INTO THE WOODS ※ GAME EVENT

[wildestmods]

INTO THE WOODS

The faerie faire goes on into the evening, the faire filled with the sounds of revelry. For those who've spent the day there, the cool evening air is welcome respite from the bright sun that's shined all day. Those who still have some faerie gold might even want to invest in a cloak if they haven't gotten one yet, because it may get chillier as night falls.

As evening descends and various floating flowers start to glow to provide light, the spring faeries start to bring out night-time merchandise and amusements, like brightly-colored phosphorescent flower jewelry. Fireflies are charmed to blink in different colors and magical fireworks paint the sky in vibrant light. They're quieter than normal fireworks, but there are still satisfying snaps and hisses.

It seems like it'll be a pleasant night at the fair and those only just arriving in the evening will find a charming scene opening up before them.

But one thing that isn't noticed as evening begins to fall is the way the winter faeries suddenly slink away into the rising dark. Or at least it isn't noticed until it's too late. Some of the summer faeries start to react to it with alarm.

"Where did they go? The winter faeries are supposed to provide security, they signed an agreement. Go tell Ponto and get some faeries with warding magic to shore up the wards." Faeries start flying with purpose to speak to others that need to be put on security. "We can handle it ourselves but we need to get enough people out to the borders."

"Should we disperse the faire?"

"No, there's no sign of any threats and if we re-ward it, they'll be safer here than people scattering in the woods at night. Even if we had the bad luck to be attacked before the wards are re-done we can defend them with our magic - and we're contracted to."

Unfortunately that bad luck hits too soon. While the faeries scramble to re-do the defense wards, an unearthly fog rolls in. Terrible screeches start to rend the air, sounding similar to the screams of foxes. Warning bells ring from warning wards placed in certain areas of the woods.

"Nightrenders!" someone calls out and people in the crowd start screaming, gathering their loved ones closer. Horrifying beings start to pour into the faire and the hand stamps of all the people who bought tickets ahead of time start to glow. Faeries rally around those people, casting powerful defensive spells. Due to the panic, several stalls start to go up in flames due to knocked over cooking fires. Fortunately the stalls are small enough for people to escape them easily and spread far enough apart that they can be avoided, but smoke joins the fog in the air.

If a faerie sees one of the squad of otherworlders, and their lack of glowing hand stamp they're quick to offer a warning. "You have to run! The people who bought tickets ahead of time entered into a magical agreement of protection. The warding takes time to charge. We can do nothing for you, without slow-charge wards we're not powerful enough to protect you. The Nightrenders will devour your brain, or your soul."

Apparently that little disclaimer about not being fully protected that some of them read while coming in (for those that had arrived earlier in the day) was more important than it seemed.

The faeries always point the same way, still trying to help the people without tickets. "To the north! There's a place in a canyon with a large, glowing crystal. It looks like an abandoned market and dwellings. You'll be safe there, the magic of the Heartstone will protect you."

USEFUL LINKS

Setting Background/FAQ | Major NPCs


NIGHTRENDERS

The beings known as Nightrenders start amassing on the faire. Their movements are quick but clumsy, as if every one of their movements is made up of a hundred janky, smaller fits and starts, like they're made of clockwork. The faerie magic summer faeries use seems to do no more than stagger them back or temporarily knock them over, but at least makes it clear to the squad that they at least can be knocked over and slowed down. At the very least it seems to take them some time to get off the ground and back to their feet.

Attacks

They attack anyone they see in different ways. Some they wound with massive claws. Or they squeeze someone's torso and nearly suffocate them to give them a chance at possibly chomping into the heads of their victims to get at the brains. Most dangerously of all, they breathe in with a loud sucking noise, clawed hands guiding the magic that lets them drawn out someone's soul to devour it. It looks like a small delicate thing, sometimes in the form of a glittering star or a flower, as its drawn out of the victim's mouth.

This process can fortunately be interrupted if the Nightrender is attacked. As long as the soul hasn't been sucked into their mouths, it goes back into the victim.

