Log:Princess Guard: Discovering The Archive

The Lost Archive 2021/05/17 	 Liandere Meleryniel Beindor Menasiron Edhelnes Raptlennograp Union Harlequin Ascendant Titan Lennox Gruglug 1

The Undermoon Embassy's exterior bears a few displays for winter holidays in a nod to neighborly festivity; the interior is as exotically fae as ever, and as busy as only a dimensional embassy can be during the exotic-present-giving and therefore import-needing season. The tap at Meleryniel's office door is just another note in the symphony of bureaucracy that an embassy is, and the messenger's missive is a simple note from Liandere:

Meleryniel --

An unusual situation in Upper Heartworld requires investigating. Please come to my office.

-- Liandere

Meleryniel frowns at the rather brisk and uninformative message. Naturally, she sets aside her correspondence at once and hurries to the ambassador's office.

Liandere's office is, peculiarly, nowhere near as busy as normal; in fact, the doors to both her office and the adjacent conference room are closed. Her aide rises, gives the Princess Meleryniel a standard Embassy-brief courtesy, and goes to the conference room door. "In here, Your Highness," the aide-cum-bodyguard says, unlocking and opening the door for Meleryniel.

Inside, the handful of individuals explains the lack of activity outside -- Adept Worldwalker Beindor, Raptlennograp the fire carriage driver, Senior Warleader Menasiron Birnae (Captain of the Embassy Guard and lead military advisor to Liandere) -- even old Baroness Edhelnes sits in a chair next to Raptlennograp, listening closely to the goings-on.

Those gathered around the table look over as the door opens, and Liandere straightens from leaning over something to come over. "Granddaughter," she greets Meleryniel, and gives her a brief embrace. "Thank you for coming. I apologize for the briskness, but better you are in at the beginning."

Meleryniel takes her place, easily determined by those who know the fae rules of precedence. She nods and waits for Liandere to continue, though ahe can't help but wonder at the presence of Edhelnes on Earth!

The item which Beindor, Menasiron, and Liandere are poring over is an up-to-date mystic map of Nether Heartlands. Beindor speaks, saying, "About a month ago, an individual came through on a tourist and travel visa for the Upper and Nether Heartlands. An offhand comment ... didn't get past the agent, so it was almost a week before the information got to me by way of office gossip, as it were. We sent a request to speak with Baroness Edhelnes at her convenience; she arrived with news."

Menasiron picks up the thread of explanation. "Apparently, this black-skinned human tourist has been wandering around the Heartlands looking for a way to Mistsea. He's an odd human, so most have been giving him the long-way-around directions, but in the last week or so, he's been accompanied by a, erm, troll. A particularly brutish and uncouth one, apparently. They've been courteous and all, but they've headed ..."

He manipulates the map to show the far edge of the kingdom of Wyrmwood, where it borders on the territory of the whisperers; the Duchy of Wyrmsend is just peeking in at the upper-right corner of the map, across the channel between what on Earth-1 would be called Scotland and Norther Ireland. "Here -- we think," says the Captain of the Guard, and puts his fingertip on the shore near that border.

Liandere says softly, "The human said he was a Knight Witness. They haven't been seen in many centuries, so it seems impossible." She looks towards Edhelnes. "That's why we asked the Baroness to come. It just didn't seem important at the time, but this so-called Knight Witness might provoke a bloodbath from Wyrmwood."

Meleryniel frowns. "It's a dangerous area for anyone... dubious to be. But is it likely to cause problems? The peace has been holding.

Meleryniel says, "I have met one who claimed to be a Knight Witness. Have you a better desciption? It could be the same man."

"Between us, yes," agrees Menasiron, straightening up with a frown on his face and reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, "but what if he provokes something between the goblins and the whisperers? I don't know how you might, but -- a human and a troll, together, going into goblin territory, and maybe whisperer territory?"

"Not well," admits Beindor. "Black of skin, short curly dark hair. Average height and athletic build for a human. Had a well-made sword and leaf armor -- the agent said they looked dwarfish to him -- but apparently answered questions politely enough."

"You see the need for an investigation," says Liandere. "And though Raptlennograp is opposed to bringing you on the firebird carriage --"

"Emphatically!!" comes the interjection from said goblin.

Liandere glances at the driver for a moment, then continues, "Beindor has plotted a path which, on horseback and riding hard, should get you there in a long afternoon." She gestures at the map, upon which a correspondance point just inside Wyrmwood territory begins to glow.

