Heroes of the Hidden Forest - chronicle

[roguesgallery]

(Herein is set down the bits and pieces that make up the tale of the Heroes of the Hidden Forest, the Investigators Out of Halbony, the Gazetteers of Gaeralen'lad:  as most of the messages sent and received are done so using tamed messenger animals, some of the information is missing or presumed lost.  All communiques are done strictly in the writ of gnomekind, and none mention the Yancalla nor the near-mythal specifically.

The events set down are lifted from gameplay logs and have not been fiddlydiddled with.  Enjoy.)

[roguesgallery]

A musical little tinkling danced through the foyer and all along the waxed wooden walls, but met no ear.

A face, pudgy and curious and mostly eyebrows and nose, appeared in one of the windows that looked out, and the musical tinkling repeated itself.

Outside on the stoop Cuvdmayv Zylehdr, youngest of the Jacinth clan and most-recent apprentice at the elbows of the Skillful Eyes maestery, peered through one of the diamond-shaped panes but saw no one. He pressed the bell plate again... what had Delg'ulg called it? A bringer-with-a-ringer? Cuvdmayv sighed and wondered at the contraption. The maestery of Fine Machines was always coming out with newer and more grand things, but this brass-plated bit of fancy seemed too charming even for-

"WHAT?" The door whisked open and a rough hand cuffed the young Jacinther's fingers from the bell plate. Tufcan Zad, leader of the Jet clan and that house's patriarch, looked as though he'd fallen out of his bed in angry effort to stifle the ringing bells.

"Maester Bactus says come quick!", the lad stammered. He realised Tufcan was still wearing his sleeping gowns, but blurted the rest of the message he'd been sent to relay.

"The heroes! They've heard from the heroes!"



* * *



The amphitheatre was near-full and busy with gathered gnomekin, all sorted into pockets of murmuring and gossiping throngs. Someone had hung an enormous wreath of wintergreen boughs upon the rear wall where it was enspelled with at least a score of illusory candlelights that swirled and circled the wreath in a slow and endless loop.

One of the clan banners strung from the balcony rails fluttered suddenly, and a whooshing glamer of Maester Bactus' deep voice resounded through the place, calling for heed and for quiet. The effect must have included a minor lure of sight, for the heads of those crowding the amphitheatre turned abruptly, mouths closing.

"I have called this moot to announce: after two moons and a handful of days, our courageous investigators have sent word."

A brief tumult broke out then, despite the enchantments focusing attentions, and excited members of several houses approached where the council were seated at the high end of the pavilion.

"Calm - we will have calm!" Maester Bactus gestured then, and two of the council, patriarch Duinsymeha and patriarch Teysuht, both stood and supported Bactus with castings of their own. The magic settled upon the crowd, though many of the faces there were set with angst and worry.

"As you all know, the art I laid upon my son broke upon he and his group crossing beyond the Stormhorn mountains." Bactus gestured to someone standing at the rear of the pavilion - was that Marris Wenluh? - and continued speaking. "Cormyrean wards unraveled my spell, alerting us to the group's success at reaching that far place."

It -was- Marris. He edged forward then, setting something down upon the podium before returning to his place. Bactus gave him and his actions a nod of acknowledgement and then spread his hands apart, letting a spell he'd held ready flutter over to the podium. Eyes peered and necks craned as what appeared to be a messenger animal's legbind opened and a slip of oilskin tugged itself free. As the oilskin spread itself open, an image duplicated many many times the object's original size sprang into being overhead the crowd, revealing writing.

"A vixen entered the village near dawn today, bearing this", Bactus said with a note of pride in his voice now clear. "'Folks'", he read from the enlarged image hanging above the podium, just as many other eyes and mouths did the same, "'In Cormyr - everyone safe - Venc sober'."

Laughter erupted through the crowd at that.

"'Many dimdum - many good trees - Iry sends love'"

A strangled gasp sounded out then and heads turned to see Gladys Cyntuhoq, eyes streaming and hands clutching a mass of bright orange yarn that strung out back down the hallway towards the entry.

"'Found ruins near village - exploring soon - Henny says good forest near'".

From his seat among the councilmembers, Nessie Yjahdineha sat up straighter, prouder.

"'Missing you all - please send more pumpkin seeds'".

Tears and laughter mixed among the assemblage, and something shone in their eyes then that was brighter than the spell-lit wreath... it was hope.


