Tamers of Everlain: A Firm Hand Conquers the Wicked Land [closed for Yhorm]

[Strictdaddy1]

"We'd be fools to let a potential threat pass behind us without investigating," the son of Dalasin said as they came up on mushrooms. With a soft "Op! Op!," the horses halted, and the drover vaulted down from the bench with a soft squish on the slightly muddy road, noting immediately that the mushrooms were not just in an arc, but a full ring: sure sign of fairies. He held the warding ring at the ready as he cautiously stepped, looking for traps both mundane and magical. The soles of his boots left tracks in the mud, in which could be seen the holy symbols of purity and righteousness; it had the effect of blinding any evil creature -- of any type -- who tried to follow his tracks by sight temporarily (and permanently, amongst the more stupid, determined, and vengeful of the creatures they fought). Not all Tamers used such a thing; but, then again, some Tamers were too reckless for their own good.

As he got closer, he knelt to get a better look. The ring of mushrooms didn't have the look of unhealthy vitality which an active ring would have. In fact, the Tygeptian thought, as he extended his ring of warding over one of the larger mushrooms so he could pluck it safely from the ground, This looks very much as if someone has used a Tamer's trick to deaden this ring. And a deadened ring means dead fairies, unless they were able to be Tamed . . . But the ring would already be gone if it had been Korrika; she was here far too long ago for that.

It was easier for male Tamers to piss on a fairy ring in a full circle, making childhood games into something useful; but female Tamers had long ago began using a wineskin -- clearly marked, of course -- filled with pig's or ape's urine to do the same cleansing (since pigs and apes were closest to humans in many ways). One of the things which his overly large, misshapen nose was good for -- since it would never make a girl's heart flutter and moisten her knickers -- was smelling. He lifted the mushroom up, and inhaled deeply. He instantly knew the animal's urine which had been used, and it wasn't human, pig, or ape.

"Amber, smell this. Tell me what you make of it," he said, offering the dead mushroom to her as he stood and surveyed their surroundings.

[Dungeon]

Amber followed closely behind her master as her investigated, taking in the surrounding area for herself. At the instruction of Tashir, Amber took a deep inhale of the fungus, gagging at the scent. It certainly was piss, but it wasn't the stench of an animal that a Tamer would normally use. No, this stench had to belong to a feline. This wasn't good for the two Tamers. Felines were well known to appear shortly before evil, and they were said to be cursed to bring wickedness. And the fact that the urine hadn't fully dissolved on to the mushroom meant that this didn't happen long ago. "It's a cat, sir." Amber deduced, hand sliding to her dagger.

[Strictdaddy1]

He nodded, thoughtfully, saying, "Some enchanted wanted these fairies gone. Using a cat . . . that is original, and clever. Too clever by half."

He looked up from the ring and peered nearby. This had happened recently, so . . .

"Ah. There," the broad-shouldered man said, getting to his feet and moving swiftly around the ring. He passed his protective ring over what he had seen, and then lifted it in his right hand. A small body, its gossamer wings limp and lifeless; its naked limbs white and stiff. "A Sprite. The piss kept it from entering its ring before daylight. There are only two other types of enchanted who use the forests in the same way that Sprites do . . ."

[Dungeon]

Amber thought back to her lessons, only able to recall one such creature. "Master, is it possible for us to be dealing with a leprechaun?" Amber hoped that she was correct in this assumption, if only to show off her knowledge. "Their the only enchanted that are remotely similar to sprites, and the only ones smart enough to utilize a feline in such a way."

[Strictdaddy1]

"You forget pixies, but they are very rare, and only become a problem when one disturbs their rings. They don't tend to take or turn, either, so I am unsurprised you forgot about them," the ugly man replied, "Truly, they only become dangerous when demons and other fallen -- or netherworlders or outsiders -- use them for their own ends. It isn't unknown for them to war with sprites and leprechauns, if either populations encroach upon their territory."

"But a leprechaun . . . If a leprechaun has taken and turned a human, then it would need more forest for a second lair," he said, dropping the sprite back on the ground, standing, and running his thick fingers through his dark, shoulder-length hair. "A pixie/sprite war would not concern us so long as they kept to themselves, so we can hope that this is simply a side-issue unrelated to what we are here for. But you're right: this could be a leprechaun. A far-too-clever leprechaun.

"We won't learn any more here, now," he decided, looking around with glowering eyes, "We need more information; and should be safe enough for now. Let's get back to the wagon and erect the iron poles before we continue on. I think we'll get the knowledge we need in Owlton, regardless of what enchanted might have done this."

[Dungeon]

Amber nodded at her master before turning back to the ring, curiosity overtaking her. The woman made her way over to it, crouching and looking over it intensely. She remembered a lesson, an actual lesson, as opposed to it's more painful alternative meaning, she'd received from another apprentice. Amber couldn't even remember the lad's name, but she did manage to recall what he said. "Master!" She called to the darker skinned Tamer in a harsh whisper. "Urine from a feline can be just as offensive as it is defensive. Perhaps we're dealing with a more predatory enemy." The thought that she could potentially run into anything, from a leprechaun to an accursed Hell Hound, made the apprentice quite nervous, and she drew her twin daggers immediately. "I'm not sure if we should traverse the roads again, especially with the horses. What if we're ambushed?"

[Strictdaddy1]

"The poles will help make the road itself a ward against anything this side of the demonscape; but if you wish to pull out the hell's bells and string them up top, you're more than welcome to. I'd prefer us to be more cautious than callous," the Tygeptian nodded, adding, "And cat urine's offensiveness is mostly negated by this," -- slapping the appropriate rune on the side of the wagon -- "so that the worst it can do when we are in the wagon is give you an eyeful of cat piss. However, considering that whatever we are dealing with is clever . . . look for fresh nettles. We can make a paste which will take care of urine-based transmorgiphications and elementalisms.
He turned and said, "As to the horses; didn't I show you how the harnesses wires connect to the wagon's wards already? Now, move, apprentice; I will protect us while you erect the cold iron."
And the master's mind turned on, rolling over all the possibilities he knew, and what surprises might await them. Certainly no dervish, nor djinn, nor anything from his home desert; and he didn't believe there were the Hellish involved: no smell of sulfur, no scorch marks, no faint whine from the woven hair-of-a-suicide ring dangling in between the front and rear right wheel to even indicate any presence of such in the last month.
She needs to learn to think more clearly, although she acts fast enough when she isn't daydreaming, he added to himself.