2026.03.18: Into The Woods Pt.2

Into the Woods (Pt 2/2)
Sark is in need of items for saddle bags to be crafted, so Baroness Mereid put out a proclamation calling on all willing to help him go on a quest to find the Iron Bull hide that he requires for their creation.
IC Date	March 11th, 2026
Players	Damon, Dasia, Rowan, Sark, Sky, Miranda (ST Only)
Location	The Greater Eastern Woods - County of Lion's Reach - The Dreaming
Prp/Tp	Beginning <-- Into the Woods
Spheres	Changeling, Bygone

Last week, our intrepid explorers found a large grove after finding a pair of cupid chimera that were escaping a threat where they had been enslaved to do some work for what turns out to be Iron Bulls, lead by a Centaur. In the middle of the grove is a bonfire. The herd of large, carnivorous-looking bulls, going in a circle, like a dance around the fire. Their leader in the inner circle around the fire.

---

Rowan shrugs just a touch. "I think making a deal is a bigger gamble than Sark going in and tossing one our way and creating a diversion." He starts to say more, but Dasia has a suggestion. He cocks his head a little to the side, squinting, thinking, then shrugs. "Sark? Your call. Do you WANT to go in there as a diversion or do you want to try diplomacy?"

Sark sighs, "I don't think Diplomacy is going to work. But it's been a long time since I flexed my scary. I might be able to hold them all off, if you all think you can handle one by yourself." He pauses, "I can make it clear the chief loses one bull...or we open a BBQ restaurant in the Market. Up to him."

Sky gets his bow back into a proper grip, ready to draw and fire. "It's your show, big guy. I can handle one though, sure."

Damon says, “I will stay here."”

Dasia claps her hands and rubs them together. "Alright. Embiggened Troll? Tiny Sark? Are there any thorny flowers nearby to make things especially risque?" She looks around, seeing what kind of vibe everyone is thinking of.

Sark nods at the consensus and takes in a deep breath, murmuring, "Well, like the saying goes, here goes nothing." He steps away from the group and lets his pattern unravel, melting into the significantly larger 'real' self (OOC desc changed). Those that know him will note he's made himself a LITTLE bit larger and apparently is planning on sowing some confusion as some of his scales are a shiny metallic RED, not gold. He hunkers down and murmurs, "Maybe I'll eat one if they push their luck. Get ready for incoming..." then LEAPS off of the ground with a huge sweep of his wings, launching up to treetop levels before heading directly for the hoofed campfire.

Sark is the very definition of NOT subtle, charging at the celebrating bulls and centaur with a loud, angry roar, doing his best to dial Intimidation up to 11 when he swoops down, all six pointy ends (mouth, tail, four legs) pointing towards the bulls as he aims to snag one.

‘’Standing maybe ten feet at the shoulder (about the height and thickness of a bull elephant), the creature in front of you stands on all fours, his shoulders coming up to a few feet over most human's heads, and is most definitely the western version of a dragon. Covered in gleaming burnished golden scales that overlay each other in a curving, natural style that completely conceals and protects the vulnerable skin beneath, they form ridges down his back, and along the long, serpentine length of his neck and tail. His head is long and stereotypically rather angular in appearance, with short, sharp horns that extend back behind his head, and a blunted snout that occasionally reveals a purple, forked tongue. Feet end in sharp, dangerous gilded claws that look like they could do some real damage if he was angry enough, and the tail ends in a sharply bladed tip that might suffice as a weapon in and of itself should he be able to bring it to bear. Large, leathery wings tend to remain tucked in against his sides, but can extend to a good 45-60' wingspan, enough to potentially lift the creature off of the ground.’’

‘’Lately the dragon has begun sporting a new accessory! Laced around his frame is what could loosely be considered a riding harness, composed of thin crafted leather straps joined in such a way to allow someone to perch on Sark's back and help them hang on when he gets acrobatic. For those that pay close attention to details, the point at where the straps cross over his chest is emblazoned with a small harlequin mask as a makers mark. (OOC for reference, approx Size 9-10 - And yes, if you've seen him before, Sark has gained size and mass recently)’’

Damon's eyes go wide and he hides behind a tree at the sight!

Sky didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't quite that. Even still, he keeps to his position at the front of the group. This is not the right time to retreat, things are only getting started here.

Dasia does not back down as Sark embiggens himself, the recklessness of the Elegbara on full display showing why relying on the Dan's Serendipity may not be the safest of options.

But then, what is safe?

She gives the Safari jacket a quick tug down, adjusts the Safari hat, and moves... not up next to the Troll. Meat-shields are nice to have. But she makes a show of solidarity. Never mind the manic glint in her eyes.

As Sark makes his presence not just known, but KNOWN to the dancing bulls? He gets the reaction you might assume would be in an arena in Spain. Like waving the red cape, the eyes of the bulls turn and with a loud bellow that emanates from each in turn. Hooves scrape as they rev up on the ground with smoke bursting from their nostrils. Heads and horns tilt down and they CHARGE! toward Sark!