Meleryniel asks the goblin, "What is the objection to using the carriage>"

Raptlennograp stares back at Meleryniel. "Nogjalnadrump wants it. He wants them all; he always has. Going all the way on the other side of Wyrmwood is a good way of getting trapped by his /own/ carriage, which I guarantee you is not nearly as pleasant a one as ours."

Meleryniel nods, accepting the explanation.

Meleryniel says, "What is it that you would have me do, exactly?""

"Take the Guard and go there," replies Liandere. "Get out of Wyrmwood without causing an incident yourself, of course, then locate him and his troll, and find out what he's doing. Remove him if it seems necessary; otherwise, monitor him until the situation no longer warrants it -- ideally by getting him back to Colonial Bay and out of our hair." She glances at Edhelnes, then says with some reluctance, "Perhaps deliver him to the Baroness so she can tell us if he's real or some sort of con man who read a book somewhere."

Meleryniel nods. "It shall be so."

And so it is -- the Princess's Guard is called to service once again!!

Union arrives on the Island by MagLev, and passes through the Embassy gates, nodding to the guards. She make her way directly to the Tower of the Princess Guard.

Harlequin arrives at the Embassy proper by teleportation then goes up to the gate to be let in. After, of course, contacting Nhorbor and asking if he care to visit Greater Faerie.

<< I imagine I'm useful for whatever task this is, >> thinks Harlequin. << And wine, well, I've cellars of it at Castle Black. Someone should drink it. >>

Nohrbor Nanuran Surryx arrives, looking dashing and elegant in his regal looking doublet as he hovers at Harlequin's side.

<< Adventure and wine? What more could I ask for? If you wish for my blade in exchange- then so be it, Sorcerer. >> The Godflora says, clearly in a good mood having struck up a useful deal to keep his lips moist.

Titan, invoking his 'prior engagement' clause and leaving the set of his latest movie, arrives within an hour of being summoned; Kalwara, noticing the activity in the Tower of the Princess Guard, comes down and manages to wrangle a 'sure, come along, a bit of extra oomph is always useful' sort of invitation.

Instead of the firebird carriage, coursers are being supplied -- horses bred for steady movement for hours at a time, with sudden bursts of speed as necessary. Saddlebags have food, and a single additional horse is being used as a packhorse, with camping gear and more food. Mistress Berithea looks at the additional individuals, then replaces perhaps a third of the food with more 'nutrition-dense' items of her own creation.

"Take care; stay safe," says Liandere to Meleryniel. "Ride swiftly and silently from Wyrmwood, and keep the peace." She hands up the directions that Beindor has prepared.

Meleryniel bows acknowledgement, then bends down to give her grandmother an embrace before the Way is opened and she gestures the Princess Guard forward.

Harlequin, perhaps surprsinginly to some, perhaps not, seems quite comfortable on a horse. He seems to have a natural seat.

Harlequin touches the ancient Fae ring on his hand and draws a Fae mithril long sword from it then a steel main gauche. He settles the sword into a position to be drawn while riding and the main gauche at his belt.

Nohrbor Nanuran Surryx has riden upon the backs of beasts under the gaze of stars far ebyond this realm, and relying on his tie to the Akashic field he navigates the harsh ride masterfully. 5rHe looks over harlequin as his weapon is summoned. A smile slides across teh Godflora's face as he senses Glory nears.

There is, in a certain piece of fiction, a thing called a 'hellride' -- where you shift worlds as swiftly and fiercely and rapidly as you can, controlling a steed panicking as the ground changes all around its hooves. The travel that follows bears a strong resemblance to such a thing, merchants and peasants hurrying out of your way as you thunder across valleys from correspondance point to correspondance point, riding through dappled forests and shifting into the Humming Forest to ride under its vast leafless 'canopy' of brilliant stars and through the eerie humming that always seems like it has a tune, a theme, that you could understand if you could only linger there a little bit longer ...

While everyone else, even the unskilled Union, keeps their horses focused on the rapid advance, Titan seems to be having an issue -- his horse doesn't like him, /something/ isn't happening between rider and beast. The Greek actor soon spends about half his time flying above the beast instead of actually riding upon its back, letting it keep up with the others on its own and lowering himself into the saddle only as he gets tired, and only long enough to recover his breath before lifting off into the air again.

Finally, after nearly five hours of butt-breaking riding, Meleryniel slows and stops within the Humming Forest, before one -- last? -- Way. "When we emerge, we will have about three kilometers," she says, "before we are out of Wyrmwood lands -- and into those of the whisperers. If there are no guards, we ride quiet but steady. If there are guards, or if we get spotted, we ride like hell. Any questions?"

Union nods.

