clung to life. Focker, following behind Byron, spread out a clawed hand and a blast of flame leapt out licked at the ant. All around the hamlet villagers either hid in fear or engaged in battle, determined to eradicate the threat.

Remember what Rune had said about everything radiating evil, she joined Byron and took the holy crossbow back from him. She timed her lifting the strap off him for when he’d pulled back for a strike, and she attempted to fire it in the same movement, but she didn’t quite have the aim lined up and the bolt ended up wedged in the door frame of the Inn. Joy had just been poking her head out to ask why she was moving so quickly and ducked back inside at the near miss. The sounds of combat continued all around them, and a villager screamed in agony as an ant took his arm off. Calli sent Rune to put some healing into the man to avoid him bleeding out. Another archer had joined the first in the tower, and they could see many bolts protruding from the tower ant’s face before it lost its footing and fell backwards back into the fog. Nightingale ran over and stabbed the insect menacing villagers in one of its hairy legs. Byron, sensing his foe hanging on by a thread, moved in closer and wrapped his arms around one of the narrow connections between the ant’s segments. With a growl of effort, he crushed it in a massive bear hug, leaving it in two halves twitching at his feet. The horse continued to panic, and he turned his attention to speaking softly and trying to calm it. Beatrice reached the ant Neem and Nightingale had been chipping away at, and crushed what was left of its skull with her heavy hammer.

Father Gregor and a villager woman wandered out from the chapel looking incredibly confused. Gregor looked around, “What’s happening?”

“The ants are attacking,” Byron stated the obvious for him.

“Just now?” Gregor didn’t seem to be understanding. Calli pointed at the freshly killed bug corpse at their feet.

The woman was holding her head in distress, “But I was just over at the tower… how’d I get here?”

“You saw an ant, screamed, and ran.” Calli didn’t like where this was headed.

“I did?” The woman was shocked by this news.

“What’s going on in the church?!” Calli, having flashbacks to the last time memories went missing like this, broke into a run towards the stone building. As she reached the door her stomach dropped, as inside she saw a familiar snake-like creature slithering out the window. It was Melyia Arkona’s raktavarna that had disguised itself as a dagger for so long in her care. She was confused how it could be there, and feared it had possibly never actually left them. “The evil dagger creature is here!” She bobbed around to the side of the building trying to keep it in view, but it made it over the wall and back into the fog.

The villagers and Flowers clustered outside the chapel, waiting for instruction. Byron asked Gregor if he had any restoratives, or even any cures handy, but Father Gregor just apologized and said he’d not prepared anything like that for the day as he didn’t expect to be launched into danger, but that he’d return to his room in the chapel to see if he had any useful potions for them.

Inside were only two of the three children who had been taking shelter in there, both missing the same chunk of time as Gregor and the woman. The brothers had no recollection where their sister had gone. Calli sat on a pew so that she was at eye-level with the older of the two boys standing before her, and gently explained what she was going to do. “Something has hidden a part of your memory that might help us find her, but I think I can reach it with my magic, if you’ll allow it?”

The boy wiped his nose, and stood up a bit straighter. “Please, if it can help find my sister, miss. Will it hurt?”

She brushed some of his dark shaggy hair out of his eyes and smiled, “No, dear. You won’t feel a thing.” Her hand on his head, she began humming, and diving through his mind with share memory. She had learned different people display memories in different ways, and for this child they presented as a great many toys. It was a recent memory, so she didn’t have to look far before she noticed one of the wooden figures that wasn’t like the others. It had been a raven, and as she watched became a magpie, then a hawk, changing all the time. This was a modified memory, and she carefully picked it up. She saw the three children huddled together just before the ant attack (it still sounded peaceful outside the stone walls), and the small girl was saying she was worried for her dog Cobble. She wanted to check on him, but her brothers told her no, it would be foolish to leave the town walls right then. The child had bunched up her firsts, declared they weren’t the boss of her, and stormed out.

Calli realized during the chaos of battle, when Beatrice and the Reeve had moved away from the gate, that the child must have slipped out. She reported to the waiting adults outside, and one woman, clearly the childrens’ mother, rushed ahead of them towards the gate. Byron and Nightingale followed closely to defend her from any potential monsters lurking outside the wall, and she leg them to a massive kennel.

The woman dropped to her knees and leaned in, and then burst into tears of relief. Cobble, a massive Irish wolfhound, was curled protectively around a small girl sucking her thumb. They ushered woman, dog, and child all back inside the gate and they reunited with the boys. Calli asked if they’d mind if she looked into the older boy’s memories again to see if she could find a clue of where the raktavarna had come from. Grateful to have all her children safe, the woman consented, and the boy who was already pleased to have been of use once puffed up his chest and waited for Calli’s spell.

Inside the toy box of his mind she saw a toy wooden sword that rippled unnaturally with scales, and took hold of the grip. She saw through his eyes Father Gregor entering the chapel, drawing the dagger from his pocket, and dropping it on the ground with the instructions to kill the boys.

The bard took Byron and Nightingale aside and spoke low to tell them what she’s seen. Gale turned to call to Gregor, but the Father had slipped out as Calli had begun casting her spell. Nightingale stepped cautiously out the door and looked around, but couldn’t pinpoint where he’d gone. He asked the waiting villagers if they’d seen where he went, and Beatrice said she’d seen him go into the Inn.

The Flowers told the people to wait and headed towards the inn, when Joy rushed out the door crying for someone to help. “Father Gregor’s gone mad! He’s dropped some strange daggers that are attacking the barmaid!” They looked warily at the merchant as they surrounded her, and Byron went into a rage to heighten his senses. What he smelled on Joy wasn’t human at all, but smelled exactly like Melyia Arkona, otherwise known as Vimanda the rakshasa.

