|
Post by ch00beh on Mar 24, 2017 10:56:01 GMT -5
22 Breya, Year of the Lyre Bartholomeo Lucrezio AbsentiI meant to write this the other night, and I wish my excuse was as enjoyable as waking up in one's small clothes would imply. As it turns out, Oliver Paldono is an asshole, and most likely not really named Oliver Paldono. Katherynn, my dearest self in the far future, if you are reading this when you are old and senile and reliving your adventuring days, skip over the next few paragraphs and pretend nothing unfortunate ever happened. Kay, my lovely self in the near future, here is what I remember before the bastard knocked me out. Imagine that! Forcing a half-elf to sleep. How embarrassing! (Oh, and Holly, I know you can read Sylvan, so if you are reading this, thank you for the berries! But, remember that time I shot that goblin that almost killed you? I believe that makes us friends, and friends don't read each other's journals. Right, love?) Oliver—actually, since that's most likely not his real name, I shall hereupon call him Mr. Bobolyne—was indeed in possession of a workshop in Selgrell and was indeed in a position to sell a beautiful gold and platinum statue of two hobgoblins making love. I have to hand it to Mr. Bobolyne; whether he truly owned the piece or whether he killed the person who made it, he was entirely convincing throughout our haggling. Once he agreed to my price, I went to shake his hand and a spray of yellow gas came from his sleeve. The last I heard from him was something along the lines of: "keep her drugged, take her to the meeting point. Our buyer isn't known for his patience." I woke up a few days later at what I presume was the meeting point: some poor family's house at an unfortunate crossroads of Nowhere In Particular and Who Knows Where. Underneath, someone or something had turned a cellar into a dungeon, complete with torture table, makeshift cells, and hunchback goblin with delusions of grandeur. There were four others besides the goblin that I am now travelling with: Durzo, a dwarf who drinks something pungent from a gourd he keeps at his side; Grey, a goliath who uses a weapon to project death with the most terrifying booms; Holly, an elvish druid who speaks softly but carries a big stick; and Ozoc, a bronze dragonborn paladin that was on the brink of death when we met him. The goblin who acted as our captor did not seem like the "buyer" that Mr. Bobolyne was talking about. I suppose he could be described as impatient, but he was so dull that I can't imagine that a skilled charlatan like Mr. Bobolyne would choose to do business with him. The goblin was also very dead once the goliath and the dwarf managed to break us free from our cells. We were able to ambush him as he had gone upstairs to fetch something he said would put us back to sleep—a yellow powder in a bag that I had the good sense to keep, though I can't be certain if it can be used as is or needs to be gaseous like with Mr. Bobolyne's attack. I managed to give the goblin a faceful, but then Durzo stepped on his neck. I am not particularly heartbroken having not found the answer. Thankfully, a good murder can always turn the day around. The goblin was the only one keeping watch over us, and after some poking around, we found all our gear perfectly intact. I also noticed some rather large footprints among the shit strewn floors (Kay, why are you always so surprised with goblin hygiene?), but gods know who they could have belonged to. I do not intend for that to remain a mystery, but we don't have any strong leads at the moment. Mr. Bobolyne is my one sure target, but we're currently leagues away from Selgrell. I have to assume that he still believes me to be Chelsea Tickel, so I may be able to move with relative freedom even if he has agents nearby. Kay, I would like to remind you that while operating in Selgrell, your hair was dyed black, you used the medium high elf ears, and you had a beauty mark under your left eye, so avoid that combination for a while. In the meantime, I, and the rest of the group, decided to accompany Ozoc to his home city. I admit, I have been helping Ozoc mostly to make sure he breathes lightning on my enemies rather than myself, and I am also looking forward to a warm bath and soft bed sooner rather than later, but I do not have to tell him that. Travel took the better part of the day, and we ran into yet more goblins. The first group was made up of obvious human slaves driven by a goblin that died in the most spectacular fashion. Grey leveled his weapon—a strange staff composed of a hollow metal tube and complex mechanical parts—and damn near blew out my ears while turning the goblin into a fine pink mist. I, of course, did my part as well. I almost managed to scare off the slaves, but in the end they wanted blood, so I stabbed one of them in the ass. The second encounter ended in an even more spectacular fashion. One of the goblins was a mage, but not a particularly good one. He muttered a spell and managed to put Grey to sleep, but in so doing, unleashed magical fire and killed his entire troop. I had a good laugh, then woke Grey and pretended to congratulate him. I will cherish the look on his face for at least another week. Within sight of city walls, we were attacked once more, this time by gigantic insects. Disgusting creatures but we managed to squash them all, though I do not think I will be shaking Durzo's hands anytime soon as he killed them with his bare fists. Ozoc was even well enough by this point to bring his greatsword to bear. My companions as a whole has been impressive so far, and I can see myself traveling with them while hunting down our captors. Entering the city, things were not as... well-to-do as the high walls and armored guards would have it seem. The people were dressed in what could be generously described as rags, and the vast majority of them tended fields. Ozoc, it seemed, was well known, as many of them greeted him as a child would greet a parent coming back from the dead. In particular, a man by the name of Nash Valdceer came from the city's keep and embraced Ozoc as well. He has had the good graces to clean the grime off of us with magic. While that is a skill I wish I could learn, with everything that had happened today, I would have much preferred to be magically teleported to a warm bath to clean myself the traditional way. Here's to hoping there is one in my future. — Kay DL recently started some D&D including myself and Bulbs among others and it's p dope so far. I'll be trying to post these after each session.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Mar 31, 2017 7:23:01 GMT -5
23 Breya, Year of the Lyre
Nash Valdceer Kyrell Synab
Another harrowing day, my friend, but at least this journal somehow survived a warm bath in acid. I'm writing this from inside what appears to have been an abandoned mineshaft that was then transmuted by someone with a sense of humor. Such a joker she was that her construction compelled me to actually drink some of Durzo's alcohol to deal with what I thought was impending doom. Yes, Kay, let it be known that on this day, you actually got stumbling drunk because you thought you would be impaled by five foot long metal spikes. It turns out that the trap was nothing. I now write this entry hoping that my glibness is appreciated by my sober self in the future, rather than cursed for misspelling words or incorrectly shifting ciphers.
I should explain how we got here. As I wrote in the previous entry, Mr. Valdceer greeted us and escorted us to his tower. He's rich, he's charming, and I have not an ounce of trust for his character. Of course, I still took his gifts of food and drink with a smile—all of which he had snapped into existence—and I do admit that I enjoyed it. (Olidammara, I will reconsider our relationship you if you ever grant me a meal better than Mr. Valdceer's conjured chicken)
Conversation with Mr. Valdceer was odd, to say the least. He claims to be, along with Ozac, the only champion of Farhollow—defender of the people, slayer of goblins, etc etc. His power is obvious so there must be truth to what he says, but arrogance oozes from his mouth like turned wine. He plays the game of speaking truth without honesty like a virtuoso. While the charlatan in me is impressed, she also knows to never trust the first, second, or third thing these types of people say.
As for what specifically was said, Mr. Valdceer was entirely too forthcoming to us strangers, telling us about the state of the town, rubbing his own ego, and explaining the goblin problem: an army of goblins roams to the far north, but a local warband has been harassing the local area, and recently all northbound messages seemed to vanish. It was clear as day that he wasn't telling us everything, and he pulled the old con of admitting that was the case. He then spoke of a travelling friend of his, Sparrow, that had gone missing after leaving Farhollow for Dawnharbor to the south. Mr. Valdceer offered to hire us to investigate, taking great pains to explain that he was using his personal money out of the goodness of his heart. The mayor, Kyrell Synab, confirmed that Sparrow did exist (with a name like "Sparrow" you must excuse me for thinking him fictional at first) and was respected well enough, but I reserve doubts toward Mr. Valdceer's sincerity regarding his friendship or motivation.
Speaking of Mr. Synab, he seems to be the one other person in this town that shares my opinion of Mr. Valdceer, though his distrust seems to be more from damaged pride. Mr. Synab claims that it was he that made the town flourish by setting up the walls, the farms, and the infrastructure, but it was Mr. Valdceer that took all the glory by flashing his sorcery. It is plain that the people of Farhollow only have mild respect for Mr. Synab, yet they all but revere Mr. Valdceer. Interestingly, Ozac also vouches for Mr. Valdceer. Mr. Valdceer, then just a stranger passing on the other side of the road, had risked his life to save the dragonborn from a bugbear attack many years ago. Ozac also claims that he is slow to trust, but to put it bluntly, I feel that it did not take much from our party to win him over.
While I also mistrust Mr. Synab due to his egotism, at least he hasn't the slightest ability to hide his true feelings. I mentioned to him that Mr. Valdceer took credit for organizing the town's defenses, and Mr. Synab immediately started raving like a madman, calling guards to him to invade one of Mr. Valdceer's properties. I considered stoking this fire, but Holly, ever the voice of reason, pointed out that both Mr. Valdceer and Mr. Synab were helping the town in their own way. Alas, she is right. Bringing one or the other to their knees would only lead to Farhollow's collapse, and I cannot in good conscience impose such misfortune on these people.
There was one other point of interest in the conflict between Mr. Valdceer and Mr. Synab that loomed at the periphery of all our conversations. Within Mr. Valdceer's tower is a large tapestry depicting a map of the continent and highlighting various locations (Holly and Grey redrew the map, perhaps I should ask to make a copy). We learned that the markers indicated Vaults: places of study and learning for the magically inclined. Mr. Valdceer had gone to one 25 years ago but came back to deal with the goblins. Mr. Synab made it abundantly clear that it is an exceedingly rare occurrence for one to leave a Vault and then claimed that the sorcerer came back suspiciously soon after the goblins began attacking; Mr. Valdceer claimed he came back with orders from the Vault to help the town with the attacks. Perhaps the only instance of sincerity I'd seen from the man, Mr. Valdceer looked genuinely wistful when he said he was ordered to leave.
I am not yet sure what to make of this situation, so I will play the obedient adventurer and wait. Mr. Valdceer's quest also includes a four gold piece bounty on goblin necklaces, so we at least we serve the people with this mission.
Ah yes, the 4000gp mission to find Sparrow. Kathrynn, dearest, please accept my sincerest apologies for pontificating on politics for so long. I'm sure you already know how Farhollow's story ends and find the speculation incredibly dull. Rest easy knowing that I will recount the day's adventure from here on out.
We left at dawn after speaking with Mr. Valdceer one more time. Specifically, I asked him if he could identify the yellow powder I had taken from the goblins and was pleased with what he told us: the powder, when mixed with two parts acid or alcohol, could be used to induce a days long coma if inhaled. If ingested, death. Wonderful. Mr. Valdceer gave us one more parting gift: a glass ball that contained an alchemical or magical fog that could freeze whoever it touched if released.
From the city walls, we decided to follow the main road south. It didn't take long for us to come across a burned wagon—stripped of anything useful—and surrounded by footprints and signs of struggle. Thank the gods for the recent lack of rain; Sparrow left some ten days ago, yet the trail was easy to follow to an old mineshaft.
Inside, I took the lead to search for traps and enemies. Poor Grey was the one person in the group who couldn't see, but we could not let him light his everburning torch. The restriction was justified, however, as we got the drop on a small group of goblins. And what a fight! Soon after engaging the creatures, an empty suit of armor arose to join the fray. We managed to destroy it (as well as the goblins who spent the better part of the fight tangled in Holly's magical vines), and while searching the room, Grey found a wizard's spellbook labelled with Sparrow's name. We also found barrels full of the yellow powder which we happily took.
We pressed deeper into the cave, eventually stumbling upon an underground river. I should have seen the signs as they were obvious in hindsight: where there's water, there should be mold, yet there was none here. While scouting just a few feet ahead, I was attacked by an enormous gelatinous cube. I will spare you the details of what it feels like to be engulfed in creature made of acid, but thank the gods for Dwarven strength as I did not have to endure that feeling for long.
Perhaps it was that burning sensation that reminded me that the yellow powder was deadly if imbibed after mixing with something acidic. How about a whole creature made of acid? I raised the thought to the rest of the group, and Grey obliged by throwing an entire backpack full of the reagent into the creature. (Did I mention that during the previous night, Grey fashioned a magical bag that seems to never run out of room? He's become a bit of a packrat since.)
In any case, it turns out that, yes Kay, you are a genius. The yellow powder killed the cube. Imagine salting a slug, except the slug is ten times your size and nearly killed you.
The path forked and Holly could tell that the right hand path led deeper, and deeper seemed a likelier place to find a prisoner. The mineshaft went from rough stone to something more obviously shaped, and soon we found ourselves in front of a door that had pitch black darkness on the other side. There was a spot of hope that this might be where Sparrow was being held; Mr. Valdceer had told us that every time he tried to scry the man, all he could see was darkness.
Unfortunately, the darkness just hid a trap that we all quite literally walked into. The doors sealed and light revealed the entire ceiling was covered in spikes. Runes above the door said "Embrace the sweet release of death" and glowing gems began counting down. We figured out that touching one particular gem would reset the countdown, but trying anything else was futile. Eventually, we consigned ourselves to our fate and let the timer go down. This would have marked the second time seeing my life flash before my eyes in less than an hour, so I preemptively took a healthy draught of the potent alcohol that Mr. Valdceer conjured for Durzo.
As it turns out, I got drunk for nothing as the ceiling did not fall. It was all some kind of twisted joke as the doors just opened when the timer ran down. Now I sit here off balance and uncoordinated underneath an annoying haze.
While I still find the feeling of being drunk uncomfortable to say the least, perhaps it can help me sleep tonight. Now that I am sobering up, I'm feeling a bit of the same dread in my stomach as I felt last night (it is not gas, I have already belched multiple times to no avail). Mr. Valdceer procured rooms for us at an inn called the Whispering Expanse, and I must have counted my lucky stars at least three times after walking in. The inkeeper, a dwarf by the name of Talda Britter, was an exceedingly gracious and energetic hostess, and she allowed me private usage of the hot springs in the basement. Hot springs! But after my bath, I hate to call it a dream come true because the dream I had after falling asleep really did come true.
It was less a dream and more of a visitation by some creature that told me to call him "my prince." His realm was a glade greener than anything I've seen in the real world, and the forest floor moved like a pot of boiling water. Except instead of roiling water, it was a multitude of mushrooms growing and dying over each other in the span breaths. The prince showed himself as a floating elven face with glowing purple eyes. His exact words were a blur, but he told me he could give me power, and all I need do in return was bring more to his realm: Decay. He implied that this was something I was already doing, which I assume means assassinations, but more troublingly, he also told me to bring my own friends to him.
I had hoped that it all a dream, but when I awoke, I found purple dust on my forehead and a warm crystal pressed into my palm. I also found myself with new knowledge. Knowledge of magic, specifically. I could hardly believe it, but then I used this magic to project my hand through the air to reach things yards above my head. I even placed a curse on the goblins we fought today, and I could see their muscles atrophy before my own eyes. The magic feels... good, actually. Natural, even.
I think the prince's visitation will be a boon, not a burden, though I do not look forward to meeting him again. Master Henri had told me about the fey when I was younger—his experience with them is after all why we used Sylvan as our private code—and it seems obvious that this mushroom prince was one of their royalty. The most important rule of dealing with the fey is to never trust them to keep their word. Instead, keep them amused and they will twist the deal to your favor.
If the prince simply wants me to kill, this seems easy enough. There are more than enough evil men in the world. And perhaps if that is more than satisfactory, he will forgive his desired claim over my friends.
— Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Apr 25, 2017 11:27:51 GMT -5
24 Breya, Year of the Lyre
I am not entirely sure whether it remains the 23rd or if time has moved us to the 24th, though I do know that I have been able to sleep long enough to have woken with vague memories of the feywild again. My dreams this night were not as lucid nor as vivid as they were the last, though I know I spoke with the Mushroom Prince again and was given another another gift of magic. To be quite honest, I am rather enamored with these new abilities as I can now project moving, silent images onto the world and change my appearance at a whim. A wonderful boon with which I expect to conduct much mischief.
Though unfortunately there was not much mischief to be had immediately after breaking camp. It was a pleasant enough walk deeper into the tunnel, at least. The constructed stone that surrounded the fake trap faded back into rough hewn walls, and none in the party could ascertain as to why. I personally did not dwell on it; I simply wanted to be gone from that place.
It seems as though I was not the only one who awoke with new abilities. Holly took the lead as we progressed, using some new druidic powers to shroud our presence in mist and shadow. I looked back and didn't even see scuff marks from our feet behind us. Amazing!
We came across a cavern covered in what I presume to be goblin cave paintings. Dogs, monsters, humanoids, etc. were drawn upon the walls in haphazard streaks of oily black. Of note was the 12ft tall rendering of a goblin with orange eyes holding a head and eyeball and standing triumphantly over some other large figures. We guessed it must have been Maglubiyet. It was an interesting piece of art, if a bit vulgar (not that I have any misgivings against vulgarity, of course), though Grey didn't seem to agree. I tried explaining the finer points of how goblins paintings are just as much performance as they are about leaving a mark, how they tended to reflect dreams of conquest rather than stories of the day, but the Goliath continued to show disinterest. Barbaric.
If Sparrow were to be anywhere, he must have been held deeper within this goblin lair, so we ventured deeper. We were greeted by a hobgoblin mage, and an annoying one at that. I could not tell whether he wanted to kill us with magic or to cause us to take our own lives out of aggravation. To make a long story short, the hobgoblin used illusion magics to confound our strikes, fill my mind with frightful images (it was a cruel god that made lemurs with those wide, staring eyes), and bathe me in yet more acid, but I managed to land the final blow by stabbing him in the neck. I am beginning to sense an unfortunate pattern of acid baths within this cavern, especially given the mimic on which I burned my hands, but at least carving the creature up was my own damn choice.
Of course, the mimic! Clever work again, Kay, suggesting we push the hobgoblin body with a load of yellow powder at the creature. It devoured the hobgoblin as expected, then promptly died. I cut into the corpse and found a strange wand inside. Grey examined the object for a moment and identified it as a wand for finding secret doors. In that hazy stupor that follows making painful decisions (note: the acid from the mimic was particularly bad; never dig through a mimic again) I triggered the wand which shot a trail of light to a passage hidden under a collapsed pile of rubble. Digging through the other chests in the room, I also found a striking black mask, Durzo found a cloth of gold cape, Holly found a jar of healing ointment, and Grey found a bag of invisibility powder. The Goliath also attempted to mix together the mimic's blood and the yellow powder, but unlike the other potions which quietly waited for consumption, this one exploded violently.
We cleared away the rocks, and were greeted by an alluring scent. Of course, one never expects such a sweet smell coming from such a rank place. Holly assured us it was a natural smell, and nothing dangerous, though as a precaution, I used my newfound powers to take the form of the hobgoblin mage. I took his robes as well—the illusions that the Prince has given me lack real substance, so it seemed wise to reduce the things through which a wary creature might wave a probing hand. The hobgoblin also had a platinum piece necklace which I hung around my neck. Nash did not name a price for platinum tokens, but quite frankly, I am mostly of the mind to keep it and have Torn back at Farhollow forge me a proper chain.
Delving into the hidden passage, Durzo was able to determine that the collapse had not been natural; someone—presumably the goblins—intentionally sealed this tunnel. It was at this point I changed my face back to my own, sensing we were going into an enemy of an enemy's lair, and it was not a moment too soon. The reason for collapse became apparent soon enough: while Grey was prying free one of the glowing green stones that grew from the cavern walls, a strange walking mushroom ambushed us and threw spores into the air. I suppose ambush is the wrong word; it simply surprised us, and it turned out to be a friendly creature. Given the obvious resemblance, I asked if it was kin to my patron, and it responded with a yes, calling me the "chosen" and beckoning us to come follow deeper into the lair.
The myconids, as I have come to know these mushroom people, made their home within a vast cavern, bigger than any I'd seen before, with towering mushroom caps that must have been fifty to sixty feet tall. In a central clearing stood an arch made purely of the glowing green crystal, and waiting in front was a myconid larger by a span than any of the others. He called himself Sovereign Enris, and I suppose the wide cap that formed his head could be perceived as a crown.
Curiously, Sovereign Enris said that we were the ones he was promised. We asked what he meant by "promised"—I presumed the Prince had something to do with it—but he refused to answer and said we must prove ourselves first by going through some trials. With that he ushered us through the archway which had filled with arcane light. Walking through felt like walking under a waterfall, though I do not know any waterfalls that teleport people to deep dungeons.
The first room in which we appeared had a single stone door with Sylvan script written around it. It was a simple riddle:
Grey waved his everburning torch in front of the door and it swung open. If these were the tests—tests that the myconids said many other adventurers had failed—then it seems being "chosen" simply meant having two brain cells with which to spark a thought. The second room, though bigger and deeper and rigged to release shadowy creatures if we failed to answer the riddle, was not much more complex.
I remembered this riddle from a book of a halfling's adventures that Master Henri read to me when I was perhaps four or five, and he would change the riddles every time and have me answer them before we could move on. Interesting that the riddle found its way here as well, so I assume Master Henri learned it from the fey, as did whoever created this dungeon. In any case, the answer to this had Holly conjure forth a massive gust of wind that caused the doors to swing open.
The third riddle was a bit more clever, I admit:
The door was covered in a worn carving of a willow tree that Durzo and Holly determined to be the symbol of a long dead druidic deity. After some drunken staring, Durzo blurted out the name "Enoday", which seems to have been this deity's name and, more importantly, the key to the door.
The next room had a door—more of a statue, really—in the likeness of a satyr, and upon entering, the door came to life and started speaking. The words written above his name said "Speak Tala to pass", but every time we asked the door about Tala, he simply laughed at us. We managed to learn that Tala created him, and presumably the rest of the chambers. Grey attempted to just smash the door and was blasted clear across the room by an arc of lightning. I must admit that the door's rudeness irked me enough into a verbal sparring match with him. I can't believe I'm proud that I managed to trick a door, of all things, but while shouting at each other, the door spoke Tala's name and swung himself open.
Inside the chamber were four items arranged on the back wall: a long green rapier, a set of coral-like armor, a pair of manacles, and two rolls of cloth, all oozing magic so clearly almost I could see it. Grey touched the manacles and tried to identify their power but found nothing. He then reached for the rapier but shocked once again. The rapier seemed to call me, so I took it with no ill effect. Durzo took the cloth wraps and Holly took the armor.
We emerged back in the myconid camp to see a large crowd waiting for us with Sovereign Enris at the head. Their chattering, while incomprehensible, indicated excitement and awe at our return. Sovereign Enris asked us to sit and present the items we found, and the myconids surrounded us in a circle, all holding each other or glowing green crystals. Sovereign Enris himself became shrouded in mist and his black beady eyes started glowing as he spoke a prophecy:
As he said this, the nature of our new items became clear to me and my companions. My new rapier, which I am naming Surprise, allows me to inject poison into my targets. As for the prophecy itself, I am not sure what to make of it. The stanza for the child of blade and spore is obviously mine, but the message could not be from the Prince as it tells me to not give into his sway. We tried to inquire more, but Sovereign Enris implied that the message might be from the gods themselves, and the Prince's only direct role was volunteering his people's service to deliver the message. I was happy to hear with the message delivered, they no longer had any obligations and were free to live their lives.
