Ethereal Bells
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There's been an occasional ethereal tinkling of bells heard throughout the lands, a meldory some may know as "I'm a Little Teapot". The old gypsy camp and the spider woods around them would be home to more frequent and localized replay of this ethereal melody that doesn't ever seem to come from any particular place or direction in the woods.
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_Striding with an even step, Syrano lightfootedly strolls through the woods toward the Camp from the western half of the pass, he tilts his head slightly at the strange tune and soon slows his pace to a steady halt, immediately glancing about to find it's origin. Though somewhat alarmed and curious at the presence of the tune, a calming sensation traversed through his body as he he took another step to lean up against the trunk of a nearby tree and further study the melody.
In that very moment, he felt absolution in the coming strike against the demonic entities that now inhabit the camp, and a revamped strength and will to fight it, not only physically… but mentally as well.
A lone Tree Spider rustling about above draws his attention for only a moment, long enough for Syrano to mimic a chittering noise to confuse it and return to the melodic tune. After the tune stopped, a grin began to spread across his face... and he continued that even pace all the way to the notches in the cliff side, and up to the Pixie's Roost._
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A heavily armored man can be seen walking in the camp by whoever may be watching. His armor the color of the legion and a shining sword in his hand as he approaches some gnolls within the camp.
Time has come to reclaim my home, be wary dogs as my sword shreads a path through your army…..your god be damned.
Several gnoll bodies are seen falling in the wake of the armored man as he whistles the tea pot tune and slays all gnolls before him. A happy smile can be seen upon his face and the occasionally scream of….. "The Gali and Romani shall reclaim thier land" is heard throughout the camp.
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::Across the gorge from the ruins of the Gypsy Camp, a tall, raven-haired man chops into a deadwood tree with heavy strokes. Upon hearing the melody, he stops, leaning upon the axe a little wearily and wiping his forehead with the back of his arm… After a moment, the melody is interupted by the howling of the Gnolls, and he frowns deeply, slamming the axe into the tree angrily as he hews.::
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Sil mentions to any former Gali that Cera has been seen in Spellweavers' Keep, and that she has been conducting research on the nature of the gnoll demons, particularly Yeenoghu.
Surely something is at work.
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A gnome sings along to the song as the canine creatures around him fall cold to the ground
I'm a little teapot short and stout!
Here is my handle, here is my… has both hands on his hips as a shaman falls to the ground with earthshaking forceuh oh... I'm a sugarbowl!
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Out of the shadows, a pair of bright red eyes watch the gnolls as they roam free in the camp.
"Not in my rut, y'rotten buggers. We're comin' back fer ya, ah assure ya…"
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A small elven cleric seems to be drawn to the pass , more and more frequently she journeys there to sit and wait and talk to the increasing number of Gali who also seem drawn to gather there by some spiratual calling . She keeps telling people "I am going home , I feel it ". Her friends have noted her increased obsession and are uneasy. When she meets in the company of gali, she talks passionately with them of home and family and her eyes dance with an inner light, alive again. "I am going home " and out the gates of Jiyyd she disappears to follow what ever homing instinct posesses them all.
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A tall lithe man moves silently weaving his way through the spiders and then slipping in among the dogfaces seeming to track the patterns of life there, then pauses at the sound and smiles a little as he tilts his ear and pauses beside a gnoll and whispers to the creature not seeming to care if it understandss
"Sleep light and may your dreams be at peace. for soon your nightmares come and we will be back for what is ours, not all of the oathtakers are gone"
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Tala moves silently through the trees, climbing cliff faces and counting the gnoll forces below. Watching for patterns in their patroling and sentries she makes careful note.
too long have you lived in my home…
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A small female elf listens to the tune as a teenage Romani boy with feral eyes looks to her curiously. She whispers the words of the song to him in elven, pausing as a gnoll lets out its deafening howl below them.
<elven>Song of home…family come back soon...Fadien and Badger be ready...
Half elven ears perk as a lone woman walks among the shadows in the woods. Watching over some boyers as they chop down tree after tree, she wonders what the melody means and if anybody hears it besides her…</elven>
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Moonlight shimmering in an oddly metallic way in her hair Nyda pauses by the small fires that keep hope alive in the entrance to the southern part of the pass and tilts her head with a nod.
"We know Cera. The time is soon. What was free shall be freed again, not all of us have forgotten. I stand ready."
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Somewhere in the mix of demons and gnolls, a lone elf heavily cloaked, and almost shimmering in enchantments, pauses in his hunt long enough to tip his cowled head to the sound.
"e: Retribution shall come…"
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If Belade ever walks close enough to the camp to hear the tune, she smiles, prays to Sune that the dogfaces might get neutered, then walks on.
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The man in the dark, forest green cloak and hood that has been paying visit to the outskirts of the Gypsy Camp on a frequent basis, usually quietly crouched and watching with a deep frown under the shadows over his face, who has been calling himself "Red" or "The King of Hearts," hears the soft tune lilt past, one night. Momentarily, a toothy grin passes his face, and he stands up, turning to where the melody floats away, then flicks his wrist and produces a playing card in his right hand, the Eight of Hearts.
In a gruff, angry voice, in the language of the Gypsies, Romanji, he says, drawing the words out slightly, "The Road back Home will be blazed in blood for this Teapot." Chuckling coarsely, he lowers himself into the concealing brush of the woods and skulks back out, leaving the Eight of Hearts leaned on the base of the trunk of a tree.
"There will be Retribution for every Teapot spilt . . . "
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Star listens with an odd smile and pauses whenever the tune starts.
