Groth allowed himself to be dragged onto the "dance" floor by the youngster, and dutifully began the bob-and-weave of Catch the Badger. Tarrgot's flapping wings told him that he was staying put on Groth's shoulders for the duration, but didn't approve of the gyrations that threatened to shake him off. So Groth obligingly subdued his movements. Shame though. Grothtorg believed himself to be a farirly decent dancer.

The youngster had questions. Oh, he had questions! The bird's name? Half twirl with outstretched arms.

Groth answered the youth's movement with a bending creep, two steps right. "Tarrgot. Tarrgot, say hello to the youthful keeper of the way.." In response, the owl bobbed his head at the youngster, who was beaming a large smile at recognizing the compliment that had been applied to him. But the youth was not done yet. About the braid? Sinking to his knees, then jumped up like a spring.

Still bent, hopping in a circle on one foot while pivoting on the ball of the other. "Good sir, in all honesty, I could not do the tale justice during the brief period of this dance, so I will refrain from boring you until afterward, if that meets with your approval."

Party clothes? Wide-legged, tilting, wobbling three-step. This question elicited a guffaw of genuine laughter from Grothtorg, as he did a duck-and-slide to the left to counter the young male's "stalking" movment opposite him.

"These are my party cloths, young sir! I am away from proper society for quite lengthy periods of time, and keeping up with the clothing styles as they change is impossible. I would not be caught dead in an out-of-style garment of any cut or color. But leather is always in fashion, if dyed the correct colors, and it is more durable than most fabrics. And leather seldom needs smoothing or wrinkle-pressing, if folded correctly and of good quality. . "

The dance, the music, and the interview was interrupted by the entrance of another. His apparel suggested that he was not a guest, and the obviously-injured child he held said much more. A female screamed the child's name, her terror evident in the question of why and how directed at the child's carrier. The stranger tried to briefly allay her fears to see if aid could be brought to the child quickly. He made a call that included the entire number of the gathered celebrants, but was answered by only one, ant that after a brief silence. He who ansered was none other than Loco FungiHammer!

Groth was, at first, quite surprised to see the cleric here. but to hear him volunteer his skills to heal the child so quickly, was just short of amazing to Groth! The Khord had voluntarily disappeared form sight, and then from mind. To turn up here, as a guest of the wedding couple, then to be present when someone needed his skills simply boggled the mind. Groth wondered if anyone besides himself was as amazed at the event unfurling here. But :Loco wasn't done surprising Groth. Not yet. After healing the child, he swore an oath to the mother, and to all present, to bring the perpetrator of this damage to justice!

This oath was met with chaos as many party-goers remembered that the injured child had been playing with their own in the mushroom forest nearby. A mad rush for the stairs started, but was halted by an armored warrior wearing leather and chains, one Thagovar. At first, the crowd did not heed his claim to find the children and bring them back, but with only a few chosen ones, not a confused and confusing mob. The GemHound then was able to defuse the crowd-madness calling for the parents of the children deemed lost, to come toward him, and away from the door, clearing a way for volunteers to approach Thagovar.

But that call for volunteers did not go unheeded. Before Groth could add his own voice to those who would go, there was a seemingly timid response. One that seemed uncertain, but volunteering nonetheless.

Groth turned to his dance-parner. "Young sir, please forgive me, but I must help these others. Someone once gave me the opportunity to grow up when I could have died. If I can prevent the loss of a child and have it grow into the worthy adult you will be, I must do so."

With that, he weaves through the crowd, emerging from the front to say as he strides forward, "We, Grothtorg Jaspersand and Tarrgot, will add to your effort! I hope you will wait for a short while, so I can return attired in the proper gear for this task."

He heads up the stairs to his lodgings to retrieve his armor, weapons and gear.

Wedding Party
Second Day
The Spores of Itanlok
Mushroom Forest
Warrens of Gunthras
"I Swore an Oath of Vengeance to This Grieving Mother!"
Loco FungiHammer had drained the last contents of the celebratory wedding mug and had made his way deliberately, yet almost secretly, to the one named Thagovan.

