Of a Different Feather
19th of Abadius 4708 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)
As Mina's gaze fixes on your shadowy companion with that sharpness that is not quite a spell, he proclaims without modesty: "The dead-who-live are a plague and we are its cure. We have come seeking them. We have come seeking our own to take back. Back we shall go, taking nothing of yours."
The rustling of leaves and the creaking of branches grows louder, but no more strange appendages come shooting from among the tangle and instead one of the faerie troupe makes himself known, perched upon a great black knot in a branch about head high. His own head is elfin-fair, with hair as read as the majority of his plumage. "What strange alchemy of chance this, to have friends spring unbidden from the maw of a blind beast uneaten."
"The ,imic?" Sirim asks with faint haughtiness hinging his words. "Surely that is more refuse disposal than threat."
In response there is first silence that has your hand back on the hilt of your sword in an instant followed by an odd sound indeed, half titter and half thrill, it's clear that he had fallen upon some great jest. Even the many-armed creature and others that had come out of hiding in the meantime, some tusked like slurks, some with a mouth round like a lamprey or fans spun of delicate purple tendrils were laughing along.
"Truly, that was once its purpose, though like many lowly things it presumes much in place and facing," the crimson feathered fey says. "I am Speaks to Blood, and with yours I shall speak slow." It takes you a moment to realize that he means he intends to converse through the medium said blood now inhabits, not spill it out all at once.
How... promising.
Sirim Diplomacy (DC 28): 1d20+14 = 34 (Critical Success)
"They lie and abuse your trust, great one!" another fey, this one with feathers of green and brown that fades into the canopy if it were not for you being able to see the heat of life shimmering off them. "Do you not see one of the interlopers among them?"
Undaunted, Sirim prepares to defend himself, only to find a most unlikely of defenders speaking first.
"Him who called me is not among the Flock of Urgathoa, this I vow by the First Gate at the foot of Heaven's Mount!" Oriel proclaims.
What do the Headsnappers know of Heaven? you wonder silently. They certainly do not seem impressed, though some eyebrows at least are cocked in curiosity.
"No, not you..." The green-feathered one points one clawed foot away from Sirim.... and directly at Anippe: "
Her!"
"No... I'm alive! That's a lie!" the girl rallies from horror to anger in the span of a breath. "I breathe, eat, and sleep. I'm warm, my heart beats, and my blood flows!"
"Stuff and trickery, lies and mummery!" As it speaks the mockingfey's face takes on the dark-haired olive-skinned likeness of Anippe herself. "You are as they are!"
"I am not and I'll prove it!" she snaps.
Even so, Sirim's voice flows into your mind and from the look on your companions' faces not just yours:
"There's strange dealings afoot, the fey do not knowingly lie and that one speaks with strange conviction."
"Let us taste your blood that so your inner self might be judged," Speaks with Blood proclaims among the approval of his raucous flock.
"Blood should not be lightly shared," Gorok says in as close to worry as you have ever heard him. Whatever else she might be, he sees the young mage as part of his responsibility and it's clear he would rather fight his way through the Headsnappers rather than endanger her.
What does Kori think?
[] Anippe should offer some of her blood to prove she is not undead
[] Better to leave even if you have to fight for the chance
[] Write in
OOC: Enjoy.