Okay, that might not have been the reaction Sark expected, but Poker faces are Poker faces, and when the herd charges, he alters his aim just a little to aim for the centaur himself, with the intent to simply grab hold of the ass end of the creature (so he dangles that way and can't get a good swing at him while upside down), and will intentionally bellyflop off of the ground before launching back into the air with his prize, and attempt to scatter their charge and give them a moment of pause to regroup while he wheels in the air to take Cargo back to the group.

Rowan bites his tongue pretty hard with the point of one of those wicked teeth of his. He runs his bloody tongue over his teeth, back and forth a few times. He taps his chest, then motions off toward the centaur, like Babe Ruth signalling a home run. He takes a couple of steps. "Hey! That cape -- You know where that old story goes, right?" he yells in the most diplomatic way possible.

Sky looks a little concerned as the bulls start heading toward the dragon instead of away. That was not the plan. He looks back as Rowan announces his master plan, and waits to see what it is. But then he just blinks back at him a few times, confused. "Tonight's gonna be a hard one, huh?"

The Centaur looks confused as the fire dance has stopped and the bulls are taking off. "No! Come bac.." but he even has to move out of the way so he is not trampled. He spies Sark and looks annoyed. Shaking a fist like an old man toward Sark "Damn you Dragon!!" His attention on his herd that has taken off, the Dragon he does not know, right up until Rowan makes his and the others' presence known. "Who the hell are you? What do you mean by story. Get out of my grove! You are ruining everything! You and that damn Dragon!" While he does not have the sort of nostrils to release smoke, he would if he could.

Rowan tilts his head, voice rough with a thick THICK Northern accent. He already sounds like he's from Manchester, but then he makes it EVEN thicker as he yells toward the centaur. "There were a centaur once — looked a lot like you, aye. Picked up a proper nice cape off a fallen beast, struttin’ about like he’d skinned it ’imself. Took ’im a bit, but he figured in the end — weren’t ’is, not really. Just ’is turn wi’ it. So when the right, sexy bastard came along, askin' the right question, he didn't make a fuss. Handed it over. Made nice wi’ a nearby barony, stopped pickin’ on the wee lil cherubs, an’ lived a long, happy life, didn’t he?”

Damon peeks out, sees things way too close, and returns to his hiding place.

Sky glances at the bow in his hand, and at the tons and tons of stampeding beef. He's not really good at math, but he's pretty sure one won't do much to stop the other. "If they head this way, you're really going to want to get behind some trees. The biggest you can find."

Sark attempts to latch onto the centaur - considering the reaction of the bulls, he decides to pay a hunch and roars loudly, "You're never bothering these bulls again, COWARD!" Maybe just for a little theatrics, he rears his head back and opens his mouth wide, unleashing a gloriously bright fountain of red and orange and cold in the form of liquid napalm that bathes the bonfire, so the bulls have something to run even faster away from, lest they wish to become filet mignon.

As long as he's successfully able to grab the centaur to haul him back to the group, he will then pulls his wings to head that way, HOPING the bulls keep running.

Dasia lazily steps a little to the side, out from behind the Wall Of Sky, so the Centaur can see her when she talks. Hands on her hips, feet about as wide as her shoulders in a have super-hero, half model pose. “Any what, pray tell, do you think we are ruining?" she says. Yeah, it's more of a shout than saying, but that's because the Centaur is all the way over there, and she doesn't feel like getting too close just yet.

The bulls have taken off on a stampede, crashing into trees and each other as they go after Sark. Sark attempting to grab the centaur results in actually grabbing one of the bulls by a leg, in which it just flails around until finally dropped in a large BOUNCE and then it gets up to rejoin the herd. Although it crashes into a tree head first and is dazed and just stares at the tree now. Its eyes changing from red to a more natural darker color.

The Centaur realizes the attack and trots away from the flying Sark around him toward the group. Now confused by it all, he approaches Rowan and the others. "What? Why are you... what is this Dragon coming for me and my herd?" He's now trying to figure out the story told. "You heard about me? A fuss? What would a centaur get for giving something up to someone?" He's thinking it through while the cantrip has confused him a bit, but has him calmed down from before.

Rowan says, “What d’you get for givin’ it up?” Rowan huffs softly. “Ye get t’keep what’s yours." His eyes roam to the herd over there as they scatter. He takes note of the red eyes turning back more naturally. He squints at it a little bit, but continues, attention focusing back on the Centaur. "Ye get your lot back under you an’ you don’t end up bein’ the poor bastard that folks tell stories about next time.” His eyes flick to the cape, then back. “Cape like that? It draws attention. It don’t stay put. Smart ones like you know when it’s their turn t’let it go … an’ who it’s meant t’go to.” He taps his chest lightly and lets his words hang in the air then adds, almost as an aside, “Or you can keep it... An’ see what comes lookin’ for it next.” He waits, looking toward Sky briefly and then slowly back to the centaur. Of course he's half way keeping an eye on the scrambled herd too

Sark thinks for a moment that Rowan and Dasia MIGHT have the Centaur managed so chooses instead to play to the crowd, growl loudly at the enraged bulls, and RUN off away from everyone at high speed, shaking the ground a little as he flees. Maybe even with a tail slap in the face of a bull that got close, just to insult them.