In all the confusion and commotion, the Cleric was having visionary flashbacks as to the rhyme and reason that had brought him out of seclusion from the Caves of Madness, to face an unknown destiny that beckoned to him from afar.

He was a Khord driven by the faint, yet distant painful memories of a childhood loss that had pushed him onto a path of solitude; fraught with the ironies of avenging those on the brink of sadness, grief and loss that had driven Loco to the comforting embrace of the Mushrooms!

Loco could barely remember her, images lost in the swirling kaleidoscope of mushroomed memories!

But the Cleric understood the pain and silent inward suffering a lifetime would hold for anyone subjected to the loss he had undergone; the countless lifetimes of imaginings tearing and searing the emotions and memories, the hopes and dreams, instilling the fears of madness untamed and relentless!

This was why Loco had accepted the invitation to attend the wedding! A chance to witness the joys of what might have been!

But the Dark Nightmare intruded upon him in this reality as well as within any other!

Loco stared at Thagovan and perceived a soul who would go to any length to right a wrong! That was good enough for the Cleric to accept the notion that he would not be alone on this journey!

"I Would Seek These Lost Children Alone If No Other Would Offer Their Lives! For Our Very Lives May Be At Stake In This Matter!"

    "STOP! Stop this panic at once!”
    Ole turned to look at the speaker, whom someone in the crowd-turned-mob had named as Thagovan. Dressed in leathers and chains -- chains? -- and bearing a peace-hung battle-axe on his belt, his voice, though calm, carried with a force born of experience. But it was met with the resistance and belated fear of worried parents.
    "I know you want to save your children. But you are none of you equipped or sober enough to deal with whatever is endangering them. I will go and find your young ones. But I need a few brave souls to help me. If we all go, the chaos will work against us!”
    And from yet another coolly logical thinker: “But he is right! People! Listen to him! ” This one was a GemHound, but odd even for that profession. One eye, as far as Ole could tell, was an actual gem. It looked to be an emerald. Ole had known that some wore gems embedded in their skin, some in obvious places, some not. But to have replaced a useful organ with a gem was, even for them, unusual.
    “You are all too drunk to deal with danger right now. We need order! I want all the parents who are missing a child to come to me. I will form groups to search the mushroom forest. Thagovan over there will go ahead with a group of strong men. The rest of you, come to me, and we will sort things out as fast as possible.”
    Ah, good! The take-charge, logical thinkers were swaying the frantic mindset of the parents into calmer, more rational thought and structured action. For his own part, Ole speaks, but only after responses from three others before him, including, surprisingly, Loco FungiHammer himself. This would be a perfect opportunity to watch the cleric, to gain insight into his thinking and actions, and to glean, hopefully, some bits of knowledge from him ...

    "Thagovan, add the name of Olegarn Stonesunder to your roster of those concerned enough to aid your effort! My hesitation was one of conflict. I happened on the child while in the mushroom forest on a quest for knowledge for the Grand Library. This is my strength and my skill, as a seeker of knowledge. But it took only a moment's thought to decide that these two searches are inextricably linked. The why of it I do not yet know, but I will apply all I possess, knowledge, skills, body, and mind to find out, to resolve this dilemma and keep it from happening again! I am ready to begin when you and your selected others are ready!"

For a time, it seemed, Crulgrin managed to escape any undue notice by keeping to the shadows near the Spores’ bar. As a result, he had almost let his original trepidation at having even attending the festivities slip away and allowed himself to actually start enjoying the merriment of the occassion. Not so much so that his gaze didn’t keep account of the Gemhound’s whereabouts, though, or that he inadvertently drew any unwanted or unnecessarily inquisitive conversations with the other guests. No, Crulgrin Shadebeard was perfectly content to watch from the fringes of the party, cloaked in the shadows of the tavern’s recesses… unnoticed, it would seem, by any aside from the barkeep since Kret’s unexpected greeting… silently celebrating the new marriage and resultant expansion of the clan with an ever-filled tankard of stout and, when the exuberant cadence of ‘Catch the Badger’ proved to be too difficult to ignore, a stealthy, shuffling dance of his own. It was just after the tune had caught his feet, though, that Crulgrin noticed Jamdock Burrowfoot - and that accursed all-seein’ em’rald eye o’ his - striding directly towards his position.