Before we left, Grey pulled out a chromatic cube and asked Sovereign Enris if his patrons had given him any information about it. As it happened, the myconid did know something more, and he mentioned that the cube depicted the evil dragon colors, and that a good, metallic version existed somewhere out in the world. It turns out that everyone else in the party had mysterious items. Durzo had an eye that Sovereign Enris said had a matching pair, though the combination was of pure darkness and evil. Holly pulled out a map that was apparently part of a whole, and the completed fell design could bring about death and destruction.
It seemed I would finally get some answers to Mr. Crabbyface, and Sovereign Enris said the mechanical crab would guide me to some wondrous item, though he did not tell me more. I have never been able to do anything with this construct, and no one has been able to tell me how it works. The fact that it scuttles around only when no one looks has been amusing, but it has never before moved in any purposeful direction. I had thought it was a gift from Master Henri as it appeared in my bag shortly after I had seen him for the last time, but now I am not so sure. If I believed in fate, I might guess that he is also a part of this prophecy I find myself wrapped within, but I saw the man hang and his body burn with my own eyes.
I must finish this entry as Grey is finished packing the seventeen bars of gold Sovereign has offered us, and he is also telling us to make haste due to Sparrow's condition. Deeper we go.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on May 8, 2017 11:33:06 GMT -5
25 Belwys, Year of the Lyre
*Nash Valdceer* *Ozoc the Bronze Warden*
Kyrelle Synab
Warlord H.G. Vey Thea
Unfortunately, I will not be asking Torn to forge a new chain for my necklace as he—and each other person in Farhollow—has picked up an inconvenient hatred for living flesh. I cannot say that I am surprised at Mr. Valdceer's taste for necromancy, though the satisfaction of being correct does not fully allay the regret of not killing him before he could subject an entire town to a fate worse than death. Correcting this mistake will be my focus for the foreseeable future.
I do not start this quest today, however. I—and Holly and Durzo and Grey—have narrowly escaped death several times since I last wrote, and for the moment, we are safe, albeit under the protection of—or at the mercy of—another mysterious wizard. Since leaving Sovereign Enris' domain, the day (or should I say month? The Feywild does strange things...) has progressed in an ever escalating series of harrowing events, so I will choose to ignore the possibilities for tonight. Mr. Thea, while odd, has been forthcoming and I do not (yet) sense any double meanings or ulterior motives, so I will accept this warm room and soft bed to recuperate. For the moment, at least.
He did, also, save us from the moaning horde of Farhollow's former folk. After Sparrow teleported us to Farhollow, we found the gates open but not a soul tending the fields or markets. Besides the lack of people, the crops themselves seemed to have withered away more than time would have allowed. We pressed deeper into the city when we saw a tower of rough hewn stone that had certainly not existed when we left. Would Vey to be believed, and I have no reason to distrust this information given these changes as well as the wetter and warmer weather, the myconid domain may touch the Feywild which caused our absence from normal, material time for about a month.
In any case, the sight of the construction and the lack of people seemed to reduce Grey to a panic as he threw caution away and went straight inside. He would not say anything at first, but after pressing him, he told us the abbreviated story of his tribe: he had been chained for a crime, then after some time, a mysterious man walked in, unchained him, and once Grey was able to get up, he found everyone in his tribe gone.
Inside this tower, we found Ozac, bound, chained, and pinned to the stonework by his hands. Holly helped him with one of her druid berries, but it seems as though the paladin had his mind taken by Mr. Valdceer. Whether by force of magic or through actual respect, I do not know, though I can say there was a definite madness to him. He kept babbling about knowing we would come and about everything coming to an end. I shudder to think that this is the madness of prophecy rather than the madness of revering an evil sorceror.
Mr. Valdceer himself appeared as if formed by shadows in new robes of red and grey and black. He briefly obscured his face with the same shadow magic before revealing himself to us. Dramatic, certainly, though not as intimidating as his words. He claims that we were his pawns since before we even met him, that he was the one who had bought us in the first place, that we were the reason the slavers had brought us together so far from our homes. I do not want to believe this, but its veracity does not matter. I am already here, and my mission is obvious.
We could not do anything in the ghastly keep, however. Shortly after his boasts, Mr. Vadceer thanked us for bringing him Sparrow so he could tie up loose ends (of course they were not friends; follow your damn intuition, Kay!). I asked what his gratitude was worth, and he said it was the "honor" of joining his army. With that, the walls of the room fell, revealing the shambling bodies of Farhollow's townsfolk. Kyrell, Quist, Torn, all rotted and staring, though with only a single eye. Curiously, they had their left hands and eyes removed—it seems a motif of the god of dark secrets, Vecna. Normally I am not one to care regarding desecrating the dead—a body without a soul is just flesh, after all—but to desecrate then revive and enslave... that, I cannot abide.
The last I remember of the place were the hordes undead coming for us and black lightning crackling at Mr. Valdceer's fingertips. Grey tried to use the dust of disappearance to buy us an escape, but Mr. Valdceer dispelled the effect with a single snap of his finger. It was then that I noticed Sparrow's hand on my back and a sudden flash of light. An elf with golden hair appeared then—Mr. Thea, I would find out later—and teleported us from Mr. Valdceer's clutches and to his tower (massive tree, rather) across the sea.
I suppose I have spoiled that we did indeed find Sparrow earlier in the day, though not after much trial and tribulation. He was deep within a hobgoblin lair that we almost successfully infiltrated. "Almost," of course, means my hobgoblin face and some illusory manacles got us well into the heart of the lair before being revealed. We chose the wrong door and found ourselves in the warlord's throne room, where he and two guard drakes sat. He was convinced by my disguise and was going to set his drakes on my companions for sport (I had full faith and confidence in them), but one of the creatures noticed I did not share his master's hobgoblin stench and began growling. I tried to use my magic to spin a charm around the warlord's mind, but he shook off the spell and attacked. I am not particularly pleased by the new set of scars I'll have as remembrance of the drakes' bites and the warlord's arrows.
At the very least, I killed the black drake that raised the alarm—Tear—by using Surprise's magical poison. At first the injection of poison didn't seem to do much, but after a few seconds, the muscles on Tear's neck began to pulse, and a few moments after that, its own muscles seemed to snap its neck. Kay, make sure you do not let Grey forget he was on his back for most of the fight as he tried to take credit for Tear's death. The other drake, Rip, was hurt by Holly's waves of thunder and daggers of ice and finally brought down by Durzo putting a fist through its head.
Until Rip died, the warlord was content to shoot at us with a longbow, but once his pet expired, it was obvious that the hobgoblin had become quite angry. The hobgoblin brought Durzo to the ground with a single swipe of his great axe, but thankfully, Holly was able to bring both men back to their feet with her magic. I cannot say that what Durzo did next was graceful, but it was certainly effective. After taking a long draught of his liquor, the dwarf stumbled into the warlord and held him in such a firm embrace that they both fell to the ground. Soon after the warlord surrendered, but he then slashed his own throat. While I am curious as to why he would take his own life, I am not particularly upset by his final action.
Throughout the fight, we had heard a commotion outside the throne room doors. To get into the throne room, we had used our guise of captor and captives to slip by an entire warband of hobgoblins, so upon hearing a pounding at the door, we feared the worst. We had met three birdmen in the hobgoblin prisons and unlocked their cells and gave them weapons, telling them to run and fight only once we were trying to escape together, so the best scenario I imagined was that the kenku got excited and would be lying dead with one or two hobgoblins with them. How glad am I to lack imagination! When we opened the doors, not only were the kenku outside and alive, but Sovereign Enris and his band of myconids were also there, all fighting the hobgoblins that I was sure would kill us if we had managed to survive the warlord. An enraged naga, creature with hooks for arms, and other oddities—also previously imprisoned—were tearing through the hobgoblins with reckless abandon as well.
With the fighting devolving into clean up, we chose to nurse our wounds and search the room for more clues regarding Sparrow and found a door on the backside of the dais. I had found another platinum necklace (as well as a magical dagger) on the warlord's body and offered the necklace to the kenku for them to scout ahead for us. I must say that, while certainly capable, kenku are not the best at relaying information due to their odd voice. After much frustration, they managed to convey that the room below was another set of cells. Once I gave the largest kenku the platinum and a few more gold pieces for their trouble, the birdmen fled. I suppose I will not be seeing my old rapier again, though quite honestly, I do not think I will miss it dearly. Minutes after death, Tear's body was a mess of cracked and weakened scales, presumably from the poison, so I am rather happy with Surprise.
Under the dais we found a flamboyantly dressed dwarf—Sparrow, if you haven't assumed already—and a twelve foot tall egg. It became immediately clear why Sparrow was sweating and why the kenku had fled so quickly: the egg had begun to crack. Grey was madly trying to unlock the door, and Holly even tried to freeze water into the lock to break it open, but neither could get it open. As another piece of the egg fell, Sparrow asked us if we had his spellbook, which we thankfully did, and once we threw it to him, he teleported out of the cell and surrounded the egg with arcane light. I am not sure of the spell's intent as the egg broke anyway.
Despite the tarrasque's rows of teeth and protruding horns, I must say I found the newborn's overly large head rather charming. It stared at us with hungry eyes so I did the first thing I could think of: I used my patron's powers of enchantment to make it think us friendly. Kathrynn, remember today as the first day you caressed Goldblum's head and made it think you its mother.
Sparrow sent Goldblum here to Vey's estate before we left, as well as a bronze dragon whelpling that the hobgoblins were torturing prior to our arrival. Sparrow mentioned that the whelpling's mother was Meraxi, and Grey said he remembered reading about the "raging queen." While not kind, she is also not evil, just extremely protective. Sparrow said she was one of the five members of the Metallic Enclave. I have not heard of this enclave, but I assume the other four members are also metallic dragons.
I do not know if Mr. Valdceer fears metallic dragons, but having them as an ally would certainly help, so I am glad that we were able to help the whelpling. Mr. Thea has gone out of his way to house the whelpling, the tarrasque, and us, so I suppose if I think dragons will trust us for helping others, I should trust Mr. Thea for helping us. Regardless, tomorrow, I begin searching for answers. Tonight, I continue to revel in the absurd thread count of these bedsheets.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jun 5, 2017 10:47:34 GMT -5
26 Belwys, Year of the Lyre I must admit that in my fatigue, I may have misrepresented Mr. Thea's home. I had said that it was a massive tree, but that does not quite capture its grandeur. I suppose that is one of the many curses of those born from a human or two: we rarely look up. After the night's rest (and a plate full of bacon in the morning), I went for a stroll to get the blood flowing. What was simply supposed to be a brisk walk led to stepping out to the verdant fields around Mr. Thea's abode and after properly taking in the details, the only thing I can say is: life goals. The forest around Mr. Thea's home rivals the vitality I have seen in even the Prince's imposed dreams, and that is the least of it. Mr. Thea's home is a tree, yes, but it is not what you are currently imagining. At best, you are thinking of the old redwoods and how they reach toward the heavens. Would that Mr. Thea's home only "reached." Its foliage is quite literally lost in the clouds, and its trunk is wider around than the Nehilin's Rest in its entirety, and at least until today, the Rest had been the largest tavern in which I've had the pleasure of staying. I do not presume that you've seen grander since you wrote this, but rest assured, Mr. Thea's home is quite large. My morning walk had another motive in that the Prince came to me again last night and taught me yet more tricks—allegedly I can make a pact with Surprise to summon and dismiss it at will, though I've yet to try—and I needed to clear my head away from the place in which I "dreamed." Now that I am back, less stressed, and able to clearly make out details with the morning sun high in the sky, I can truly appreciate this space. The furniture is not furniture in the standard sense of the word but a part of the tree itself. It is nothing so simplistic as carving, either; rather, my bed stand, chairs, shelves, etc. appear as natural as any of the branches outside. While I have no door, the thick vines draped over my room's entrance feel more than sufficient, somehow managing to block not only sight but provide a modicum of quiet as well. I am not the only person interested in Mr. Thea's home: indeed, my druidic friend Holly has not closed her mouth and has blinked perhaps twice while staring at every detail since we arrived. On the other hand, Durzo has drowned himself in his usual amount of alcohol. In fact, it almost seemed as we would have a crisis on our hands at breakfast! Neither Mr. Thea nor Sparrow seem to keep even a drop of wine about the house (lovely collection of tea, though). Thankfully, Grey still has the stores of liquor that Mr. Valdceer so "generously" gave us. Regarding these gifts and all the other events seems to have left Grey rather surly. I know he did not take Mr. Thea's offer of a room when we finished dinner last night, and I found him snoring by the pond on the first floor early this morning (yes, Mr. Thea has a koi pond inside his tree. As I said: life goals). I do not blame him given that we find ourselves receiving hospitality from yet another powerful wizard. Quite honestly I believe my initial trust was simply a case of looking for the first port in a storm. The safety of this port remains to be determined, though at least after one night and two meals, I do not have that same feeling of distrust in the pit of my stomach as I had for Mr. Valdceer. Mr. Thea is odd, to say the least, but it is the oddity of a man lost in his work. There is a certain earnestness to this. I believe that all men are selfish, though not necessarily malicious, so I place more trust in the way Mr. Thea treats us as objects he must give his time of day out of propriety's sake as opposed to how Mr. Valdceer treated those he wanted to "help" as his sole focus. Mr. Thea also mentioned during breakfast that after we told him of the events of Farhollow, he took it upon himself to "take care" of those poor souls, and that as of this morning, I needn't worry for them. His phrasing and reticence at shedding more detail lead me to believe he has given them the sweet release of oblivion, for which I would be grateful. Others in my party, specifically a certain goliath, don't seem to agree with the sense of responsibility in the matter; we can disagree about our role in the cause, but there should at least be agreement in the desire to find a solution. If Mr. Thea did resolve the Farhollow folks' fates in an appropriate way, then it seems he is as good a man as any can hope. Time will tell if this assessment is true. —Kay
[several pages seem to have been damaged by water with the most legible scrawling saying "gods dammit"]
20 Helus, Year of the Lyre
Ros Roth After almost three months in Devon's Landing, I have rejoined my companions at Mr. Thea's estate. I almost feel that I should have stayed to watch Ms. Roth's lashings—though I cannot say whether this feeling stems from pity, duty, or guilt. Well, I suppose I can safely rule out guilt; Ms. Roth is a thief, and not a very good one, and when a not very good thief decides to dishonor the Cant and steal my honeypot, I believe it is well within my rights to ensure they face justice. To ensure that they do not place other rogues in jeopardy. Duty. Yes. In any case, using the Prince's new spell worked almost too well at compelling Ms. Roth to steal the horse Aveline from Ms. Alvani. I even watched her confess to the magistrate, just as instructed. This spell of Suggestion is powerful and frightening: the ability to override someone's base desires, even for just that moment that the spell takes hold, is not an action to be taken lightly. I do intend on returning Aveline to Ms. Alvani at some point; I only had Ms. Roth steal the horse as the punishment was neither too light nor too heavy, and I needed to get out of the city quickly. I suppose this does mean that there is now technically contraband in Mr. Thea's stables, but I have used some of my illusory magic, and a heavy amount of dye, to dirty Aveline's normally chestnut coat so she would not be recognized at first glance. Dinner with my friends was much jollier than it was three months ago. Mr. Thea's dining "room", and the man himself, have not seemed to change much if at all. The dining table still grows out of a branch in the open air, the wizard still has that awkwardly casual smile, but the comfort and time seems to have risen my friends' spirits substantially. I must say that even though I spent my time working on finding information about Mr. Valdceer, having my greatest threat be a slip of the tongue while carousing is rather more relaxing than dealing with monsters in the wilderness. Holly seems to have benefited the most from the time away from dense populations and dank caves. She had spent most of her time learning about Mr. Thea's home and exploring the surrounding forests, and I assume having woods around her eases her mind as much as having civilization eases mine. Durzo, predictably, spent the last few months drunk, though given the lack of alcohol in Mr. Thea's estate he did spend some of that time inebriated in Devon's Landing, as well. I recall spotting him and Sparrow from afar several times, and I recall after enough visits, the dwarf had actually entered into a partnership to help fund a certain Teagan's Brewery. I never visited as I was always under my guise as Chelsea while in the city, but he tells us that business is good. Durzo had also helped Grey with research in Mr. Thea's vast library. The two seem to have discovered quite a trove of lore! They tell me that much of Mr. Thea's library actually concerns undeath—a fact that would worry me if they also hadn't told me that more of the library concerns the eradication of undeath. The concern with undeath was fortuitous as it allowed them to find much information on the god Vecna. It seems that Vecna was a powerful lich under Orcus, and through unknown means, managed to attain godhood. Vecna also had a champion by the name of Kas, though this Kas character betrayed the pseudo god for one reason or another, vanquishing him with a mythical sword—referred to as the key to "sealing" Vecna. As is always the case with these banished evils, there exists a cult that wants to bring him back. Misguided thoughts of salvation, I suppose. I find it tragic that such people would choose to serve, trusting only faith, rather than live freely. From what Grey and Durzo found, the modern cult is organized as if they were body parts of Vecna. They call their casters the Teeth, their rogues the Fingers, their warriors the Blood, and the miscellaneous the Spawn. Their high priests, the Thought, guide these conglomerations of Organs. Apparently at some point in history, someone wiped out an entire Organ, though details beyond that were sparse. There were also hints of higher roles but nothing concrete; a Hand and an Eye were mentioned, but it was unclear if those were titles, roles, or metaphors. Durzo and Grey also learned of another possibly related historical event wherein a horde of undead with massive eyes as heads attacked some unspecified place. Given the left eye motif of Vecna, I concur with the men's judgement. Grey also found that the name "Nash Valdceer" was an anagram for "Vecna's Herald", so we can assume that is not his true name. Rather unfortunate given what I had heard about the priest in Pelor having mentioned the name. I can only hope that "Nash" was not an assumed name, especially given that it's not the most common, as we have no other leads. If Kohor is a dead end, I would not consider my time in Devon's Landing a complete waste, but it certainly would be disheartening. These adventures in Mr. Thea's library were apparently only a distraction from time in the workshop for the goliath. I had seen him start this work before I left for Devon's Landing (and if you recall, Kaythrynn, him mumbling about months of crafting was the reason you resolved to investigate the city for so long), and I can say I'm honestly impressed. Despite his many social ineptitudes, Grey is quite capable when he applies himself intellectually: as we all finished dinner, he presented magically infused gifts to each of us. Holly was given a gorgeous head dress with polished antlers from the buck he killed outside Farhollow, and for Durzo, the goliath had a necklace using the same deer's tail. For myself, he presented me with a beautiful golden armband fashioned in the form of a snake wrapping itself around my wrist. The armband grants me the ability to move with incredible speed. Despite the uncertainty regarding Kohor's ability to point us toward Mr. Valdceer, it seems we are headed that way anyway. Mr. Thea has mentioned a friend of his—Dryden Taun—who lives in the city and can provide assistance. Sparrow says he is going to arrange ship's passage for us, and we should be able to set out tomorrow. —Kay
22 Helus, Year of the Lyre Dryden Taun Valon Lorsha Mera Zaun Rag Bloodtusk My dearest Kathrynn, please excuse my handwriting for the next few weeks. Given the irksome rocking of this boat, I had half a mind to leave my journal wrapped in its oilskin pouch until the end of this journey, but it does not seem unlikely that we will sink before then, and so I feel I should record these final days for whomever finds my journal washed up on the shore amongst the wreckage of the Chellish Devil. Captain Rag Bloodtusk assures us we will make it and he is a man of his word etc etc, but in the off chance that today or tomorrow or any time in the next two or so weeks is the day this death trap finally sinks, know that I, Kathrynn Farfalla Osteri, saw it coming. Cpt. Bloodtusk also assured us that his crew was professional and would leave us alone when we boarded yesterday evening, but I have weighed down his palms with my own gold to ensure this. I spent the morning taking in the sun on the above deck, and while the crew does not seem as though they dodge around tottering passengers like myself particularly often, they have indeed been mostly polite, and when they verge on not, Cpt. Bloodtusk has kept them in line. I risk dampening my pages not just to wax descriptive of the Chellish Devil's crew, but also to write about yesterday morning's much more fascinating events. While talking about our plans and next steps over breakfast, the massive tree that is Mr. Thea's home shook as if something mighty had knocked into it like a toy. I was barely halfway through my bacon when Mr. Thea's eyes lit up in what I could only describe as anxious excitement as he ushered all of us outside. The man was so fidgety that he was even trying to clean my companions' garments (of course not yours, love, you always look pristine) until a man and a woman stepped out of Mr. Thea's front door. Though I have to say, neither "man" nor "woman" quite captures their stature. The man, who I would learn was named Valon Lorsha, stood approximately 7.5 feet tall with braided blond hair and wore a surcoat woven with gold and black thread. His eyes shone solid gold, so dispel any thoughts of him being purely human. The woman, Lady Mera Zaun, was only slightly shorter and had wonderfully cascading dark brown hair and a copper toned gown, obviously tailored for her. Her eyes seemed a solid orange at first, but in retrospect, I believe bronze is a more apt color description. Sparrow and Mr. Thea had taken deferential, bowing stances, which me and my companions also followed, as the two approached. Lord Lorsha and Lady Zaun first spoke with Mr. Thea in what I assume is draconic for a few moments, after which Mr. Thea introduced Lord Lorsha as his master. We exchanged courtesies after the introduction—except for Grey who bluntly introduced himself by asking Lady Zaun if she was the bronze dragon Meraxi. She seemed angry at first (no surprise as she is indeed known as The Raging Queen), but upon learning that Grey had been the one to save her son, she softened and gave him her thanks. After giving her blessing, she transformed into a massive bronze dragon and flew off. The sight was wondrous and frightening at the same time; there was so much to take in and suddenly she had flown past the horizon. It almost seems a dream, but Mr. Thea and my companions insist that it happened. Before taking flight, Lady Zaun had passed a package to Lord Lorsha who in turn gave it to Grey. The gift was a carefully wrapped egg, almost the size of my own head, though he would not tell us what creature slept inside. Lord Lorsha also gave us another boon, saying that if we were in dire need, we could contact Mr. Thea to reach the dragons. While I had hoped that saving the bronze whelpling would make the metallic dragons simply amenable to our party, I never dreamed that it would actually happen, nor would they personally offer us help. Before saying our farewell to Mr. Thea, the wizard gave Grey one more boon. While the magic manacles we found in Sovereign Enris' domain gave Grey the ability to shoot his thunder cannon more accurately, their form also clearly troubled the goliath due to the recent events of his past. Mr. Thea generously offered to transfer the enchantment to another piece of equipment, but funnily enough, before Mr. Thea could select the new item, he seemed to momentarily lose control and the enchantment darted into the tricorn hat Durzo had crafted for Grey. More amusingly, when Grey tried to embrace Mr. Thea as thanks, the wizard electrocuted the goliath in reaction. As a point of bookkeeping, Kay, remember that you left an entire chest full of the yellow powder at Mr. Thea's residence. Grey has been emphatically against carrying anything that Mr. Valdceer crafted or touched in any way and had given me his stash of powder. I was able to buy more vials before we left Devon's Landing and crafted as many more of these poisons as I could carry while the rest of the party sold their remaining ingots to Mr. Collard, but the amount of powder in the chest was frankly absurd. Without Grey's bag of holding, I would have no way to bring it along. However, the additional 29 vials should be plenty. The dreadful memory of Mr. Paldono spraying a mist of the poison into my face comes to mind again, though I do wonder what mechanism he used to do such a thing. Perhaps when I arrive in Kohor and find Mr. Kess, such a device will be available in the blackmarket. —Kay
