RP:Storm Chasers

From HollowWiki

Part of the Agitation Arc


Summary: Linn and Josleen return to Delicates Farm with a cache of symbols and runes to run by Mrs. Delicate, as promised a few days earlier. During the visit, Josleen spies the return of the peculiar storm over the Xalious park. Josleen and Linn chase the storm, and Ansel beats them to the picnic area where everything green melts to inky black, the trees turn to porous stone, picnic tables collapse, and fires leap to life as lesser fire elementals. Josleen and Ansel discover that the black inky chemically burns them this time, though the first time they touched it, it did not. Linn, for whom this storm is his first exposure, is not burned. A tree falls on Linn's ankle and sprains it, and the trio escape on Linn's magical slip-n-slide!

Delicates Farm

It’s just before lunchtime the day after Linn and Hildegarde enjoyed a meal at Josleen’s home. The amateur detectives pay one of their star witnesses, Mrs. Rose Delicate, a visit as promised to show her symbols and tattooes with the hope that she’ll recognize one or more as having belonged to the set tattooed on the half drow’s arms. Josleen takes care of the pleasantries. She brings fruit and freshly-squeezed orange juice so that she (and Linn by association) remain in the Delicate’s good graces. They sit at a large table. Mrs. Delicate prepares tea. A good half hour is spent exchanging gifts and small talk before getting down the business, as if the Xalious Way. When the time is just right, Josleen invites Linn to cycle through the symbols they’ve gathered during their research.


Linn may have looked a little impatient to get their work done, but he tolerated the delays. There wasn’t anything waiting on them right now anyway so it wasn’t that significant. If anything he looked a little embarrassed that he didn’t have much to be part of the pleasantries. He raised a brow at the cue that it was time to go through the symbols. With a smile he began to manipulate the ring on his finger, causing it to unspiral and release the loop of diamonds to begin their work. He glanced every now and then in Rose’s direction, curious to how she would react to the little display. Some turns and twists of the parts of the loop caused the strands of light in front of him to flicker from one image to another until they finally hit the collection of symbols that the investigation called for. “These should be what we are looking for” he said as the image turned around for others to read it. His manner was much lighter than it was the other day, likely in part to the pleasant exchange that was just had.


Rose shakes her head at the first collection. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.” Good thing Josleen and Linn spent hours in the library and stored dozens of collections, hundreds of symbols. As Linn cycles through the collections, Josleen’s attention wanes. Rose doesn’t recognize collection two, or three, or four, or five, or six, and so on. The bard looks out the kitchen window towards the northeast, in the direction of Ansel’s cabin, not that anyone present would know that. Her mind drifts to thoughts of her paramour. Just as Linn patiently reaches collection number twenty-two, Josleen sits up in her chair and squints through the window. “Linn.” She stills. “Linn, stop. Look.” Between the farm and Ansel’s cabin sits the lovely village park, but on this day its picturesque gardens and meadows are blemished by the strange tempest that accompanies all of these occurrences. “Let’s go.” In one fluid motion she stands and slips her overgrown purse (full of lady secrets) over one shoulder. “We’ll be back, Mrs. Delicate. Don’t be alarmed.” She’s already racing to the door to chase the storm when she minds her manners, pauses, turns to Mrs. Delicate, and says “Thank you for your hospitality.” And she’s out, power walking to the park.


Linn patiently kept flipping through the symbols, somewhat unsurprised that the one in question wasn’t recognized. It was a lot of symbols… Josleen’s voice served to cut through the process, bringing him back to attention of the world around. He followed her eyes straight to the storm clouds outside, his own wide with recognition that this was what they were looking for. He turned back to Rose with a nod, closing the ring so they could get going. “Thank you as well, it was good to meet you here.” He managed to get out with his attention still on her before snatching up his pack and going right out the door behind Josleen. He was nearly running his way to the storm and would pass her up soon enough, eager to finally get a firsthand view of what is happening.