"Just one- what are these Whisperers and why should I fear them? They should fear the oncoming ride of the Godflora through their lands- riding liek the storm. Thundering on hooves of fury we ride! Let these Whispers tremble!" NNS asks and declares.

Meleryniel looks at Nohrbor, then at Harlequin.

Harlequin murmurs absently in response to Nohrbor's statement. "They, the whisperers, are one of the magical races of Greater Faerie. They have never been seen. Not by any other race or by any magick. Nor any of their dwellings, cities, or even fields. They contact others when they will by letter or death." He looks up from the cinch he was tightening. "The goblin invasion resulted in a massive bloodletting on the goblin's side. Mostly killed while sleeping. They are an enigma wrapped in a puzzle surronded by mystery...and perhaps bacon." The last is said with a chuckle.

Titan snorts, eyeing his own (kind of rather unridden) horse's saddle and the like. "Everything's better wrapped in bacon," he agrees, then nods to Meleryniel.

Kalwara looks around from looking at the stars through the bare tree limbs, and nods wordlessly.

"No fighting the goblins if we do encounter them," warns Meleryniel, looking at the combative Nohrbor. "We run, not fight. Let's not start a war today, hmm?" She finishes tightening her own saddle and adjusting her stirrups for speed, then remounts. "All right, let's go."

"Ah so a Great Mystery awaits!" NNS says almsot gleefully before his eyebrows wave before he adds, "or at the very least, bacon. I do enjoy bacon." He drives his steed a bit harder, pushing it to the limit in his eagerness before he joins Titan in the air, being able to take to the air easier (and faster) than his steed- though occasionally he'll take a ride if only to keep with the others, and only when his horse takes the lead.

"Run?" Nohrbor Nanuran Surryx scoffs. "The Godflora do not run from a fight- but in the name of peace, I will not draw my blade lest forced."

Harlequin murmurs, "Call it, hmm, tactically ignoring them as unimportant...at speed."

Coming out of the Way, you encounter no goblins -- but only a few dozen meters along the way, there's a clearing that holds an active but currently-goblinless camp. "Quietly, quietly," Meleryniel warns, and leads the way with her horse at a fast walk.

"Oh- so their are no warriors of acclaim or sages of worth among them." NNS says, seeming to now understand. "I am unsure why we are even speaking of such beings then. We shall find them in time, and lift them up- into Hod's Light, as we will all who seek to dwell in darkness." He says succinctly and seems satisfied to ride on- he is not here to face footsoldiers.

When the time to be quiet comes, he is deadly silent, soothing his steed with care while floating alongside it.

Harlequin simply looks at the camp then makes a casual gesture with one hand. Then follows along witn the others.

While Harlequin is paying attention to the camp, his horse is looking for easier ground to walk on. The sound of fae horseshoes upon a stretch of wide paving stones rings through the forest, all but announcing your passage to any within earshot.

Meleryniel isn't doing a good job herself, but at least she avoids the pavement for quieter terrian. When the tattle-tale sound sings through the trees, she looks back over her shoulders with wide eyes, then lashes her horse. "RIDE!!"

Harlequin looks down at the pacing stones then shakes his head as he mutters a somewhat toxic Russian curse.

Union crouches in her saddle and digs her heels into her horse's flanks.

Nohrbor Nanuran Surryx shifts into a goblin himself - or what he thinks a goblin might look like. He trusts the mount to keep up with its kind. He lifts off the saddle and moves to take up the tail of the train- if only to confuse their pursuers.

The horses are somewhat reluctant to really push it hard once again, but the blatt of horns and goblin cries of pursuit -- along with a very strange-looking pseudo-goblinish thing behind them!! -- encourage the lot of them to thunder along as a half-ridden herd.

Harlequin bends low over the saddle, his head held to one side of the horse's neck so he can see ahead and also look behind and to the side more easily. It's a natual seeming pose for him, something he's learned down to muscle memory. When he spots any goblins, he muddles the pursuit with illusions that seem real even to Second Sight.

Union has a problem - one of her feet has slipped out of the stirrup, and she's slipping out of the saddle. Even worse, her horse is slowing down because she's pulling him off-balance. She kicks herself free of the other stirrup and throws herself completely out of the saddle. She rolls to her feet as the horse thunders off, and starts running.

Nohrbor Nanuran Surryx makes a good effort at seeing himself as a goblin- but he doesn't quite get it. His natural splendor shines through making him look like some kind of hybrid being- half elf & half goblin.

He maintains his position in the air- dashing to the left and right to keep moving, but using his extra speed to keep at least some of their pursuer's eyes on him specifically.

