Thom looks over at Ruedi.
"Excellent! Is that a thing you are great at? Why don't you see what you can find, and I'll go see what the Otters can tell me."
Ruedi will take a deep breath to center himself . This guy really doesn't know that he's more than a kennel master? That is skills envelop tracking creatures, and hunting them? But he said nothing, and started looking round for tracks to follow.
[OOC: Got 9 on the Hunt (Tracking) roll]
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Ruedi finds a pair of cloven hoof-prints, too large and deep for goat, but rather off for a cow. They seem to approach and stop by the pen, and then turn to leave with slightly longer strides. A confidence point for another piece of information.
The otters greet Thom, «hi, come swim with us, Thom.»
Thom smiles and says, "Sure! I'd love a swim. But first, I come on business. We seem to be having some issues with a Lady Glastic who claims these woods here. What can you tell me about her?"
«The Glastic?» says the otter.
«No trouble,» says the other.
«They keep away from the river.»
«No trouble at all.»
Thom tilts his head at the pair of sleek, shimmering sentries, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"No trouble, you say? That’s rather the opposite of what the nisse thinks. Poor thing nearly shivered his boots off—and he wasn’t even wearing boots."
He squats at the riverbank, fingers idly tracing ripples in the water.
"So, if she doesn’t trouble the river, where does she hold court? Does she sleep under the roots? Dance on mossy stones? Steal goats from shadows and never say thank you?"
He leans in with mock seriousness.
"Any advice? Offerings? Forbidden phrases? Favorite colors? I’d like to meet her without being turned into a mushroom."
Whether the otters reply in riddles or shrugs, Thom laughs softly, tossing his boots aside and tugging his cloak free with a flourish.
"No trouble, then. Let’s prove it with a swim."
With a shimmer of magic and the briefest twist of the air, Thom’s body shifts and slips—furred and fluid, limbs reshaped, his form melting into the sleek, silvery shape of an otter. He splashes into the water with a delighted bark, spinning and darting after the guardians like a leaf on the current, letting the worries of goats and Glastig drift, for now, beneath the flow.
After a long glide through the river’s twists and foam, Thom hauls himself back onto the stones, shaking off the water in an explosion of droplets. The change back to human form ripples through him like a laugh.
"Time to speak with the others," he murmurs, slipping his cloak back over damp shoulders. "See what Ruedi has come up with, if I can pry a tale out of him. Need to get to know him better, that bit of a mystery."
With a final grin to the otters, Thom turns and heads back toward the Oak Circle, already composing questions in his head—and maybe a poem or two—about the queen who lives where the forest hides its secrets.
«The nisse should stay in the river then,» says the otter sagely, and welcomes Thom into the pool.
«Hidden is the home of the Glastic.»
«Hidden like the court of the White Foam.»
«Though her colour is Green like the Moss.»
«Not White like the falling Water.»
«And Brown like the soil.»
«Not Blue like the Pool.»
«Deep in the forest she dwells.»
«Hidden from the men.»
«Except when she claims what is hers.»
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Ruedi will take a closer look at the tracks before calling to Thom "Magus, I've found tracks of the creatures."
[OOC= will spend a Confidence point]
The prints are from two hooves, not four as it would have been if it were any of your animals.
Thom returns from the River to where Ruedi has been finding the tracks.
"Tracks? Interesting. Where do they lead?"
They lead into the forest away from the river and away from the Oak Circle. Does Ruedi want to follow the tracks, or does he join Thom back at the Oak Circle?
"If you want, we can follow the tracks into the forest. They lead, for now, away from the Oak Circle and the river. Or do you want to call others to help?"
Thom nods.
"I think we should. This will be trouble, I'm sure. Can you mark the tracks, and then let's go speak with the others in the Circle."
In the daytime, during the establishment of the chapter house, it's likely both Cath'rinne and Turold will be indoors, in their respective sanctum / kitchen, building a lab. They aren't too hard to find, if Bartomeus seeks them out.
The sun has dipped just far enough to scatter golden light through the tall oaks, catching in the upper branches like spun glass. Thom paces the edge of the common hall in the wooden manor house, still damp from his swim, his hair curling slightly from the river spray. His expression, however, is more thoughtful than usual.