1 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre Jhan Kess Zorr Backbreaker Bree Auburn Talbut Gripkin Ashar Aminu Gods damn it all! I didn't seal my journal in its oilskin properly before yesterday's downpour. Such a blessed Reaping Day! The gods truly provide for this harvest season. The worst water damage has struck my notes from Devon's Landing. Thankfully, most of that time was spent studying the goblin language with Mr. Todt or carousing with not particularly notable travellers. However, it bears reiterating some important notes for use in the near future while tracking down Mr. Valdceer, or for whenever I come back through Devon's Landing and need to find friendly faces. As of when we left, the Cant had marked the Quirn & Wheel as a safe tavern, and the proprietor, Ms. Maria Payne, showed it was by pointing me toward... sympathetic merchants. Of note was Mr. Ashar Aminu, a man connected with the realm's blackmarket that I could find near the docks every few weeks. Mr. Aminu himself was unable to move any exotic wares, but he was able to give me the name of Mr. Jhan Kess in Kohor, who I do intend on seeing soon after arrival. He mentioned the tavern called The Gilded Goat, as well. Ms. Payne also mentioned a clothier and armorer duo who specialized in styles befitting us rogues: Ms. Danae Chainfoot and the gnome Gava of Chainfoot's Anvil. They were able to make for me a gorgeous set of studded leather armor disguised to blend in with high fashion and providing many pockets and straps with which to hide weapons and contraband. Yes, you are able to hide Surprise in the Prince's domain and summon the rapier at will, but you cannot do the same for your thieves tools, and so these deep pockets seemed prudent. Make a note that if you ever stay at the Unstrung Bow again, you must do so as Chelsea Tickel, and make sure to wear Duke Palazzo's herron ring and to dye your hair silver. Mr. Avalos is a fantastic baker, and Mrs. Avalos has a delightful sense of decor, though their locks leave something to be desired. As Ms. Roth showed, the thieves who case the inn are not necessarily the most honorable of rogues—Ms. Roth ignored (or couldn't read) the Cant and stole the valuables I had set up as a distraction. The Bow did, however, bring in many merchants and ship captains with a little heavier purses and a little looser tongues than normal, and after some days carousing with them, I was able to glean some news and information about Farhollow and Mr. Valdceer's vault. Regarding Farhollow, there were absolutely no reports of undead from any of the merchants and sailors who came to Devon's Landing from Dawnharbor. As Mr. Thea mentioned, he had "taken care" of things, so this was not as suspicious as it could have been. This was confirmed also by the militia that had been under siege at Nighthold—for whatever reason, the goblin hordes had withdrawn to the north, allowing the militia to travel south. They found not a scrap in the burned out husk of the city, and after inquiring further about them, I would wager that they looked long and hard for valuables and did not simply cast a cursory glance. The militia is commanded by the half orc Zorr Backbreaker and his second in command, the human Bree Auburn. Above all else, they are sworn to themselves, and secondly they are sworn to the alliance struck between Dawnharbor and Farhollow, but it says nothing of their loyalty to the actual folk. It is also well known that Cdr. Backbreaker has a monstrous temper, though it is lesser known that Lt. Cdr. Auburn actually fans these flames of rage for her own benefit. Last I heard, they and their militia were staying in Dawnharbor. Regarding Mr. Valdceer's vault, I heard a fair amount from merchants who had passed through the city known as Opposh, the city housing the vault itself. The vault is headed by Ms. Ellaria Yull, and this sorceress is also, of course, a close advisor to the mayor of Opposh. Beyond the location and Ms. Yull's name, not much else was known about the Iron Vault, or at least the merchants were not willing to tell me more even after several drinks. All I can say is that Opposh is quite a ways inland so the journey would be long, to say the least. Even Talbut didn't have much information about Opposh, though given that he's only a clerk to a first level magistrate, his lack of access to mystical places was not so surprising. Talbut, was at least able to give me more information on Kohor. About three weeks ride to the southeast, the city is one of, if not the, biggest trading hubs in the area, and its massive merchant's district is only rivaled by its almost equally expansive temple district. It's ruled by the Council of Kohor which rotates members yearly to keep the city from being corrupt, though he neither confirmed nor denied whether this actually worked. Most importantly, he mentioned that a friend of a friend had heard the name "Nash" in passing conversation with a priest of Pelor. Talbut mentioned that we would not be able to miss the Grand Chapel of Pelor. Besides meeting with Mr. Kess and Mr. Taun, finding this priest will also be among the first things we do in Kohor. That is the summary of what I remember and what I could salvage from the wet pages. Besides the changes in weather, the hammock I had the crew string for me above deck, and Durzo's bouts of seasickness, this journey remains uneventful so I think I will be keeping this journal tucked away. Perhaps I will purchase another oilskin from Cpt. Bloodtusk to proof it further from the dampness. —Kay
11 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre Thamyor Elfbutt Well, Kohor certainly knows how to welcome new arrivals. The promise of a bustling trade hub was possibly an understatement: we pulled into port shortly after the sunrise and were greeted by dozens, maybe hundreds, of brightly colored sails on ships bigger than I had ever seen before. And as would be expected with such traffic, there would be scoundrels ready to take advantage of the easy prey. Frankly I am insulted that we were immediately marked as clueless tourists upon arrival. After Cpt. Bloodtusk saw us off (and I gave him ten more gold pieces for his trouble), we found our exit from the docks cut off by a fat elf named Thamyor demanding a 2000gp "lodging tax." The nerve of attempting such a transparent ruse! Holly called him on his lies, to which Thamyor responded by calling some guard. Grey and I attempted a counter ploy: the goliath tackled the elf to the ground while I took his face. Unfortunately, I think I'll need to give Grey some training in acting. He tried to make it seem like Thamyor was an aggressor against me, but none of the five elves that had approached were fooled and instead attacked us. The elves were obviously not with the city, but they still wore something like a uniform of green cloth and brown leather with mantles of leaves. They attacked us with bows and scimitars, though while they obviously had proper weapons training, they weren't quite so good at actually hitting us, especially once Holly summoned thorny vines around them and Durzo began his drunken dance through their ranks. There was one elf, however, that we had not seen approach as she stood atop a nearby tower and shot at us with arrows that seemed to hum with song. She had a mask over her nose and mouth so all I saw was (surprisingly well kept) auburn hair. She did a number on Grey with her magic arrows, but I think the number of arrows sticking from the goliath's back only helped him further. Instead of fighting, Grey simply shook Thamyor until he called off his goons then threw him off to tend to his pride. Also I stole the scoundrel's coinpurse. Throughout the fight, besides giving us a wide berth, none of the dockworkers stopped to gawk or call the watch. I asked a nearby sailor, and he confirmed that this sort of thing happens more days than not, and that there was quite a bit of gang activity. Unsurprisingly, when we began walking into the city and through the merchant's district, I made out dozens of symbols of the Cant etched into posts, doorways, etc marking territory. Some names that popped out were the Blind Eye, the Silver Hand, and the Silent Sisters. We also asked the sailors for a place to stay and if they knew of Mr. Taun. Of the former, we were pointed at the Laughing Owlbear and the Cockatrice & Weavil. Of the latter, the sailor simply said the man likes to revel in the many taverns around the city, pointing in a generally westward direction. As the Cockatrice & Weavil was in that direction, we went there first. To describe the place as a tavern would be a disservice to taverns everywhere. The Cockatrice & Weavil was disgusting. Grey seems to have enjoyed their liquor, which I can only imagine is also used to clean the plumbing. The bartender at least shed a little more light on finding our Mr. Taun: apparently we should look for where the ladies line up. That kind of man. And so we soon found a cluster of girls gawking through the window of a tavern called the Mummer's Rest. Grey asked what they were looking at and I imagine his face scared them all off. We stepped inside to find Mr. Taun seated with women on each arm and drink in hand. Frankly, I do not see what all the fuss is about. In any case, we spoke with Mr. Taun over drinks for a while to introduce ourselves and get more information about the city. We mentioned meeting Lord Lorsha and Lady Zaun and he seemed suitably impressed by how nonchalant we were about our meeting with the members of the Metallic Enclave. Expectedly, Mr. Taun had not heard of Nash, though he did give me the name of Anhari, a lesser priest of Pelor who is allegedly not particularly holy. We asked about recommendations of where to stay, and he pointed us at the Wayward Wayvern. Before leaving, I also asked about Mr. Kess. It was a bit of a gamble, I admit, as I had no sense of what side of the law Mr. Taun normally sat, and I had just met the man. However, Mr. Taun told me to come back to the Mummer's Rest in three days at midnight. I am not sure what to make of this. I suppose I should also see to the Golden Goat as Mr. Aminu suggested. We arrived at the Wayward Wayvern shortly before sundown. Mentioning Mr. Taun's name actually got us a discount, though the rooms still cost quite a bit of gold: two rooms for the next three days for 35gp. Holly and I took the room nearest the stairs while the men took the other. After sitting in this room for a while, I do think that the cost is worth it. There are two plush beds, blackout curtains, a beautifully crafted desk, and even a private bathroom. Speaking of which, Holly has just finished her bath, so I shall be closing out this entry so that I might enjoy one as well. —Kay
12 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre We have been in Kohor for less than 24 hours and have now found out that this fair city has recently acquired a lycan problem. Holly and I are currently sitting in the common area of our inn in the company of a man by the name of Aegan, who has the misfortune of being the night guard. We've gotten the doors and windows barricaded with the chairs and tables available, and while the lycans seemed to have bounded off hours ago, I don't think any of us will be able to sleep for a while longer. Of course, no one had warned us about this trouble. Holly and I found out by being awoken just after midnight by an unceremonious thump right over our room and the soft rumbling of a growl. We peeked outside the windows to spot a pair of what Holly identified as jackalweres: cursed humanoid creatures with black fur and thin snouts and erect ears. They seemed to be looking for something as they shuffled through crates and wagons on the street below. The growling above deeply unsettled us, and given the recent events involving curses or curse-like analogues, the thought occurred that we may have been the target of the jackalweres' search. Like a pair of cats in the night, we snuck into Durzo and Grey's room—while the inn keeps good locks, given the speed with which I opened the door, I can safely say that I'm better—and while there, Holly shrouded us in some druidic magic to make us harder to detect. We waited for perhaps ten to fifteen minutes in pure silence (well, except for the magically muffled snoring of Durzo and Grey who we left asleep as we didn't want them to scream), watching the jackalweres continue their search. Eventually, the pair on the street absconded toward the northeast, and the creature above (which we had never actually seen) also left. After a few more moments, we left Durzo and Grey's room as quietly as we had entered, locking the door behind us as if we were never there. We then went downstairs and met poor Aegan wielding a shovel and sweating a storm—I think I damn near gave him a heart attack when I whispered for his attention! After settling down a small bit, Aegan explained to us that the city had suddenly become plagued by these lycanthropes starting perhaps about three weeks ago. No one knows from where they came or for what they look. I can see the sky lightening through the slits in the windows' storm covers, and at least from the stories Master Henri told me when I was younger, lycanthropy is an affair for when the moon is the brightest thing in the sky. I do not know how true to life the fairy tales are, but I am getting rather tired and would like to take a nap soon. —Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jun 27, 2017 14:39:25 GMT -5
12 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Thalmor Drowbutt Ratward McRatface *Navara* *Tanus Darkclaw* *Zorr Backbreaker* *Bree Auburn* Dawncaller Rakhan Savar Dawnmar Cpt. Rae Linver Anhari Azura Malon Hollowyn
Despite only having slept perhaps a total of only two hours in the past forty eight, and despite having a soft enough bed in an authentic sanctuary, I still find myself restless. To say that today has been eventful would be the largest understatement of this age.
Thankfully, the werejackals of the previous night were not part of these events. The next living souls to visit the Wayward Wayvern during our watch was the owner, Gren, and a priest of Pelor by the name of Savar Dawnmar. Father Dawnmar said he, and other faithful of Pelor, were investigating the lycan threat, so I told him of the night's encounter. How surprised he was when I said they appeared to be searching! He invited us to the temple to further discuss what happened—fortuitous with the two other leads we wanted to investigate at the temple.
While Holly managed to look fresh thanks to her elven blood, I could barely keep my eyes focused by this hour. Grey and Durzo had not yet joined us, so it seemed prudent to get a few moments of sleep before setting out further into our investigation. Though once I closed the shades and crept into bed, I found out that while the men were not downstairs, neither were they asleep. Shortly after closing my eyes, someone—I believe Durzo—began playing music atrociously. I cannot begin to fathom his purpose in playing, and I did not stay awake long enough to find out as I used a bit of magic to put myself to sleep (after jamming the locks, of course).
An hour later, I found my friends downstairs breaking their fast and not inconspicuously listening to the other patrons' conversations. Luckily, the Wayvern's clientele wasn't the type to take offense at some eavesdropping. I didn't see a soul who could even be disingenuously described as in between jobs; and Kathrynn, you know how the well-to-do love to gossip. Besides the pleasantries of the day and the he-said-she-saids, they also spoke about the lycans.
The rumor was that they could have been traversing via the sewers to avoid the guard. This allegation was met with some suspicion, countered with yet another spot of hearsay that the sewers were too dangerous—even for werecreatures—as they extended into somewhere unsavory. As "luck" would have it, we would later confirm both rumors. Fortunately, we did not confirm the third rumor of a tiger being loose in the city. Perhaps tomorrow.
The patrons also spoke of "The Hopeful" being back in town, who we would later meet at the temple of Pelor. The disposition of the folk seemed that of admiration and awe, and after meeting Cpt. Linver and her band, I'm inclined to agree.
Once I was finished with my tea and bacon, we donned our gear and decided to make our way to the temple of Pelor. The halfling manning the counter gave us vague directions to simply head north. As the Wayward Wayvern was located in the transitionary border between the market and temple districts, it did not take long for the architecture and fashion to to go from pleasant to ostentatious. Temples of all shapes and sizes, dedicated to most every god I had heard of and not (though no sign of Olidammara's during today's stroll) crowded the streets of this district, all sparkling with gold or silver or jewels or whatever precious, showy material the patron god favored.
I spent my time on the lookout for Cant symbols as we made our way through the crowds. There were far fewer markers claiming territory than in the market district, and, conversely, many more words and messages. There were several warnings to beware at night—as if we needed to know that now!—though interestingly, they were faded and worn, as if written weeks ago. I cannot claim any skill in archaeology, but I do wonder if the words of warning were written before the lycans showed themselves.
There were other scratchings, however, that were much more recent and much more foreboding. One said "the sanctum has been breached" and another said "avoid the southern wall." We would learn, after our visit to the temple of Pelor, that the "sanctum" likely meant the temple of Mask, surmised from the gaping hole in its inner chambers that dropped us into a dark labyrinth, monster and all.
Before the temple of Mask, however, we stopped at the temple of Pelor. Talbut was not exaggerating when he said I would not miss the temple: its marble and granite walls soared stories above the surrounding buildings, and the great stone walls were adorned with stained glass windows of such great dimension and such intricate detail as to almost defy imagination. Dearest Kathrynn, if you were not such a proper lady, your jaw might have slackened and gaped, but of course it didn't.
As we approached, the already thick crowds became even thicker, though I could not tell how many were true believers on pilgrimage to pray before Pelor, or how many came simply to gawk, not unlike myself. Despite the throngs of people, we managed to make our way into the temple without much trouble, and the temple was as magnificent inside as it was out. To the east and toward the rising sun was a gigantic effigy to the gods, and throughout, acolytes in pristine white robes performed duties at extravagant altars and idols. Amidst the splendor and bustle, there was yet one more striking feature: dozens (perhaps a hundred) fully armored men and women kneeling in prayer at the pews closest to the raised dais at the far end of the temple. There were several figures, two of which also in gleaming mail, on the dais, so Grey and I decided to get closer to hear. I, of course, acted with civility and subtlety, finding an empty seat within earshot toward the side. Grey, however, went straight up the middle of the aisle and took a seat in the first row.
Cpt Linver was one of the figures standing on the dais, fully armored, though her auburn hair was free as her helm was under an arm. Beside her stood a similarly armored (red sash and all) half orc at attention who we would later find went by the name Harren. It seemed that we came just as Cpt Linver was finishing her conversation with Father Dawnmar and a much taller, golden masked figure, as I only heard the latter express gratitude that Cpt Linver's band was back in town to help before she and the half orc stepped off the dais.
As it turned out, Grey had taken Cpt Linver's seat at the front, and when she came back to reclaim it, the goliath actually made a fuss, eventually consigning himself to sit on the ground next to the pew. Of course this is what he did. I do not know why his actions surprise me anymore.
With the dais clear, I came forward to get Father Dawnmar's attention. He introduced Grey and me to the taller figure: an aasimir named Rakhan the Dawncaller. He seemed a polite fellow who genuinely cared. Our conversation quickly went to the lycan threat. He claimed that the creatures searching was most worrying as he had known lycans to generally act savagely and independently. Interestingly, the Dawncaller also mentioned that ours was the first report of such behavior. Grey inquired as to whether they had an alpha as wolves do, but the Dawncaller had no knowledge of such a thing.
We then spoke of the armored men and women behind us. These were indeed the Hopeful, led by Cpt Rae Linver, and while they usually operated outside of town, they agreed to come back to help watch the temple district as the city guard had been stretched thin. With the topic turned to this district, we asked the Dawncaller if he might know what the Cant message regarding a breached sanctum might refer to. He said he did not know of anything known simply as "the sanctum", but he did mention some kind of uprising at the temple of Mask, though it was dismissed as rogues being rogues. I would have taken offense at such a comment if it weren't occasionally true.
We also had a chance to meet with Cpt Linver once we finished conversation with the Dawncaller. As it turned out, she was also friends with Mr. Taun. It seems the man is as well-connected as Mr. Thea implied! The woman vouched for the man, and I thought her sincere, not speaking out of wild eyed infatuation but out of actual respect.
The Dawncaller also told us of another priest in the temple, Verric, who might have been able to tell us more about the Vaults. Not only was he able to tell us about the Vaults, but also about Mr. Valdceer himself. Regarding the vaults, they were divided into sorcery and wizardry schools, and you could identify which was which by their names: sorcery schools were named after metals, while wizardry ones named after gems. The Vault at Opposh specifically was the Iron Vault.
Regarding Mr. Valdceer, it is now unclear whether I should continue calling him Mr. Valdceer, or if I should call him Mr. Strann from now on. I think for the sake of continuity, I will stay with calling him Valdceer (and also because we have not yet verified that Mr. Strann and Mr. Valdceer are one in the same). In any case, Father Verric had apparently met Mr. Valdceer when he was just a boy travelling with his father, Quentin Strann. At the time, the boy was fairly unremarkable, yet Father Verric kept in touch after leaving them at Opposh, and it seemed with time at the Vaults, the boy quickly started showing great innate abilities. After a few years, Father Verric and the boy fell out of contact, and perhaps ten or so years ago, Father Verric heard that the boy was excommunicated, and he believed the cause was his mother dying the year prior. Grey had an interesting insight, reminding me that Mr. Synab had said something along the lines of wishing Mr. Valdceer "never came back", implying that Farhollow may have been the Stranns' hometown. After bidding Father Verric farewell and giving him our gratitude, we left the temple of Pelor to investigate the temple of Mask.
The temple of Mask was an ordeal, to say the least. The temple quickly caught our eye with its night black walls standing in stark contrast to the gleaming facades surrounding it. As we approached, I saw scrawled in bold Cant symbols above the front door a message: "No longer safe. Avoid." Naturally, we walked in.
The interior of this temple was much like the other temples of Mask I'd been to before: furnished more like a shady tavern than an altar of worship layered with shades of gray and brown and black. Unlike the other temples of Mask, this one was entirely empty save for one familiar face: that of Thalmor. As it was a day of questionable judgement, when he beckoned us deeper into the magical darkness that concealed Mask's inner sanctum, we decided to follow instead of killing him.
Through the darkness was a long spiral staircase descending deep beneath the temple. "Thalmor" was waiting for us at the bottom, but when he spoke, his voice was much deeper, and as his mocking words left his mouth, his face morphed into that of a drow we had not seen before. We did not have much time to savor the details as he pulled a lever which took the floor from under us, dropping us down a long shaft and into some underground network of tunnels.
We slid down for quite a while before landing on dry cobblestone instead of the expected puddles of a sewer. Durzo said the stonework was very old, reminiscent of a castle wall: something meant to be defensive. Holly heard grunting down the hallway, alluding to what these walls were meant to defend—or rather, contain.
We decided a good course of action would be to ascend back up the way we fell post haste. Holly had some magic that enabled her to walk straight up walls, so I gave Holly my pitons and rope such that she could secure a line for us. While she worked, I decided to try my wand of secrets to find an alternate route out. After all, it would not have been farfetched for our drow assailant to be waiting above.
The wand indeed indicated something deeper, so Durzo and I crept forward to investigate. After a right, a right, and a left, we saw a wall that didn't look quite right. After examining it, I recognized it as an illusion that we could step through without harm. Behind, we found a cloth eaten sack full of gems (oh so many gems!), vials, and scrolls. These items that fell out hummed with that vague, almost indiscernible sound of magic, so Durzo went back to fetch Grey so he could identify whether these items would kill us or not.
The goliath did confirm their safety and more, sensing yet more magic down the hallway opposite this secret chamber. My dearest Kathrynn, you know how you get with gorgeously cut jewels, and so it should come as no surprise that you went further into the labyrinth to investigate. Grey's sneaking abilities left much to be desired, so I told him to stay behind. I put up an image of a cat to keep him company, telling him if the cat disappeared, I was in trouble.
I found another illusory wall with an old bag of gems, vials, and scrolls. However, as I left the hidden chamber with this loot, I heard the stamping of hooves and the approaching grunts of some kind of monster. In my panic, I refocused my illusion magic to make an image of the wall behind me in an attempt to hide. What emerged from the darkness was perhaps a ten foot tall minotaur with an axe broader than my waist, and atop it rode a five foot tall rodent-like humanoid.
Concealed and holding my breath, I was sure I couldn't be seen or heard, but the minotaur sniffed the air, drawing step by step closer to my position. It was then that I remembered that creating this illusory wall meant the cat at Grey's feet would have disappeared, and just a few moments after this realization, I heard the ringing of his thundercannon (though he missed that first shot). It was enough, however, to distract our enemies long enough for me to enact a plan.
The rodent seemed to be controlling the minotaur by driving two daggers into its back, so I decided to test their relationship with a Suggestion to the minotaur to do something about its oppressor. I didn't actually speak its language, but simply incanting the spell and pointing at the rat on its back was enough to make the minotaur take a swing at the creature. The wererat, sensibly, jumped off and began running, but didn't get far. Holly and Durzo came running around the corner, and Holly summoned a beam of silver moonlight to strike the wererat, blocking his escape, and shortly thereafter, the minotaur cleaved him in the back.