Cursed Aura

But the whole thing is complicated by the magical aura caused by the Nightrenders. When they draw close, everyone around them is choked with fear, grief, and dread. Some succumb to visions of their worse memories playing out in their heads over and over. Some might be able to still stagger away in this state, trying to see through the visions, especially if someone helps them along, but others will find it nearly impossible to do anything other than curl on the ground. It is unknown why some don't have the flashbacks or can power through them more than others, though it's thought that those that repress their bad memories or negative emotions struggle more.

Anyone that helps someone who's having visions may get a glimpse of their memories - and empathically feel a flash of the pain, fear, rage, or grief they felt during the memory. If two people try to help each other move forward when both are having visions, they may transmit glimpses back and forth.

Weaknesses

The Nightrenders cannot be destroyed, only knocked down, or slowed down. However, those with "holy" weapons, spells, or powers, or those who have weapons, spells, or powers that can hurt "ethereal" beings or evil spirits will find they can cause them enough pain that sometimes they run away. Spells and abilities that create magical manifestations of good will and happiness, as well as spells of light, or purification can also harm them and drive them away.

THE SISTERS

The Nightrenders don't speak, but some have the misfortune of hearing two voices echo out of the fog. The come in stereo, only just slightly out of sync.

"Chosen Ones, you must be so confused. You've become lost in the forest, and the Dark Lord's nightmares already pursue you. Fortunately for you, our mistress desires your company. You'll adore obeying her will. Don't run, embrace a better destiny."

Two woman in white masks and straw hats, with cloaks made from the feathers of ravens, come out of the fog, body language almost identical. No eyes can be seen through the eyeholes of their masks, just darkness.

They start attacking, and when they beset their victims they stop speaking, refusing to talk or answer questions, instead filling the air with wild, mocking laughter. One wields twin katanas, the other a kusarigama with a painful claw at the end of the chain that closes down when it hits something.

Nets

While they're extremely willing to injure the squad they seem to be trying to capture them instead of killing (albeit capturing them after they're maimed), occasionally tossing out nets of glowing silver of moonlight. Being caught in the nets renders someone paralyzed and weak, a deep cold settling into the marrow of their bones. Some may even hear the shrieks of dying loved ones, whether they've actually died in reality or not. The Sisters apparently have the strength to carry even the largest of the squad in the air and will attempt to fly away when someone is ensnared.

The nets are difficult to destroy, but can be with great force of some kind. It has to be aimed at the part closest to the Sisters' hands, because the force required to break the nets would also injure those trapped inside them. The cold and paralysis fades when the victims are free, but some of the rescued may feel weak and need help staying on their feet. Unfortunately, even when they're broken, the nets of moonlight seem to be something they can recreate within several minutes.

Smoke Monsters

For some, they don't attack directly. Instead, one of the sisters pulls out a pipe and smoke monsters pour out of it. They try to drag their victims closer to the sisters so they can be caught in their nets. Fortunately, they can be destroyed with enough force.

While the Sisters seem impossible to injure, they can at least be caused pain with extreme enough attacks, something that makes them teleport away before risking any further injury.

PROMPTS

a) RENT
Uh oh, a Nightrender has you. Either it's squeezing you so hard you're suffocating and about to chomp into some juicy brains, or it's in the process of sucking your soul out through your mouth. In either case, you're likely broadcasting visions of your worst memories in small flashes to whoever is near. You're in desperate need of rescue and the summer faeries can't help - their magic is all but useless on the Nightrenders if it didn't have time to build by a covenant. Only others that fell into the Wilderlands like you did can save you.

