Difference between revisions of "Log:Souls Like Copper"

27 July, 2018

The time has come to bury their dead, as is the tradition of The Iron Tongues. However, this has been postponed several times over due to recurring gravewyrm attacks. So, who wouldn't mind being paulbearers? Part of Perfected Metals.

Suburban Sprawl

Despite Weaver typically being a night person he's called any willing to help to come out in the daytime. He'd waited near the gate on rainbowside, and then payed the toll of glamour himself when it came to passing to the other side. Their voyage to The Iron Tongue's village was done under cover of darkness via clause and contract. When they do arrive it's to a more mournful state of affairs for the usually busy hobs. They range in height and build, although all of them have the same general visage. Goblinoid with button noses and long, pointed ears.

The extreme variations come by way of their many colors and their prosthetics. Metallic, gear-based arms and legs aren't too surprising, but it's found on all of them. A few even have parts of their torso and heads replaced as such. Of the two dozen gathered outside of their home, only one isn't crying. An older hob that barely goes up to the hip of either woman. Both her legs are prosthetics and she still walks with a came despite the new-looking limbs.

Weaver, for his part, was adorned in hedgespun garb made of nightfall and the threads of some bent of magical silks. It moves and shifts with his movements in display of the stars, and he remains silent for a time until the older hob approaches. "Are these the other Lost Ones that're going to help us?"

Sara is trying to get more involved with the Freehold. Go out and meet people at social events...like funerals. She's trying her best! And since it is a funeral in the Hedge, she has grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows from the stores...just in case. Otherwise, she is dressed in black and looking like something out of Robin Hood - tights, skirt, doublet, cape (the latter helping to hide the weaponry a little). She waits to one side as Weaver greets the hobs, offering a smile to Olivia. "Hi...Sara. Sara Fry. Nice to meet you." Even in introductions, Sara's voice is a lovely thing.

Olivia pretty much goes where Weaver asks her to at this point. At least he's asking now instead of telling or insisting. She heads through the Hedge with her cousin, making her way to the village of hobs. At least she's met a few of those by now, and they're less strange to look at. The crying, though, causes her to frown slightly, fidgeting a bit. She feels a bit out of place now. Her own garb is not nearly so fancy; she doesn't own anything that's hedgespun. But at least she wears black over her icy skin. It is a funeral, after all. Her eyes shift around to focus on the hob that approaches, and she gives him a slight nod. "I'm here to help."

The hob, apparently the leader, greets both Olivia and Sara with a gentle smile. Weaver gets a frown as he nods to confirm her query. She lifts hand to Sara, and then to Olivia. "Ulidia, and as this Coo-Zen of the dragon knows, we are The Iron Tongues. We do so appreciate the help you've given to us." She then moves with a motion for them to follow. "Come. Come, Lost Ones." As he begins moving towards their homes she asks, "Do any of you know anything of gravewyrms?" Weaver shrugs, revealing his own ignorance as she waits for a reply.

"Ulidia. Coo-Zen." Sara nods politely as she is introduced. "It is our honor to help you." She follows along, slowly, since she could outstride them pretty quick. "I know a little about gravewyrms" she shrugs before glancing at the oblivious Olivia and Weaver. "Think the spice worms from Dune except they like corpses" she explains before adding. "A little smaller than the spice worms. A /little/ smaller." Back to their hob hosts she says, "Though perhaps you would like to explain your specific problem. I take it you're worried about them interrupting the funeral. Have you seen some?"

Olivia gives Ulidia a small smile and a nod as the introductions are given. She glances between Weaver and Sara at the question of gravewyrms, simply looking back at the hob blankly and giving a small shake of her head. She has no idea. Just don't ask. Not a clue from this one. She follows the hob's lead, walking slowly so as not to overtake her.

"I only understood, like, part of that. The only dunes I know are on beaches, and I've never had a spice worm. Is that just the worm in a bottle of tequila? If so I've had that already, and it wasn't spicy." Weaver shrugs and his insolence earns him a wack in the shins from Ulidia. "Your friends are always so much smarter than you. I wonder why they are your friends." As she turns around to continue on they're eventually led to what looks like a rather massive statue. It looks to be similar enough to the hobs, although the gilded thing is much bigger in and quite obviously in weight.