However, with its old "friend" dead, the minotaur now only had eyes for us. I told Holly to finish the ropes while we bought time. Durzo bravely engaged the creature in melee while Grey and I engaged from range. It was a fierce battle, but I managed to put an arrow deep where I believe its heart beat, and Durzo finished the creature by first doing what seemed like an uncoordinated, drunken dodge, followed by ripping the creature's horns off with his bare hands. With the minotaur dead, we relaxed somewhat to search the bodies to discern with what they had been engaged in such a strange place. We found no notes or clues on these two, but Grey decided that the wererat's corpse—now transformed into a male halfling—would be good to bring back to the temple of Pelor, and the goliath stuffed the body into his magic bag. This actually seemed sensible, if somewhat macabre.
We came back to see Holly frantically tying off the ropes as she still thought us chased by the minotaur. When we told her we had killed it, she was actually cross at first, and I admit looting the creatures before telling her was... rude. In any case, we now had a rope to climb out of this place. After several minutes of climbing, we emerged in Mask's inner sanctum again, though the drow was not waiting for us, thankfully. However, when we reached the top of the staircase and were about to exit into the main temple, "Thalmor" walked through the door.
I immediately grabbed him and threw him to the ground and pressed a dagger to his throat. He seemed unperturbed. We began to interrogate him, asking about the labyrinth, and at first he tried pretend he had not a clue of what we were talking. Drawing a bit of blood almost made him waver, but at least made him drop the ridiculous visage of that fat elf. Grey searched his pockets while I had him pinned, finding some lovely writing supplies (which I took), a glowing disk of milky-white crystal, and a letter that read:
So it seemed that the werejackals were indeed looking for us, if we were the four interlopers that this letter spoke of—and if this letter was true. Examining the disk, Grey determined that the magic forged some kind of connection, though to what he could not discern. The symbol of the moon etched on its surface suggested some kind of lycanthropic enhancement. The drow was not forthcoming about any of this. The most he admitted was that speaking was worse than death, and then he offered his neck to my knife. I obliged.
Killing the drow seems to have upset my companions, and while I can understand their misgivings of executing a prisoner, I do not feel as though I need to justify myself. The man had tried to kill us already, or at least decided to leave us for dead. If he was not taken care of, he would have tried to kill us later, or at the very least, alerted his allies of our actions.
Regardless, what's done is done, and we had many more questions that needed answering. We removed ourselves from the temple after I used some magic to clean the blood and grime from our clothes. We decided to rest and resupply before going back to the temple of Pelor as Durzo and Grey had gotten rather hurt during our fight.
We made our way back to the Wayvern, but about two blocks from the tavern, Grey was suddenly accosted by a band of children who formed a ring around him singing, "Sure shot, sure shot, best shot in the world!" Given our latest ordeal, I was immediately put on edge, but thankfully, after pulling a gold coin from one of the girls' ears, she told me it was just a prank set by Durzo earlier in the day.
With the children dispersed, we progressed further when Holly noticed a dirty, ragged man across from our inn, though she only mentioned that once we were inside as the vagabond was not actively doing anything strange. Rather, it was his lack of action that made him stand out to the druid. He was simply looking around, as if scouting, rather than panhandling like all the other beggars in the area.
We spent only an hour at the Wayvern to rest and dress our wounds (or in my case, to have tea), then we were off again to the market district to sell our loot. When we left, the vagabond was nowhere to be found, though my gut told me that wasn't necessarily a good thing.
We found a forge named Dorsetta's Anvil that the Cant had labelled as "honest." Before we set foot inside, Grey was distracted by a merchant stall featuring exotic pets. The merchant was entertaining a group of children with his curiosities, and after his performance was finished, Grey approached the man, asking about the egg that Lord Lorsha had given him. We traded one of Durzo's bottles of alcohol for information, and impressively, the man drank the entire thing without flinching. In exchange, he told us that the egg was that of a pseudodragon.
We then went into the forge to sell the weapons and armor we had taken from the labyrinth. Interestingly, the woman at the forge, Kiln, was forging a silvered short sword, and after seeing that, I thought it prudent to also purchase a case of silvered arrows. The Cant was right, she was entirely fair in our negotiations, so I left another marking on her door to reinforce the other message.
As we left the forge, we saw some guards moving through the crowd in well crafted leather armor handing out sheets of parchment. It seems they were looking for a certain Malon Hollowyn, a daughter of a wealthy family from Summer's Keep, an island to the south with a bustling trade port. They said she ran off years ago, but only last year did her parents grow weary of waiting for the prodigal daughter to return. We gave them our condolences, but given our current mission, we could not offer our immediate aid.
Going back to the Wayward Wayvern, we spotted two unkempt individuals doing the same thing as the earlier one outside. The vagabonds we had seen had all been too obvious—too visible to the guard—to be gang related, so we could only assume these were lycan agents. We pulled into an alleyway to avoid being seen when Durzo poignantly asked if we even knew who the enemy was at this point, given all the scheming that had so far been going on. Grey pulled the halfling's head out of his bag to indicate that we could have a cleric speak with the body to get our truth, and curiously, another moon disk fell off the back of the halfling's head. It seemed to have been pressed into the man's scalp and had been loosened with Grey's jostling.
We made our way back to the temple of Pelor and found the mid-afternoon crowd busier than the mid-morning crowd. The Hopeful were not present, presumably out in the city on patrol. We did see Dawncaller Rakhan and were able to go to a private room to speak. We told him of our trials at the temple of Mask, then pulled the halfling's body out and laid him out for examination. As Grey surmised, the Dawncaller was indeed able to grant us five questions to ask the corpse.
First, Grey asked about the disks, and the body only said that "the moon changes us." While not particularly exact, the clue was enough for us to make an educated guess that the disks are used to induce lycanthropic transformations, regardless of time of day or phase of moon. The second question we asked was regarding Tanis Darkclaw. The corpse answered that Mr. Darkclaw was overseeing the construction of the "Alter." Thirdly we asked if we were the "interlopers" in the letter, to which the corpse did not know. Fourth, we asked where the lycan forces were located. The corpse said that they were everywhere, beyond even this city. Fifth, we tried to coax directions from the corpse with the temple of Mask as the starting point, but the body had apparently never been to that temple. In hindsight, we should have asked for directions starting where the halfling died! But alas, the dead was now truly dead.
Still with so many questions, we asked the Dawncaller to keep quiet about the temple of Mask for the night so we could investigate. He agreed, though on the condition that if the people were in any danger, then he would tell the Hopeful to storm the temple. I agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment. The Dawncaller also allowed us sanctuary for the night as the Wayward Wayvern didn't seem safe anymore. As a final favor, he sent a message to Cpt Linver on our behalf, telling her we wished to speak.
While waiting for Cpt Linver's response, Grey and I went to visit Mr. Taun's acquaintance, Anhari Azura. We quickly found that Mr. Azura acted as a information broker, though less connected lately as his mother, the Merchant Queen of Kohor, had told the traders under her power to feeding him their morsels of gossip. Disagreements over priesthood, it seems. We were still able to find out about the lycans from him in that they first showed up three weeks ago, and that there were reports of particularly large werewolf and werebear raids in the southern towns.
We asked how the lycans moved around the city, and Mr. Azura said the rumors of the sewers seemed likely. The sewers actually only ran through the temple district, and no one had seen any lycans in the streets here. In addition, the sewers were small, with barely enough room for a halfling or a gnome. He mentioned that there was a rumored structure or labyrinth below: a shrine to a long dead deity, though he couldn't tell us what the name or domain might be. He also said he had reason to doubt its existence at all, and we held our tongues regarding our discovery. Mr. Azura told us of maintenance hatches that entered the sewers to the north, outside the walls, as well as small openings in the roads. Neither seem particularly appealing to me.
Grey and I came back to the main hall of the temple to find Durzo outside people watching and Holly asleep in the pews. I sat with her to make sure no one stole her belongings or disturbed her in any way (which was prudent as Grey tried to draw on her face) as well as to clear my mind. I was able to get an hour or so of peace before a note appeared in my lap, signed by Cpt. Linver telling us to meet where we first met Mr. Taun.
We made our way to the Mummer's Rest to find it somewhat more crowded than last we were here, and Cpt. Linver and Mr. Taun were at the table in the usual spot. I asked if we could speak somewhere private, and Mr. Taun did the most ludicrous thing: he simply told everyone present to leave, including the bartender. Once the place was empty, we told Cpt. Linver about the events at the temple of Mask. Given Mr. Taun's connections throughout the city, we asked about Nevara, but he hadn't a clue.
When we mentioned the name "Onus," this seemed to bother Cpt. Linver. She said that Onus was the father of lycanthropy, the moon, and the hunt, though she hadn't heard the name in a very long time. His domain was that of subterfuge—interesting and possibly related to our main quest considering Vecna's domain of secrecy—and that his name was therefore not spoken lightly. I must admit that such a description raised the hairs on the back of my neck. A god of the hunt would be terrifying indeed to flee or face.
Before parting, we asked Cpt. Linver the same thing we asked of the Dawncaller: that she not interfere with the temple of Mask until we had chance to investigate further, unless the public safety was at risk. She agreed, then did us better. She offered to take a diversion force to the northern sewer entrances as well as south to the market district while we went back to the temple of Mask. I am ever so grateful for this kind of aid; I can only hope that it does indeed draw away enough of the lycans such that our trip is not one-way.
As we left the Mummer's Rest, we spotted a merchant with a cart walking up the streets crying out that he had relics from Farhollow. As if this was not enough, when I confronted him about where he got his goods, he said they were purchased from a half orc in Dawnharbor. I asked if the half orc happened to be accompanied by a human woman, to which he said yes. It seems as though Cpt. Backbreaker and Lt. Auburn have been taking advantage of the dead folk they had been charged to protect. In my anger, I used the last bit of magic I had to command the merchant to donate the profits he made from these goods and to sail back home.
I admit that this may have been rash, and I would like to attribute some of this behavior to my fatigue, but I do not feel much regret. Yes, yes, Kathrynn, I'm sure you are hearing Master Henri's voice in your ear again as he talks about sleeping well to keep the mind sharp and calm, but all the rest in the world didn't stop the guard from taking him in his sleep, and all the patience in the world didn't save him from the noose.
I should get some sleep.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jul 10, 2017 21:58:53 GMT -5
13 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
I find myself once more behind a familiar illusory wall in the labyrinth under Mask's temple. I am not alone this time, however; my companions have crowded in here as well so that we may rest after already encountering—and dispatching—several foes. One of these foes also accompanies us in this hidden chamber, though she has been recently relieved of breath.
We had come to the temple of Mask at first light, though I must admit I would have preferred to stay at the temple of Pelor a while longer. No, Kathrynn, I did not develop a sudden devotion to the lord of light; it is simply an appreciation of the arts that kept my attention. The stained glass of Pelor's temple have been expertly positioned to catch the rising sun, and the way they glittered almost made me forget the troubles set upon us and the dozens—hundreds?—of refugees still sleeping within the temple after we left.
Alas, it seemed the Hopeful had already mobilized to enact our plan so I felt obliged to leave sooner rather than later. Even if they had not, my companions had not the same regard I had for the play of light. I can almost understand Durzo's malcontentment—the inability to enjoy morning is one of the many reasons as to why I do not partake in drink—but I still do not understand Holly and Grey's apathy.
Once we had readied ourselves, we took a leisure stroll to the temple of Mask in the off hope that the pile of bodies and general furor we had left so far had not already tipped off our enemies. Before entering, Holly noticed Harren and Mr. Taun almost inconspicuously keeping watch across the plaza. Mr Taun, in particular, was obviously not accustomed to blending with a common crowd. His dres was drab enough, but his demeanor and posture still exuded power. I suppose the support, even if conspicuous, was better than nothing at all.
We entered the temple to find its main chamber in the same state we had left it, including our drow friend's blood trail. At the bottom of the staircase of Mask's inner sanctum, the floor still hung open to darkness. Before descending into this darkness, however, we decided to explore the corridor of darkness in which "Thalmor" had triggered the drop away floor. Holly showed off the same powers that saved us the day prior by simply walking across the ceiling with a length of rope.
Unfortunately, she couldn't find any purchase on which to fasten the rope, and I made the mistake of handing Grey a piton to throw to her. He has been our marksman, so it seemed a sensible idea, but of course the goliath was as immature as a child—though upon further reflection, perhaps even simpler. Grey took the piton and threw it with full force directly at Holly's head! Even a toddler knows pointed iron is not a trifling object, especially after being cut but once. I have lost count of the times Grey has bled since I met him. Thankfully, Holly's reflexes were more amazing than Grey's stupidity; she caught the piton out of the air before it struck her.
Piton in hand, Holly was able to secure the rope and we crossed over to the dark corridor. I found the mechanism that "Thalmor" used to trigger the falling floor, but it seemed the trap did not reset. As I examined the switches, Grey extended his senses and felt enchantment magic from beyond the darkness. We felt our way forward and stumbled into what seemed like living quarters, but the only inhabitant was a dead acolyte.
I found no signs of struggle in the room, but the man's arms were covered in scrapes and bruises, as if he had been defending himself, and his wounds were as fresh as his body. While I searched the room, Grey searched the body, finding a pair of matching iron bands on each of the man's hands.
The rings were curious artifacts that let the wearer blind, deafen, or mute someone else by covering their eyes, ears, or mouth, respectively. While I said I did not find religion this morning, I still want to offer a prayer of thanks to any god that was watching over us as the bands did not fit Grey's fingers, and he was forced to hand them to Holly. She has already used them to silence the goliath when he went on another of his ridiculous tirades.
I found a secret compartment full of gold but nothing else regarding the identity of this man, his assailant, or reason for his murder, and so we left to go down to the labyrinth. We tied a rope to the stair's railing and rappelled down (well, Holly walked and Durzo jumped) into the darkness below.
Our drow friend's body was not present, and it was immediately apparent why: a wereboar and two emaciated dogmen were waiting for us and pounced almost as soon as we had descended. We were pressed into a corner, yet we managed to survive thanks to some clever maneuvers by Durzo and bursts of blinding magic from Holly. Being so close to Grey has left me with ringing in my ears again, but I prefer that and additional holes in our enemies than being killed.
Unfortunately, while the dogmen were dispatched somewhat easily—they were, after all, only dogs who had the misfortune of being mastered by evil—the wereboar was quite a challenge. Durzo landed a solid kick to the creature's head, yet it seemed entirely impervious to the strike. However, it seemed whatever lycanthropic blood that protected him from mundane harm did not protect him from the magic within Surprise. Durzo distracted him enough for me to bring him to his knees and plunge Surprise down his nape. Unfortunately, the lycanthrope managed to give me a nasty wound. I've cleaned and bound it as best I can, but I must make a note to see a cleric. I'll spare you the details, dearest Kathrynn, but the wound does not feel well.
Once we finished with searching the bodies, we decided to follow the dried trail of blood—presumably the drow's—down the alternate path I had not taken during our last excursion. The path zig-zagged for quite a ways, in what we felt was a northwestern direction. The corridor snaked for so long, in fact, that the drow's body must have dried up as we lost the blood trail after many minutes of tracking. Shortly after losing the trail, we decided to turn back. If I recall correctly, only forest lies to the northwest, so my best guess is that the body was being taken away for disposal. If my guess is correct, this also means that there lies an alternate exit, which will be valuable as when we returned to our starting point, someone decided to cut our escape rope.
With nowhere else to go but forward, we pressed on, soon coming upon a nervous drow. We weren't quite as stealthy as we wanted: as we approached, the nervous wizard called out for someone named "Dega"—presumably the wereboar we just killed. I'm afraid the identity of Dega will remain a mystery. When I conjured an illusion of the wereboar, the wizard saw through it and only offered a string of obscenities rather than any sort of confirmation. Thankfully he only saw the illusion, but not ourselves.
Grey surrounded us with the disappearing dust so we could lay a trap, but the wizard proved more capable than that. When I tried to attack, he must have seen a flicker before my strike as he disappeared and conjured an explosion of fire where all of us stood. I managed to dive away from the center of the blast, but Grey was not so lucky. I think he may have even briefly seen the next plane! The wand with which he had healed us on so many occasion before glowed a brilliant white as he gurgled on the ground shortly before exploding and raising the goliath back up.
To make a long story short, as the words on this page can attest, we survived the encounter. As a point of curiosity, when we first hit the drow man, we found that our foe was actually a human woman, and she remained so after we finally brought her down. Grey may have filled her with more shot than necessary, though I can understand given his near scrape with death. I will say that it was perhaps rude.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jul 18, 2017 23:25:50 GMT -5
13 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
We have only been perhaps an hour or two since my last entry before we had to take another rest, though there has been at least one moment of note already: we have met a new person who must travel with us for the remainder of our current quest. Her name is Naiya, a prisoner we had happened upon during our exploration of the labyrinth. She has blue skin and white hair, though she is not a drow. She says that she is from the islands of Tala Kau—an island nation I thought to simply be a rumor beyond the eastern sea mists. I heard Grey mutter the word "genasi," though I felt it rude to inquire into her racial qualities too deeply, especially given the state we found her in.
Kathrynn, dearest, I will spare you the unpleasant details of her health and her stay with the lycans, but suffice to say that the woman was on the verge of death when we found her. Naiya shared a similar story to the one I, and my companions, had experienced: a story of being drugged and abducted perhaps a month ago, though she was not able to escape as we had, and she had no recollection of any yellow mists or powder. Holly managed to bring her back with a healing draught, and we stay in this chamber exchanging words, dressing our wounds, and allowing the woman time to regain her balance. After the potion, some bandaging, and a bit of stretching, Naiya seemed well on her way to doing just that. She seems to be a cleric of some sort, donning heavy plate armor and a holy symbol of three swirling lines. Religion was also another topic into which I have not yet inquired—priests always speak the name of their god sooner or later, anyway. She mentioned that she was in town investigating someone's—she would not say who and I thought it rude to pry—vision of her quelling a storm, and it was during this investigation that she was captured.
We found Naiya in the final room of a set of meandering passages beyond the illusory walls we explored yesterday. After killing the mage woman, we encountered not a soul until this room: a large chamber with a pair of tables (stained with what I can only assume is old blood), a row of rusted hooks upon a wall, and eight cells behind heavy doors. It had appeared empty at first glance, but we found that the werebear had been hiding in one of the cells—no doubt alerted by Grey's loud mouth.
Poor Durzo took quite the beating, but Holly soon forced the lycan back to its humanoid form with a beam of moonlight. As it happened, the werebear was actually a goliath! Grey tried to speak with him, though his words were simply met with laughter. Thankfully, the silver arrows I had purchased from Kiln, as well as a healthy amount of moonlight from Holly, ended the lycan's life before he could do much more than laugh (and hang Durzo on a pair of rusted wall hooks). Grey has taken the head of the goliath for whatever reason, much to our dismay.
The cell in which the wereboar had hidden himself contained quite the trove of loot. Among the items was a gorgeous warhammer with waved steel and dyed leather as well as blue pearl that contained a store of arcane energy. Grey took the former while I took the latter, but we soon found that both belonged to Naiya. I, of course, did the respectable deed of handing over the item as soon as she asked, but Grey, stubborn as ever, tried to pretend he had not an idea of what she spoke.
We found another magical item hidden in a loose stone: a bag, similar to Grey's, that can hold many more items than its outward appearance would suggest, which I have taken to allow me more storage within my petticoat. Before handing it to me, Grey emptied it by turning it inside out, and amongst other armaments and items, there was another cloth bound body, though one yet more appalling than the others. She was a child. I do not know what dark perversion these lycans have to kidnap and murder these women, but I swear I will make them pay. Grey has taken the bodies with the intent to bring them for their final rites at the temple of Pelor. I have never been one to understand the respects given to an empty vessel, but I suppose bringing the bodies back to the public—as well as the heads of whatever evil was responsible—will give their respective friends and families peace.
As I sit here in reflection, I am struck with the thought that I am not sure how Naiya must feel about us taking our rest while still in what was likely her torture room, though I think I see resolve in her eyes. I wish we could simply spirit her safely to the surface so she can properly recover, but with the rope to Mask's sanctum cut, I am certain our only path is forward, together.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Aug 22, 2017 7:56:32 GMT -5
14 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Anhari Valskavor Kordal Byrex Usidore Shen
Today was quite the productive day! To give you an idea, dearest Kathrynn, I was delayed in putting pen to paper tonight as I was having trouble selecting the bedroom in which to write within this new home given to me and my companions by the Merchant Queen herself.
I suppose I should start by recounting the tail end of our adventure within the labyrinth underneath Mask's temple. It should be obvious by now that I was able to escape the maze, and I will add that my party emerged mostly unscathed as well. It seems that the werebear was the last living creature who wished us dead, as the only enemy we faced after him was boredom regarding the looped paths that seemed to end every hallway.
That's not to say we did not meet another soul down there; in fact, we met two. The first was an elf named Quinn who had previously been employed by the lycans, but had deserted before they could turn him. We found him asleep behind a secret door set into the stone, and after some inconvenience for him, we came to the conclusion that he was harmless enough (though possessing a magic bow), and even had a rather interesting trove of information.
Firstly, I now know what to call Mr. Valdceer's strange yellow powder: Incarnation of Rebirth. The lycans had been purchasing the powder from mages and had been using it for one thing or another—Quinn couldn't quite say for what purpose, though given the mischief I have wrought with it, and the mischief it has wrought upon myself, I can guess. Of the providers, Quinn only described grey and blue robes without symbols as well as an interesting walking stick of a similar—if not same—make as the one Durzo owns. We later found from Dawncaller Rakhan that this Incarnation is refined from the pollen of a flower called lifesbane, a supposed legend found only in the Shadowfell.
Secondly, Quinn was able to tell us more of the lycan's objective within this labyrinth: Alter. Our drow friend, or whomever wrote the letter, was not illiterate after all and was not attempting to write about a table used for religious rites! It seems that this substance is one of the key ingredients in transforming our lycan friends. Quinn recounted his tale of a fat elf—Thalmor, presumably—promising riches and more to hired mercenaries like himself with one hand, then offering a drink of Alter with the other. Those that accepted were bitten by a lycan shortly thereafter.
Thirdly, Quinn was able to lead us to the main chamber wherein the lycans were digging for this Alter, and subsequently, an exit to that infernal maze. We did not know what faced us there, so we rested the night in Quinn's secret chamber.
I dreamed of the Mushroom Prince again, and he congratulated me for doing well in his eyes. Unlike the handful of other dreams I had in his realm where I only woke with vague memories of some taught magics, I shot awake with lucid words burned into my mind. The Prince said he foresaw growth within me, as well as a dark, terrible future. Perhaps a mistake, but I snapped a retort, telling him that of course I was doing well and had more to grow—after all, why would he choose me if Master Henri had not trained me in the arts of assassination as well as he did? I still shudder at the response: the Prince said that I was simply an experiment in his eyes, nothing special, just the first of many, and he still expected me to lead my friends to decay. It seems I understood part of the Fey pact in that I do indeed amuse him, but his requirements still stand, yet I am still not keen on following them to the letter.