Nohrbor sees a massive tree who's roots threaten to buckle the paving stones ahead. He reaches out with his mind and says, "Sathariel, Messenger of Deception- We make this sacrifice for peace- in the name of lives that might strive & fly, who might find themselves in Hod's Light, basking with we Immortals."

The tree trembles, buckling as NNS strains to pull its deep roots free. Eventually one of them will break- and in the end it's the massive tree which creaks and pops before falling down into the path behind the Princess Guard (and affiliated heroic-type entities).

Though Meleryniel and Kalwara keep their horses on the run, Meleryniel going so far as to lean over and snatch the reins trailing from Union's released horse, it's clear that Titan's 'steed' is done. The superhero mutters something in Greek, then transforms into his scaled-up size and scoops up the blown horse, easily able to keep it secure against his chest like a grown man holding a newborn colt -- which experience is undoubtedly echoing in the horse's brain, calming it after a few more moments. Titan flies after the group, then, lifting over the tree Nohrbor drops into the path before catching up.

It only takes a couple of minutes to cover the distance necessary to get out of the goblins' territory, and it's clear when pursuit has stopped; though Nohrbor's obstruction slowed them, it didn't stop them. Hopefully, none of them got good enough looks to figure out who you might have been, but at a certain point there's a lot of shouting, jeering, and horn-blowing as if to razz you for being cowards that ran. (It's probably mostly to keep their own spirits up for not catching you. Probably.)

Once able to slow down again, Titan will descend and put down the horse; assembling and catching their breath, those who know enough about the beasts will declare that it'll recover, but his and Union's definitely need a rest and food. Some of that can be supplied to them -- a good third of the pack horse's load is feed for the beasts -- while everyone spreads out along the game trails to look for signs of human and/or troll passage.

While Meleryniel and Titan take care of the horses, Kalwara closes her eyes and summons the gentlest of breezes to swirl about her, setting the leaves of the ancient trees about you to rustling.

"It has been some time since I hunted for game trails. A little practice shall do me good." NNS announces before flying up and away, to scout out a possible trail.

He spots a broken branch and then another, then a great felled arm of a tree- and just beneath it, fresh prints.

He follows the suspected trail until his path intersects with a plucky, flag-suit wearing heroine.

Harlequin goes over to look at the set of footprints that Nohrbor found. He looks at them for a long moment, his gaze shifting to the areas to either side then he nods. "There are signs that whisperers may be following the human and the troll." He points to subtle signs: a hint of toes at the edge of a bit of mud, the vague outline of a footprint in some soft moss, a bent almost broken twig at a short human shoulder level. "Of course, I.m no master tracker. So, cannot tell when these signs were left."

NNS follows up Harlequin's findings, applying his gaze to the added data points to see if he might gleam anything of merit.

"We cannot be more than a hu-man hour behind these prints here." NNS says, pointing to the toeprints that Harlequin just pointed out.

Meleryniel listens to the report when the three return, then looks over at the 'meditating' Kalwara. "There are ... several of them around us," Kalwara says in a low voice. "And ... many beings in that direction," she says after a moment of 'looking' with the wind once she's told the apparent direction of travel.

Meleryniel considers this, then nods and says to the three, "Go scout ahead for us. We'll bring the horses along as fast as we can."

Harlequin looks over at Union, then back to Meleryniel. "As you wish, Mistress Meleryniel," he murmrus to her before he turns to Union to say, "Shall we, my dear?" in his vaguely Europena accented RP English. He holds a hand out to the patriotically themed young woman. "If you hold my hand, I can confuse the sense of those around us. I don't wish to confuse yours though."

Union takes Harlequin's hand. She also reaches out mentally to the whole group, linking them mentally.

The illusionary reality that Harlequin wraps Union and himself in blends into the forest around them. One moment they are some squirrels running along the ground. The next a bit of shadow cast by a cloud moving over the sun. Next leaves blowing on the wind. And so on.

The four remaining to bring along the horses accept the mind-link, and get about their business, now less likely to be ambushed. The two move ahead, checking the ground for evidence -- and there's a fair deal of it, since a troll moving along a narrow game trail leaves /plenty/ of evidence.

After about fifteen minutes, the trail widens, turning into what seems to be a more travelled pathway. And only a few minutes of quiet care later, a clearing comes into view -- a clearing with a tall, big troll, and an average-height black man, inspecting what from the distance you're at (about 60m) looks to be an assortment of branches. The man reaches out to hook something off of one of them -- maybe a vine? -- when suddenly --

Howls of anger erupt around the clearing, and goblins -- a dozen at least!! -- launch themselves to the attack against the pair!!

Never having fought (or even seen) goblins before, Union advances cautiously, ready to respond if attacked.