(Feel free to provide multiple memory options ala a memshare, but keep in mind they'd only be flashes instead of a full memory!)

b) NABBED
The Sisters have got you, their smoke monsters are trying to drag you away, or you're still trying to fight them to avoid being caught. It'll be a lot easier if you have help - otherwise you're outnumbered and possibly outclassed. The only way to stop them is fight back hard enough that they feel you're not worth the effort and teleport off.

c) RESCUE
Perhaps you're not affected by the Nightrenders or are just good at powering through the haze of painful magic they're inflicting on the area. Either way, you're out to help the people around you. Perhaps you run into another member of the otherworlder squad that needs saving - or maybe they join you to protect a third otherworlder, or a denizen of the Wilderlands that also forewent a ticket and is therefore at risk. Unlike many of the people from other universes, many of the denizens of the Wilderlands are powerless and thought they were in for a day and night of safe fun.

There are also other hazards to rescue people from. Maybe a small child has been separated from their parents and is disoriented by smoke, in need of rescued from some flaming tents. Or maybe an elderly person has fallen and is at risk of being trampled. There are lots of reasons people might need help, due to fires, panicked horses, collapsing tents, and panicking crowds.

d) RUN
It's time to run! Perhaps, after some screaming and confusion - and teleportation - you finally grab a buddy and bolt through the woods. You better run fast because the Nightrenders and the Sisters may give up chase at some point but it may take time and moving through difficult terrain in the fog to lose them. Perhaps you and a partner have to help a third, injured otherworlder because they're having trouble walking.

Better head north like the faeries said. The faeries were right that this Heartstone to the north may be your only hope - and you'll have to reach it despite the fading evening light, skies overcast with dark clouds, and fog.

It may be easier navigating in the dark with a partner or two.

e) WILDCARD
Maybe you decide to do none of the above. Go nuts!

OOC DETAILS
❧ Quest magic: Players can handwave that the quest bond magic is tugging the group northward to the safe place, with the mysterious Heartstone. They can also use the quest magic as an excuse for many different threads. As the group tries to run, their scattering movements will affect the magic and cause people to teleport at random, allowing for many different encounters with many other characters. This can explain why two characters that might otherwise stay together through the whole thing might get separated.

❧ Network: The network can now be used. Mirrors can and do float if someone is trying to talk through one and running, and can follow someone as they move, allowing people to communicate on the go or during action. Feel free to start using the network in parallel with the log events.

❧ NPCing: The mods won't be npcing but players are free to npc the actions of bystanders, the Nightrenders, and the Sisters. The Sisters won't speak, just continue laughing, and players can npc their specific attacks, capture attempts, and teleportation. Please just don't have them talk or godmode them dying - they're currently a little too sturdy for that. If you have a question about whether/how something will affect them feel free to ask the mods in the first comment below.

❧ Environment: Feel free to manipulate the environment. There are things left over from the faire people can work with like bow and arrow sets from the competition, horses (which can be temporarily stolen, though we'd like to limit any that are permanently stolen to the (1) horse another player already requested), and even explosive faerie fireworks (they're quieter than the normal thing but still create a big bang). Abandoned stalls also have weapons and supplies to grab as people run for it. If they didn't think to steal or buy useful things during the day, please limit this to only grabbing one or two items as they run, like a cloak or sword. They won't have time to loot for more.

❧ Experimentation: We'd like to encourage people to experiment! Obviously ask other players if they're down first, but it could be fun to do something other than 2 person threads, like maybe 2 PCs banding to rescuing a 3rd. Players are also encouraged to set limitations if they think it'd be more interesting, like locking their final escape prompt from the faire grounds to a single thread partner and playing out the drama of a full escape.

[OOC: Plot is visible so people can see and start plotting together but not open until Nov. 1. The mods will enable comments then.]

Comments

[hasapoint]

Yes, good. If he couldn't help someone when she makes it this easy, Need wouldn't want anything to do with him.

:Oh, you don't even know what undignified is,: she says, with probably more amusement than the situation warrants. The rope is not held out and taut, so hacking inexpertly at it just nicks the twisted-together fibers in a few different places. :Dip my point underneath and then pull up and back, sliding the rope along my blade. Create tension and a weak place to exploit, using the weight of the rope to help.:

This comes with a phantom sense of the motion she means, as if she'd just stood at his back and laid her arm over his, closed her hand over his hand, and showed him, adjusting the way his fingers clutched her hilt as she did. There are other ways to cut through the rope, of course, and the feeling of being guided doesn't force him to follow her lead, but her way can get it done in one fast, smooth pull.