"I actually barely know him" Sara points out about Weaver in her defence about their friendship. "You need to enhance your cultural knowledge, Weaver" she playfully admonishes. "Really big worms that travel in pairs is the short answer. Big enough to swallow you whole kind of thing." She stops in front of the statue and looks it over. "Nice sculpting. Who is it of?"

"It was a book, Weaver," Olivia comments over towards her cousin. "And a movie. And a TV series. Seriously, pop culture." She peers over at him, snorting a little bit as he gets smacked by Ulidia. "He's my family. I'm obligated to love him. But even if I wasn't, I would anyway." Weaver gets a somewhat fond smile and Olivia gently pats his shoulder before looking up at the giant statue. "That's... big."

Definetly here right from the start, Damion is in the back of the group. He's fully decked out, wearing a suit of organic looking armor made from scales and leather with a massive sword on his back. A revolver rests on one hip. He's been silent up until now for whatever reason but comments, "Giant worms that make mind-altering spice that gives you psychic powers, prety much. I've never encountered a Gravewyrm though, so I don't know what those arelike."

"So they're drug dealers?" Weaver asks with a quirk of his brow. This earns him another whack, but it's on the opposite shin at least. Ulidia clears her throat, and then points to the statue. "We no longer bury our dead thanks in part to the gravewyrms. We return back to the void, and returning our worn bodies to iron." She then turns to face the statue solemnly. "We believe this may help us avoid those terrible things, but can't move it away from the roads here. We need help moving it to lay their souls to rest."

Sara rolls her eyes at Weaver's continued ignorance. He's not her family, she doesn't have to love him. "Probably better than giant spiders at least" Sara suggests to Damion with a wry smile before listening to Ulidia's dilemma. "You want to move the statue?" She looks at her scrawny limbs. "Hmm...not sure I could help directly with that, unless you have a lever somewhere. So why do you need to move it?" Seems to her that they should have just sculpted it in the right place originally.

"The people who collect the spice are the dea... nevermind." Olivia shakes her head. It isn't important to explain the sandworms right now. She looks between Ulidia and the statue as she explains, listening attentively. She's yet to get smacked by the hob, but it's surely just a matter of time. "You need to move THIS?" she asks, gesturing up at the giant statue. "And where do you need to move it to?"

Damion chuckles a little at Sara, "Probably. Those can be annoying." He studies the statue, reaching out to touch the surface of it with a gloved hand, then knock lightly to get a sense of whether it's hollow or not. "Well... I can certainly help move it. I'm not sure how far I'll be able to get it though." He shrugs. "I'd probably have to use some magic to have any chance of moving it on my own, though. It seems pretty heavy."

The statue is as solid as a rock. Literally so with the metals used. "You'll alll help along with the one walking machine we have left. We won't have our dead dragged around like common tools meant to be used and tossed aside." She nods then, and with a shrill whistle one of the hobs darts off. He eventually returns with a mechanized thing shaped similiarly enough to a dog save its lack of a head and its completely flat back. "The way to our resting place is only a quarter of an afternoon's walk, and the hole left by the gravewyrms last attack should work as a grave."

"A quarter of an afternoon? Why do I think their days go for 80 hours" Sara asides to Damion before looking at the men in their party. "I'll do what I can, but I don't think I'll be much use lifting that. Even on to the machine. I can do escort duty" she suggests with a pat of her bow. She looks to Ulidia. "Are you expecting trouble when we move this? Do you think the gravewyrms will attack? Anything else not want you to do this?"

Olivia looks the statue over, rolling her jaw slightly. "Well. I guess we'll see what happens, hm?" She gives a small shrug of her shoulders, moving back slightly to make way for the mechanized thing to come forward. A quarter of an afternoon walk, though? Olivia blinks and internally sighs, looking up towards the sky. That means a long walk back, too. "Alright, just tell me what you need me to do," she finally says before glancing towards Sara. "There's always trouble. ALWAYS." One thing she's learned in her short time.

Damion shrugs at Sara, "I doubt it, but we'll find out I guess." He cracks his knuckles, studying the statue again. "Alright... how do you want us to help move this onto the dogbot?" He's a little curious about those Gravewyrms. He doesn't want anybody to get hut. But he IS a Summer, and a good fight is kind of appealing. Hopefully something will make things exciting without any unneeded deaths involved.