Over the mindlink, Harlequin also sends << Remember, while some are magickal, they are not any tougher than a tough norm. They break easier than metas >>

Howling with rage, with iron-tipped spears and knives in hand, the goblins -- about thirty of them -- charge towards the pair. Lennox whirls, looks at the attacking goblins, then says something to the troll. In the language of Faerie, he shouts out, "We mean no harm!!" He's no idiot, though, and pulls two very modern extendible batons from thigh holsters and snaps them out.

The black man snaps his weapons left and right, deflecting several spear thrusts.

Harlequin takes in the number of goblins as his defesnes spin into existence around with a thought. As the silver and blue disks start to erratically orbit him, Harlequin steps to one side and raises his hands if lifting something then slamming it down. As he does so, a translucent wall of perfectly tessalated octagons seems to slam into existence among the goblins, splitting them into two groups with the larger group of Harlequin and Union;s side of the wall (or so he hopes). The wall shapes itself around trees so it's a bit crooked.

"Hey, over here, bumblers! Harlequin shouts in Fae.

A couple of on-the-move goblins smack against the wall, bouncing off and landing on their tucheses. More look around to see where the wizard is -- there!! "RAAAAA!!"

Gruglug is poked and prodded. The towering troll hasn't got much in the way of armor, or clothing beyond a ragged leather loin cloth. "They's the ones wot startin' it," he complains in a deep, rumbling voice that sounds like he gargles glass for breakfast. He starts to lean down to the goblins to explain the way Lennox suggested. "We din't come to fight or eat yur--" he starts, when one goblin lands a blow on Gruglug's long nose. "Oi!" He rubs it, then looks at Lennox and motions emphatically in immediate exasperation to the goblins with two huge open meaty hands. "Can I 'urt 'em NOW?"

"NO! Cripes, you --" Lennox is, like Gruglug, speaking (and cursing) in Fae as he knocks spears aside. The sudden appearance of the wall-of-octagons jerks his attention up, and he tries to find the additional presences. "KNIGHT WITNESS!!" he shouts as loud as he can in Fae. "I CLAIM RIGHT OF OBSERVATION!!"

Not, so far, that that seems to be doing /any/ good.

Lennox adds to Gruglug, "Just -- toss 'em gently away, huh? Try not to break any bones!!"

Union advances upon the nearest goblin and grabs him.

I c'n troi." Gruglug shrugs at Lennox. " "Oi'm watchin' you. You's lucky I's don't smash you puny gobbos. But dis ain't my bridge," he grunts in annoyance as he points a large, knobby finger and claw at the goblin that poked him in the nose. "You poke me wit' dat stick one more time..." he warns. Dares, even.

Grimacing, Lennox continues to deflect the weapons being thrust at him, content at least for the moment to defend himself and let the goblins either tire themselves out, or realize they aren't getting anywhere.

Lennox finds it easy keeping the spears off his skin, and the goblins' iron tips only clank against Gruglug's hide. Lennox, hearing and spotting Harlequin and Union, frowns and shouts out in English, "Lennox Hardigan, Colonial Bay!!"

The goblin horde virtually ignore both Harlequin and Union, instead charging on their short legs around the length of barrier that's put itself between themselves and their rightful foes -- Lennox and Gruglug.

Union shouts back, "I remember you! We met in Colorado!

Lennox mutters something, and calls back, "Princess Guard?" A spear gets slapped away.

Union says, "That's right!"

Lennox doesn't look displeased, but he doesn't quite look overjoyed. "Don't hurt them -- I think I messed with their icons!!"

"Some of us, others are friends," shouts back Harlequin. He then sees the gobins are ignoring Union and he. "Oh, fine," he mutters as he raises his hands and incants something. With a crack of thunder, a hole seems to open in the air above the goblins...and a blue and white dragon with undertones of rose around its eyes, throat, head, and wings, roars out a challenge as its looks at them.

Well, /that/ isn't something you see every day!! Many of the goblins -- especially those just under the 'hole in the air' -- freeze for a second, or scramble for cover. It's pretty clear the ones currently engaged are of the 'sure, whatever, eat us like always, yawn, pardon me while I stick my pointy thing into the nasty guys'.

Hefting the struggling goblin, Union heaves him towards one of the hesitating ones, and the two impact firmly, dropping them both to the ground.