Ah, in the name of all the pointy-eared Syl gods, he groused internally as his gray eyes darted away from the approaching gemhound in search of any feasible way to slip the indomitable Burrowfoot’s attentions, One of ye’d be keen ta turn me into a rabbit so I could hop away, now wouldn’t ya? Crulgrin hefted his tankard, taking a long pull of the stout more in an effort to hide his face than out of thirst, and, as his gaze swept over the wedding crowd, tugged somewhat nervously at the collar of his tunic, taking little comfort in the mithral shirt beneath it or the vest of escape that surmounted it. The shirt, of course, might keep Burrowfoot from killing him straight away if it came to that, and the vest would surely lend it’s magic in helping him slip any bonds that the gemhound might place him in should he get caught but, it was Crulgrin’s hope at that moment that his own skills and abilities would steer him clear of having to find out in either case.

I could squeeze meself into yonder wee nook under the bar, I s’pose, his racing mind suggested as his eyes, peering over and around the still-tipped tankard, sought out other options, Course, that don’t leave for much of an escape route, does it?. The jubilant mass of dancing Khords provided the solution he sought. There be yer path, boy-o, he grinned, his heretofore softly shuffling feet embracing the full enthusiasm intended by ‘Catch the Badger,’ much easier ta vanish in plain sight than ta poke about in the obvious hidey-holes… an’ a far better chance o’ beatin’ Burrowfoot to the door if not.
So it was that, after another fractional second of thought, Crulgrin’s face split into a broad party-goer’s smile as he stomped and whirled his way towards the dancing throng, making sure that his own dance steps kept his face obscured from Burrowfoot as much as possible… ((OOC: Assuming a Hide (or other appropriate skill) check allows Crully to disappear amidst the other dancing Khords… will edit if otherwise)) …once rendered anonymous by having wrapped himself in a living cloak of jigging Khords, Crulgrin uttered a silent oath of thanks to Chald Aharn, punctuating the offering with a more relaxed swig of stout as he allowed a young lass to take his hand and sashay him closer to the Spores of Itanlok’s singular entryway.

Before the lass could whirl him within a bounding step of the spiraling stair, though, the music dwindled and Old Mugtwister appeared – with the help of a few Khords far younger than himself – on a tabletop set to offer up what Crulgrin had no doubt would be one version or another of the blessing that the oldster had given at every wedding Crulgrin could remember from the time he was just a pebble. He offered the khord-girl a smile and a nod as she released his hand and turned her eyes (as had most others in the crowd) to Grandfather Mugtwister and, while he was somewhat enrapt by the old tunneler’s words himself, Crulgrin managed to continue backing his way towards the steps and, Chald Ahard still smiling, up them and out very shortly thereafter. The Luck Goddess seemed to have other plans, though. Just as Crulgrin reached the foot of the stair and was set to drain the remainder of his tankard before beating a swift and silent retreat up and out of the Spores of Itanlok, he found his escape route blocked by none other than Ole Stonesunder.

As surprised as he was to see the mana-manipulating Loremaster standing there - Stonesunders ain’t part o’ this clan are they? - Crulgrin was all the more shocked to see what it was that the wizard bore in his arms…

“Govarund!” yelled a female voice, and the child’s mother pushed herself through the crowd to grab her first born. With frightened eyes she beamed up at the newcomer. “What happened to him?”

… and, even as the soon to be chaotic scene unfolded, Shadebeard found himself understanding what it was that had brought the magic-wielding Khord into the tavern. It don’t look as if I’ll be slippin’ oot unseen, now, does it, he sulked – despite his concern for the horrifically wounded young pebble – edging, once again, away from the exit and deeper into the concealing throng of his kinfolk.

((OOC: Again, assuming Crully stays out of Burrowfoot’s sight/mind for the duration of Loco’s healing, the ensuing ‘mass panic over missing youngsters,’ etc.))