"Thank you all for coming," he says as the others begin to gather—Cath’rinne, Betula, Sionag, Turold, and whoever else is in the manor that evening. He leans lightly on the back of a carved chair, one foot tapping absently.
"I’ve just returned from speaking with the otters down by Cauldron Falls, but the concern started a little closer to home."
Thom gestures vaguely toward the pasture where the goat herd grazes. "I found our nisse trembling under a pile of timbers—soaked to the bone, terrified, and insisting we should pack up the goats and return to Ungulus immediately."
Thom’s voice drops a little, the humor dimming behind a more serious edge. "He said something—someone—was going to start taking the animals. One by one. Called her 'Lady Glastic.'”
He looks to the others, letting the name linger in the air a moment.
"Now, I admit, I’d never heard the name myself. But the otters had. They called her hidden. Green like moss. Brown like the soil. Deep in the forest. A presence that doesn’t trouble the river, but has no love for 'men'—which I’m guessing includes curious magi and livestock."
Thom steps forward, clasping his six-fingered hands behind his back. His usual mischief flickers back at the edges of his expression, even as he remains focused.
"She sounds like one of the older fae. A forest spirit, a faun—dangerous, not because she lures, but because she takes. She doesn’t negotiate, she claims."
He pauses. "Still, I think there's hope. She's a part of this land. And I’d rather come to understand her than provoke her without cause."
Thom turns toward Ruedi now, inclining his head.
"Ruedi, found her tracks. Cloven-hoof and only two."
Thom looks around the room, his tone softening.
"This land is meant to be a home. For all of us. But if we’re going to make it last, we’ll have to make peace with its oldest residents—or at least know how to keep out of their teeth."
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With none of the other magi showing interest, perhaps absorbed in their own workings, Thom finds himself standing once again at the edge of the Oak Circle, hands on his hips, hair tousled by the breeze.
"Well," he says aloud to no one in particular, "I suppose it’s up to us lesser heroes to peek into the shadows. So be it!"
Thom pivots on his heel and heads off to find Ruedi. Thom approaches with a grin and that familiar glint of excitement behind his eyes.
"Ruedi," he says warmly, "I’m going into the woods to find a potentially ancient and mildly murderous faerie who may or may not have a taste for livestock. You seem like just the man for the job."
Thom lets the offer hang in the air for a breath, then softens his voice slightly.
"Truthfully, I think your experience might be exactly what we need. And I’d rather not go alone."
But Thom doesn't wait for Ruedi to agree or not, but makes his way to the grogs, looking for two of the rangers—those with good eyes, quiet feet, and enough sense not to panic at the first rustling leaf. He greets them with his usual theatrical flair:
"Gentlemen! How do you feel about a short expedition into an old and slightly menacing forest in search of a reclusive faerie? There will be walking, there will be watching, and I will personally ensure there is cheese when we return. Possibly goat."
Thom waits a quarter hour for others to answer his call, before he heads directly back to goat pen where Ruedi found the tracks.
As they move beneath the old canopy, Thom’s eyes scan the undergrowth carefully—looking not just for the signs of travel, but for places where the forest seems too still, too symmetrical, or subtly strange.
"Let’s keep eyes open," he murmurs to the group (or to himself), voice quieter now. "She’s a creature of moss and root and silence. If we see tracks, stone rings, or a place where the birds stop singing... that’s when we slow down."
And so begins the search—not with fanfare or banners, but with footsteps pressed into damp leaves, the soft crackle of twigs, and Thom’s quiet hum threading through the hush like a charm to keep the darker things at bay.
Cath'rinne scratches her head. "You lost me at I found our nisse trembling under a pile of timbers. What's a nisse, anyway? And why do we have one?"
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"It's a small faerie that tends our goat herd and has since I came here," says Thom with a smile.
"Think of it this way: we have a predator going after our herd animals. This one happens to be a faerie."
"I know nothing about faeries, Thom. These things, I mostly leave to you unless they are trouble and you need help. But yeah, I guess I don't like the idea of something preying on our herd income. What do you want to do about this?"
"We need to find it and negotiate a treaty with it," says Thom. "We could try to kill it if it's uncooperative but often something else rises up in its stead. The guards of the King of the Foam have said the Glastig has domain over the forest, so we're the intruders here."