A hunt!! Or rather, a field investigation!! Which isn't nearly as fun as a hunt, but apparently some black human and a troll are wandering around Greater Faerie looking for some specific Way into Mistsea, and Princess Liandere has asked Princess Meleryniel to take the Princess's Guard out to investigate. The driver and caretaker of the firebird carriage, Raptlennograp, absolutely refused to take the carriage out over (or even near the backside) the territory of Wyrmwood, which is where the two questionable individuals are, and so the Guard was given fast horses and a 'map' of a 'hellride' which took them through dozens of Ways to one just inside the Wyrmwood border. A last rushing flight enabled them to escape the fierce goblins (which, since it's Wyrmwood, is NOT irony) and into whisperer territory.

At that point, a few of the horses needed a rest, and a scout around for tracks discovered some. While the others brought the horses forward at a slower pace, Harlequin and Union followed the tracks forward, until they spotted a black human and a troll examining a trio of memorials. The former reached out to touch a pendant --

-- and an entire goblin tribe leaped to the attack to defend their relics!!

In the brief moments of the battle, Harlequin has tried to seperate the tribe (but the goblins just started running around the short wall) and then intimidate them with an illusion of a dragon. That worked a bit better. Union surged forward, grabbed a goblin, then threw it at another one, knocking them both out. The black man and the troll have defended themselves with parries of iron-tipped spears and rocky skin, but the goblins don't seem to be making much headway -- though they're all looking to swarm the pair.

Oh, and the black man is apparently 'Lennox Hardigan of Colonial Bay', whom Union and Harlequin remember meeting during the Navajo mask incident in Colorado.

Kalwara is outraged, They carry iron. Against all the solemn pledges made by the races. She speaks the trigger word that she is conditioned to react to. It's her own vow of not killing rather than Charm's words that save these hostiles from her wrath. Twenty meters is well within her effective closing range and she moves like a flower danhcing in the wind. She dashes forward and travels like a fleeing shadow amid the milling crowd. Whereever she passes, weapons are knocked from goblin hands and goblins tumbled to the ground.

Lennox ahs. That might need a rewrite in +ma. All right, gotcha.

Union raises the goblin overhead with both hands, and hurls him at the nearest standing goblin.

Kalwara disarms goblins left and right, move between them like the wind itself, toppling them over onto their butts, her staff flaring with power to any able to sense the flow of mana.

The hurled goblin flies through the air, striking one of his compatriots square in the back. The first falls to the ground, while the second staggers and continues trying to bypass the wall of mystic force.

Lennox, keeping as aware of events across the clearing as he can while fending off the spears thrusting for him. "Y'know," he says conversationally to the troll next to him, "this is /not/ how I imagined this going."

"And how wuz yous expectin' it?" Gruglug rumbles. He points to the hurled and knocked down goblins. "How comes theys gets to 'urt 'em and oi can't?"

"I /did/ say slap them as gently as you can," Lennox replies, a little exasperated -- or perhaps a little tense. "I don't know, but getting attacked by fierce -- whups -- obsessed goblins wasn't bloody it!!"

Nohrbor Nanuran Surryx rides! Well technically- he's flying, having put his steed down as the din of battle was heard ahead.

With a laugh he bolts forward- slamming himself into the earth with glee.

"Do not worry, Goblin-folk, we mean you no harm, but if you seek battle ye shall find it here -- with me!" He shouts as his hand rapidly makes various mudras before his heart -- then suddenly, as if to punctuate his statement he thrusts his palm out -- straight ahead -- seemingly without care of concern for any enemies in his path.

A wave of force both spiritual and physical erupts from him, flowing around friends & allies before crashing down like a wild tide against their foes.

Smash!! Crack!! For the most part, it's a fiesta of goblins flying into trees and branches and boulders, though all of those struck tumble to the ground, often with arms bent in the wrong places or cradling their sides. Between the long, wide blast and Kalwara's spinning wind-sweep removing weapons and sending goblins tumbling, a good half of the tribe is tumbled to the ground; the other half is on the other side of Harlequin's barrier.

That half of the tribe is /really/ getting their game faces on, swarming in and swatting and hammering at Lennox and Gruglug; the problem for them is that the sword of the one is battering their weapons away, and the hide of the other is too darn thick to penetrate. Mass frontal attack is /not/ the way goblins handle trolls -- they usually avoid them, of course -- but this is just ... kind of bizarre, really.

One goblin launches itself into the underbrush, and a moment later a horn call -- bright, pure, an /elven/ horn -- sounds from where it went.

Kalwara never slows down as she slips around the barrier and moves between the main mass of the goblin force, just tossing them onto their butts this time without the disrming strikes that have caused a few injuries.

Union runs around the end of the barrier, looking for the goblin that hid in the bushes.