"About a quarter of a mile," Weaver whispers to Sara. Then he nudges Olivia on the shoulder as the hob begins to move. "That's part of the fun." The hobs loop a rope around the statue's middle, pull it up under teh armpits, and then begin the slow process of moving the head and shoulders on top of the walker. "I need three more." Ulidia points her cane to Olivia and then Weaver. "You two at the arms." Then she points the cane up at Damian. "You're big enough, so you get both legs."

Sara nods to Weaver's whisper. "I guess they have shorter legs" she observes quietly before a warm smile to the group. "We got this, everyone. We'll have the statue moved and be home in time for a beer." Dawns can be so annoying. Since she hasn't been earmarked for transportation she asks Ulidia. "Point me in the direction we're going and I'll scout ahead. Like Olivia wisely noted...there's always trouble."

"You and I have very different definitions of fun where this is concerned," Olivia mutters back over towards Weaver, giving him a somewhat dry look. She nods to Ulidia at the instruction, turning to head over towards the statue to help move it. "You may be overestimating me, but we'll see."

Damion shrugs, and moves over to take his place at the legs. He takes a grip on the legs, and waits for the order to move the statue, watching the others quietly. He does add to Sara before she goes, "Good luck." Then he falls silent again for now.

Sara's pointed off nearer the back of the procession. As the walker begins to move it signals that the others should as well. Weaver nears his spot on the left arm, lifting with as much strength as he has. As they begin the slow march to the graveyard of sorts the hobs begin to pour out of their homes en masse. By the time they're all on the move it appears that they number a little over a hundre or more. Unlike mortal funerals there's no music to be played nor songs sun. Simply silence as they move, although the very nature of the hedge does provide a somber cacophony of noise from the various flora and fauna.

Olivia takes up position near the right arm while Weaver takes the left, lifting it carefully. She doesn't entirely understand this rite, but she will follow it. She walks slowly and steadily, looking around a bit as much as she can. She meant it when she thinks something is likely to happen. But that may just be a healthy dose of paranoia. She doesn't speak, simply walking and listening, observing as best she can.

Damion lifts the legs, and begins the march with the rest. It was a lot of hobs they were going with apparently. He's assuming none of them are really combatants though, since they're not able to handle the Gravewyrms and all. Since silence seems to be the order of the day, he keeps his mouth whut while they move. He also tries to keep his senses sharp in case they are indeed attacked. He just hopes if it happens, they have time to lower the statue before they're on them.

They don't hear anything more an unusual than before, but they do smell something else in the air as their journey nears its conclusion. The rotten, foul stench of death. The hobs appear oblivious too, and so too does Weaver. The nearer they get they can see the hole, and its rather massive. Big enough that every Changeling and the statue could fall in with more than enough room to spare. From within they can smell they can smell that same foul odor, but it smells fainter down there than it does above land.

Oh that is not nice. Olivia's nose wrinkles and she clears her throat a bit, not quite gagging or coughing. The smell of death is not a welcome one, but not a surprising one, considering the reason for their presence here. She casts a sideways look towards Weaver, shaking her head a bit as he seems not to notice. She eventually clears her throat a bit, looking for Ulidia and nodding towards the giant hole. "Is this the spot you mentioned?" she asks quietly.

Damion wrinkles his nose at the familiar smell of corpses. He becomes more attentive after picking it up, scanning the ground and surrounding Hege for signs of where the wyrms might be. He's assuming that's what the smell is, though he supposeds some other corpsey creature could be around too. He says aloud, "Everybody be on your guard." Then when they reach the spot in question, he glances down into the hole.

"This is it, yes." Any grave markers or the like aren't in sight, and if it weren't for the stench it'd be easy to believe this hole may as well be a natural occurence in the hedge no more unnatural than everything else that resides here. Despite what Ulidia said of the gravewyrns consuming their graveyard several tombstones can be seen around then and dotting various parts of the small clearing in the trees and away from the homes. Any peeking at the markers, wooden and stone, reveal various named and epitaphs from the last two hundred years. While that wouldn't seem too odd it only takes a moment to realize that The Iron Tongues only work in metal.

"Alright." Olivia nods slightly at the confirmation that they're at the right place, looking around curiously. She doesn't really seem inclined to get too close to the edge of that hole, not any closer than she has to. "How does this work, then? I don't want to damage anything unnecessarily, and I'm not familiar with... that." Her head bobs up towards the mechanical device that's helping to haul the large statue.