To Crulgrin, it was beginning to look like there wouldn’t be an easy escape from the gemhound’s shadow. Between Burrowfoot and a burly fighter named Thagovan having taken charge of the place in the madness and mayhem that had accompanied Big Ole’s arrival, in fact, it didn’t seem as if anyone would be leaving the Spores – unseen or otherwise – anytime soon and, as a result, the gem smuggler allowed himself to, once again, be swept to the fringes of the Khord congregation where he could remain unnoticed and, perhaps, take advantage of even the smallest opportunity to get himself as far away from Jamdock as possible. Crulgrin had refilled and half-drained his tankard of stout before that opportunity presented itself…

“You are all too drunk to deal with danger right now,” Burrowfoot bellowed at the height of the panic and pushing, “We need order! I want all the parents who are missing a child to come to me. I will form groups to search the mushroom forest. Thagovan, over there,” the gemhound indicated the burly Khord, “will go ahead with a group of strong men. The rest of you, come to me, and we will sort things out as fast as possible.”

Not exactly the pr’cise way I’d’ve hoped fer, Crulgrin mused, swallowing another mouthful of stout as he watched a handful of party-goers move towards Thagovan and offer their services, but it’ll do ta get me clear of that blinkin’ hound, won’ it?
Checking, first, to make sure that Jamdock’s attentions were consumed by those kin of missing pebbles whom he had called to himself, Crulgrin made his way towards the smaller group forming around the fighter. “Crulgrin Shadebeard,” he grinned nervously as Thagovan turned a questioning eye his was, “I haven’t been a caver in some years, lad, but I do still have some o’ the skills yer party’s like to be needin’. Got no small share of experience in findin’ and bringin’ back small things what’s been lost neither.”

“Crulgrin Shadebeard.”
    Ole was standing near Thagovan, but looking elsewhere, when he heard the name. Why the name caought his attention, out of all the other names here, was an unknown to Ole, He didnt like unknowns. Shadebeard ... Shadebeard ,,, Crulgrin Shadebeard ... Crulgrin ... Shadebeard. Mentally searching the "bookshelves" of his organized mind, Old could find noquickly-found reference to the name. Right. Then the name was remembered from some research he had done, somewhere. And therefore, it was easily dismissed for the moment. He had other things to think aboutAdding another trail to follow for informationwould weaken his focus. And the two searches he had just voluteered for, this one and the one for the Library, may indeed be related, but they were as wide as he was willing to stretch that focus.

“I haven’t been a caver in some years, lad, but I do still have some o’ the skills yer party’s like to be needin’. Got no small share of experience in findin’ and bringin’ back small things what’s been lost neither.”
    Good! Another who was good at finding things. It could be useful. Wait. 'finding and bringing back small things'? Ole shook his head, clearing the thought. When he got into a "tracing-mode", he saw things to investigate or question, seemingly everywhere, in everything. Save it for the search. He fingered the green runes dyed into the light tan trim of his brown cloak. The runes were dwarven, and represented concepts like, "search", "find", "track", "trace", "locate", "follow", "line", "retrieve", "vein", ... Vein? Vein of Silver? Silver! Kharox smite me for stupid! My staff! Ole spun on his heel and rushed for the stairwell to reach the upper entranceway, where he had dropped his staff before descending with the youngone. He hadn't wanted to catch the staff on something while descending and drop the child. He hoped fervently that it was still there.

[[ OOC: so do I ... ]]

    When he returns, he is still more-than-slightly impatient to get going, evident in his stance, left-to-right shifting foot-to-foot, and his darting gaze.

A group had been formed around Thagovan. Nine Khordaldrum males and one female had stepped forward to join the warrior in his search of the missing children. The upset and frightened parents were already crowding around the gemhound, who was already dividing them in search parties. Torches were gathered. Not so much to aid them in finding their way in the dark, for all Khordaldrum could see very well in the absence of light. The glow of the torches could possibly attract a lost child.