Meleryniel knows that goblins are typically timid even in combat, favouring skirmish tactics. She elects to try to apply this, singing a song of terror, evoking the sheer dread of facing the great dragons back in the Dragon Wars - to try to make the goblins scatter. She can't help but wonder what that elven horn was about, though!

Well, /that/ group of goblins isn't going to be troubling anyone any time soon -- the illusion of the dragon above them, combined with the sudden imposed surge of fear, simply kicks the survival instinct into overdrive. Though a couple of them try to squeeze themselves into the ground, the rest of them look to be intending to go on all-fours in an overdrive sprint to the cover of the surrounding forest.

Titan leaps over the barrier and tries to land amidst the largest remaining group of goblins he can find. "I know you won't be listening to me, but we can just deal with this peacefully."

While Lennox continues to be wary of the spears the last three are thrusting at him, Harlequin produces a silver rapier and side-steps into space, only to come out halfway around the clearing in a flanking maneuver that cuts down options for retreat for the fleeing goblins. Those looking his way start and lurch in another direction.

Kalwara moves back behind the barrier and concentrates of sensing the wind currents, seeking additional information of the 'large' number of possible combatants close(ish) by.

The eddies of breeze ripple across the wa suri's skin, bringing hints of their previous caresses. Scores of trees, the fur of a handful of bare-footed bipeds, goblins with and without spears -- a /lot/ of goblins, actually, upwards of a hundred -- dogs and squirrels and birds and insects and ...

But Kalwara is concerned about possible combatants. Three huge hounds with riders, rushing this way, a horn to the lips of one --

Another horn sounds, this one the deep throaty bellow of a dwarven war-horn.

"I sense three Warg riders approaching. There are many other goblins, maybe four hands of hands." Kalwara says.

Union continues to close in on the hiding goblin.

Meleryniel says, "A big skirmish with Wyrmwood now thertr's finally peace is not a good idea."

Meleryniel says to Lennox, "What mischief have you started here?"

Union spots the goblin with the horn in his hiding place, she runs over to pluck him forth.

The goblin with the horn is inhaling to blow again when there's suddenly a Union there!! It squawks and tries to dive out of the way, but the heroine is too agile, and snatches it up.

Nohrbor Nanuran Surryx calls out, "We only seek safe passage through your lands, but woll continue to pay the toll with your broken warriors if we must- but at least do me the courtesy of dispatching at least one who we might not need to hold back against! This is hardly sporting!" He came for adventure and the Godflora do not break truly lesser foes for fun.

A baroque knife forged of pure will appears from no where as the Godflora pulls his hand back to throw it at the toughest looking goblin he can find on the battlefield. The blade itself seem even from a distance to carry a cruel malice equalled only to the magnificence of its design.

Is he concerned with the horn? Of course not. He hopes it brings a challenge worthy of song & wine!

"Bring the Godflora satisfaction or grant my allies passage!" He calls out though the call is not meant as such is more than a little threatening considering the circumstances- yet still, the last goblin falls before them.

He is stopped from letting the blade take wing only by Kalwara's notification of the on coming approach of more warriors (and the fact that there is little sport to be had now).

"Riders you say? Good. Good." The Godflora says as he prepares to ask which direction they are coming from when Meleryniel's words remind him there is more on the line than finding a worthy challenge.

"I am open to suggestions." He rumbles before making his own, "Otherwise, you should all continue on. I shall claim to be the source of all the calamity and if they want proof I shall give it."

"Lady," calls the black man, "I have only arrived myself -- do me the courtesy to believe that, even if I may be the villain of the story, that I cannot instigate mayhem just by walking in!!"

Gruglug's deep voice rumbles, "Ain't tryin' no mischuf. Jus' travelin' the path," the large troll says in the most terrible butchering of the fae language possible.

Lennox batters away another spear-thrust. "Gruglug, can you restrain one or two of these three?"

Gruglug trudges toward one of the goblins, towering over them. He's tall, but at 4 meters, he's nowhere near as tall as Titan can be. "C'mere yous little pint gobbos," his gravely voice insists as he leans down and swipes a hand towards one to try and snatch it up.

The goblin doesn't even see it coming, focused as it is on putting a spear-point into the Desecrator. A huge troll-hand encircles about half its body, and the goblin yells in fury, struggling uselessly.

With one removed, a swift double-strike with the flat of Lennox's blade stings the hands of the other two goblins enough to cause said hands to drop their spears, making it very tough for the goblins to continue to poke at him, at least for a moment. "I /said/ I claim Right of Observation!!"