Picnic Area, Xalious Park

The tempest looms over the picnic area during peak family lunch time. Leaves, grass, moss decay to inky black like last time. Tree bark transmutes to porous stone. The picnic tables rot and the families sitting at them fall to the melting, dark grass. But the most alarming of all, the fire in the little pits for cook-outs, leap to life in the form of tiny fire fiends. Knee-height, chubby little fire devils, running wild and setting fire to everything. They will attack people if people are in their way, but don't seem to target anyone in particular or have a taste for blood.


Ansel was walking through the streets with the boys and Jenson. They were stopping at all sorts of vendors today. The three of the men with their matching hiking sticks to go back up the mountain later throughout the day. The four of them were trying on different hats: straw hats, floppy hats, caps, a variety. The man had been content for the meantime before turning around to the next vendor only to look far into the distance at, yet again, another stormy puff. “Jenson… watch the boys… I’ll-I’ll be back.” The man pushes through the crowd of people before coming into the clear to run after the storm. Ansel had not witnessed another storm since the occasion with Josleen, but Josleen made it clear that she had a mission to catch another one before another got there. The wolf comes over a hill and looks down towards a picnic area where people are scattering about to evacuate the area. The man slowly wanders down the hill, now stepping within the grass that is now oozing out ink and cautious of the plump devils. “Gods,” he is lifting up each foot before taking steps back again to a more “dry” area.


Josleen gasps “Gods” just like Ansel as she and Linn scale a hill and get a bird’s eye view of the destruction. Just outside the tempest, she remembers her promise to Hildegarde to stop, look for the presence of dark-robed mages, and if they are present, run the other way. So she stops, scans, but before she can complete her reconnaissance she spies Ansel. “Ansel!” she shouts as she runs down the hill towards him, her promise to Hildegarde broken before completion thanks to his presence. The chubby devils burn through food and picnic blankets with glee. One turns its fiery spray on Josleen, and she leaps left just in time to avoid the column of fire. The fiend doesn’t give chase, but instead scorches the inky earth. With Linn at her back, she stops short of touching Ansel but her desire to do so wrenches her expression. She glances over her shoulder at the armor-clad spellblade and explains to Ansel, “That’s the man I told you about, Linn.” Her body tries to shepherd them both along the perimeter of the chaos, out of harm’s way. She shouts over to Linn, “Take a sample then let’s go!”


Linn gave Ansel a brief look and a “hey there” in response to his introduction before turning his attention to the events in front of him. The wolf would see a human of rather average frame wearing a sharply angled suit of medium mithril armor. Every bit of his body was covered by the metal, but the joints were left well clear of the rigid plates, scale and fine mail covering them instead. He would have spent his time greeting Ansel if he hadn’t been waiting for a storm like this so expectantly. “Oh boy oh boy oh boy…” he repeated during his assessment of the chaos in front of him before getting set in motion by the gout of fire heading towards them. He had to jump out of the way as well as the sprite made its way by him. His gaze shot between the ink soaked grass, the devils, buckled tables, porous bark, every bit had something crazy going on with it. He took a scrap of leather from his pack to scoop up the inky matter in front of him before tying it off for later. But after getting the sample he didn’t quite go, instead he moved to open the ring again, mithril wires already unspooling for the expanding loop of diamond to record what was going on. Evidently this –was- a time to stop and take notes for him.


Ansel did not even recognize Josleen until she shouted his name. His head shifted into her direction and eyes widened at the spitting fire that was launching towards her. “Watch—“ she dodged, thank goodness. Eyes now lingered on Linn and he gives a slight nod, but is very distracted in the meantime. There was no time for jealousy at the moment and conversation. He would watch the man gather the sample, and for the meantime, step back. Linn was well equipped for the job, Ansel was wearing his simple attire. “We should get out of here, this place is becoming a death trap,” was it appropriate to grasp the woman’s arm? Perhaps this was complicated. Oh well, there was no time for that. He was now gesturing to the man who was gathering evidence.