While I woke with a sweat, it seemed as though I was not the only one to have uneasy sleep, but I did not inquire further with any of my companions. Their demons are their own, and so long as they do not bring me harm, I think it rude to ask. There is perhaps some hypocrisy in withholding the Prince's instructions from my friends, but I suppose that is a bridge to burn cross once we get to it.
In any case, the Prince did not, and continues to not, trouble me in the waking world, and so far, neither do the troubles of my companions. With our sleep within the labyrinth complete, Quinn took us through another secret door and into a huge chamber that had obvious marks of digging. Inside, we only found a single person: a copper dragon, not only bound, gagged, and left for dead, but also stripped completely of his scales. I was able to unlock his shackles, and after he caught his breath, he introduced himself as Artan. By his estimate, he had been imprisoned for two weeks and said those responsible for his fate—and the hole in the ground—had left just the day before after finding their quarry. While Artan had been in his own living hell, he was still able to catch the lycan's new destination: a place called the Moonglade.
After allowing Artan a proper moment of rest, we escorted him back to the surface via a set of stairs in the back of the chamber. We emerged to a morning sun, and appropriately, to Ms. Linver and some of her Hopeful charging into the clearing as well. Apparently they had heard some sounds while doing their patrols, though they certainly were not expecting us, let alone a dragon. Instead of bringing said dragon to the city, we decided to call Mr. Thea and Sparrow to escort our friend to safety as he had done with others before. It was good to see them again, though there was the usual air of awkwardness with Mr. Thea—compounded even more with what appeared to be some history between him and Ms. Linver. Perhaps not intimate, but even still, I suppose one normally does not expect to see an old friend accompanied by a dragon.
Once Artan was off to safety, Ms. Linver and her Hopeful escorted us to Dawncaller Rakhan's study at the temple of Pelor. We gave the remains of the women we found in the labyrinth to the acolytes, and it was here that Quinn, thankfully, left our side. While he showed himself to be fairly harmless, I still did not entirely trust him, and I would most definitely not want him with us in private while speaking with Dawncaller Rakhan.
Naiya, on the other hand, decided to stay with us. She mentioned a dream that seemed to lead her on this path. At least from what she said, it sounded more benevolent than the dreams I have had. While she is quiet, I do not feel terribly disinclined to trust a holy woman, especially one whose goals are—at least for the immediate future—clearly aligned with our own: her captors did not treat her well, to say the least, and the motivation to destroy them seems earnest enough for me.
We spoke with Dawncaller Rakhan about what we found within the labyrinth, to which he seemed deeply interested and appalled in equal measure. He again offered us safe haven and even cured the lycanthropic infection within Durzo and myself. More happily, Dawncaller Rakhan gave us news that the Merchant Queen of Kohor wanted to speak with us.
An even heavier escort, consisting not just of paladins wearing Pelor's sun but of what seemed like every faith that had graced my ears, took us to the palace. While the details of proper etiquette with the merchant royalty never came up in my conversations with Mr. Gripkin, we were able to glean that above all else, they held reverence to their respectful deities and to their agreed upon deals. It's times like these that I keep Master Henri's necklace of Olidammara around my neck: one never knows when a little false piety can buy some favor.
Just as promised, Queen Anhari's throne room was absolutely covered in holy symbols. She, and two others, greeted us: what had appeared as a dragonborn named Kordal Byrex, and a senile old man called Usidore (among other things). Regarding Mr. Byrex, as it happened, the dragonborn figure was merely an illusion and the true Kordal Byrex was a beholder! Despite his monstrous nature, Mr. Byrex was still polite, and I can understand why Queen Anhari keeps such a powerful creature as her protector. I cannot shake that underlying feeling of dread from seeing such a normally evil creature, and this, among our other interactions at court have left me wary.
Queen Anhari thanked us for clearing the lycan threat from her city, citing that the danger was terrible for business. I recounted our adventure thus far for her, and she decided that we, unlike the lycans, were good for business. As a boon, we were granted several things: Mr. Usidore gave us a bag of rocks (I suppose it's the thought that counts), Mr. Byrex gave each of us a large gem that could summon an elemental (except for Holly who got a tree), and Queen Anhari gave us each 1000 gold as well as a home within the city.
Gracious as always, I thanked her for the gifts but said that the threat was not fully gone, simply moved, telling her about what we heard about the Moonglade and the general business with Vecna. Talking about Vecna surely affected her grace! She referred to him as the Pretender, saying he was not a true god. We gave Usidore a vial of Incarnation as well as one of the lycan stones so that the city would know what to look for. Queen Anhari also hinted that perhaps we should be kept on retainer, though I did not press the issue as she was already giving us a home. The seed is planted, at least.
In an effort to have the queen look more favorably upon me, I was about to ask her about the temple of Olidammara, but Grey asked first about a temple to Gorm. He said that Gorm was a god of fighting, and again the Queen seemed displeased. Despite all the other grand temples, apparently gods of open conflict were barred from raising their own within the city walls. She went on about how the followers were welcome, but if they should cause any kind of fuss, the penalty was death. This seems to me overly harsh retribution! And I have to say, given that they allowed lycans into their city, it doesn't even seem to help keep the peace. While it is clear people as a whole, top to bottom, prosper, it is also clear to me that she is dangerous. A part of me wants to clean the danger away, but she does not seem an infection (yet), and the power vacuum left by a monarch would likely be more dangerous without seeing everything through.
On a lighter note, the home we were given (which I have taken to calling our Kohome) was quaint, though featured every comfort necessary. It rose three stories above the street with three spacious bedrooms, a large cellar, and an attic space beneath the roof. Behind was a small garden with a fountain that sprang clean water via magic. I took the attic as well as one of the bedrooms, with the intention of having the loft as my true room while I keep my honey pot in the normal room. The attic is a little bare on furniture and other things, as I suppose they assumed no one would stay here, but I will have that rectified tomorrow.
The attic also features large windows, and of course, the first thing any good rogue would see is how good of an entrance this would be. I intend on blocking most of them with shelves and nets to allow the light in, but would be a major inconvenience to anyone likeminded. On the rest of the windows in my loft, as well as the windows of the unclaimed rooms, I have set up bells to alert us of any intrusion, and I've also left a note for any rogues outside to just come to the front door. Hopefully the thieves here are not like Ms. Roth in Devon's Landing and have an ounce of self respect.
Before the day was over, I saw Mr. Taun again for our appointment with the black market. An associate arrived calling himself Shen. Nothing stood out about the man, and seemed to sit at our table without anyone noticing. Exactly what I would expect from a black market liaison. He said that at the moment, trade goods were hard to bring in, but he had a few items, though he would be able to get more with the lycan threat removed from the city. I purchased a potion diffuser from him, which Grey said would cause a poison of mine to explode into the air. I also put down an advance on information regarding the Moonglade. While he had not heard of it, he sounded confident in being able to get us something after a ten day. Make a note to come speak to him in three days, as well, as I asked him if he could get an aerosolizer for the Incarnation, and he said that would be possible. Additionally, I should have done this then, but I completely forgot as I was excited about the prospects of a new weapon, but I should have asked Shen if he could get us books about Vecna and Opposh.
It is well past midnight now, so I should turn off this lantern. I can hear Grey stomping about below, scared by what I assume was Durzo's abyssal scrawlings, and he keeps knocking on my door so I do not want to give the impression that I am still awake.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Sept 28, 2017 14:28:47 GMT -5
15 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Wyrdyn
It should come as no surprise, dearest Kathrynn, that a wonderful morning of shopping was interrupted by Grey. Not directly, yet his actions seem to have caused a series of events leading to Sparrow teleporting me from the market—before I could finish my last transaction!—into my living room. I suppose the optimist in me is grateful for not having to give that dreadful Mr. Hoss his five gold.
In any case, Ms. Linver, Mr. Taun, and Mr. Thea had assembled in our living room in addition to Sparrow. It seems as though Grey had encountered a certain chromatic dragon by the name of Wyrdyn, the Azure Oddity—or in his gnomish form, Edyn the Odd. It seems strange to me that such a proud creature as a dragon would choose to have so many names—I wear the names I have to obfuscate my identity, not to strut about! Though to be fair, this is the first I have heard of him.
I was surprised to hear that in past days, Mr. Thea's mission was to exterminate chromatic dragons from the world, and it seemed the wizard was mostly successful. Unfortunately, he was only mostly successful in ridding the world of such evil creatures. According to Sparrow, one known chromatic remained: Wyrdyn. And of course, our dear friend Grey not only stumbled upon him, but was dominated by him. Wyrdyn had "asked" for Grey's sending stone to mock Mr. Thea, prompting this visit. Once the situation was explained, our four guests told us not to pursue the dragon as they would go themselves. I saw much wisdom in this course of action.
I spent the rest of the day rearranging my loft. Shelves and netting have been pushed against the side-facing windows, both so I have space for my belongings and to block (or at least heavily inconvenience) entry. I have a bed, a small table, and pillows on which to lounge, and as you might imagine, that left quite a bit of floor space, so I set up a pair of dummies to practice my archery and fencing technique. With a lack of permanent residence over the years, this is a luxury I don't think I've had since my days training with Mistress Breanna, gods piss on her wherever she is. Though it's been a year—actually has it been two, now?—since I fled Barreivelas, yet her name and the names of most of the other schemers from Siedena involved in Master Henri's death remain uncrossed. I suppose it's just been bad luck that my travels since then have never come anywhere near those cities.
—Kay
P.S. Oh, and as a reminder, every window to the loft and your bedroom that can still open wide enough to allow someone as athletic as you has a crossbow or greatclub (or both!) trained on it.
P.P.S. Lathander's shining asshole! Grey has absconded on his own for the evening, as if the morning were not enough. I dread what awaits me on the morrow.
16 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
I awoke this morning to find Grey sprawled in the bathtub covered in cuts and bruises, though I could not tell if his moans were from the injuries or from ale. Durzo and Naia had managed to pry from Grey a story of going on a date with the genassi blacksmith, Kiln, though I can scarcely believe that they would stay together well into the morning. I also cannot believe that Grey would unwillingly be beaten; with the lycans fled, the only dangers on the streets are common thugs. I did not bother to ask him, as the poor man spent the rest of today lying on the couch as Naiya and Durzo piled packages around him until he awoke.
Instead, Holly and I went out on the town once more, first to find Draeden to see if he had any additional information. The man, somehow, proved impossible to find, so we decided to see one of the minor magistrate's public libraries. The library was obviously not as grand as Queen Anhari's palace, but it was ostentatious enough, in accordance to the many gods adorning it.
Here we found an interesting book regarding Opposh. I've fully copied the relevant pages down, but in case those loose sheets of parchment get lost, I also write the interesting bits here. The founding story of Opposh relates a tale of outcast mages building their own society atop a cluster of leylines. While not the mustache twirling villains such an origin story might imply, they certainly were not selfless with their pursuits, either. There was one myth that told of a spellcaster who lost control of his magic, causing the forest surrounding the city to become cursed. Other stories told of creatures almost, but not quite, like dragons in a nearby caldera. Beyond the cursed forests, the plant growth is almost (most likely) magical in its exuberance.
Holly went to look for an apothecary so we could find some interesting plants, both for the backyard and so Holly could use her druidic abilities to track them. We found a rather interesting tropical fruit that grows in the ground and grows sharp leaves. The leaves will definitely be good for the latter, but Holly's already buried the fruit itself. After purchasing this "pineapple" (I suppose if one turns her head sideways, it has pine like qualities in its texture, though I have yet to find a similarity to an apple) we went to visit the exotic animal merchant and purchased from him a jar of giant mites. Honestly, I am uncertain about my feelings toward this jar and its proximity to me.
—Kay
17 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
With the frenzy of events the past week, I had almost forgotten what it was like to simply idle away while waiting on contacts to return. Of course, living in Devon's Landing re-exercised my ability to be patient, though I never had a lead so strong as the Moonglade whilst there. I know that I will be meeting Shen as soon as tomorrow, but with our next target so close and so certain, I am certainly feeling restless!
My companions found something to occupy their hands during the daylight hours as Durzo and Holly helped Grey build his workshop in the basement. The deliveries he had been receiving throughout yesterday seem to have been to create a forge and workshop downstairs. I commend the effort, though I decided to spend the day outdoors when they began digging to expand the space.
At least the evening was more interesting. Grey tried to leave on his own again, but this time, Durzo and I followed him in secret (I admit that Durzo saw me, though I will pretend not). The goliath had shed most of his belongings, opting instead to bring a small pouch of gold and the strange necklace he took from the werebear we had killed several days ago. After watching his display, I have to think that perhaps he actually wanted to be robbed, as he had gone to the less reputable part of the docks and flashed his coin and necklace around until two men finally did assault him. I watched for a while before stepping in to remove one of them (that particular man had actually drawn blood from Grey's neck, so it seemed prudent to assist). Grey wouldn't speak of what he was attempting, of course, though I have a feeling it has something to do with the necklace.
—Kay
18 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Shen invited himself into our backyard at first light, saving me the trouble of finding him. Unfortunately, he was not able to procure an atomizer for the incarnation of rebirth—again blaming the Kohor supply shortages—though he had plenty to say regarding the Moonglade. It seems as though we will be travelling to Opposh sooner rather than later as the Moonglade is located only several miles north-north-and-west from the city. As to the nature of the Moonglade, all Shen could tell us was that it was some kind of shrine on an island in the middle of a lake.
We inquired into travel options and Shen said we could make it there on horseback in fifteen or so days. The road is supposedly relatively safe with several towns and communities along the way, though Shen implied they were not to be trusted. The forests surrounding Opposh are also indeed blighted as the book said, and the further area is apparently full of large scaly animals. With all this, Shen said he could have "easy" travel for us after four months, though that would hardly be practical.
Despite not having an atomizer, Shen did have a few new magic items, though aside from what seemed like another rod similar to what we'd seen before, they were not of much note to me. More interestingly, before casting Identify, Grey said that items could lie about their nature. Imagine that! Grey said this was something he learned recently, and given his behavior regarding his new necklace, I surmise that is where he learned this new fact.
When asked if he had any more information regarding Opposh, Shen only directed us to make a stop at a town currently known as Appleton then to ask for the "Shen Special" at the Red Delicious Inn. I could scarcely believe him to be telling the truth with names so ridiculous, but Grey corroborated the story as he had read about a town in the same area known as Apple Grove. Due to nonsense amongst the three major families in the town, the name has changed quite often (the third family's preferred name being "Appleburg"). Most absurd is that the town grows pears.
We spent most of the following hours trying to find someone to watch the house. Our friends in powerful places were not of any help; the only useful advice they gave was that Kohor did not contain the most trustworthy of sitters. The best we could do was to confirm with Usidore that the city watch frequents the area. It might be worth my time to slip some coin and promises to some captains before we leave. I did at least take the liberty of reinforcing all the locks in our home, though I got dirty looks when I tried to set traps in the common areas.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Oct 29, 2017 14:07:37 GMT -5
19 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Before we left in the morning, I managed to find the local captain, Roderick, responsible for our home's district and gave him a spot of encouragement to keep our property safe with a gift of fifty gold pieces and a promise of one hundred on our return, contingent, of course, on everything within our home remaining untouched. Given your somewhat unfortunate fame within Kohor's upper echelon and your legally recognized connection with the home, you had to speak to him as Kathrynn, so if the slightest thought of reneging on the following bribe crosses your mind, don't.
After finishing my dealing, I came back to the house to find an odd sight: Grey with three horses and a simple cart having a frustrated conversation with Durzo—I suppose because the dwarf was sitting in a much nicer cart with a full complement of horses. I didn't stay to listen in on their conversation, so I later found that this cart was borrowed from the merchant queen herself as we were technically still under her employ for this mission. I didn't inquire with Grey; though given the circumstances and how dearly he clutches his cart, I suppose the... disagreement?... was due to him spending his own coin on something unnecessarily redundant. Regardless, Durzo's wagon is covered and cushioned, so I have elected to travel in this one despite Grey bringing along the second.
Our travel is expected to take fifteen days if all goes well, and today, the first day of the journey has gone without incident. As the sun set, we came across this well-used campsite behind a windbreak—unsurprising given how close to the city we are. Holly and I have gotten the fire started, and I have elected to take the third watch so I must retire sooner rather than later.
—Kay
20 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
A whole pack of wolves less than a day from the city! I am not particularly keen on being awoken in the middle of the night by wild animals, but I also have some suspicion that perhaps these wild animals were not so wild. Though the wolves were indeed fierce—they were especially unkind to our druid friend!—I was able to enthrall the largest of them with a phantasm.
Once the illusion took hold, the alpha thought itself in another fight altogether, and the rest of its pack halted their attack, as if the master's madness confounded them as well. After Holly melded herself into the ground and Durzo literally beat one wolf with the corpse of another, the creatures fell into what I can only describe as a defensive formation around their leader. Despite this, Grey and I were able to quickly dispatch the alpha, prompting the rest of the pack to retreat to the woods. Strangely intelligent behavior, though I must admit that I spend most of my time in cities rather than in the wilds.
I started my watch early as Holly had some wounds to tend. Thankfully, morning came without any additional fuss (save for Grey skinning the dead wolves and burning the meat beyond all recognition).
Of the day's travel, besides the never ending trees and dirt, there was not much of note about which to write aside from my companions' antics. Durzo and Grey got monstrously drunk—more than usual—though thankfully, the horses were doing most of the driving on their cart. Holly and Naiya provided much more pleasant company in the royal cart.
After the sun set but before dark, we had to stop at the end of the road at a fishing village, Shinnerman's Fortune, at the edge of Lake Cerulean. Unfortunately, the ferry had left just before we arrived and would not return until tomorrow. We were able to secure some decent rooms at the local tavern. Grey couldn't quite make it out of the wagon, but Durzo was able to stumble inside to collect dinner for the both of them. He was making a fuss about Grey referring to himself with "we." I hadn't noticed before, though once it was pointed out, it became quite apparent. Perhaps something to do with that necklace of his?
—Kay
21 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Kaida ?Luck Stone?
It should not surprise you, dearest Kathrynn, that you were entirely correct in your suspicion regarding Grey's necklace. There was indeed something awry with it, though hopefully we are now free from the troubles as a priestess—Ms. Kaida—exorcised whatever demon was within.
I suppose I should describe how we got here. After another day of travel, we came to stop at a small farming village. The dominant peoples appeared to be tieflings, and as luck would have it, we happened to come during one of their festival nights devoted to their goddess of harvest.
After obtaining rooms at the tavern, Kind's Rest, we made our way to the village's temple, and for a time enjoyed food and merriment. As an aside, Naiya is a wonderful dancer—possibly even better than yourself, Kathrynn. Hard to believe, I know. I would blame my partner, but Naiya still managed to make our goliath friend look good.
The festival was lovely for a while, then Ms. Kaida made a speech that enthralled the crowd, though I must admit that I did not understand a word of it. The speech ended with a beautiful sight of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of paper lanterns being floated into the night.
Grey, in his drunken revelry, opted to dance with Ms. Kaida soon after her speech, and while at first, it seemed like just another poorly coordinated dance, soon the dance turned violent. I attempted to cast a few charms to force Grey to stop, but even when my spells took hold, his voice was replaced with one that was not his own, and the goliath—or at least his body—continued its belligerent assault on Ms. Kaida. Durzo tackled Grey before he could do any real harm, and from there, Ms. Kaida was able to exorcise, or at least suppress, the demon with a bit of additional help from the rest of us.
Apparently the necklace was an item known as a soul cage, though Grey claims that when he performed magical identification, the necklace tricked him into thinking it a luck stone. Unlike a luck stone, a soul cage is able to consume and trap a spirit. In this particular case, the trapped spirit was powerful enough to overpower the confines of the necklace in order to possess our dear wearer: Grey. I believe the spirit was destroyed or removed by Ms. Kaida, but knowing what I know now, I would not for the life of me place any bets. The fact that Grey wants repossession of the necklace is baffling, but at least for the meantime, Durzo is holding onto it.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 5, 2018 19:35:54 GMT -5
22 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Nadarr Norixius Vorrok Stonebreaker
Gnome Brother Dwarf Woman *******BREANNA DARTH********
[Multiple explitives written in goblin]
I finally found that [goblin] woman Breanna and she slipped right through my damned fingertips! At least, I believe it was her. She certainly had the right face and the right demeanor, and she was as much of a [goblin] as I remember. However, it seems as though I am not the only one who has picked up some magical tricks; Grey had made our party invisible when we realized we were not alone in this decrepit mansion, and I know for a fact that I made no noise when I went to investigate. Despite that, she managed to not only see straight through the magic, but she even called me out by name.
Suffice to say that as soon as she did that, I broke the spell by splashing her associates—a pair of gladiators, one a dragonborn, the other a goliath—with a vial of Incarnation each. Unfortunately—or I suppose fortunately, as they were thralls—the Incarnation did nothing to do them just splashed on their faces. I do not know why it hadn't occurred to me to simply commision an atomizer from Grey since he loves tinkering with mechanisms, but I've done that now, so hopefully he can have something to make these poisons useful for incapacitation rather than immediate death.
In any case, Mistress Breanna told her associates to kill us before casting her own disappearance. It's unclear to me whether the source of the magic is something new she learned or if she has some kind of item. Gods shit up her [goblin]!
Okay, I've walked it off. This failure still tastes sweet as Ms. Darth left a bit of literature behind, most notably her journal. I admit that it strikes me as suspicious that suddenly Ms. Darth has gotten powers and backers, yet her writings are all in common. No codes or secret meanings that I can discern, but to be fair, 90% of it is minutiae and drivel.
The latest entries, however, were very interesting. She mentions some benefactor that she corresponds with via an unnamed dwarven woman. Unlike the dwarf, another individual was also named: Mr. Tanus Darkclaw. Most likely the very same Tanus Darkclaw that put a kill order on your head.
This seems entirely too relevant to our interests to simply be luck. We weren't even meaning to come this way; Ms. Kind had simply shared gossip regarding a construct (we destroyed it) and a gnome (we killed him) assaulting people to the north of town, and Grey would not let the issue lie until we took this day long detour. Durzo thinks it may be fate—between the Prince, Mr. Valdceer, the temple of Mask, and now Mistress Breanna, I am almost inclined to agree. I cannot help but wonder if this fate is from the gods or someone more sinister. Or sinister gods. I suppose it's not mutually exclusive.
At the very least, the turn of events inspired Durzo to come up with aname for our group: the Strings of Fate.
Another group also formed tonight. The two gladiators, Nadar Norixxus and Vorrok Stonebreaker, have vowed to kill Mistress Breanna due to her part in enslaving them. I've challenged them to a race, and I intend to win, though given that my current business won't allow me to investigate immediately, I have asked them to send for me in Kohor if they find her or any information around her. Also, I've asked them to make her death slow and painful so that I might have some time to reach them to ask questions, though they both scoffed at the thought. The gladiators were also joined by the dead gnome's brother, Divad. He has... special needs, which is why we encouraged him to travel with the two men rather than staying in this rundown estate. We told him that Ms. Darth killed his brother when in reality it was us, so make sure you remember that lie if you see him again.