Assuming that Raistlin also took her scabbard and swordbelt and buckled the latter around himself - she would have said something if he tried to leave them behind at any of the given opportunities - she also says, :And get me sheathed. I'll guide you so you don't cut off your own leg, you need a hand free.:

[hourglasshalfempty]

Raistlin follows her instructions, letting the invisible hand guide him. The rope snaps, unweaving the canvas from the central tent so it can be pulled away. He sheathes Need, as instructed, and starts pulling.

"Here!" he calls to the cook, who had been yanking futilely at the bottom edge. "Help me - grab up here - good."

The baby wails in his ear, but between the three of them they managed to make a wide enough hole in the canvas for the trapped person to emerge, gasping.

Raistlin sees her. She sees Raistlin.

Their glares are immediate, mutual, and loathing.

Raistlin's eyes narrow. The so-called fortune teller - the woman who'd accosted him, and played the victim when he defended himself. She's got the half-outraged look of someone who finds themselves indebted to someone they dislike. He's familiar with it. There's little point sticking around, now. Either she'll try to be grateful, which is bad, or she'll invent a reason she doesn't have to be, which is worse.

"You are perfectly able to do the rest yourself," he informs the cook, not inaccurately, and attempts to leave.

[hasapoint]

Several different muscles protest the unusual amount of stretching and pulling he's been asking of them. Need clamps down on each twinge, not allowing the tissues to tear. This is why she hasn't given Raistlin the full measure of physical ability she's capable of lending. Without time to study his body and figure out a more comprehensive plan for the spell, he could hurt himself.

When the trapped woman appears Need takes this opportunity to split her focus, watching the withering visual effect on the woman - it reminds her of a lot of things she'll want to try to remember in more detail, but it's also a fascinating and hilarious reflection of the dislike she feels coming off them both - but also getting her first good look at the face of the young mage who's insisting on becoming her bearer. The lighting's bad, but what she gets does reinforce her idea that he's some kind of Changechild. She'll have to ask, maybe his homeland has people with metallic skin and... keyhole? pupils without magical alteration.

...Living people probably don't generally see something as gruesome as a person falling to decay like this and go so quickly to morbid amusement. Ah, well. Need tries to keep her perspective human, but she knows that she only seems to feel rage and love very strongly anymore, and gets any other strong feelings from the emotions radiating off of people.

Speaking of. She would've been content to let Raistlin leave at this point, but she feels a bow wave of misery boiling rapidly in their direction. Need roars, :WAIT! GET DOWN!:, fires a mental compulsion at the cook, who squeaks as she goes to her knees, and constructs the single shield she still has in her repertoire, bubbling it up over the three humans and herself before another Nightrender comes in at a jerky trot. Lightly scorched by a faerie's defensive spells, it's here looking for less well guarded prey. It pauses, looking left and right with its great clawed hands flexing.

:Quiet. No talking, don't move. You're not invisible, just less noticeable,: Need says in her harsh metal-on-metal voice, and the two women flinch to hear her. The baby is much too young to understand, and the simple compulsions she can make through deliberately targeted Mindspeech just aren't that strong. His tiny face has screwed up.

She wonders if she can kill the awkward construct-thing that she still insists on calling a walking dyrstaff. In the normal course of things? Absolutely. Now? Well, she can calculate several ways to close the distance and attack it using Raistlin's body - the joints seem like a good bet - but that might not work, and also he might fight her and slow everything down. :Other ideas, boy? Getting one of the fairies over here would help. They're too shielded for me to contact myself.:

[hourglasshalfempty]

:None that wouldn't reveal us: He could send up a flare, or try to cast an illusion to distract the creature, but either was likely to break her concealment and who knew if they could move faster than it, or if the faeries would respond at all.