* * *


Kale watched from behind his bar, pawing at a few fresh-cleaned mugs with the towel in his hand even though it was all just pretense.

For several tenday, a large group of gnomes had been regularly occupying the private feasting, spending very little coin on the food and drink of the inn and even fewer coin on let rooms. In fact... he narrowed his eyes with a thought... he suspected the gnomes might be passing a single key between themselves. The innkeep sighed and kept quiet on the matter, however, for the newcomers to the village had turned interest and query towards the group and thus to the inn they'd been mooting at.

He straigtened up and forced a smile to his lips, though it came out more on the sneer side of things.

"'Ave a nice day, you folks", he called out as a line of gnomes marched one after the other across the main taproom and towards the outer door. Several returned a grin or nod, and one even hugged a full-grown badger to his chest-

-Kale spied the puddle quickly staining the carpet near one table, but before he could holler after the gnomes, the inn door banged shut.


* * *


They stood in a half-circle in the low light of the wide chamber, a hundred feet and more below the village. The crypts sprawled out all around them, dark gaping passages and open-mouthed doorways looming in all directions.

Calling out as loudly as he dared, Henny watched Jacobean slip further and further away. "You gonna bring em to us?"

Bean paused, eyes wide with excitment or fear or both. "Sure... just don't be standing on the traps." Jacobean pointed to where he'd laid out a few snares, a tripwire trap, and a fragile spindleglass of dark green acid. He then turned and disappeared through an arched maw, into another chamber and out of view.

Henny turned back to the group. Iry and Pompanno squatted uncertainly near the edge of the room, both drinking from flasks. Iry's eyes darted here and there and his flesh had the sallow pallor of illness, though the tough gnome did not otherwise show suffering. Caluht-Duha, missing his brother Venc who had remained abed at the inn above and was probably nursing another monstrous hangover, stood discussing something with Fectus. The wizard was musing over a handful of items with Duha, remarking dryly on each as they spoke. Nearby, Faloc had taken a few steps after Bean, and the bard stood in the darkness calling quietly after him...

Iry stood, wiped his mouth, and went to the corner near Faloc. He drew his hammer and held it aloft, waiting, as sharp sounds suddenly issued from the archway Bean had ventured through.

The smallest of their number appeared suddenly, darting back into the chamber with a little dancing sprint that would have been graceful if not for the clacking skeleton that clattered just behind him, reaching. Iry turned and whacked the creature soundly as it passed by him, shattering its spine and sending a rain of bones to the floor all around.

"Fall back!", called Fectus, pointing.

Lurching through the archway were the awful foes the gnomes had fought on an earlier foray - and very nearly lost their lives to: the mummies were wrapped in faded tabards and had silk and cloth prints wound about their limbs. Several bore bangles of bronze or silver, while one wore a thin circlet of rusting iron. All of them were moaning and reaching, their foul dried fingers curled with what should have been death undisturbed...

One stumbled past Iry and into the snares Jacobean had set. Acid sizzled in an arc, splattering the mummy's leg and eating it down to the bone and beyond. It collapsed onto that side, struggling, as Iry descended upon it with his hammer. Fectus and Pompanno sent bolts zipping through the melee, but Duha didn't seem to mind. The large, broad gnome swung his blade with a strength few of his kind could claim, stabbing and slicing at a second mummy and then a third as they converged on the melee. Fire flashed and then swarmed across two of the creatures as someone tossed a flask of naptha at them, and then the noises of the melee seemed to sweep together and up, growing silent...

...and then crashing back down upon all involved. The heavy, ringing words of a magical prayer coursed over the combatants, and all of the undead creatures looked up at the same time. Bright light seared the chamber and was gone as quick as it had come: in its wake, the gnomes hacked and beat furiously upon their mummified foes, with Iry riding the last down to the chamber floor and crushing its withered head near-flat.

Heads turned as someone among them began to clap.

"Spectacular!" Faloc grinned, lowering his bow... and it was.

The group of gnomes congratulated each other and tended to each other under Henny's watchful eye, using the herbs and medicines he had prepared for them. Pompanno watched them all and silently sent a prayer of thanks to the Wildwanderer. They'd begun to work together, as a team, and their efforts were just beginning to show promise.

"Ooh! Loot room..." Fectus stood astride another gaping archway, the meagre light of the adventurers' making the tattoo around one of his eyes seem to glow. Pompanno shook his head and stood before turning to lend a hand to Iry as well.

He was smiling when they entered the long-buried treasury.

They all were.