Josleen steps behind Ansel so that he is between her and most of the chaos, but doesn’t touch him even though her hands itch to do so. Not because of some romantic desire — this isn’t exactly a mood-setting circumstance — but because of his ability to always make her feel safe. She crouches behind him to scoop a sample of the ooze into her own vial with her bare hand. She lets out a loud yelp and rights herself to a stand. Her injured hand cradles against her chest and she winces and breathes through clenched teeth. She shows Ansel her red, raw fingertips that look burned chemically. If Linn touches the ooze with his bare skin, nothing will happen. If Ansel touches it, he will burn like Josleen. She nods stiffly at the wolf’s question, her movements stilted by pain. In the heart of the storm, the structural integrity of the porous trees gives way under the fiends’ flames. One particularly heavy tree cracks, sways, and falls in the span of seconds. Its trunk hurtles down on Linn’s head. “LINN!” Josleen shouts over Ansel’s shoulder. The couple aren’t in danger of a falling tree yet. The bard runs towards the spellblade, her burnt hand still cradled against her chest. “Come on!”


Linn had little attention focused on Josleen and Ansel for the moment, already getting the visible information of the scene in to his records. The yelp coming from the bard took him away from the chaos as he began to make his way towards her as the tree cracked and broke next to him. He turned to get a look at it to find it already falling, its roots doing nothing to slow it for it had broken at the base of the trunk. The ring closed itself in a flash as he dove forward to get the majority of himself out, but was dragged down by the tree slamming down on the back of his leg as he tried to get out. The angled edge of the armor served its purpose, breaking the brittle trunk over his leg, though his face twisted in pain regardless. The impact strained or broke his ankle as his leg was nearly shorn from his foot by the force. He wasn’t pinned, but he was going to have a tough time running out of here. A curse was the only thing to escape his mouth during the whole ordeal.


Ansel listens to the wince from the bard behind him, he automatically twists around to take a look at her fingers. He gave her a questioning look. “How come it…” He trailed and shakes his head before looking back over his shoulder at Linn. The woman cried loud enough at him. As the tree topples down on Linn’s leg, the wolf cringes and moves forward behind the woman, listening to her commands. Another one of those devils spits fire in their direction, and Ansel sort of presses a hand on Josleen’s back to push her forward. Ansel jumps back before continuing again. At the looks, the man was not pinned, but a little help of trying to budge the tree would do and make things a little easier. The man tries push upon the trunk before moving to assist Linn. Ansel extends his callused hand out, hopefully Linn will take it.


Josleen didn’t see the fire coming and is saved by Ansel’s shove. She stumbles forward, catches herself, and looks back without breaking stride. It’s hard to make out Ansel in the mounting smoke, but soon he catches up. He’s fine, good, keep going. The smoke chokes her and coats her fine clothing. Everything smells of carbon and ash. She coughs into her fist as she takes a position beside Linn, opposite Ansel, and offers her not-burned hand so that the couple can pull him up together. There is no way she’d be able to help the nearly six-foot man clad in heavy armor without Ansel’s strength. Once Linn is limping on one foot, she tucks her shoulder beneath his hard-metal armpit like a crutch. A second yelp claws out of her smoke-scratched throat and she shoves Linn away. Some of the ink from the decaying grass stucks to Linn’s armor and burns the side of Josleen’s exposed neck. Her breath hisses through her teeth, shallow and quick, and her good hand braces the burn. Thinking on her feet, she removes her sweater and drapes it over her head and neck then resumes her position as Linn’s crutch. The fabric protects her from further burns. “Let’s go!” she shouts hoarsely. In the distance at the crest of a hill, the silhouette of three-robed figures stands sentry.