The child - who has not been having a fun time, and feels that someone should be informed - is sucking in breath for a wail. Raistlin curses under his breath and fumbles in his pouch.

Just as the infant begins to emit the thin, high sound that preludes a full-throated scream, it is distracted by the sudden appearance of a shiny, dancing coin. The incredible strange large human who isn't mom or mom or dad is making it play along his knuckles, hop and skip and jump and leap from hand to hand with admirable dexterity considering that he's crouching on the cold ground being hunted by monsters. The child has never seen anything like this: it stares at the coin with the blank confusion of any infant jarred suddenly from its train of thought, and, after a moment, it starts to smile.

:I can't keep this up forever.: But the creature, seeing and hearing nothing, is already starting to move towards a more promising cluster of screams.

[hasapoint]

:Clever!: Need says, with a flash of mingled approval and chagrin. :I wouldn't have thought of that.:

A careful examination would have revealed them. Since the nightrender hadn't been chasing anyone, and no one's clothing is so bright that it really stands out against the tent, and it doesn't hear anything, it has no reason to search the ground when there are targets everywhere. She keeps the shield up anyway as it heads off, because the energy cost for it is all in the setup. It's not visible and air passes through it without impediment, but with their contact and his own aptitude for magic Raistlin can still feel the shield's shape, its confines, how it's porous to most things.

They have a moment now, and her compulsion to stay low and quiet has passed. Need dips into the cook's mind, since she'd healed her before. The cook is sure that the fairies will protect her and her wife and child - as employees, the adults have got faintly glowing stamps that just aren't on their hands, and the baby is covered in the contract - but it's certainly true that one will have to actually be here to do so.

So that all three adults can hear her, Need says, :Children, your boy is at the well with the white flags with a sprained ankle. He's covered, but he's going to hurt himself more if he keeps trying to get to you. You'll be safer there.: She says something more to the cook alone, then. No one else gets any intimation of what it is, but her bearer might notice that when Need is talking to someone they look a bit glazed and distant.

Reluctantly and with a grinding edge of frustration, Need then tells Raistlin, :New problem. I'm starting to run low on magic and I can't draw more to replenish it. This has all been coming out of my personal reserve. If that gets below a point, pfft, I'm asleep. That will be very bad for you.: The enhancements she's keeping on him are hastily designed and constructed and burn a lot of energy, though less while he's not actually doing anything. If they get out of this and she makes a study of him, Need is confident of making a more efficient spell.

[hourglasshalfempty]

:Then I suggest we avoid further detours and make for this heartstone as quickly as possible: Raistlin responds swiftly. The cook's taken over handling the baby, who is contentedly blowing bubbles, having forgotten what it was upset about in the first place. :It seems to have some arcane power of its own. Perhaps it can replenish you:

[hasapoint]

:I'm not sure,: she tells him, Mindvoice filled with sparks of were the ones who said that lying. When Need can't touch someone's mind she is tremendously more suspicious of them, and the fae are too shielded for her to tap. :It can't be the kind of Heartstone I know about. Could just be to draw us away from the people they're actually contracted to protect.:

A spirit imprisoned in a sword can't sigh, but she gives that impression. :Regardless, you're the one with legs and I can't keep this up on you indefinitely.: She means the spellwork telling his lungs that they're clear and whole, that little regulatory part of his brain that it doesn't need to maintain a high temperature, the whole of his body that it's maybe not athletic but is in the kind of condition where a fifteen-minute mile is pleasantly tiring. :Get what you can out of it, I'll stop feeding it before I hit dangerous territory. You'll probably have an attack as soon as it's down so get those herbs ready.:

[hourglasshalfempty]

Ah. There's the other shoe. This new strength expires eventually, and extracts a toll. Well, such is magic: nothing without price. He has never shirked from paying.