Sky looks reallllll skeptical... But nobody's getting trampled yet. Which is a good thing. Hopefully it'll stay that way. If whatever Rowan is up to actually works...

"There is a third option," Dasia points out, still in her fancy pose but cocking her hips to the one side. She makes as how of raising one hand to tap manicured nails on her chin, as if thinking. "You could speak a price you think is reasonable, and maybe after a little negotiation, nobody has to stay long enough to find out what happens when Big Red gets hungry."

The Centaur is thinking really hard on this. He's not the brightest bulb, but the words he is hearing has him reaching for his cape at his neck. "But I can keep my crown right? I need my bulls, and my crown." Something with those words and that story is getting to him. "If I give it to you, will that Dragon go away? Leave my bulls alone?" He is actively detaching the cape from around his neck.

The Bulls are now mingling through the trees around the grove, enough of them having headbutted into trees and are now confused themselves. More interested in finding stuff to eat.

The words from Dasia have him thinking, "Big Red? The Dragon? Will eat them? No, no. What can I agree to so that we are left alone. My bulls and this grove. And me." He seems willing to do whatever now.

Rowan holds out his hand and takes a slow step forward. Casual rather than cautious. "Just the cape. That's all we need. All we want. Give it here, we'll leave you alone. You can keep your crown." Just that simple. Easy peasy Centaur squeezy.

Sark either notices he isn't being chased, or decides he still needs them to think he ran off - either way disappearing off into the trees, making sure he's noisy the whole way so they know he headed off. Once he's led them far enough away or notes he has no more pursuers, there will be a quick change back into a more mundane looking red-tailed hawk so he can double back and make sure everyone else is doing okay.

"I cannot speak to what the Dragon will or will not do," Dasia says, taking care to not lie to the Centaur about the harsh realities of life. "There is a saying about being crunchy and tasting good with ketchup, which would be a horrible thing to put on any bull, but there's no accounting for taste." She shrugs, making a face at the mere thought of it.

Sky just goes ahead and un-nocks the arrow from his bowstring, slipping it back into his quiver. No point in looking threatening while the others were still being diplomatic, kind of. So he just smiles widely and tries to look friendly and harmless. Yup, just seven foot something of non-threatening friend.

The bulls have moved further out of the grove and into the trees. Just mooing every so often as they revert to a more docile state at the moment. Too many trees and knocks to the head have reset their state - and they have forgotten the need to stampede.

The Centaur listens to Rowan and then to Dasia. He's thinking. And thinking. "So if I give you the cape, you'll leave us alone? Not come back? The Dragon is with you? My bulls do not taste good, I assure you. Not even for a Dragon." Well, he wants them to think so. "I do not want any trouble with a Redcap or Troll, or any of you. Just a place to hold some rituals." He gestures somewhat back to the bonfire, not explaining more about it. He then tosses the cape to Rowan. "We'll stay here and not bother anyone unless they come to bother us."

Rowan reaches out and catches the cape and slings it back over his shoulders. Quite dashing. God, it probably STINKS though. Eh, oh well. Rowan is making a point. Probably. "Deal. You will stay here and NOT BOTHER ANYONE unless they come to bother you." He up nods to the hawk and then back at the Centaur. "We'll be watching." He turns, giving the cape a dramatic flourish out behind himself and he stalks back the way they came. As if he totally planned this. Yup! For sure!

Sark swoops up from behind the group with a odd chirp, flaring his little wings to sail up and flutter to a stop, perching on one of Sky's prominent horns. Once the haw settles and flutters his wings a bit, he bends down to whisper in the troll's ear, "Howzit goin?"

Dasia considers, then nods. "That works for now," she agrees. "If you want a more... formal agreement... that can also be arranged." After a pause, she adds, "When is your next ritual scheduled? That can give you time to think things over at your own pace, without concern of a rampaging dragon swooping back through."

The Centaur looks at Dasia and lifts his chin a bit. "Yes. Come back just before the next Full Moon. Next ritual takes place that night." He spies Sark near Sky and huffs a bit, annoyed with the Dragon. His attention moves to Rowan one last time, "Deal. Now go please. I need to get my herd." He backs up and then races off toward them, as he comes closer he's making noises as he tries to communicate with them in their snorting grunting language of bullpucky.

The grove falls silent aside from the muted sounds of the Centaur attempting to gather his herd that is now all meandering amongst the trees of the forest, and the crackle of the bonfire.

Sky turns his head to look at the hawk, which does not work well because his horn goes with the turn and his passenger along with it. He corrects after the first attempt and just flicks his eyes up and to the side at the avian hitchhiker. "Uh, seems fine. Nobody got stepped on, which seems pretty positive. Are you ok?"

Damon finally slips more fully out from behind the tree. "I hate blood... Thanks for freaking minimizing it."

"I'll meet you back there, guys!" Rowan says.He has a fancy new cape temporarily