#odyssey

The forest grows nastier still, prey turned predator, predators turned rabid.. the trees increasingly warped and rotted

And always with the singing that mocks Symon and Dagmar

Symon keeps that hand of Dagmar's, and the occasional twitch might indicate an insult that hits closer to home.

But he persists! He's been bullied, and what's more, he knows how horrible and wretched he is. What can they say to that?

The earmuffs keep her centered - that, and her hand in Symon's. She gives him a squeeze back when he seems tense.

Anne Marie gets called a 'fat meddling cow' in one lyric

Whatever the voice says, the troll has handed her trust over to him without reservation.

And they move by more temptations... carrion (Probably not really dead ) to tempt snake and taxidermists alike, a handsome prince tied to a warped tree, promising Dagmar his heart... to be fair, even if she could hear him, she'd probably explain she's not trading down, and, the ever popular 'chest of gold which totally NOT a mimic, really!'

To be fair, the thing Dagmar wants most is currently holding her hand.

The manticore corpse... manticorpse? Was appealing, but he doesn't pause past an interested glance.

Finally, the singing dies down, the forest continues though, looking less bent and twisted but still dangerous

Dagmar can sense the tension lessen when the voices fade. He taps his ears up at her.

She lifts her eyebrows, and lets go long enough to cautiously pull off the earmuffs.

The sound of chimerical crickets and nightbirds instead fills the air, it is not SUPER dark, but it is much more so

"Better. Sorry. Thank you."

Then they come to the stone wall

This is..forbidden, one does not WALL a trod. Yet someone did. A ten foot tall stone wall crosses the trod.. someone masoned this thing up. It looks to be thick as well

It consists of gray stone blocks with mortor of some sort

Frown.

Symon runs his fingers over it curiously. Then, he starts to climb, fly fingers and toes clinging to the bricks.

"We shouldn't leave this in place."

And slowly he ascends. Dagmar has another trick to try. She's very very tall

Dagmar is on the varsity track & field team.

He nods to Dagmar once he reaches the top, and spies over first.

A hand fluttering for her to pause as he looks before she leaps.

She waits!

(Perception plus Kenning for Symon)

/roll 6

Symon is a sluagh, in case anyone has missed that fact over the years and illusions do not work on them well...

which is why he sees where others might not the SILVER PIT somoene has put in the trod JUST beyond the wall. Covered in a veil, one might quite littterally 'fall for it', now this drop is itself part of the silver, but in a trap door way. To get past it, someone will need to go an additional ten feet in distance, otherwise the choice of 'down or forward' will default to the first

Dagmar might have jumped over the wall only to fall into it

Dagmar sees Symon stiffen, hissing angrily as he slides back down the near side of the wall. "A moment."
He steps back and glares at the wall. He is thinking.

"What is it?"

"Trap?"

His fingers splay, and he presses his hands against the wall. Symon whispers to it, weaving a bunk. So, this path likes Tolkien, eh?

"It is the orc-work, the enemy's work, that lies upon it. Let the Earth reclaim it. This wall is not old, not strong. It has no roots. It has no right to stand..."

Drawing upon the power of Autumn, the same spell that Snyde had tried to work upon them.

"Wither." Symon does not command, but he suggests, his whisper trailing into the cracks and the chinks in the mortar. "Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair. The walls crumble, the foundations sink-nothing beside remains."

Adding a little Ozymandias for good effect.

(Or Fae as it is chimerical stone in the dreaming, which ever is strongest )

/roll 5 (plus WP)

As the magic trickles from his fingers, he whispers over to Dagmar, "A pit, ere you clear the wall."

Now, activating his Autumn Eyes, he checks the wall for spots of weakness and decay.

"Foul."

"You tell me where to hit it?"

A smile flickers over his mouth, she knows him well. As he waits for cantrip to take effect.

"For the love of God, Montresor... No wall can contain me!" He murmurs, amused.

He leans against a doughty leg. "Silver trods are meant for travel, not travail. Let this wall hear the Dreaming’s discontent."

While he works, she taps on her bracer - though only her gauntlet unfolds, a gleaming golden glove.

He finds it...

And can direct... he has made weakpoints in mmore than one place... near the base, and dead center