:If nothing else, it's the way everyone else is going, and that means whatever happens next is going to happen over there. But you're correct - I will go cautiously, hanging back from the crowd.:

The pace he takes is brisk, but nowhere near a run or even a jog. Far faster, however, than he could have managed on his own, and with the option to move faster still if needed. He lets himself savor it briefly, guiltily. But perhaps, if this is something she can teach, if this is something he can learn -

Nothing without price. Remember that. He thinks of the smell of burned flesh and his brother's shocked face, quite deliberately, and puts the idea aside for now.

[hasapoint]

Need gives the impression that she's snorted. (Is it a bad sign that she has this, but not smiling?) :Your faith in me astounds. I can't just ram a permanent change that large through without even telling you first.: That sentence is carrying a lot of weight in Mindspeech. She is actually kind of offended at the implication that she'd alter Raistlin's - anyone's - body that severely, even if it's an objective improvement, without even a discussion. Healing doesn't count. ...She technically can make those kinds of changes without permission, it's just a disgusting idea. Besides, her own ability to cause major permanent reshaping is limited enough that it takes a lot of incremental changes over time, a lot of power, or both.

Need smooths out her emotional state back into clearer focus and assumes a more tactical role. :I'll show you what I did later. Don't fall too far behind, either. Either slow down or speed up, don't get trampled by the horse coming through in five... four...:

She'll just be giving Raistlin directions and warnings like that to dodge trouble and avoid being spotted by anything nasty on their way north. There'll probably be a close one with the Sisters, who Need can only sense via the blankness of their total shielding, but altogether this would have been a good, clean escape if they didn't end up randomly teleported apart. With the termination of contact, her spell will last about five minutes more.

[hourglasshalfempty]

:My apologies for giving offense: Raistlin thinks swiftly. :I thought perhaps you could maintain the effect as long as necessary, though in hindsight that was idiotic. I have no excuse; my explanation is that healing magic does not exist in my world, except as a gift of the gods. And they have been absent from human affairs for centuries, save for the gods of magic.:

It was idiotic because it had come out of hope - a small, flickering hope, hiding in the margins of mind, that magic could do more than just provide an alternative to a healthy body. He sneers at himself, irritated at the weakness that hope implies, and shoves it somewhere he doesn't have to look at it.

:Even if temporary, this technique could be life-or-death, especially here. If it can be taught, I would learn it gladly.:

[hasapoint]

Need has the urge to snap at Raistlin, which she quells. She can tell he's working within the toolkit he has for appeasing elder mages, and - though he wouldn't admit it and wouldn't thank her for pointing it out - that he desperately doesn't want her alienated and turning away and leaving him alone. :I am glad I was not born, either time, in your world,: she says instead, which is also true. No Healing without divine providence? Might as well say fire gives no light.

She also wants to do something about these thoughts about hope, and doesn't know if that's 'shove him' or 'be kind'. Probably both. If it's called for Need can spin a painfully earnest speech with the best of them but it's not called for now, and at best this boy would listen just enough to humor her while thinking she was talking nonsense.

:Everything I can do asleep, I am better at awake. When I sleep, I keep hostile magic from affecting a bearer who has no magic herself.: There's both pride and frustration in that. Asleep or awake Need's gotten really, really good at Warding, and at taking an enemy's power for her own, even if that enemy is something extraordinary. It's invaluable. It's also not available to her here. :And I protect mages by giving them the abilities of fighters, partly by using their bodies myself, partly by enhancing them. Usually this is only for short periods, and my last mage was - robust.:

There's an image of Kethry in her youth, as if for a few seconds she's present and keeping pace - a small, chubby woman with long, braided amber hair, wearing dusty brown wandermage-robes and carrying Need bared and gleaming. This being seen through Tarma's eyes, it comes with an echo of Tarma's appreciation of how fearless and pretty her partner is; the warrior may have been made asexual, but she and the sorceress had been besotted with each other all the same. :I knew and could address her every weakness. If I can examine how you're put together, I'll be able to hold this for longer with less of a drain on my resources. And yes, I'll show you what I'm doing, though I don't know if you'll be able to use it.:

[hourglasshalfempty]

Raistlin delicately sidesteps the feelings that come with the images, the way you might avoid a mess on the carpet from a friend's dog. No shame in it but still not something you want to step on. And they feel like private thoughts, anyhow.