Olegarn, Grothtorg, Baldorf, Crulgrin, Loco and even Kharov had addressed the warrior at the bottom of the stairs to state their desire to aid in this matter. Groth left the tavern quickly to retrieve his equipment. Flying up the stairs he could hear Thagovan’s grunt: “Don’t stay out too long. We leave in fifteen minutes!”
The other four that made up this ‘elite’ band were nothing more than miners, except for the female. She was sturdy and buff, and carried a hammer that seemed to equal her own weight. She told them she was born and raised in the slums in the Eastern Rvisthorn Warrens. If she could find her way out of that abyssal crevice, surely she would be able to find a few missing toddlers.

Fifteen minutes went by, and Thagovan led them up the stairs and into the cavern that housed the Mushroom forest. Grothtorg returned in time to see them walk out, and they left the rabbit’s den-like entry, and the drowned festivities behind.
This part of the Warrens of Gunthras was quite deserted. The Spores of Itanlok, and the Mushroom forest were both located in a natural cave, one of the few in these Warrens. The cave had been empty and rough, like an enormous bubble of air in the stomach of the earth. Little had been changed to it. There were few stalactites and obstructions, which made the space in which they walked seem even more overwhelming. Centuries ago, druids and clerics of Kith-Jora had been given this cave to use to their own interpretation. It was some sort of settlement with the other Warrens, who had enough of dealing with the plans and whishes of the followers of the God of Nature. Their desire to create life, and their affinity to underground ecosystems, resulted in the forming of a bed of Mushrooms. The extreme care of the druids cleared a path for the funguses to grow and evolve. What had once started as a patch of different varieties of Cantharellus Cibarius had become an ancient jungle of species of all sorts and flavours. Some of the mushrooms grew as high and as thick as trees did, far away on the surface of Antaron. Others were small, growing in colourful clusters on the ground or on the stems of fungoid giants. Deeper in the forest grew the more obscure or poisonous ones. Most Khords knew not to travel there, and if you did, never to touch any of the mushrooms there.

The group entered the forest on a set path. There were many of those, formed by centuries of visitors, and by the care of the few druids that were still around. It had been on one of these paths that Olegarn found the wounded child. He guided them to the exact location, where they halted to inspect the surrounding area. Soft lights bobbed up and down in the distance; the groups of parents and concerned Khords had also initiated their searches.

(OOC: Am going to stop here. You can inspect the area for anything, or post what you think should happen now. I’m going to try and make a little map of the forest, for as far as you guys see it. I’ll post that later on.)

Kharov followed the group of Khords up and out of the Spores of Itanlok. It was his civic duty to help find these children, him being the captain of the guard and all he had to keep an image, a shining example of Khordish ways.

He thought back, stroking his double braided dark brown beard as he walked, back on the conversation he had in the bar.

"Hey, nice to meet you. Aren’t you a captain of the guard over at the Shard Tunnels? My name’s Thunderbeard Brothstock, lieutenant at the Rivpax Shaft. I was thinking that you guys need all the good, able men you can get, right? I mean, it mustn’t be easy for you all down there, with all those gems disappearing lately. Can’t be good for business. See him? He’s one of those Cavers. Keeps to himself, but I’ve heard he’s one mean fight in ‘m. Why don’t you go over and ask him to join you? Just an advice that’s all.”

"I'll a-a-a-ask him la-la-later."
He remembers nodding and raising his glass to Thunderbeard, but spoke no more. He looked around the group and realized that same Khord that was dancing with the child was standing near him, and he went to speak, but decided now wasn't the time, maybe later.

He walked out with them, and watched as anothe went to get some things, and he went to. Briskly he walked to get his weapon and armour, and donned it as quickly as he could. Then he returned in his full battle dress, shining full plate and glistening axe sheathed away. His double braided beard was down to his shins, entwined with a golden lace, and the insignia of the shard tunnels guard on the right shoulder pauldron of his armour shone brightly. It was two golden axes crossed, with an emerald broken into three equal size shards emblazoned over the axes.

He followed closely as the group descended into the massive cave, not speaking once the entire way. He thought about speaking up, getting the attention of Groth and asking him to join, but not yet. They still were getting their bearings on the situation.

Soon they found themselves at the point where Thagovan found the child, and they stood. The only thing Kharov could hear was the low howl of the cave and the faint shouts of desperate parents.