Linn groaned in pain as the movement of the tree pushed at his ankle. He looked at Ansel for a second and might have just waved him away to help Josleen if she wasn’t coming as well. Instead he just points forward several times. “Go, let’s get out of here before we worry about getting me on my feet. I have other tricks.” With that he rolled on to his side to kick off the ground with his good foot, giving the other two a final glance to get out before he cast his spell. If they stayed next to him and fell as well… he’d just grab a hold of them to take them along for the ride. A white flash spread across the ground maybe a couple feet around him. Anyone on it would find the ground to have no traction at all. Linn then pushed off, and began sliding… and didn’t stop. Another kick and he was going faster, enough to keep up with the two even if they were running. There was a look of restrained laughter on his face at the absurd way he had used this spell. He drew a deep violet crystal from his pocket in preparation of some of the demons deciding to give him a parting shot.


Ansel tries to assist Josleen by also being a crutch. As Josleen shoves Linn away, Linn crashes against the man, he is steady enough to hold him for the meantime. Linn refuses at a point. ‘Go. I have other tricks.’ The man does let go. “Come on, Josleen,” and Ansel begins to move to the other side to see if Josleen would come or not. If so, they would be running and dodging, and if not, they would be slipping and sliding and losing their traction on the ground. Her choice, but either way, he was not going to leave the woman behind.


Josleen doesn’t resist Ansel’s escape plan. Who cares who’s watching at this point. She takes his hand and runs with him, or more accurately slightly behind him. His long legs carry him further quicker, but Josleen does her best to keep up. They run alongside Linn’s magical slip-n-slide, until a fiend blasts a fiery column at the pair. Josleen jumps to avoid the fire and lands right on the frictionless surface. Because she’d holding onto Ansel, it’s likely she’s taking him with her, unless he lets go. Twice she tries to catch herself on the ground just beyond the white slip strip, but the ink burns her arm, then a leg.If Ansel fell with her, she curls against Ansel’s side, eyes shut tight, and forehead tucks in against his chest. If he stays upright, she assumes the fetal position and a barrels away from him until stopped by an immovable object, whatever that may be. One of the fiery demons fell right after Linn and is chasing him on the slide face first on its belly. It violently propels fire at the spellblade through its mouth. On the hill, the trio doesn’t move.


Luckly for Josleen she was just ahead of Linn and out of the way of the trail of ink he was leaving behind, none of her forward momentum lost in the fall. For sliding on the ground it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as it should have, it felt more like a vibrating surface than a grinder under her. He turned to grab on to her clothing to keep her from sliding out of the influence of his spell with his unoccupied hand before seeing the demon following him on his own spell. “Please.” He sarcastically muttered before raising his legs off the ground and trimming the area of influence out from under the demon. It barely managed to throw a short-lived burst of flame at him before the sudden return of friction caused the demon to begin tumbling head over heels, throwing fire randomly without focus. Linn had no time to take satisfaction though, he was too busy trying to deal with the ramifications of his own spell.


Ansel is almost shocked that she is grasping his hand and running along with him, or more like pulling her along with him. As Josleen jumps and slips on the surface, Ansel flies back and slips forward on his stomach on the white frictionless lane, letting go of her hand. “Oof,” a belly flop was not cool, his hand landing on the oozing ink. The ooze burned. “Damnit,” he flinches and pulls his hand back. The man tries to lift himself up before slipping again, hands slipping to his sides as he tries to keep his hands on the slippery surface. He then decides to roll instead to face up and sit up, he had to know what was going on. There was no time for Josleen to hide within him. Though, she was still crouched by his leg in that fetal position.


Josleen looks up behind her at the sound of the fire demon squealing as it goes ass-over-head. Between her and the fiend is Ansel then Linn in that order, and beyond the entire scene the three mages (presumably). The tempest’s area of influence is small, and Linn’s spell takes them past the perimeter. She rolls sideways onto healthy grass and sits up on her knees. The fire elementals seem unable to leave the boundary of the storm. The entire scene unfolds as if inside an invisible snowglobe. Nothing spills beyond the shade of the clouds. Black lightning flashes in unnatural curves. No thunder echoes. Once Ansel and Linn have caught up (if they do), Josleen takes stock of all their conditions. She’s burnt on the palm, elbow and leg, and her hair and clothes is dishevelled. She stares through the storm at the trio of mages. Their silhouettes move, turn towards her, then turn away and disappear. To whichever man reaches her first,or both, she says, “I think that was them, the mages. They just left.”