Unfortunately, the gladiators didn't remember what business they had in this mansion. Their last memory was Ms. Darth slapping control collars on them after their championship duel approximately two weeks ago—Mr. Stonebreaker gave this estimate by evaluating the scarring he sustained during the fight. They did at least remember that the fight took place in a city located at the far southern end of the continent: Bilgothh. Another interesting bit is that Ms. Darth was going by Breanna Gant, and she was accompanied by a "scrawny fuck" of an elf man.
The journal talked about this mansion as an armory—the "Iron Repository"—which makes sense given the array of constructs that Grey is currently tinkering with, and how many bags of weapons and armor—much of it magical—were left behind. Preparation for a conflict, the journal says, which is rather worrisome Ms. Darth managed to abscond with two of those bags, and I do wonder what's in them that was so important that she left her own journal. Perhaps she is just stupid. I hope for this explanation, but don't hold my breath.
The fight with the enthralled gladiators was incredibly hard fought so we are staying here for a spell to bind our wounds and collectively recover. I am unsure how well I'll be sleeping, though.
—Kay
23 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Margot Flintfist Duri Greyheart (Dwarf Woman?)
My good friend Kay, make absolutely certain that when you next go through the mountain fortress "Great Gate" along Stone Way, if it's not a smoldering mess, change every physical trait about yourself. Your hair was a rusty red, your eyes fully silver, everything else natural. I might suggest bringing out the high elf ears again. The reason I tell you this is because I have just used a spell to instruct one of the highwaymen at this fort to deliver a vial of Incarnation as a beverage to their leader, Margot Flintfist. Grey, as well, gave them faulty tribute of one of his pistols without any spare powder, and so we are currently riding through the night to get as far away as possible before they discover anything.
Ideally Mr. Flintfist and all his gaudy accoutrement will be dead, destroyed, and stolen when we come back. Though, perhaps you should figure out a disguise for the entire party. Yes, that sounds prudent. It has been a while since I've opened the disguise kit, after all. Blessings and curses, I suppose.
We also met Duri, Durzo's sister. Apparently we interrupted her negotiations with Bandit, though from what I could tell, she wasn't making much headway. Grey is currently attempting to serenade her companions in the other cart, poor souls, while she talks with her brother. It seems that she does not share the same fondness for drink, and if I read the body language and subtext correctly, our monk friend is the odd one out in their family, not his sister. What they deal in, I am not sure and don't intend to pry, though I got the distinct sense of indentured servitude from the woman's companions.
It has occurred to me that Durzo, being a dwarf, has a sister who is also a dwarf and a woman, and Ms. Darth's journal specifically mentions this vague detail. With the whole thing about fate, I would hate for this to be, but I will make no preemptive moves until presented with harder evidence.
The sun should be rising soon, and I believe I can see a city in the distance. Judging by the gaudy red icons, I'm guessing that's Appleton.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 21, 2018 16:53:33 GMT -5
24 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Nestor Coin Edric Hollowyn Daedra H(ollowyn?) Dahtay
Kay, dearest, you really must get yourself another pair of winged boots one day. Generosity to the less fortunate prescribes that I had to give the pair I alleviated in the market yesterday to Grey, but not before using them for a little work at the Granny Smith Inn, a rather lovely establishment in Appleton with some interesting clientele. It was not the most lucrative of heists, but I was able to obtain some gold and expensive clothing from one (presumed) merchant, and the establishment was left in amusing chaos without being any wiser of my or my party's involvement.
That last note is the most impressive as the security at this inn was quite well done! If I hadn't these gifts of enchantment from the Prince, we surely would not have been able to infiltrate the rooms. Grey had determined that the keys and the locks for each door were an actual magical pair, and without the correct key, a silent alarm would sound, alerting a pair of big brutes concealed in a room hidden behind a door enchanted to appear one with the wall. I had actually done this earlier in the day when casing the establishment, but thankfully, Holly was able to tell me of the incoming enforcers and I was able to become invisible.
And of course, management had a master key to bypass the alarm. It was magically bound to the nightman's wrist so I wouldn't have been able to slip it off; however, a bit of magic let me enchant the gnome at the front desk such that he took the bracer off himself and then took a nice, long walk around the neighborhood.
There was also an enchantment on the windows to each room that again activated the silent alarm if there was an attempt to open them from the outside. Thankfully, there was nothing regarding a key and so they could be easily opened from the inside, and it did seem like my mage hand was able to safely undo these latches.
Of the guests at the inn, I was able to count two merchants, three adventurers, one mystery room that indicated someone awake the entire night, and a certain Edric Hollowyn, brother of the missing Malon Hollowyn. Mr. Hollowyn had a pair of elven guards stationed outside his room, but I was able to get in via the window. Most frustratingly, I could not find any of his coin before bumping into his dresser like a dimwit and waking him up. I had disguised myself as an assassin, though, so he should not have recognized me.
Interestingly, Mr. Hollowyn seems to be a bit of an artist and I found sketches of my companions on his desk. I had disguised myself as Mistress Breanna while lifting purses in the market when we first met him, so he had a sketch of her likeness. I was able to redo the drawings of my companions to subtly change their features, as I do not trust that he is simply drawing for fun and is likely to use those to identify us in the future. I do not know to what end, and I simply do not wish to be surprised.
Mr. Hollowyn, in general, seems shifty. Holly had snuck into his room earlier and found a letter signed by a Daedra H indicating that he should be on the lookout for his sister. The letter specifically mentioned she was last seen in Kohor, however, and Mr. Hollowyn seemed to be in no hurry to leave Appleton in his business making connections with the various merchants in town. I also found a book of sending indicating that four days ago, an "interesting" letter arrived and that he was to return home "at once."
Unfortunately, I could not find any more about what he was doing. He did play the part of searching for his sister as when we talked to him in the market, he gave us a blank book of sending such that we could send the family any information we have. Grey has it, so I'll most likely have to repeatedly impress upon him to not write to them if we do find anything about Ms. Hollowyn, at least until we find out more.
Besides that, the night was overall amusing. One adventurer seemed to be a priest with nothing on him, so I left him be. Another was a monk in silent meditation, who I thankfully didn't disturb when I opened the door, and according to Grey, all the magic items in the room were on his person. The last adventurer we saw was a brass dragonborn named Dahtay that Grey seemed to take a shine to as she had a construct not unlike Vito guarding her room. I think I woke it when I stepped into the room, but of course did not stick around to find out. Of the two merchants, I didn't disturb Mr. Watiti as he had sold us potions at a generous discount earlier in the day, and the last merchant was where we made the money back that I needed to bribe the guard to let Durzo out of the drunk room. Most amusingly, we had convinced this last merchant that the establishment was haunted, contributing to much of the chaos in the morning.
Overall, I'd say an evening well spent.
Our first stop earlier in the day was the Red Delicious Inn as Shen had recommended. It was an obvious front as there was nothing inside besides a few straw beds and a homeless gnome. Mr. Nestor Coin "ran" the establishment, and seems to be the head of the local crime syndicate branch. He gave us a few good tidbits of information that Shen had not given us. Firstly, we didn't have to go through the Great Gate and instead, about half a mile north of it is the Merchant's Pass. This will prove quite useful as I'm sure the Great Gate is either extremely cross with us or in utter chaos--and Mr. Coin did seem to appreciate our attempts to bring down Mr. Flintfist. Secondly, he told us of the blackmarket located in Last Hearth, a city in the middle of some inhospitable land that we're going to be travelling through in a few days. Thirdly, he told us of some of the great feathered beasts that roam the area and make it so dangerous. His specific advice was "if you feel the ground shaking and see something on two legs, run as fast as possible." Holly has found us what seems like a safe area in these woods so hopefully we won't have a run in with them tonight.
As thanks and payment, Grey gave Mr. Coin his driftglobe, and I did leave several pages I had copied out of Mr. Hollowyn's ledger. I had intended to sell those pages to him, but the morning was moving on and he was not attending the Red Delicious Inn, so in lieu of the coin, I just left the notes behind to garner some good will on the way out.
We did have a run in with someone attempting to act as highwayman on our way into the wood. I almost feel sorry for the man; he had played a game of chance costing 250 gold pieces, and from it, he had obtained a deck of cards that could cast great illusions. The one he had drawn when talking to us was that of a giant, but Holly was able to see right through it and we scared him off. Grey took the deck of cards, hoarder that he is, even though the highwayman was simply trying to get his money back.
This game of chance was located in the Appleton market, and we did pass it by several times yesterday while making our purchases. Of course, I did not take part--it is a fool's errand to waste luck on silly games. My companions, however, did, and at least they got some cute magical items. One was a tankard that removes alcohol from beverages, another was a helm with glowing red eyes, yet another was a pair of dice that let you choose their final value (as I said, luck in games is a lie). As for myself, this spectacle had drawn a heavy crowd, and it was in this crowd that I was able to make my rounds in lifting purses and items. I feel like I was the final winner here, as I had managed to get my hands on a bag of holding containing those aforementioned winged boots and a wand of wonder.
It's been a lovely day and a half, and my watch is just about over. Time to wake up Holly and hope none of those "terrorbirds" disturb us.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 28, 2018 20:51:55 GMT -5
25 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Apparently Holly had a conversation with a terrorbird last night, though thankfully it was nothing worth waking me or the others over. Thank the gods that it was the only creature to disturb the camp as I awoke to find Durzo drunk and dozing when he was supposed to finish the last watch of the night.
Holly described the terrorbird's demeanor as not particularly terrifying—a bit slow even. I have never spoken to an animal before, so I will take our druid's word regarding the creature's intelligence. Physically, it seems to match the description given to us about something named a bulwark: four legs, wide body, long tail, and a huge head with something like a bony fan extending around its face. Huge, as well, yet it somehow is only interested in chewing on plants. Not that I'm complaining.
I can safely say that I am not a naturalist so my academic interests really only end at a creature's mortal threat to my persons. There is an aesthetic beauty to nature, though without the animal in front of me, I find myself mostly uninterested. The feeling extends to the woods around me; while the trees are tall and wondrous, it has been an otherwise quiet journey down the horse trail. We haven't seen or heard another soul, and the encroaching brush isn't particularly shy about telling us how infrequently anyone treks this way.
In any case, it is my night off doing the watch, so to bed I go.
—Kay
26 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Well, I've officially seen my first terrorbird today, though it was only a glimpse of something through the treetops. A shadow passed over us, and at first, it seemed like the familiar crossing of a bird in front of the sun; however, upon looking up, the shape was all wrong. It was too large, for one, and its wings curved and stretched along its entire body. Its silhouette cut closer to that of a child's kite than that of an eagle or a falcon. The flying creature was gone almost as soon as we noticed it, completely lost in the thick canopy above us. I suppose besides their massive size, terrorbirds are just like any other animal and completely uninterested in humanoids unless we do something to directly affect them.
Unlike yesterday, Durzo was properly awake before myself. He was pouring himself beer from the curious jug he won in Appleton, which Grey had tried to trick us into believing only conjured mayonnaise. What an utterly useless artifact it would be if that were the case! It seems as though Durzo has learned its mysteries, however, though I suspect that he is waking early to conjure beer as the jug can only create one liquid at a time. I find myself somewhat curious as to what else it can pour, though I'm loathe to even try anything as I haven't seen anyone clean the inside of that jug after the first incident with mayonnaise.
—Kay
28 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Valorian Benedictus Durren Godsgrace Akamai
After a completely uneventful day yesterday, I suppose it is only fate that we have experienced entirely too many events today. We're travelling through the night with the adventurers we met at the inn, and while I did cordially invite them to join, it was not entirely by choice. It seems they have been following us since our heist at the Granny Smith Inn as the monk had indeed been awake when I had opened his door. While I had been shrouded under the wraith hood that night, Grey was not, and the man—Akamai is his name—was able to put two and two together. Quite worrying that we managed to go four whole days of travel without seeing or hearing them; Akamai claimed he can do what Holly does and transform into animals and used that power to keep tabs on us, which I suppose makes sense.
Besides Dahtay and Akamai, the other two in the party go by Valorian Benedictus and Durren Godsgrace. Mr. Benedictus was the human reading a book throughout the night at the inn, though when adventuring he wears a mask of Pelor and throws enchantments and spells about, going so far as to charm me in an attempt to interrogate us regarding our true purpose. The nerve! At least in a rare moment of clarity, Grey had the wits to get Holly to mute me. We ended up telling them of our mission to stop Mr. Valdceer, but only after they had asked politely and revealed that this was their goal as well.
Mr. Godsgrace rounds out their party. He's a paladin of Bahamut and a heavy drinker and is currently getting along quite famously with Durzo and Grey in the back of the cart. He was much more pleasant during conversation than Mr. Benedictus, though not enough to really make up for the rudeness—Ms. Dahtay, too, now that she's recovered from her hangover, adds to their overall prickly nature by being a raging torrent of swearing and bravado that sits atop a literal mechanical scorpion (apparently this monstrosity is what I nearly awoke the other night!). Despite that dynamic, he was surprised that we've rubbed not only rubbed shoulders with members of the Enclave but have gone so far as call them allies. As if anyone of any importance would want to work with them!
The most important aspect about this party was the fact that they had worked with Mr. Valdceer before, and they claimed to have killed him as well. Once they had revealed that their intention was to investigate strange reports of someone matching this apparent ghost and to ensure his death, both parties were more willing to share information.
Astoundingly, they had killed Mr. Valdceer about ten years ago, and they emphatically assured us that they did indeed kill him—smited, cut in half, exploded, all confirmed. Of personal details regarding Mr. Valdceer, it seems we have the upper hand. Their adventures with Mr. Valdceer first started fifteen years ago—I don't even think I had met Master Henri yet!—and the arrangement was so detached that they didn't even know Mr. Valdceer's last name. He was simply a contractor hired through the Iron Vault. They claimed that at first, Mr. Valdceer was an alright fellow, though over time, he began playing more and more with necromancy and other dark magics, and his demeanor changed from trying to better the world to trying to control it.
After hearing about some tales of those familiar black magics, the other party came from their adventures in the country over to investigate, as they were absolutely sure Mr. Valdceer was dead. We told them of our run in with the man not four months prior, and Mr. Godsgrace nearly threw a fit in his surprise and denial. It turns out that they were on their way to Opposh to visit the Iron Vault and make some inquiries of their own. They otherwise had not heard of anything regarding the Moonglade, Incarnation, or werecreatures. They hadn't even heard of the incidents of Farhollow.
This meeting all came about because we had heard a terrifying roar in the night and while I was packing the camp, Grey had the bright idea to use his new flying boots—and let the record show that I did try to claim them after I stole them, for the good of the party—to investigate the creature. We later learned it was one of those two-legged fanged terrors, and it had jumped into the air and dragged Grey to what should have been his death had Akamai not been spying on us. I do not even think that run in with death has left any permanent lesson in the goliath's head.
We should be nearing Last Hearth soon, so it will be good to be out of these woods and to sleep somewhere with a roof over our head.
—Kay
29 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre
Auntie Agatha Auntie Agnes Grandmother Morgan
More fey pacts. Hopefully, dearest Kathrynn, when you read this in your ripe old age and reminisce, Grandmother Morgan has already collected on her end of the bargain, and that the fey rod she gave you had all been worth whatever you gave in return. If she hasn't collected yet, well at least I can say that right now that the artifact feels quite powerful, and I hope you still have it. It seems to amplify my connection with the feywild, and I suspect that the enchantments I weave will end up being more powerful.
As you might have gathered, we spoke with a fey creature today: a nighthag by the name of Grandmother Morgan, accompanied by two other presumed nighthags going by Auntie Agatha and Agnes. All three appeared as beautiful elves, though once we were speaking in private, Grandmother Morgan revealed her true form. Nighthags cut quite the imposing figure! She seemed to appreciate that we were more impressed by her form than frightened, and the conversation was overall cordial.
Of course, she is a creature of the fey, and again that is not something to trifle with, regardless of how well-meaning the host is. It seems she foresaw us coming to Last Hearth—she had apparently traded her eyesight for visions of the future and past—and she called us all out by name upon entering her office.
Yes, this fey creature met with us in the fantastical realm of an official's former office, taken over because the entire building had been turned into a hospital. Last Hearth had apparently been attacked by werecreatures two days ago, turning the entire mesa into a smoking wreck. The nighthags came yesterday, it seems partially to meet with us, but also partially to help the city. It is unclear whether their ulterior motive for being here was only to meet us or if they have anything else they wish to obtain, but it does seem that they are giving genuine care to the survivors, so I see no reason to complain. I left some rations as a donation and the Aunties were appreciative, saying they would remember the kindness. Hopefully that's a good thing.
Back to our conversation with Grandmother Morgan. As an oracle of sorts, she had some words of advice for us, though of course they were cryptic. She said, "The solution to Nash might be closer at hand than we might expect." She also said the path before us is filled with both anguish as well as hope. Wonderful, though I suppose not entirely unexpected. Finally, as an additional boon for being cordial despite her nature, she said that our next location (presumably Opposh) would hold no new answers, yet the one beyond (presumably the Moonglade) would hold more than we could imagine.
Besides words, Grandmother Morgan struck us a bargain to exchange "something to help on our path" for an undisclosed favor some indeterminate time in the future. As I said earlier, I have given some fey rod to amplify my pact powers, with the words "For a promise kept." It was a struggle coming to a decision on whether or not I should agree to such an ask—after all, I am already under contract with the Prince. Grandmother Morgan assured me that I would not have to kill myself, and she also added that the Mushroom Prince owes her a favor as well. However, it was not until Naiya, Durzo, and Grey already agreed that I accepted as well. Holly did not accept, something to commend her for, and I suspect she'll be the one to come out ahead.
Of the items, Durzo received a large, presumably magical fan with accompanying advice to use it to save someone he loves. Naiya received a box with the advice that change was not a bad thing, and to consider that before opening. Grey was also given a wooden box with the advice that not all knowledge should be learned immediately, and surprisingly, the goliath accepted the advice and kept the box closed. Holly, despite refusing the pact, was also given a magical staff. With all these items, Grandmother Morgan said that the time to use them would be obvious.