This causes the pair of goblins to step back with a look of confusion on their face --

Three great hounds bound into the clearing, each bearing a goblin, with one of them holding on to the horn that'd just been blown -- very obviously a dwarven horn. The three hold spears that stretch a good two feet above their heads, and though the hafts are clearly of simple make -- how complex does a spear need to be, really? -- they are /well/ made simple spears. The blades that top them are even better made, looking even only at a glance to be of ancient make -- which suggests that they might be of very high workmanship indeed.

The three do not ride to the attack, but instead leap off their mounts as their hounds pass the place where the human and troll first stood (and are now off to one side), two landing with almost elven grace and one stumbling but rolling out of it. The third bounds hurriedly backwards to complete the backs-to-each-other triangle that suggests they have trained together for /quite/ some time, and know how to fight as a team. The hounds continue on through the clearing, racing into the woods, perhaps to circle around and threaten flanking attacks at any moment.

"Who comes," calls one, "onto the Threshold of the Archive??"

Lennox hangs his head for a moment, and says something ... probably foul.

Titan raises a brow, "Most of us represent the Princess Guard, from Undermoon. We came looking for this man." He points to Lennox. "Though I'm not sure why he's here, exactly. He'll need to explain for himself."

Nohrbor Nanuran Surryx is happy to let peace take root and so, leaves the Princess Guard to the politicking.

Union says, "This is the one who blew the horn, probably to summon these three. He is unharmed." She sets the goblin down and releases him.

The goblin who spoke eyes the big man, the barrier, the six-meter dragon up above, with its lightning-crackles, then Lennox. "Speak," says the goblin (its speech, to be fair, being in Fae), "so that we may witness the truth of your words."

Lennox's eyes narrow at this phrasing. "Neither judge nor Witness are you, standing /here/ and calling it the Threshold of the Archive, to state that you can so witness."

"He demanded," says the goblin still trying to shove its way out of Gruglug's grasping hand, "Right of Observation."

There is sudden tension amongst the three, even as Union comes out and deposits the horn-blowing goblin on the ground; that one skitters a bit away, still holding on to what is, for those who know the sight of such things, a horn of elven style.

Gruglug doesn't tighten his hold, nor does his hand budge. He stares on at the protocol, dumbfounded.

Titan looks between them, trying to assess exactly waht that means.

Two of the new trio (the two that didn't fumble the dismount) look at each other, then ground their spears; the second gives a back-kick to the third, who does so as well.

"I," says the first goblin, "am Chittaknotsam, First Applicant to the Witnesses. Who are you to say I have no right?"

"Witness A'Kush, the Knight Undying," growls Lennox. "Who are /you/?"

The three riders react with surprise. "Wouldn't he be dead by now?" asks the third to his battle-mates in a low voice; that only earns a roll of the female second's eyes.

"We are Chittaknotsam," the first one says, indicating himself, "Mutsenminmak," indicating the female, "and Delmorkidtoh. We wait for a Knight Witness, that we may apply to join their fellowship, and guard the graves of these fallen." He indicates the three 'branches' near which Lennox and Gruglug stand -- which, given a moment to study them, mentally resolves into three graves, with weapons and pendants in place to mark their location.

"Gruglug," says Lennox slowly, "I think you can let him go." He moves slowly, then, away from the graves. "Chittaknotsam, may I consult with those who followed me here?"

After a moment of contemplation, the leader of the goblin trio nods, and Lennox turns to the Guard and speaks in English as he sheathes his sword. "So what happened that the Princess Guard has come to look up on me?"

Gruglug doesn't seem too happy to let the poking Goblin go. "Roight," he chuffs, his rancid breath washing over the hapless goblin. He leans down to set the goblin on the ground clumsily and releases them.

Titan nods to Lennox, "We were sent by Princess Liandere to make sure that peace would be maintained. That no ... international incidents would occur. Basically check up on you and see what you were up to."

"Aye- we are agents of peace." NNS says in agreement with the others.

Gruglug is at least smart enough -- barely -- to point out to the three, "If he was dead by now, 'e wouldn't be undying, would 'e?" he grins toothily. Or tuskily, given the tusks.

Union says, "And we tried not to hurt anyone *too* much..."

The goblin's breath isn't all that great either, but ... Gruglug /is/ on the low end of the trollish social structure. Granted, he /does/ have a bridge (or /did/ have one), but out in the back beyond ...

"Ugh," Lennox says. "There are times I remember why I left Faerie, and wonder why I have come back. But ..." He considers Titan's words for a few moments, looking down at the ground. "They have a right," he concedes, "to be concerned, as it is for their people and for their peace." He lifts his head, and gives Nohrbor a swift smile. "Unless there is a good fight in the offering?" he suggests. "Hopefully not -- or at least, not for you. Sorry, Nohrbor."