The trio begin to slow and stop as they leave the area of influence before the ground finally behaves the way it should again, allowing them to get up. Linn lets out a sigh while still lying on the ground, quite unhappy that he wound up dragging the other two through the ooze, which seemed to do much more to them than it did to him. He got up to a sitting position and was just about to apologize before the flash of black lightning crossed the sky. The ring on his finger managed to avoid the ooze, but much his mithril armor was now stained black from all of the sliding on the substance. He re-opened it to record the influence and nature of what happened, as well as a quick note on Ansel’s and Josleen’s burns. Just as quickly it closed. It was hard to tell what exactly happened to his ankle under the armor, but it didn’t quite make the shape it should have under the mail covering it. He looked quite dismayed at everyone’s condition. “I wasn’t hoping to drag you guys on the ground with me, sorry.” He leaned forward on to his good leg and scratched his head. Ansel was likely the first to make it to Josleen, making his head snap towards the two as she spoke, and back to where she was looking towards to find the mages before releasing a deep sigh.


Josleen shakes her head at Linn without looking at him. “It’s alright.” Slowly her stare peels away from the mages. This trio is in no condition to give chase to the other trio of mages. Frankly, even if they weren’t beaten up, Josleen isn’t sure she wants to tango with whoever those men may be. “How’s your ankle?” Lucky for Linn, Ansel’s a healer with limited healing magic which can be put to use to set Linn’s ankle correctly and reduce the swelling. The healer (would probably) explains that Linn shouldn’t put weight on it, or run, or do strenuous exercise for a few weeks. The ankle still hurts, but it’s functional. As for the pair’s burns, Josleen mentions the availability of some salves in the town clinic that they can use. “We should go. We won’t be able to stop the cover up, but at least you managed to record it.” She offers to help Linn up to his feet. “Did you get a good sample of the ooze?” Her body language signals that she wants to return to town where the clinic is. After that, Ansel needs to get back to Jenson and his sons.

Linn grows a melancholy smile at being forgiven. At least the event wasn’t being completely held against him. He looked over to the leg that got hit. “My ankle feels like it was nearly pulled apart. The bones probably aren’t where they should be right now.” Something against the back of his neck was feeling… wet. His gloved hand went back to wipe off his neck and came back blackened with the ooze, making him quite perplexed as he looked back to Josleen and Ansel who had sustained noticeable burns from it. “Am I burned as well?” he asked as he arched his head forward for the two to see what happened. After all was said and done he was ready to make his way towards the clinic with them. The whole backside of his armor was stained black with the stuff, hopefully mithril is easy to clean of this stuff…


Josleen shakes her head. “No, you aren’t burned. Strange...” Josleen has a theory, but she doesn’t voice it yet. Josleen agrees to keep her father out of the loop. The Mage’s Guild is excluded from Linn and Josleen’s private investigation. Lucky for Linn, cleaning off the ooze should be easy. “It came right out of my dress last time,” she says to the spellblade. In the town square they part ways, with Ansel and Josleen going to the clinic. The bard never explains who Ansel is, and the lycan eyes Linn warily. The territorial wolf is jealous of any man who forms any type of relationship, even non-romantic ones, with Josleen, but he says nothing apart from polite-enough good bye.


Linn gives a nod and a goodbye towards the two before limping his way over to the well to wash his gear clean after setting his ankle. The suspicion seemed a little lost on him, or he was just used to people wondering who the hell he was. It came right off the metal, lucky for him. The leather of his pack took a bit more work but returned to its usual dark brown after a little scrubbing. Afterwards he made his way to… the Xalious Tree of all places, setting up some enchantment to help deal with the weight he was going to have to put on his ankle later.