One final note: Naiya has chosen to leave our party to help as a healer with the people of Last Hearth. She thanks us for saving her, but she believes her place is with these people. I admire her for that conviction.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Mar 18, 2018 15:44:51 GMT -5
30 Chaunti, Year of the Lyre Grey had one of his infrequent but more poignant thoughts during our travel: what if the "solution" of which Grandmother Morgan spoke was more literal? What if, when she said that it was "closer than we thought," it actually was the solution of Incarnation and alcohol that I currently carry in bulk with us? It is an interesting thought, certainly—something to think on for a spell as Mr. Godsgrace says Opposh is still another five days away. He and the rest of his group also confirmed that a great deal of earth had been churned up outside the city of Last Hearth, presumably from the army of werecreatures, and that we had indeed been in the feywild while a full day had occurred in the material plane. I trust their judgement on such matter as they seem to be a group of incredibly efficient adventurers. Akamai has acted as a literal outrider, transforming into a horse to gallop ahead of the party. We thankfully hadn't heard from him until nightfall when we made camp, so it was an overall quiet day. Mr. Benedictus has offered to take the full night's watch, as usual, and Mr. Godsgrace has clarified that the warlock is a voracious reader and that so long as he has a book, the man won't sleep. Though now that his mask is off, it is unclear how much of a "man" he is. Not to imply anything uncouth about his race or orientation, mind; it's only that unlike at the inn, he now has inordinately pale skin with white hair and the rising sun of Pelor literally carved into his forehead like a macabre facsimile of his mask. I heard Grey mumbling something along the lines of "aasimar"—like Dawncaller Rakan, I suppose. In any case, I will not look the gift horse that is a full night of rest in the mouth. —Kay
1 Kor, Year of the Lyre *Dahtay* Good news and bad news, dearest Kathrynn. Good news first: I now possess a very large diamond. However, the bad news: I burned myself getting it by cutting open a freshly killed (re-kiilled?) undead green dragon. I suppose that implies yet more good news in that we managed to kill an undead green dragon! These forests are as dead as its name has implied—nothing but ash and dry earth beneath our feet and dried husks of what used to be bark over our heads—so I suppose that I should not have been surprised that the first creature we encountered was a dead megabeast. I should thank our travelling companions for our success, though. Without Akamai's scouting and warming we may have been caught completely unaware—though I suppose he was also the one to lead the dragon our way. Regardless, while Holly was the one to land the killing blow by enveloping it in thorny vines, Durren, Dahtay, Valorian, and Akamai did the bulk of working the creature over. While the dragon was certainly exceedingly powerful, the other party was so effective as to prompt Grey to continue using that ridiculous wand of his. All he accomplished was turning the green dragon a sickly shade of blue. Bravo. I, on the other hand, used the opportunity to try a new fey spell. Another dream from the prince left me with the ability to step into and out of the ethereal plane, and I used the ability not a moment too soon! As soon as I cast the spell, the dragon breathed vile aci on the entire battlefield. Durzo took the brunt of it, poor man, and it seemed to almost drop him. I know his constitution is stronger than my own, so I sincerely thank the Prince for this new ability! One final note of unfortunate news. Dahtay is irresponsible at best, dangerous at worst. While she provided alchemic healing for everyone, she was a storm of vitriol at us, particularly Durzo,for attacking first. In one of the few times I wholeheartedly agreed with Grey, he argued that regardless of our personal feelings at having to fight, there was an overall good deed done in the world by removing this threat from future travellers' paths. Dahtay could not care less. I understand the degree of selfishness needed to be an adventurer, but at the same time, I also understand how adventurers can accrue power to be used for good. Dahtay, in particular, has accrued a wealth of machines, devices, and potions that may well be better served in in more positive hands. Her goals currently serve her party's, and her party aims to rid the world of Mr. Valdceer, so at least her overall parth may be good, but she may be someone to watch for in the future. —Kay
2 Kor, Year of the Lyre Something seems to have fouled Durzo's mood. We came across three undead bears, and before anyone could say anything, he hopped out of his cart to attack them. Akamai and Durren got a hold of the dwarf before he tried to fight alone, and after a brief argument, Valorian simply incinerated the creatures as if he were simply swatting a fly. The argument was simply to justify taking the time to kill the creatures—it would be good to clear them from future travellers' paths given our ability affect such change. There was quite an amount of reluctance from the other group, but at least they eventually capitulated—the strength of the response may have been almost a threat. At the very least, a clear passive aggressive display of annoyance. More concerningly, despite the creatures being killed, Durzo seemed to become even fouler as he spent the remainder of the day drinking in silence, refusing any attempt by Grey to talk about what was going through his mind. I did not inquire myself as his business is his own, but I wonder if Naya's parting ways affected the monk more than he let on. He had clearly taken a fancy to the genasi over the past couple days, and Kathrynn, dearest, you now how men can get when they become of two minds. With our friend, it seems there's quite a bit of aggression he wants to let loose. Valorian is taking watch again tonight. I doubt that Durzo will recover over the course of a single night, but at least I can enjoy my uninterrupted rest. —Kay
3 Kor, Year of the Lyre Quite frankly, Kathrynn, I grow tired of these misty, utterly dead wastes. Not to be too redundant, but these lands are well and truly dead. Nothing grows. The mists are more lifelike than anything around. There aren't even signs of the process of death: no fungi, no flies. Everything has been completely dead for a long, long time. It crossed my mind to commune with this gift given to me by Grandmother Morgan as it seems to be a reflection of the source of my fey powers. However, it seems the power suffsed within it is no happier about our surroundings than I. The feywild is a celebration of mystical life in nature. Even the Prince's domain is more about decay but also rebirth. It is about the utility of death, not the death itself. At least, that is how I have come to interpret this purpose from the broken memories I retain from my fey dreams. Durren says that we've only another day or so of travel, which I am glad to hear. Hopefully by this time tomorrow, I can be in a bed surrounded by anything alive. —Kay
4 Kor, Year of Lyre Half-orc Verdant Circle Man (?) Pale Human Verdant Circle Woman (?) Blond Verdant Circle Woman (?) Green Dragonborn Verdant Circle (?) Blue Creature (?) Vice We have made it to Opposh and it seems that we have come in what would be called "interesting times." About the city, first: it is unfortunately as imposing as its dead surroundings, though at least there is some beauty in its grandeur. Opposh is located in a great caldera, and it is overlooked by what must be the Iron Vault. The Vault is enormous, and it soars above the center of the city with these incredibly ornate patterns and structures. I have seen fine tracery on many a cathedral before, but none so intricate—and frankly none that have made me so strangely uncomfortable with seemingly arcane and eldritch designs—as those on the Vault. The effect is compounded by the strange black stone that the tower is built from as the stone seems to constantly sheen as if it were damp. The walls around Opposh are also built from this material, and Durzo expressed that this is odd given that the stone—called shadestone—is not something he has seen in quantity. Speaking of Durzo, he still seems as upset today as he was yesterday and the day before, which is to say that apparently he picked a fight at the Shady Pine. Such a shame as it's a lovely tavern. The clientele consists mainly of the working dwarves, though the fact that they were there in the middle of the afternoon was a bit odd. Presumably differences in schedule or work culture here in Opposh. In any case, Durzo had acted innocently enough at first, spending freely to settle into some drinks and to even buy a few rounds of drinks for everyone around. I noticed Grey trying to furtively extend the drinking by offering the bartender (Mr. Faull) even more gold—presumably an effort to further provide levity. At least this put us in the good graces of those around us for some time, and speaking with Mr. Faull and a tiefling by the name of Vice (more on her later), we got a sense of the situation around the city. Prior to this morning, there had been two prominent assassinations in the city: the Lord Mayor of the city and the Grand Archivist of the Iron Vault. Much less known by the public, however, was that there was a third death that occurred the morning of our arrival: the Vault's Grand Mistress—the very same Ellaria Yull that Mr. Gripkin had told you about all those weeks ago in Devon's Landing. According to Vice, the Lord Mayor was found "in chunks" within his chambers three days ago, and the next day the Grand Archivist was found in more or less the same state. Ms. Yull was found dead this morning with a large opening in her chest and various organs missing, as if something had burst from within her. Despite this macabre tangent, conversation with Vice was otherwise lovely. She's one of the five leading members of the Verdant Circle, an order with their own personal agenda that happens to occasionally coincide with keeping the peace and whatnot. She had a few drinks before leaving an invitation for me to find someone with a green armband to ask about her later. During this conversation, Grey seemed to have disappeared, and Holly decided to let loose and imbibe entirely too much drink. When I pointed out Grey's disappearance, Holly attempted to cast a spell to locate him and practically knocked over our table to run outside. I decided to go after her and keep her steady, and thankfully we found our friend simply sitting outside the tavern doing whatever it is he does when he idles. The most curious thing happened, however. Despite Grey sitting in front of us, and most definitely being a real, corporeal version of himself, Holly's spell indicated that Grey—or rather, some crude approximation of Grey—was a bit under a mile away. Grey conjectured that perhaps it was a goliath that can turn into animals given that the spell Holly used wasn't necessarily used to find people but to find beasts, and this was a good enough clue with regard to the werecreatures that Holly started walking toward it. I stayed with her to do my usual tricks to keep us graceful with an easy pace while Grey went inside to fetch Durzo. It during this absence of us three that Durzo decided to pick his fight. Grey being Grey and Durzo being Durzo, I believe, ended up kicked out and banned. I hope this does not extend to myself and Holly. In any case, we made our way to the strange creature that Holly was sensing in an alleyway. As we approached, something touched our minds to tell us to go away. Disgusting feeling, telepathy. Of course, Grey approached anyway, and a creature that was perhaps thirteen to fourteen feet tall with the vague shape of a thick humanoid and bulging eyes jumped over a fence to run away. Grey took to the air to pursue while I took the rooftops, and before it disappeared in a strange grey and white fizzle—almost like the thickest snowstorm of pepper you can imagine—we could make out a few other details: talons and cobalt blue skin. Holly attempted to cast the spell again to locate it and felt nothing, so it seemed like this was some strange teleportation rather than some kind of invisibility. Grey felt that this creature was not consistent with being a beast or plant, more like a monstrosity or aberration which wouldn't have been something that Holly's spell would be able to locate. The look of simultaneous awe and confusion on the goliath's face when he declared that Holly must have created a new spell! I admit that it is rather impressive. With that minor adventure out of the way and the night firmly settling in, we decided to look for the other inns recommended to us by the guard. The first one we looked for was Tasha's Chambers, and given the implication by the guard and the name of the establishment, Kathrynn dearest, I think you know exactly why Grey was insistent on going their first. Holly and I left Grey and Durzo at the ostentatious house of pleasure to go to the Bound Beauty, which also sounded like a brothel, but it seems that the name referred to a beautiful horse, thankfully. The Bound Beauty was not as lively as the Shady Pine, but it has its homey charm and is run by a lovely tabaxi woman. Holly seems to be soundly asleep and the proprietor seems to know exactly how to deal with drunks as she has left a large pitcher of water for when she wakes up. There is still some time before midnight, so I think I'm going to go explore a little bit, perhaps find Vice for some recreation. Holly, my friend, if I'm missing when you wake up and you are reading this, I assume that this was a mistake but I would be ever so appreciative if you and the rest could mount some kind of rescue. —Kay PS. Good news and bad news, Kay. Good news is that this excursion was not a mistake at all as I had stumbled upon some interesting things. Bad news is that the evening refreshment with Vice must be postponed indefinitely as she may or may not be involved with the murders. Asking about for the Verdant Circle lead me to a beautiful grove within the city itself, made from tall and impossibly dense trees that formed practical walls and tunnels. The paths were well-maintained and clear, and despite the opaque canopy, it was well-lit from copious glowing vines. I would have gotten lost in the paths had there not been signs, and I decided to follow ones that said "To the Heart" while affecting the mannerisms of an awestruck tourist. Eventually I came to a place where I heard voices, one of which was most definitely Vice's. She said some chilling words: "if we were more careful, this wouldn't have been noticed." Two others were with her, a male half-orc and female human. The man raised some protestations about not needing to be furtive, and the woman simply wanted to leave the city as they were done with whatever it was that they were trying to accomplish. However, Vice said something along the lines of having to keep up appearances, and that they "will accomplish what hasn't been accomplished before." At a certain point they started to leave, so I became invisible and followed them, but they no longer spoke with words. A less observant person might have thought that they were simply done with their conversation and wanted to walk in silence, but given their body language, it seemed as though they were still speaking to each other. I do not entirely understand why they would speak so freely in the heart of the forest when they didn't need to, and this uncertainty fills me with an incredible amount of suspicion. There is an act—this much is obvious—but there may even be an act underneath the act, though I do not know to what end. Once outside the grove, the trio met with two other green-clad folks, presumably the last two members of the Circle. One was a rail thin woman and the other was a green dragonborn in full plate. After a brief greeting, they all went their separate ways, with Vice going back to the Shady Pine, though I decided to back here to the Bound Beauty to ponder what I had just seen and not put myself in any additional danger. One more bit of good news: before uncovering this plot while I was loitering around the Shady Pine, I stumbled upon a shop called Ivan's Imaginative Ivan. Mr. Ivan Ister has quite the assortment of magical objects, and I bought myself a lovely toce that will allow me to breath in any environment. He even offered me a 50gp rebate once I bring my friends here tomorrow, which I fully intend to do.
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Apr 8, 2018 20:42:20 GMT -5
6 Kor, Year of the Lyre
Iohannes Ashthrone Green Dragonborn -> *Ghesh* Blond Woman -> *Sonal Verga*
Pale Woman -> Rein Hollowgrave
Today has been quite the affair, to say the least. We met a man who seems to have lost his entire memory save for the part of himself responsible for fighting and tracking by the name of Iohannes Ashthrone. He and Grey are currently holding hands while the rest of the party try to get uneasy sleep packed into a room meant only for two, and this is not the strangest or most trying occurrence today.
I suppose I should address Mr. Ashthrone before recounting the rest of the day's affairs. We found him on the side of the road, completely passed out and in the middle of being robbed by some urchins. Unfortunately the urchins ran off once they saw us--would that I could get some informants in this strange city--but it seems they left Mr. Ashtrone's material wealth mostly intact. We woke him to find that his memory seems to have been completely erased; he didn't even have memories of his childhood. He later showed that he still remembered how to fight, including such details as the command word to magically split his scimitar into twins. It seems he was a ranger of some sort in his past life, even able to blend into the shadows better than myself. Impressive, I admit.
While Mr. Ashthrone remembers nothing of his life prior to waking up in Opposh, when the name "Tanus" came up in conversation, Mr. Ashtrone expressed that there was something familiar there, though he could not say what. Grey suspects that Mr. Ashthrone may be one of the coerced werecreatures that we're hunting, though after some brief experimentation with a moonstone and the current magical investigation Grey is conducting through contact, it doesn't seem so clear. The stone was warm to Mr. Ashthrone, but there was no transformation. At the very least, Mr. Ashthrone seems genuinely willing to put his life on the line to help the folks around him. He may be some kind of sleeper agent, and so I will continue to keep him walking ahead of myself, but in the meantime, he has shown himself to be an effective sword.
Mr. Darkclaw came up in conversation with Mr. Ister, and we have a little more information about the man. It seems he and what appeared to be a mercenary band came through Opposh three days ago, though it seems obvious that this band of mercenaries actually consist of monsters rather than men. Mr. Darkclaw was described as well dressed and exceedingly polite--the type of criminal villain with airs that I am not unfamiliar with. The transaction between Mr. Darkclaw and Mr. Ister was nothing of note; it seems just similar business to our own prior to tonight in that it was just an exchange of money for some of Mr. Ister's magical crafts.
Our business with Mr. Ister, however, has evolved beyond simple mercantile concerns now. We came to visit him as we had a new prisoner: the blond human woman of the Verdant Circle named Sonal Verga. As you may have guessed, Kathrynn, the human visage is a disguise over her true self: a Slaad. The slaadi, I am told, are creatures of pure chaos from the plane called Limbo, a place I suppose of purer chaos. We learned the names of two others of the circle: Ghesh, the "dragonborn," and Rein Hollowgrave, the other "human." Ms. Hollowgrave, at least, will not be a problem as we managed to kill her in the same fight wherein I put Ms. Verga to sleep with that famous yellow powder. She almost got away by becoming invisible, but luck seemed to be on our side as a wild attack by Vito splashed enough water up to give me a target.
These two women were not the only slaadi we faced today, though they were the highest ranked. According to Mr. Ister, the slaad come in various colors denoting something of power and rank. The grunts are red and blue--we killed a pair of those earlier in the day a bit after we met Mr. Ashthrone--and the next level up are the green slaad as they can cast magic. The ranking five of the Verdant Circle are all presumably green, as both Ms Hollowgrave and Ms. Verga were of that color, and I can't imagine the "verdant" part of their name was an accident.
I had come to learn their names and snippets of their plans with some good old fashioned snooping. Our party, excluding Grey but including Mr. Ashthrone, decided to investigate the grove again; Grey had consigned himself to Ms. Tyfen's library for the day. As "luck" would have it, we ran into Vice at the grove, and I of course played the ever charming lady and took her arm to let her lead us on an impromptu tour. She plays the part perfectly as well—coy with me, familiar with the nicknames with the others—and if not for the previous night's findings, I would have found her perfectly drole.
Vice told us of the Circle's and the grove's history, and while it is unclear exactly how much we can trust her word, I sensed that there is at least some morsel of truth to her stories. The grove allegedly predates the city and was originally a shrine created by a coven of druids who fell under attack by some creatures. Mages offered asylum to them in exchange for maintaining the grove, and soon the city of Opposh sprouted around it. Eventually the druids died out, but to this day the Verdant Circle continues to protect and conserve the land.
Of note, Vice showed us to a lovely secluded pond containing a myriad of brightly colored red and blue tadpoles. Vice said that once they grew, they had the most beautiful songs. I asked if we could perhaps see them later tonight, just the two of us, but she said that she unfortunately had business to attend.
In any case, the sneaking around the woods to follow Vice, as well as a wonderfully useful potion of clairvoyance, gave me even more information. I spied on Vice as she spoke with Ghesh, though it seems that he is not privy to her plans either. Vice claimed business to attend to tonight that more or less involved drinking (also the mention of a place called Oloro's Oddities), very much counter to what she had said to me when she dismissed us, so it is unclear where her lies begin or end. I also would not be surprised if they do the old rogue trick of speaking for the public in one way but speaking truth in another. Unfortunately, once their conversation ended, Ghesh walked away and Vice disappeared in that salt-and-pepper snowstorm. Holly attempted to use magic to find her, but absolutely nothing happened this time; she supposes that maybe it was the alcohol that caused her to accidentally alter the spell. Iohannes was able to follow Ghesh's tracks for a while, but once at footbridge near the center of town, they disappeared seemingly midstride.
It was at this footbridge that we were attacked by the red and blue slaad. In daylight, they were more clear. They appeared almost like bulky frogs, one cerulean blue and the other bright scarlet. Instead of slick, smooth skin, however, they had claws and spines. Mr. Ashthrone and Holly were wounded rather severely during the fight, but we did manage to win. We unfortunately drew a crowd, but with some quick thinking, I was able to spin the fight to look like a performance so that we wouldn't cause a panic.
Sidenote: never allow a slaad to touch you! Mr. Ashthrone and Holly's wounds included not just plenty of blood, but also an infection of sorts that would have resulted in them turning into (or explosively birthing) new slaad. The magic ointment that Holly carries around was able to cure the disease after we found out about the nature from a certain propietor of the Leaky Vial. The half orc had attempted to massively overcharge us for the ointment, but Holly was able to identify it. A message outside his door says he may make for a good mark when we pass through again later.
Back to the topic of killing slaad rather than the opposite, we decided to investigate the grove again as Holly, after now more clearly seeing these froglike creatures, suspected that the tadpoles that Vice had shown us were the slaadi's larval form. Before we could trek into the woods, however, we saw strewn about dozens of green armbands. A nearby guard had said that several blokes wearing them had all stared into the sky, then in a panic threw off the bands. Given that as well as the prior attack, we suspected the worst and so instead of venturing blindly into the grove, I used a potion of clairvoyance to spy on the grove's central meeting area. Ms. Verga, Ms. Hollowgrave, Ghesh, and the half orc were there having a heated discussion.
The half orc seemed to be in the most panic, referring to a "she"--presumably Vice—having gone off to do something that was not part of the plan and that they all should leave immediately. Ms. Verga was the calmer of the two, mentioning that their own ranks had increased by three--knowing what I know now of slaad chest bursting, presumably the three murders prior to our arrival in the city--and that the pawns were likely being eaten. She also mentioned that they couldn't die. If they can't die, at the very least I can attest to the fact that they can be banished after being stabbed enough times.
Dearest Kathrynn, I must give you a reminder for the future: using clairvoyance robs you of your personal sight and hearing. It is therefore prudent to find a hiding space before using such a spell rather than asking your friends to hide afterward. Trust, but verify. It might surprise you that I bring this up because, while I was casting my senses elsewhere, Ms. Verga and Ms. Hollowgrave saw our group as they came out of the grove.
Alarmingly, Ms. Verga implied that she had seen me and my group around the town before, even though this was the first time I had officially met her acquaintance, and which is why we're couped up in Grey and Durzo's room even after dispatching both women without leaving them a chance to alert the others. Despite that accusation, she acted amicably enough, even seeming genuinely concerned about the incident involving the red and blue of their kind. I managed to trick them into thinking we were concerned adventurers who were merely witnesses, and that we should go together to the place of the fight to investigate. Needless to say, this eventually ended in a fight which we won.
For each slaad we kill--perhaps remove is a better word--they leave behind a mundane seeming gem. Grey says they are control gems though he doesn't have the exertise to manipulate them. So, with Ms. Verga comatose, we decided to bring her to Mr. Ister. The man seemed excited enough, and we got a good trove of items out of it. I admit that it makes me uneasy selling a sapient creature like a common trade good; I'd generally prefer just killing her outright than having her enslaved, however, with creatures as evil and conniving as this, it might be perhaps best to leave them in the hands of experts such as Mr. Ister.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on May 7, 2018 22:31:37 GMT -5
7 Kor, Year of the Lyre
*HABIT*
Tanis Darkclaw
Oda Deadlady ?Sonal Verga? ?Nash Valdceer? Half-orc slaad -> Karash Cordella the Silver Dragon
I have to wonder what Iohannes must be thinking right now. If he is telling the truth—and as far as I can tell, he is—for all intents and purposes, he is a newborn, having begun forming memories only yesterday. Shortly after awakening, he helped us destroy a coven of extraplanar creatures forged from literal chaos, and today, he joined us in lopping the head off the army of lycans that we had been chasing for the past few months. And meanwhile, during this fight, a friend of a friend destroyed the body of the army, because said friend of a friend happened to be a powerful silver dragon. And once all the dust had settled, an archfey appeared and presented him with a magical gauntlet, claiming that he had been expecting Mr. Ashthrone for some time.
In any case, regardless of what might be going through Mr. Ashthrone's mind, I myself have had quite the experience today. We had all piled into Grey and Durzo's room to keep ourselves defended; given that we had just killed four slaadi, two of which high ranking, we were preparing for some kind of counterattack. I took first watch, and while I'm not proud to say that I fell asleep, I attribute this to the Prince's power. I appeared in his realm again, though something was different this time. The verdant greens of the feywild seemed even more majestic, and the Prince himself even appeared in his full splendor. I would describe him as almost elven, though with a more ancient air, dressed in a cloak of purple, gold, and green—for lack of a better description—mold. Don't think of the disgusting fuzz you find underneath old washbins, Kathrynn; think more the lichen and moss crawling along an old tree.
Of course, when the Prince appears in my dreams, it's never just for a friendly visit. First, he told me that we were close to his domain, closer than we'd ever been before. At first, I wasn't sure if I should take it literally or metaphorically, but as he continued speaking, I realized it was the former. It seems that the Moonglade, among other things, contains within it a portal to the Prince's fey domain. For whatever reason, the werecreatures had decided to invade—the Prince had simply dismissed them as dogs running into the woods, and while I feel it is naive to simply accept that at face value, that's the best explanation I have at the moment. Regardless, he said we had three days before they opened the gateway, but of course, being the extremely competent adventuring party that we are, we managed to get there before sundown.
At sunup, we received a summons from Mr. Ister as he had some... interesting news: Ms. Verga was now officially his thrall. Around his neck he wore a green gem of the same nature as the one we found when we killed Ms. Hollowgrave. Grey was correct in his assessment: these gems were indeed a way to control the slaadi. Even with Mr. Ister using the gem, it seems Ms. Verga retained all her memories and personality, pricks and all, though she wasn't able to actually act outside various parameters set by Mr. Ister's command. I almost feel sorry for the woman; she had tried to kill us and everyone else, but her fate should be death, not enslavement. At least it doesn't seem like she's been robbed of her self. A small comfort.
At least with Ms. Verga bound like so, we were able to interrogate her with some confidence as Mr. Ister compelled her to speak the truth. The slaadi's purpose in Opposh was purely about procreation, and Ms. Verga confirmed that the three murders that happened before we arrived were indeed due to their spawn eating the victims from the inside, and she also confirmed that all three victims were strong mages so the resulting slaad were all green. Thankfully, slaad need time to mature so those three won't be a problem in the near future.
More alarmingly, however, was the implication that Vice had evolved from her green form to the more dangerous grey after eating all the slaad tadpoles they had been rearing within the grove. Ms. Verga conjectured that the reason all the lower level Verdant Circle soldiers had run was because they felt the transformation, and also that shortly afterward, Vice may have eaten them as well. However, as a creature of chaos, it seems that Vice didn't stay around and instead absconded, probably to Limbo.
The original plan seems to have been seeded by Vice, the eldest of the five, and out of sheer boredom they decided to focus all their shenanigans in one place. There was another goal of all five evolving into grey slaad, though it seems our presence may have interrupted that, as well as prompting Vice going rogue. After they all became grey, Ms. Verga said that there was in fact another step of evolution beyond that: becoming death slaad, or something along those lines. Given that even Mr. Ister didn't recognize that, I won't pretend to fully grasp the concept besides understanding that it would have not been ideal.
In any case, Vice's actions prompted the "dragonborn" Ghesh and "half orc" Kharash to both return to Limbo, as well. Ms. Verga doesn't have the highest opinion on either of them, calling Ghesh an asshole and Kharash an overthinking coward. With them and Vice back in Limbo, Ms. Hollowgrave dead, and Ms. Verga enthralled, it seems that the slaadi are gone from Opposh, at least for now.
Once finished with Ms. Verga, we began to strike yet another deal with Mr. Ister, this time about a fast way to the Moonglade. In the end, he had a spell that turned us all into fast moving clouds, giving us a discount on the service for giving him Ms. Verga's control gem. I have to say, Kathrynn, flying high in the sky is wonderful. Yes, there was that time you used Grey's winged boots, but you never flew above the buildings and you were focused on the heist. Flying much higher up, however, is liberating! Especially with a form so ethereal as a cloud.
Despite some poor wayfinding by Grey, we managed to reach the Moonglade in only a few hours. The tree at the center of the Moonglade was massive—similar in size to Mr. Thea's home, though in much worse condition. The forests around it were a familiar dead, and the great tree itself was nothing but dry, leafless branches and bark. Unlike the earlier portions of forest we traversed, there were unfortunate signs of life here: lycans and monstrosities. Thankfully, we were all clouds and blew right by them.
Inside the tree was enough room to comfortably shelter their warband, even with enough ventilation to allow for multiple bonfires. In the center, however, was a dais and stone gate, just like I had seen in my dreams. There we finally laid eyes on Tanis Darkclaw. I have to say, the half-orc knows how to dress and how to carry himself. Beside him was an elven woman who we'd later learn, post-mortem, was named Oda.