He looked around and realized that Groth was closer than he expected, and tapped him on the shoulder lightly.

" After this I mi-might have a po-po-position in the Shard tunnel gua-guar-guard for you. Depending on ho-how well you d-d-d-do here."

Kharov looked to the floor for a second, almost ashamed at his imperfect speech, but he needed to ask, he needs the men. Over the years fellow Khord had learned to respect Kharov for his place in the guard and mighty strength. Not many dwarves become stone lords, and that alone shadowed his speech impediment enough to where people did not poke fun or even try to notice.

Baldorf follows the others, though with all the moving, and shifting of positions, he eventually finds himself on the outside looking in.

Ever since... no, even before that day, though not as much... Baldorf had been the outsider of the group. Always on the outside looking in. During his youth, he had never been a popular one, often was he rejected. It wore off a bit as he grew older, but then the day came when he was changed. He couldn't explain it more than that. Oh well. Once an outcast, always an outcast.

Arriving at the forest, Baldorf decided to split off from the group - not that they'd notice really - and go examine the outer layer of mushrooms. Something had to have done that to the little boy, Baldorf wouldn't believe that he and his friends did this by themselves. Any tracks or anything, maybe even a piece of cloth. Something was telling Baldorf that this was an intelligent attack, not just some mindless animal.

Mushroom Forest
Warrens of Gunthras
Among the Mushrooms
Loco FungiHammer seemed to be in Mushroom Heaven!

He was "at home among friends" and was enjoying the company of the varied colors, sizes and shapes of his "friends" in this Forest of Mushrooms!

To the casual onlooker, Loco was looking a bit detached and obliviously melding into his surroundings!

However, the Cleric was studying the possible disturbances that may have left traces upon the ground or against the stems of his "friends" that could lead Loco and the new band of adventurers along the path of possible vengeance!

Quite a colorful path it may possibly be thought the Cleric to himself as he searched ever casually!

Loco was not quite aware of how long it took to absorb the echos radiating between his eardrums, but the colorfully vibrating sounds that passed in cascading waves were enough to draw him to the source of the sounds as a moth is drawn to a flame!

Soon they found themselves at the point where Thagovan found the child, and they stood. The only thing Kharov could hear was the low howl of the cave and the faint shouts of desperate parents.

He looked around and realized that Groth was closer than he expected, and tapped him on the shoulder lightly.

" After this I mi-might have a po-po-position in the Shard tunnel gua-guar-guard for you. Depending on ho-how well you d-d-d-do here."

Kharov looked to the floor for a second, almost ashamed at his imperfect speech, but he needed to ask, he needs the men. Over the years fellow Khord had learned to respect Kharov for his place in the guard and mighty strength. Not many dwarves become stone lords, and that alone shadowed his speech impediment enough to where people did not poke fun or even try to notice.
"No Need to Cast Your Gaze Groundward in Shame ... You Have a Destiny to Fulfill ... With the Strength and Fortitude to Rescue ... or Revenge!
Loco did not wait for a response ... for the Cleric was surfing the waves of his very own vocalized sounds ... enjoying the kaleidoscopic ride!

"Perhaps Another Day I Will Find My Way to the Shard Tunnels ... To Assist You Among the Mushrooms!"
Loco seems to be wandering about aimlessly, but the Cleric is absorbing the sights and sounds of his companions, while searching for any telltale signs of disturbances that will provide a clue for a plan of action!

Crulgrin had wasted no time in gathering his gear – it was rare, these days, that his pack along with his standard accoutrements were ever left behind, even if he planned to be away for only minutes – and slipping out from under Burrowfoot’s scrutiny along with the rest who had volunteered to join Thagovan’s group. Trading the cozy confines of the Spores of Itanlok for the surrounding shroom-forest, though, was still an exchange that would still need to prove its wisdom. Indeed, Crulgrin had slipped away from the incessant dogging of the gemhound, thus managing to not be caught with the handful of ‘false gems’ secreted among his possessions… Luck be with me, though, not for much longer. However, the coal-haired khord imagined, the humiliation and shame of having the gemhound reveal his dishonorable profession at a wedding for his own clansmen may still end up being preferable to what might be discovered out here… Wha’ever tore inta that poor pebble sure din’t seem ta show no regard er mercy even fer a wee lad. Wha’ might such a thing do ta we lot if it decides we’re yummy-lookin’? Better to lose one’s life in an honorable pursuit than to be publicly shamed for a dishonorable – if unintended - one , though.

