Beyond the Wall: Greenedge IC

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"I think we should get home before another eve falls in this place, it's wearying enough."
 
Silverlion Silverlion Dumarest Dumarest Voros Voros Tulpa Girl Tulpa Girl Tommy Brownell Tommy Brownell I'm back. Work was super busy, then I got sucked into vacation.


After a doubly adventurous night, the teens make their way home. The air is cool from the rain and the season but the air is clear and the sun is shining. Travel is slowed by the fact that every low area is filled with rain water and there are puddles and ponds that weren't there yesterday.

Those with the ability quickly copied spells and everyone set off. After a few hours hours, the group has made it half way home, with another five miles to go. They all spot a small figure walking along a branch twenty feet in the air. As the they get close, the figure plummets to the ground. Before they can do more than gasp, the figure lands deftly and instantly makes for them with a jaunty stride.

The figure is a boy who looks to be about five years old. He grins enthusiastically at them. "Greetings on this fine day. What brings you to this fair land?"




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'We're heading home,' I say. 'Where are your parents little one?'
 
The boy beams at those with questions. "You may call me Pale Little. And well, my parents are in a different land. My aunt is near but she is in a foul mood as the change of seasons has not gone well with her this year."
 
"This is most unnatural and I take it as an ill omen," says the Wanderer to the others in a low tone so as not to be overheard. "We should hasten away from this changeling before it is too late."
 
"Ah, so Pale Little, tell us what your aunt would ask of us poor mortal folk..."
 
Garrison offers a quick nod at Wanderer, before speaking up louder.

"Leave this child to his aunt. I rather miss my home."
 
Pulg nods. 'We have to return home to our mothers for mid-day meal, you should do the same little spirit.'
 
Pale Little looks to Sivlyr. "she would shrug at you and go about her business.

Pale Little balances on the toes of one foot like a ballet dancer. "Wait. Before you go, do any of you have a sense of balance?"
 
"Ask the others, I merely have a sense of foreboding."
 
"At present, I profoundly lack a sense of patience," Garrison says, with a sharp-eyed glare.
 
Pale Little pouts and folds his arms. "Fine. I try to help and you big people act above it all. And an elf has the gall to call me a changeling in a derogative manner. You have been nice neighbors and things have been quiet with an unspoken truce. I Like Quiet."

Pale stand arms akimbo for emphasis. "If the balance shifts, I cannot say what will the outcome will be."
 
Deandrea, unsettled by the unnatural appearance of the child, looks around to see what other unusual occurrences may be in the vicinity.
 
Deandra notices a patch of frost in the shadow of one of the trees. It had been a cool Spring night but nowhere near freezing.

Pale Little looks up at Silvyr. Imagine you had a scale. If you remove something of weight, you must add something of weight to keep the scale from tipping."
 
'What would you have of us then spirit?'
 
"How does this concern us?" asks the Wanderer.
 
Pale shrugs. "I don't blame you for claiming the soul fruit. But others might feel slighted or even weakened by its absence. I want everyone to stay friendly."
 
'Who does the fruit belong to?' I ask.
 
Pale pauses and looks as he thinks. "Well, I guess it's yours by claiming it. But I don't know if everyone around here will agree. If you gave something they'd value or if you could provide some service to help the area, I hope things could stay quiet and nice. But little me can't think of exactly what to do."
 
"Might we ask your aunt? Or is there another that we should speak too, for while we seek to do little harm, we may be best at balancing scales."
 
Pale purses his lips. "Maaaybe. She is really wise. But she has been moody lately and has been known to transform those who annoy her. I can call her. If you're sure."
 
While Silvyr, Pulg and the Wanderer converse with the unusal child named Pale, Deandrea nudges Garrison, motioning toward the unnatural frost one she has his attention.
 
Garrison shrugs when he sees the frost. "Is this more wizardry? Consequences of our actions? Perhaps we should just return the apple. Some things are best not meddled with. Clearly we have begun dabbling in those things."
 
"The apple belongs to Pulg as far as I can see," says the Wanderer, "therefore I say the decision should belong to him as well. I, for one, will support him either way."
 
'Sure let's chat with the Auntie,' I say.
 
"The apple belongs to Pulg as far as I can see," says the Wanderer, "therefore I say the decision should belong to him as well. I, for one, will support him either way."

"A good argument for me, what do you say Pulg?"
 
Pale Little shrugs, then smiles and winks. "Be right back."

He darts behind a tree and disappears. He reappears a couple of minutes later. He wraps himself in his cloak and he talks. "She's on her way. She is not malicious by nature but she is having a hard Spring and is still cloaked in winter. So be polite."

A voice like two branches rubbing in the wind emits "What's that boy? Revealing my secrets to strangers again? Do I have to bury you under the hill again?"

A fairly large old woman appears. The air cools as she approaches, like a storm moving in. She is over six feet tall and broad. It would be ill advised to guess her weight but, if you did guess, it might be around 300 pounds. She quickly looks over everyone, seemingly unfazed and unimpressed.

"So, the scamp says you want to pay off a debt but don't know how?"


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'What would you have us do feasome one?'
 
As none of the teens can think of anything of equivalent value and none of them agree to be the Aunt's consort for a month, Pale suggests an agreement for a favor in the future. He offers to lead them home as he knows a few shortcuts.

It had been thought that they were about halfway home but, after a shortcut through a grove and along a creek, they are within sight of the village. Pale Little gives them an Irish goodbye.

In the village the are many outcries from upset and relieved friends and family. Several of the teens are grounded for a week and given extra chores.

(lets drop into downtime mode as it will be a few weeks of game time before any thing adventurous happens. Decide what you're going to do with the Silver Apple. If you want to talk to anyone in the village about anything, your are able to find them at some point in the down time. )

Everyone gets 1000 xp so advancement will happen within the life of a pbp game.
 
We sneak out at night and bury the silver apple in the fields.
 
'We need to bury this apple in the fields so the crops will prosper for many a year, or so I was told by the Wise Woman I met in the woods.'
 
'We need to bury this apple in the fields so the crops will prosper for many a year, or so I was told by the Wise Woman I met in the woods.'
"I shall leave aside your most idiosyncratic understanding and usage of the word we at this time and nonetheless assist you, for none may say the Wanderer is but a fair-weather friend."
 
"Well, let's see what happens here, I'm a bit confused. Did her word reach your ears only?"
 
"Well, let's see what happens here, I'm a bit confused. Did her word reach your ears only?"
"I daresay we are all bewildered," says the Wanderer. "Pulg says he hath received a mystic injunction to bury the Silver Apple. I have chosen to take him at his word and accompany him, though I will brandish my blade for the sake of prudence and caution."
 
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No villagers or anyone else have noticed Pulg's actions this night.

(carry on however you want. unless you have a question)
 
I sneak out with the Wanderer to bury the apple as the myths and Wise Woman instruct with the Wanderer and anyone else who wants to accompany me.

After that I strike out a few days later into the forest to see what favour the fae will require in return for keeping the apple.
 
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