Damion looks at the gravestones, his lips curled downwards a little. "Hmm. I wonder who made these markers... don't they only work with metal?" He glances over the Iron Tongue around them, shifting his grip on the statues legs. He's feeling a little tense, with the threat of a possible attack hanging in the air and all.

"You are corrected," Ulidia replies while looking around them. She doesn't seem as bothered by the presence of the other markers, or she doesn't quite notice them. "We will drop the statue down, and after that the walker will join it. The walker is also filled with phosphlox." She bows her head then, and drums begin banging behind them. As they do so the ground quakes. Nothing strong enough to cause a fright, but quite obvious to anyone standing on the ground.

"Pho... nevermind." Olivia shakes her head, stopping the question before it's fully formed. Something to ask Weaver later. At least the list does get gradually shorter. She nods at the information about dropping the statue down, only to have the walker follow. Which means, she gets mostly out of the way. Her eyes drop to the ground as it shakes, flicking back up again as she backs away slowly. "Might want to move quickly."

Damion nods his head. He helps manuver the statue closer to the hole, and gives a little heavy to help drop it in with a grunt. Once it's in, he backs away from the hole to give room for the mover, then loosens his sword in its sheath as he waits for the rumbles to become stronger. At this point, it seems pretty likely the gravewyrms are going to attack.

The rumbling continues, but now to the beat of the drums. Its movements with the cadence makes it difficult for the hob to see what comes. No, their attention is solely paid to the statue as it's forced into the hole. It hits something down there with a loud squelch. They do eventually hear the statue meet the end of the earth, and when it does a sonorous roar echoes from below. It continues until the walker follows the statue in, and after a few seconds the sounds of explosions ring out.

This only serves as useful enough cover as the ground bursts from beneath their feet, and sends a couple dozen of the hobs flying. The cause of this comes from the snout now sticking its way out of the ground, sniffing at the air and as its whiskers twitch at the sensation of screaming hobs that run away.

Ulidia's currently indisposed. The blowback from the snout knocking her up into the air's knocked her completely out of it. Weaver fared a bit better thanks in part to his wings and darts back when in the air. As he does come down its to check on his cousin and when she looks well enough he moves to Ulidia. He's not much of a doctor, but whatever he can suss out brings a look of terror to him as he roars, "Olivia! Take her back to the village! Now!"

Olivia stumbles back and out of the way, taking a few moments to find her footing before looking around at the destruction that appears when the creature shoves its snout out through the ground. "Fucking mole creature or something this time. Fuck." She mutters and shakes her head a bit, her head snapping over when she hears Weaver shouting her name. The icy woman scrambles over towards her cousin, looking down at the fallen hob, but she has no idea what an injured hob really looks like, so she just takes his word for it. Olivia leans down and scoops up Ulidia, glancing back towards Weaver briefly. "Told you everything keeps trying to eat me," she mutters in his direction before taking off down the path they arrived on.

Damion rocks on his feet some as the creature appears out of the hole in the ground. As Olivia retreats with the others, he rushes forwards towards the snout, drawing his sword in an instant and swinging it at the emerging monster. The blade errupts into flame mid-flight, slicing off a large chunk of the snout and sending it flying away, the wound partially burned by the weapon. Then he falls back into a ready stance, preparing to attack again if more of it emerges.

The ground continues to shake as it digs up and into the earth. The hobs are all fleeing while Weaver tries to collect the younger ones. The ground surges up again as the creature gets out far enough that half of it is visible. Its fur is caked in dirt, but what can be seen is black fur, white paws, and white patch of fur over its eyes. It squeels and growls, looking around for just a beat. It turns out that Damion is the best target and impeding its want to get at the hobs so it takes a swipe at the Changeling with claws that barely dent his armor.

After the attack on the beast, Damion moves to place himself between it and the retreating Hobs, calling on the Wyrd as he does to reclaim some of the size he once had in Arcadia. His already tall form more than doubles, leaving him at somewhere around fourteen feet all. He flips over the zweihander in his grasp, preparing to drive it down into the attacker with all his strength, impaling it but not quite finishing it off.

The beast eventually pushes itself out of the ground, and when doing so brings its massive claws more readily against Damian. Unlike the other remaining Changeling and hobs, Damion's damn near its equally in size. The creature's about the size one can expect to a predator of massive, underground creatures to be. Despite all the dirt everyhwere else its taill still remains bushy and it knocks aside several trees as it moves to size up Damian. The Fairest gets a loud, gutteral shriek as it snaps at his armored chest, just barely getting through enough to reach flesh.