He had felt Ole eyeing him curiously before they left, and the expression on the loremaster’s face, then, had made Shadebeard almost as uneasy as had Jamdock’s determined sniffing around the Spores and, for the briefest of instants, Crulgrin had second thoughts about his chosen escape route, as well…

Did Big Ole possibly know something about him that he shouldn’t? Was something hidden amidst the volumes of that the magic-wielding Khord kept in his head that might prove an even bigger obstacle for Crulgrin to overcome than simply escaping a persistent gemhound?

...Deeming it best to not test the slope of that particular tunnel, Crulgrin did all he could to stay free of the wizard’s attentions (or to draw any undue scrutiny from the rest of the party for that matter) as they ventured into the mushroom forest. As he could, the gemsmuggler stayed ahead or off to the side of the main party, scouting and searching ahead as required and only interacting when requested to report any of his findings. Thankfully, his attempts had proved fruitful, so far and, by the time the group had reached the location where the poor Grovarund had originally been discovered by Stonesunder, Crulgrin was feeling a little safer with his choice. He still said very little, content instead to listen to what others were saying – even if it did seem strange and somehow rambling as when Loco Fungihammer voiced his peculiar thoughts – but, silence and separation aside, still contributed as best he could to this endeavor with the skills at his disposal.

((OOC: Okay… sorry for the delay, gang, and for the ‘iffy’ post… not much to capture Crully’s interest just yet, so let’s have him see if he can’t ferret something out, eh? Doing his best to avoid any of the more ‘questionable patches’ of shrooms – don’t wanna get poisoned and die right off, you know – Crulgrin will carefully search and inspect the general area where Grovarund was discovered earlier… using the actual spot where the boy was found as a definable center, how about a intent and detailed search in a 50 foot radius – avoiding the obviously dangerous patches of shrooms of course….(Search and/or spot checks as appropriate of course).))

Mushroom Forest
Warrens of Gunthras
Among the Mushrooms
Loco made his way around the mushrooms with a cautious nonchalance, looking for clues and studying his companions through the wisps of the mists that clouded his mind with the wavering colors of the mushrooms he had eaten that day!

There were times when the Cleric perceived things both real and imagined ... in a colorful kaleidoscopic sort of way ... experiencing sensations and imaginations ... that made the burden of his past heartbreaks ... and torments ... somewhat more bearable!

Distortions of the serious ... the bending ... and stretching ... of the comical ... assuaged his mind ... his emotions ... into a somewhat more bearable conception ... as Loco made his way through the sensations of society!

He was not so sure as to what had made him notice ... the Bat hanging from the hair of Ole ... but it provided him a focus ... between dreams ... and realities ... a point of reference ... for amusement ... bemusement ... and the chance to make a new friend ... for Loco knew the importance in the midst of conflicts ... battles ... or mystery ... of having trusted friends ... especially powerful ... and specialized ... friends!

Pointing nonchalantly to the Bat, Loco merely queried, "Does It Eat ... Much ... Mushrooms?"

Then the Cleric wandered away once again seemingly aimlessly ... crossing and re-crossing a colorful path of his own detecting design ... searching for clues as he made his way towards the elusive Crulgrin Shadebeard ... for a bit of colorful conversation ... for the Cleric had learned long ago ... the importance of having trusted friends ... in battle ... and while unravelling mushrooming mysteries!

They halted at Thagovan’s request. The warrior had been silent most of the trip so far, concentrating on the darkness in the Mushroom forest. There was something eerie about the crooked stems and spotted hoods. They were damp and shiny with slime and moisture from the humid air. As they got to the spot where the child had been found, the distinct smell of surfacing mould reached their nostrils as if they were in an old basement. Some of them knew from experience that the smell would only get stronger if they went deeper into the sea of shrooms.