:All knowledge is worth having: Raistlin says, certainty ringing through his mindspeech. :If not now, perhaps one day it will be useful, or needed. It's always better to know.:

He means it, completely. However terrible something may be, not knowing is worse. If you know, you can assess, plan, understand. If you don't, you're simply at the mercy of whatever forces decide to pick you up and toss you around. That's a large part of why he doesn't want to lose Need. She's an useful ally, she knows things, and he can fit what she is and what she's capable of into the understanding he already has. An anchor in a world suddenly vaster than he'd imagined. Oh, he knew about the multiverse, other realms and other planes, but this is beyond any of the speculations of the ancient sages. For the first time in his life Raistlin genuinely doesn't want to know what's going on. If you made him choose life or truth, he'd tell you honestly: he wants to go home.

He can't, of course, not right now. And being terrified isn't going to stop him from probing and prying and trying to extract the secrets of this world and his travel to it. That's also part of him, and much more so than his fear.

[hasapoint]

Need chuckles approvingly into the back of his head. :This is going to be fun. I'm going to work you hard, and I want to learn as much from you as I can. I'm too old to learn new forms of magic quickly, but I've got time. Both of us can benefit a great deal.:

She's grown stranger and hungrier since becoming a thing that could be called a lich, but she's never stopped being a teacher. Here she's choosing her angle of approach. Everything she's said is entirely true. She learns from her students as they learn from her and becomes stronger in doing so, which is tremendously satisfying, whether she's teaching magic or how to ride a horse. Need just also has the ulterior motive that she senses Raistlin won't want to hear, people in his position usually don't - that she loves to watch and guide someone as they grow and settle into something better than how she found them. She could make a difference for him.

...And then they're separated. One moment they're well into the trees and the quiet, then some invisible boundary is crossed, and Raistlin is back in the chaos of the fair and Need's weight and the pressure of her swordbelt are gone. Her spell continues to work. It's a scaffolding she set up and poured energy into, not one of her contact effects, but there's a change in feeling without her there to feed and adjust it, like the ground of a path starting to yield underfoot, some of the strength starting to drain from his arms and legs. It will relinquish its effect on his lungs last, and that time is coming in minutes.

Need, meanwhile, was plunged into non-sensation and gropes furiously for new contacts. Her range is so limited now! Some animals - cats? yes, cats - were within the pitiful radius, literally close enough to hear the clatter of her appearing to fall somewhere enclosed under stone ceiling. She can follow their senses as they bolt from the unexpected sound, even after they leave that radius, but they don't look towards her, and there's a flatness and lesser understanding to riding the minds of animals. They don't know where they are, beyond primitive reckonings of territories.

She reaches back and can find the few people she'd contacted enough to speak to, Raistlin included, but she can't sense the mindscapes around any of them, just what they can perceive, and the quality of input is poor and seems to be delayed. She hasn't bonded closely enough to any of them, soul included, to work remotely very well, not even enough to just give advice based off of their own senses and her reckoning. The little mage who wants to be her bearer and apprentice is the one in the most trouble - Stacia and Guts are more than capable of looking out for themselves, and the cook and fortuneteller are as safe as anyone is in that situation - and she strains a little to talk to him. Her Mindvoice is all harsh metal-on-metal, but attenuated, its connotations faded and ashy, as she calls out over miles of distance.

:Boy! I don't know what happened.: Need always has fury buried close under the surface and that seethes now, carefully not allowed to burst free. :I hate this, but I'm too limited to help you from here! You're a bright child and don't need me, though.: All the dubious riders on that statement would be more obvious up close. Regret makes it through, and frustration.