Realizing the ruse was up, the rakshasa fully attacked Nightingale with a flurry of blows, leaving brutal bruises and at least one cracked rib.

Focker attempted to breath confusion over her, but she ignored it entirely.

Nightingale returned attacks with his blade, punctuating the stabs with his lightning. She hissed in pain and bared teeth sharper than a human should have.

Calli wove her fingers together and pulled them apart leaving a glowing musical stave in the air that she attempted to wrap around ‘Joy’ as a hold monster but the rakshasa snarled and it dissolved upon contact with her form.

At Calli’s request Rune attempted to daze ‘Joy,’ but the woman ignored this as well.

Byron swung at the impostor’s jaw, but with a smooth palming motion redirected his spiked gauntlet down into his own hip, managing to hit a nerve that sent pins and needles all down his leg and leaving him unable to focus while he shook it out.

She then stepped back a bit and attempted to cast a spell, but was too cautious not to leave herself open for attacks, and fumbled the gestures needed for it to be successful. In frustration she continued moving backwards, pushing open the door into the inn as she went, and dropped her disguise, revealing her true form as a fox rakshasa.

They could now see Flynn and his wife, the barmaid, stood confused behind the bar, where one of the raktavarna snake-daggers were reared up and hissing, and nearby what looked like the crumpled and motionless form of the real Joy. They figured out the figure in the mist Byron had seen must have been Melyia. She’d gotten to the hamlet before them, replaced the real Father Gregor, and had been a step ahead the whole time.

Little Focker gave some healing to Nightingale, who then followed Vimanda in and attempted to swipe at her with his sword, but she leaned out of the way and he missed entirely. Calli began her inspire courage, and Byron slipped in around Nightingale to land two solid blows into Vimanda’s side.

The fox-woman slid along the bar and failed again to cast anything. The snake creature launched itself at Nightingale, who ducked and allowed it to fly over his head.

Focker healed Gale a bit more, who indicated to Byron for him to go first. Rune failed again to daze Vimanda, and Calli rose her crossbow and fired, but the monkish rakshasa was too nimble. Byron moved in to get more good damaging licks, and once he’d moved Gale had the room to comfortably stab at her again, but she avoided his blade. The snake attempted to bite Nightingale again but was unable to grab on to him.

Vimanda frantically tried to cast again, failed, and screamed in frustration.

In the chaos of the moment, while reloading her crossbow, Calli noticed a steady stream of normal-sized ants entering the inn and heading around their feet towards Vimanda. “They weren’t coming for us,” Calli declared, “They were coming for YOU. Melyia, what’s with the ants?!”

The fox looked down in surprise and confusion, “What?!”

Calli hoped to use the distraction to get a spell of her own off, but the rakshasa’s natural spell resistance continued to stymie her. She sent Rune to check on Joy, and the lyrakien reported sadly she was already dead.

Byron kept the pressure on Vimanda, wearing her down with blow after blow with his experienced fighter’s stamina.

Nightingale pulled back his rapier, took aim, and in a flash of gallant inspiration Calli nudged his elbow to change the angle just a bit, and as she tried to dodge he was still able to plung it deep into her heart.

The ants began swarming up her body, becoming a thick squirming carpet of black, as she screamed in defiance. “I didn’t summon you for me, I summoned you to take her. Take HER!” Vimanda gestured uselessly at Calli before the ants completely covered her, filling her mouth and glaring eyes. Suddenly mist exploded from where she was, covering all of them in the blast.

————————————————————

When the mist cleared, they were still stood in an inn, but it looked entirely abandoned. There was no sign of Flynn, his wife, Joy’s body, Vimanda, or her demonic familiar. They exited warily, and saw the sign no longer read The Crooked Goose but The Crooked Man. It was a lovely clear spring day, silent aside for the sounds of distant birdsong, and the entire hamlet was as abandoned as the inn had been. Seemingly abandoned for some time. An overgrown sign outside the gate did not read Wickton Hollow, but only gave the distance and direction towards Korvosa.

They searched through the buildings, and found in the chapel a couple of potions of restoration that they handed to Byron right away to cure the damage the evil ants had done. Nightingale used his detect magic and noticed on the alter was an icon in the shape of a cudgel as Father Gregor had carried. With the Harrow deck Calli was able to identify it as the Icon of the Unseen Saint, which would bolster the wielder against fear and once a day cast protection from evil. They also found an ancient tome left open to a page that read, “If you would do your enemy harm, and send them to a realm where they would be endlessly tortured, if there be evil involved you can summon these mists to lock them away forever.” Reading between the lines, they realized Vimanda must have misread it, and the spell was to lock away evil, not that evil was a requirement for the summoning.

They left the chapel in much better spirits, knowing that their Arkona problem was now far from their current path.

Focker took to the sky and cheerfully reported that there was no sign of mist or ants as far as the eye could see. He landed on Byron’s shoulder, “Boss, don’t ever take us back there again!”

Byron began grooming their horse and getting it ready for the ride back, “What you don’t know is how we got there. See, if you have two bowls of food…”

Nightingale, hearing Byron’s attempt to recount his analogy, with a soft, playfull voice asked Calli, “Really? You don’t think you’d fancy someone a bit more… intelligent?”

She looked at him scandalized before hearing what Byron was saying, and then shrugged with a raised eyebrow. “I have words enough for us both. I want a man of action.” She gave him a grin like the cat who got the cream, and went over to see if Byron needed any assistance.