As they looked around, Thagovan requested that they look out for tracks of some kind. Whether the attack on the children was done by a creature or a man, there should be clues. The soil was loose enough in places to reveal a good print, and there were too many little mushrooms around to not find any of them knocked over. And so they started searching the perimeter. With the help of Crulgrin and Grothtorg, both excellent trackers, they finally found a lead.

At first they had followed the footprints of the child, back to where it had come from. It was not more than a few yards later that they encountered the indication of a struggle. The soil was upturned, mushrooms turned over, and surrounding the scene of the fight were dozens of little dents in the loose earth. It was like somebody had poked small holes into the sand with a finger or a thin spear. A series of these tracks lead away from the fight. They followed these as well, going deeper into the forest, staying on the pathway formed by visitors and unseen creatures.
The torch lights of other searching parties could no longer be seen. It was as if they were alone in a grizzly, alien cavern in the deepest of layers of the Abyss. Insects buzzed at times, and the mushrooms seemed to whisper infectious lies of disorientation.

Suddenly a loud scream sounded from the other side of a thick patch of mushrooms. It was a female Khordaldrum voice, filled with fright. Another scream followed, but was instantly cut short. They could vaguely see a light moving fast in the distance, like somebody running with a torch, but it was just for a few seconds. Then it faded away behind many thick stems and broad hoods. Something was going on, and now they had a choice to make.

(OOC: You have several options here. You can either go an investigate/ sprint to the rescue, or continue tracking. If you want to find out what caused the screaming, you have the choice of going through a thick patch of mushrooms or following the path, hoping that it will lead around. Decisions and conversing please! I updated the map in the Q/A to make it more clear what your situation is.
If we can respond soon, I might be able to update before next Saturday, since this update was so short.)

Baldorf caught up with the group as they continued moving on, apparently having found some tracks. Of course, nobody had noticed him leave, and nobody really noticed him show up again. He followed silently, but when the female scream came, he could do nothing but exclaim his thoughts.

"Uh... that sounded like some bad screams. Something else must be attacking the remaining children! We should go after them, shouldn't we? I mean... that's what we're here to do, not to follow tracks. Right?"

Timid as always, Baldorf's voice is not very loud, but loud enough to be heard by the others as they were in front of him.

Kharov was in the middle of thinking about his problem back at the mine, and if the fellow khord he asked would join him. he had listened to another khord speak moments before about joining him in his search, and he just nodded and agreed. He didn't want to spend anymore time talking when he could be looking for important details about this mushroom world around him. And he did find them to, but so did everyone else.

A scream echoed throughout the cavern, and the quick movement of torches in the distance signaled something was going on. His attention was fully focused on the little flame before it went out along with a half muffled scream. He knew those sounds to well, and it was one of someone succombing earlier then there screams would want.

He drew mighty blood greed and shield, and ran full bore in the direction of the encounter, taking the shortest yet most usable path he could find. Whatever was happening he would put it to a stop.

Mushroom Forest
Warrens of Gunthras
Among the Mushrooms
On the Path
The scream cut through the memory lanes that Loco tried to keep suppressed by his consumption of mushrooms.

He was instantly reminded of the loss of his best friend when a similar sound caused his friend to plunge head long into what turned out to be a trap ...

The Khord let the memory trail away as the sound of another voice behind him caught his attention.

What Baldorf had to say seemed to be reasonable, but Loco pulled at his 3 beard braids with their tell-tale jewels, which reminded him of the task at hand in locating the source of the misery that had intruded upon the festivities of the wedding.

"Do what you must young friend ... I made a vow to avenge the mother of her agony ... so I will continue tracking our unknown quarry ..."
Any further explanation as to why Loco chose to remain on the path was interrupted by the noise of Kharov drawing his weapon and shield as he reacted to the screams by running full bore in its fading direction ... a course of action that Loco would have employed many years ago ... but the remembrance of his encounters that rewarded him with his jeweled braids ... and the loss of his best friend during that last encounter ... tempered his own brash reactions ... as the Cleric quickened his pace to follow the clues along the path before him ... as he remembered ...