Damion takes a step back as the beast emerges fully from the hole. His molten eyes flare, and he spins his weapon in his hands. "You're a tough one, aren't you?" The damage he'd done to it, most things would be dead by now. He readies himself, then springs forward, swinging his huge blade up and down at his opponents head. "Ha!" The flaming weapon splits its skull in twain, as well as its neck and a bit of its chest. Planting a boot on its chest, he yanks it free and kicks it back into the hole at the same time. "I have to say. That didn't look very.... wyrmy."

One half of its skull falls to the side while the rest of the hedge beast falls flat to the ground. Its leg twitches for a few more moments, but eventually that, too, goes still. Weaver's nowhere to be seen nearby, and instead is gliding back to hobs's homes with several of the smaller ones in his arms. The few still there that aren't died are either too scared to move or too injured to do so on their own. The only one that doesn't fall into either camp is a pigtailed, purple hob with half of her faced replaced by a metal facsimilie. She's bouncing from foot to foot, mimicing Damion's movements as best she can with a dagger in in hand to emulate his sword.

Damion wipes his sword clean on the corpse of the fallen hedge beast, and sheaths it on his back again. He glances around carefully to make sure that no others are going to attack. After listening carefully, he reduces back down to his normal size, then turns back to the hobs nearby. He glances over the ones that are scares, then smiles a little at the sight of the hob gilr bouncing around. "You alright?" He settles onto his heels, beginning to check on the injured hobs to see which ones are in danger of dying. He reaches into his backpack, producing a first aid kit.

As Damion looks her way the little one jumps up and cheers, and when landing starts clapping her hands. The other hobs that can move eventually start to do so. The few that are still fearstruck eventually rise to their feet to move on, but it's slow going for them. At that pace they'll be easy pickings for any would be predator. The ones remaining do need a bit of looking after, and some first aid would do enough for most.

Damion smiles again at the girl clapping. He uses the contents of the kit, patching up the ones he can. The ones that are perhaps in more serious condition, he considers. He really, really needs to stock up on Hedgefruit again. Maybe there's some basic healing fruit somewhere nearby? He stands up and begins to look around just in case, not feeling particularly picky about what KIND of fruit as long as it can make sure nobody dies.

Damion's searchign does eventually turn up a couple of fruits for the hobs. Enough that the worst can at least now walk, but not so much so that everyone is completely healed up. He earns several thanks for his help, along with a trinket from another. There's no power to be had from the small piece of gilded metal, but it bears the symbol commonly found around The Iron Tongue. A cross with with the end teaped in a pear point, and two circles on either side of the top point. "Thank you," says the older hob no taller than Damion's hob. "It's Lost Ones like you that give us hope."

Damion takes the piece of metal from the hobs and bows a little. "No problem. We all have to watch out for one another out here." He'll bend over and ruffle the purple-do'd girls hair, then heads back towards the village with them to make sure the rest of his team is okay.

The journey back is a somber, slow one. The injured aren't able to keep a fast pace, and the saddened aren't too eager to run back home. When they do eventually reach their homes Damion can see Weaver attending the younger ones, corralling and stopping them from wandering off while the elder are still getting back. When he does see the other dragon he waves, and then looks at all the other hobs. "So, how'd shit go back there with the parents and shit?"

Damion keeps an eye on the injured hobs in case any of them start to fall behind or take a turn for the worse. When they finally reach the village, he waves back to Weaver and then grunts a little. "It went... alright. I killed that thing, whatever it was. There were.... about thirty deaths. I helped the ones I could, but..." he shrugs. "I'm no Spring. And even Springs can't help if they're already gone." He sighs, then glances over the kids. "How about here?"

"The little ones are safe and fine. A few of the older kids got hurt since they were closer, but I herded them here." Weaver's gaze dips down low, and then it then rises high to meet Damion's. "I don't know what a gravewhatever is, nor that thing. Either way you got my thanks, and I we you one favor for it," he says and then extends a hand to Damion.

Damion reaches out towards the other man and shakes firmly. "Don't worry about it. I'm willing to help anytime. That's what Harvestmen do, right?" He smiles slightl at the somewhat shorter dragon. "I guess it's about time to head home."