Once we had scouted all this, we decided to resume our physical forms outside the boundary of webbing that covered the area, but shortly after regaining our bodies, we received a message from Sparrow warning us that we were in a rather dangerous place. As if we didn't know that already! A moment later, Sparrow and Mr. Taun teleported to us and gave us a deeper explanation. This tree, as well as Mr. Thea's, are apparently part of a network seeded ages ago on the leylines, and if destroyed outright would cause the return of a banished deity—specifically the Crawler King, mentioned by the Second Magi War. I do not exactly know how Sparrow knew where we were, but after learning that, I am glad he stopped us as my plan had been to burn everything down with the lycans inside.
Thankfully, Mr. Taun had another proposal after shooting down ours: he could call in a favor with a silver dragon by the name of Cordella. The casualness with which he suggested this is indicative of something or another. Grey seems to be in on the secret, though definitely not from actually speaking to them given how Sparrow desperately keeps the goliath at arm's length. I wonder if perhaps it is from one of the books he read? It would not be terribly surprising to learn that they were adventurers powerful enough, or at least simply famous enough, to have works written about themselves.
We had a few hours of small talk before the dragon army could arrive. Apparently Goldblum is getting rather large; Sparrow said that the boy is eating thousands of gold's worth of food per month now! As for their other business, they've unfortunately not found Wyrden yet, and that seems to be occupying their own time. Would that they had finished that quest so we could call in favors like this all the time!
After the much needed moment of calm, we began our assault. The cloud magic was still in our veins for a few moments longer, so my party used that to infiltrate the tree, while the rest of our allies drew the main body of the army outside and sealed the doorway with a wall of ice, leaving us to face Mr. Darkclaw and Ms. Oda by themselves. It should come as no surprise that Mr. Darkclaw was a lycanthrope himself, specifically of the alpha variety. Much more bark to his bite, however. Despite being larger and faster than the average weres we had encountered so far, Iohannes and Holly were able to make fairly short work of him.
There is an interesting note from the fight between Iohannes and Mr. Darkclaw, however: Mr. Darkclaw called the ranger "traitor." From earlier in the day, Grey had also experimented with him and one of the moondisks, and despite the stone being cool to the touch, Iohannes described it as warm. Despite all this, he still seems fully earnest; I just do not look forward to what happens if his memories return to him and he loses his good intentions.
Ms. Oda, however, was something else entirely... at one point during the fight, I used the potion defuser to shower her in a mist of incarnation, and she simply smiled. When attacked, a cloud of yellow poison erupted from her skin, very much in the same vein as the incarnation itself. We currently have no way of knowing, since Durzo's fire elemental killed her, but I would not be surprised to learn about any strong connection she had to the Shadowfell. Whether that means she is an actual denizen invading our own plane, or if she just had extended contact or a patron or something along those lines, we cannot say. Thinking on it, I suppose the patron makes sense. The only clue we have was a note that Durzo found on the body signed by Mr. Valdceer that said, "Keep safe so I can return."
Speaking of the man himself, Mr. Valdceer did indeed return, though we killed him shortly thereafter. Before we could kill Ms. Oda, she was able to complete a ritual with the central bonfire, summoning Mr. Valdceer after a few moments. He was badly burned on the left side of his face, and his hair was disgustingly greasy—a major contrast to when we first met him and last saw him. It seems he was summoned before he was truly ready—presumably those three days to which the Prince alluded—and so he was again put down by Iohannes stabbing him through the throat.
We found another interesting item on the corpses: a skull that Grey identified as a reliquary of sorts that was able to hold memories. Despite our protestations, Grey managed to pull the memories out, but at least he saw something interesting: it was from Ms. Oda's eyes as she used some powerful resurrection magic to pull Mr. Valdceer's body together from what seemed to be the utter destruction that Mr. Godsgrace's party dealt.
Unfortunately, once we had killed all three of these supremely evil beings, another entity took over. It called itself Habit, and animated all the corpses and spoke through their mouths:
Neither Mr. Taun nor Sparrow seem to have heard of this deity, so while we've closed the door on some threads, it seems we've opened an even deeper well.
The good news is that after all this, I seem to have ingratiate myself with Cordella and gotten even more favor with the Prince. Cordella was easy; I simply had to ask if she wanted anything in return for the help rendered. She said no, but she said it was a bold gesture, offering a favor to one so powerful as a dragon.
The Prince himself came out of the unopened gate once all the dust was settled. He was pleased with the swiftness with which we carried out his request, and as a reward, he imbued yet more power into the items that Sovereign had passed to us on his behalf. My own rapier, Surprise, has become even more splendid, both as a weapon and as a piece of art. He even had something to give to Iohannes: a black gauntlet.
As an additional boon, the Prince imbued more power into my rod by fusing my arcane focus into it. This was for "bringing my friends to decay," as he so commanded months ago when we first met.
Once we had finished searching for any additional clues and loot, Sparrow teleported us back to Opposh to hidden venue that he and Mr. Taun actually frequented: the Lyrical Lass. Well-to-do bards from all around seemed to frequent this place, and it was a wonderful way to end such an eventful day, despite the... moment between Holly and Durzo. I had stepped out for a quick breath of fresh air and to speak with a rather handsome bard named Miles Kuresh, and when I came back, I found that Holly had drunkenly turned into a bear, scaring Durzo who in turn had unleashed the full fury of his fists on her. We all made it back to the Bound Beauty in one piece, though.
—Kay
8 Kor, Year of the Lyre
It should come as no surprise at this point that Iohannes is indeed a lycanthrope, though so far he hasn't lost control and torn us all to shreds. He doesn't seem to be able to revert back with his own will, but a cloak and one of our wraith hoods has hidden his werefox features well enough that we were able to get passage to Summer's Rest without any questions asked.
I suppose part of the lack of questions is that today, besides learning Iohannes' secret, we have also learned that "Holly" is short for "Malon Hollowyn." Yes, Kathrynn, the missing Ms. Hollowyn has been accompanying you for the past several months, and this never came up because "we never asked." I can respect that attitude.
In any case, as the massive search parties we've come across have implied, the Hollowyn family has a bit of clout on Summer's Rest. While not exactly royalty, Holly has described her family as the predominant trade magnates of the nation; and as far as I can assess, that's practically the same thing. After Sparrow teleported us to Ebon Hold (he had business there already, and we traded 10 days of Grey's silence for this service), we came across a beautiful barque flying the Hollowyn greens. Holly only had to ask and tell them her name, and Captain Typhus was beside himself making sure he could get us safe, comfortable passage to the island. He even gave us exclusive access to his cabin—surprisingly lush and spacious given the fact that we're on a sailing ship—so we've been able to safely keep Iohannes out of sight while we sail through the night.
We're going to Summer's Rest now not because we want to return Holly to her seemingly overprotective parents (I keep hearing people say "you know how your father is"), but because she had apparently received word in Appleton from that Mr. Edric Hollowyn (her brother) we met over there that her grandfather, Tamlin Hollowyn, was ill. She had not mentioned it until this morning because she felt that the situation with Mr. Valdceer and the lycanthropes was more important, but now that we seem to have tied some semblance of a bow on them and have no other pressing leads on Habit, she thought it would be a good time for her to set off to see her family again. Of course we wouldn't let her go alone.
Holly insists that there's no bad blood, and that she wasn't running away. It's more that, after druid college, she wanted to see the rest of the world before inheriting the business. And Holly being Holly, she just never thought to come back or write to her parents for the past 50 or 60 years.
We have plenty of business around Narin, but Summer's Rest seems to be the most pressing. I've procured a map of the continent, and it seems that once we're done on the island, we can charter a boat back to the mainland and find some minor port south of Bilgothh, and hopefully we can find more information on Mistress Breanna there. It's a bit of an inland hike, but after that, there is a main road between Bilgothh and Kohor, where we need to tell Queen Anhari about the lycans' removal, that runs along the Spine.
Fortunately and unfortunately, we have no more business in Opposh and I do not think we can go back soon. Besides the general chaos that was wrought with the slaad, I've also relieved the Leaky Vial of a non-insignificant amount of capital. Additionally, we can't bring Grey to Ebon Hold anymore; he decided that conjuring his fortress outside a heavily armed dwarven city was a good idea, and I had to pull quite a few tricks out to get them to leave us alone. Kay, if you ever go back, just make sure you aren't using a human disguise.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jul 31, 2018 19:16:23 GMT -5
9 Kor, Year of the Lyre
Daedira Hollowyn Rolan Hollowyn Tamlin Hollowyn Aust Firahel Sariel Firahel Marcus (Ebon Arrows) Gondo (Ebon Arrows) Sneaky Apprentice (Ebon Arrows) *Alistair Slain* *Vincent Evilarse* *Astora Evilarse* *Honey Evilarse* Annam Scarlet King
Today has been wonderful, not least because we have a new lead on Mistress Breanna. We made contact with a few members of Summer's Rest's black syndicate, the Ebon Arrows, in a warehouse off Main Street a few minutes walk from the docks. I was searching for an urchin to employ and instead spotted a hooded figure seemingly watching us. It turned out to be a firbolg by the name of Gondo, a rogue-in-training, though unfortunately I do not think he will amount to much in the arts of stealth. Too big; too clumsy. Kind (if simple) soul, at least, and it always does pay to have a bruiser around.
Seeing this man, at least, led us to his master, Marcus. Marcus seems to be the head of the right people in town, with some other unseen apprentice mentioned. For a rogue, he was rather blunt. He made no attempt with fake names or double speak, even acting annoyed and somewhat surprised when I exercised caution. He was also all too eager to tell us about the Ebon Arrows. Holly informed us that apparently these are the Hollowyn family's contractors for less scrupulous deeds, which is good to know. They're focused in Summer's Rest, but they do business everywhere along the coast from here to Kohor.
As we were perusing wares, Grey inquired into magical items and Marcus mentioned that there were buyers on the mainland who had taken most of that inventory. Any guesses as to who it may have been, Kathrynn? Mistress Breanna, though she went by the name Alexa when she set up the deal with Marcus. They first made contact in Bilgothh, corroborating what Mr. Norixius and Mr. Stonebreaker had said. It seems that the entire city is a den of crime and illicit activity; it's built underground with each successive layer featuring less and less palatable enterprises. The top layers have the fighting pits we had already heard about, but the deepest layers are rumored to even go all the way to the Underdark.
Marcus also told us of three others who seemed to be working for Mistress Breanna. Astora, a white dragonborn--not to be confused with Mr. Norixius, as Marcus did not recognize either of the pit fighters we met. There was also a dark skinned human named Vincent, along with a wind genasi whose name Marcus forgot--too busy ogling her so he simply referred to her as Honey.
This cohort has been buying various magic items, arms, armor, potions, and lots of copper and tin. Grey pointed out that copper and tin mix to form bronze, and also reminded us of the unfortunate young dragon we had saved that had all his copper scales torn off. Beyond those facts, no specific magic ritual came to mind that needed these metals as components. Marcus mentioned that he had walked in on a conversation about tunnelling, but that was about it.
We've arranged to be notified via messaging scroll for the next shipment. Marcus and company are given about three to four days notice approximately every three weeks that Mistress Breanna is making a purchase, though somewhat complicating is that the exchanges have occurred seemingly in random coastal locations everywhere between here and Kohor. Bilgothh seems important, but that is the only port of note--Marcus said some of the places barely even qualified for the name. The last shipment they made went to Crabber's Home three days ago and was picked up by Vincent.
Most of this knowledge was bought with a simple bribe, but for notification of the next delivery, Marcus asked us a bit more. He's allegedly lost around 5.000 gold to a man by the name of Alistair Slain, one of the more well-known bookies in Bilgothh's gambling ring. He's assumed, quite correctly, that we'll be on our way to the city in the near future, and so he's asked that we get his money back and/or we make the man suffer. Marcus did not particularly care whether the man lived or died. Given Mr. Slain's position in a less scrupulous society, I have a number of ways I think we can deal with him, though of course I will need to do some investigation when we get there. Otherwise it doesn't sound like a terribly difficult job.
Marcus, sleaze that he is, also asked that we "bring him Honey" as payment for the messaging scroll. Grey and I have plans to subvert his request--he thinks of getting literal honey since that's obviously not her name, I'm thinking of just bringing back the head--so we'll see how that all turns out.
Mistress Breanna's activities and a way to get to her were certainly the highlight of my day, but Kathrynn, I know you also are dying to know how things went with the Hollowyns. Firstly, their estate is incredible. This guest room I'm in has about the same amount of square footage as our entire home in Kohor.
At first glance, I could hardly believe why Holly would just choose to leave all this splendor. We were brought into town in a private carriage the size of my bedroom, Kathrynn! The parades that brought us in, I could do without, however. Captain Typhus--I should say Admiral, now that he brought Ms. Malon Hollowyn home and will apparently be collecting a promotion as reward--had signalled that the prodigal daughter was returning with a flag, and so the Hollowyn's greeted us all with a ludicrous amount of fanfare. A note, Kay, that you've squared out your jaw and you've gone with the black hair for this trip.
The family dynamic itself is interesting, and here is where I start to understand Holly's desire to live in the middle of the forest. Edric we already know was a reserved boy. Awkward, but at least it's clear that he cares for his sister. Their father, Mr. Rolan Hollowyn, seems to be responsible for his children's taciturn personalities, though he seemed colder, with eyes primarily on the business, then as a distant second his family.
Lady Daedira Hollowyn, on the other hand, is somewhat more... involved. She is not wild with emotion and gesticulation, mind you, but she wears her disdain a bit more plainly. My first indication of the kind of woman she is was by a word of warning. Edric apparently had to talk her down from inviting every mover and shaker on Summer's Rest for dinner tonight. When I finally met her acquaintance, it was fairly obvious that she has a distaste for mixed elven races. She had the good graces to keep the words inside her, but she was not so skilled at keeping the frown from her lips. Of course, Kathrynn, I wore a pantsuit of the style growing in popularity in human cities with a dab of their fragrance as well. I held Holly's hand in front of Lady Hollowyn, and I almost wish I could freeze the woman's face to frame it.
The family is not without its positivity, at least. The youngest goes by Adria, and she is brimming with the energy that only a little girl can muster. Grey did the usual trick of pulling a frog from his hat, much to Lady Hollowyn's dismay but to Adria's pure, unbridled delight. I believe she immediately killed the frog while running, though. It is good that Grey's magic animals disappear in a puff rather than a mess.
There was another guest beyond family at tonight's dinner: Ms. Sariel Firahel, the newly appointed Grand Magister of Summer's Rest. Notable is that her twin, Aust Firahel, is the Grand Magus of the local vault. Also yes, there is a vault here, though we haven't had a chance to visit it yet. In any case, ignoring the nepotism, Ms. Firahel and Edric seem to get along well, and I can't imagine Edric interacting amicably with anyone who wasn't speaking business with him. I would describe their interaction as friendly in the business sense, not quite the biblical sense, though I have not yet ruled out the possibility.
To be honest, despite not being part of the family and a seeming intrusion of business into pleasure, I was quite glad for Ms. Firahel's presence. Mr. Hollowyn spoke rarely, and when he did, there was entirely too much gravitas behind each word. Frankly, I do not care for Lady Hollowyn, bigot that she is—though at least she was more pleasant in the presence of her husband. At least the jests with Holly in spite of the matron were amusing. Grey and Adria could have been playful and charming, but it was clear that Grey was trying (and failing) to act his best. Bless his heart, but having to walk him through dining etiquette was more stressful than enjoyable, especially under Mr. Hollowyn's gaze.
At least Ms. Firahel got Edric somewhat more talkative, and she herself was looser lipped with the local news. Business in Summer's Rest has been good, especially including the deals with Kohor and surrounding cities that Edric has visited. Mr. Hollowyn even seemed to show a modicum of pride at the accomplishments of his son! With all this money flowing in, Mr. Hollowyn admitted the plan was to expand the city further inland. I did not ask about any native displacement as Ms. Firahel and the Hollowyns were so casual about this action, but I am curious.
After an exactly appropriate amount of time, dinner came to an end. Edric said went "better than expected," which I think I agree with, all things considered. With that, we were invited to see Mr. Tamlin Hollowyn, the man that brought us here in the first place. He is a kind, talkative man that shows true affection and hospitality, even though he is clearly waiting to die.
From dinner, we were allowed an hour of rest before heading out to a festival being held in the streets of Summer's Rest. Thankfully this was an activity open to all, not simply high society. While I enjoy weaving myself through machinations of the moneyed, it is good to get out of there regularly to keep a level head. Gods know how wrapped up I can get when I end up playing their game for weeks on end.
The festival itself was as grand as one would imagine given how much fanfare was given Holly's arrival. Games, rides, performers, shops, all with entirely too much coin. Interestingly, while looking for urchins and the otherwise impoverished to gather some information, I could not anyone besides the insane man by the docks (more on him later, Kathrynn, be patient), as well as our new friend Gondo. Either this city truly provides (as if) or there is something else going on.
In any event, the festival was enjoyable. Grey, with his singular focus, spent a fair amount of copper and a fairer amount of time playing carnival games that were obviously rigged against him, though I could not figure out the exact mechanisms. I do know charlatans when I see them, though, so I am almost completely positive that there was more underfoot. Despite the shenanigans, Grey and Iohannes managed to win some trinkets. I'm now in possession of a plush woodchuck.
Besides the woodchuck, I purchased a Wand of Mending from Alanis Beravan's Mystic Menagerie, a wooden trinket, and more interestingly, I also received a prophecy. I stumbled upon a fortune teller's tent and an elven woman, seemingly blind with a cloth over her eyes, asked for a drop of blood and Iohannes, bless his soul, actually agreed. The fortune teller, Ivara, then began breathing out blue smoke and chanted some verse:
I asked another carnival attendant whether Ivara did this with all her patrons, and the man simply said that she has her moments. I'm almost inclined to believe that this is one of them given our later run in with the crazed man. She apparently is of the Golden Grove temple, so I might be able to find out more information there.
Of course, it wouldn't be a day with only a single foreboding prophecy. We came across an insane man at the docks who forced a book titled Seven Seals Seven Rings into Holly's hands. He was unnervingly erratic with his movements, though he eventually came to a rest at the end of one of the piers, content with an unblinking stare over the water while rambling. I didn't quite catch everything he said, but it seems he was just repeating the words within the book. The book itself, as the name implies, has quite a motif around the number seven, and alludes to children, brides, and a certain Scarlet King. We asked where he got the book, and he said that a certain Annam—yes, Kathrynn, your astute reading is not wasted—inspired him to write it.
Grey speculated that there may be some connection to the third magi war. The book also mentioned Ostoria, an old kingdom of giants, coming back, and this also seems to tie in with what Ivara said about the victors of fire, frost, and storm. A line in the book, "the Prince heralds the king" was also quite interesting. Who might the prince be? I do not think it to be my prince. Perhaps Vecna's Herald, the one and only Mr. Valdceer?
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Aug 25, 2018 13:59:10 GMT -5
10 Kor, Year of the Lyre
Allanii
Gael Novthora
Nylian Novthora
Dell the Apprentice
If you don't mind, Kathrynn, I'd prefer to not recount most of today's events, and I'm sure you would rather not remember them. Most of the plot we discovered and ended today does not deserve a spot in any historical record. Mr. Fariel has reduced the site we have just visited to a crater, and we've removed the outside conspirator--the guard captain, Gael Novthora, of all people--so I believe we've mostly wrapped up these harrowing events. We'll need to interrogate the corpse at Ms. Allanii's temple to ensure there's no one else, but at least for now, Summer's Rest is "safe," so recounting the details of this adventure is no longer necessary for any follow up. I will summarize other bits of information that I've learned, of course, but forgive the brevity as my mind tries to forget other things.
The servants that attend to us guests in the morning at the Hollowyn estate are named Dara and Verus. Verus is an older elf, having served the family for years, and is the embodiment of a professional. Not to say that Dara is not--she is just younger and newer to the household, and her emotions were showing a bit more freely even though she was able to keep her composure and words in check.
Grey has come back to the party after his night with Iohannes sporting an orange pseudodragon on his shoulder. The creature seems intelligent, capable of understanding our words and broadcasting emotions into our minds. He has not taken on a name, yet, however.
It is unnerving how devoted the citizens of this city are to the Hollowyn family, yet how uncaring they are for the rest. Suffice to say the events to which I alluded earlier are the cause of not finding a single urchin within the city to establish any kind of information network. It took Adria's disappearance to mobilize everyone, though that may be due to Captain Novthora's influence as well. Kay, Adria may be scarred from today, so perhaps you should buy her something for comfort. Perhaps a small crossbow?
Speaking of Captain Novthora, the only information Mr. Hollowyn could give us was that the late guard captain was a "know-nothing grunt" that had worked his way to the top over the past few years. Gods know how long he's been plotting, but at least he is now dead. Incarnation of Rebirth, ironically, is the best cure for societal ailments such as he.
Of my companions, Holly's staff continues to be quite the powerhouse of arcane nature magics. I am thankful once again that we were friends before she obtained the item. Additionally, it seems Iohannes' twin scimitar can also light itself on fire after a bit of blood sacrifice from the wielder. He was as surprised--perhaps even more so to the point of distress--as we were by this revelation. I am sure he is more curious than I of his own background, yet we must find out more.
This is all I particularly feel to recount today.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Sept 29, 2018 19:43:08 GMT -5
11 Kor, Year of the Lyre
*Duri of the Bear* *The Voice Below* *The Twice Slain God* Vidanya Naal Amakiir Velmunn Tiff Onyx Orevadel Gonora Novthora
Kathrynn, dearest, you'll be pleased to learn that I've obtained a lovely new dress, courtesy of the Hollowyn estate. No, I did not steal it--Holly gave me explicit permission to keep it. It's a lovely gown predominantly orange with extremely fine embroidery and an interesting, angular motif. Quite modern, I would say. I was requested to wear this to an unnecessarily secretive meeting. Allegedly there was to be a grand amount of pomp to celebrate our victory over Mr. Novthora, but Edric apparently convinced Mr. Hollowyn to the complete opposite with our congratulatory ceremony now a clandestine meeting inside a warehouse.
I can't exactly say where the warehouse was, besides that it was within the city, as they took us in a windowless carriage and wound down seemingly random streets. The meeting itself featured Ms. Firahel, Mr. Hollowyn, Mr. Firahel, and the Ranger General, Naal Amakiir. Mr. Amakiir is a blunt man, to say the least. We were offered boons from everyone--Mr. Hollowyn gave us free passage on any Hollowyn ship, Mr. Firahel gave us permanent access to the Emerald Vault, Ms. Firahel gave us a general boon we could ask for at a later time--but the Ranger General only said he wouldn't kill us. I suppose that's good enough.
Unfortunately, the rest of the day's events were a spot more grim. Breakfast was pleasant though filled with serious conversation. Apparently my friends have been holding some information away! Not that I can blame them, as I do the same. Grey had opened up the box received from Grandmother Morgan and a shining golden tattoo appeared on his hand. The image is of an eye with a crescent moon, and Grey has one year to ask it any question and receive the absolute truth. Holly's ring of spell storing holds a spell that allows her to do something similar, though it seems that arcane knowledge is more focused on historic figures and the like.
Grey and Iohannes claim to have met the dragon god Bahamut, which I scarcely believe. It is even more difficult to believe that a god would come down and offer some help, though at least it was in the form of cryptic and vague words. Bahamut claims that all of us, Naia included, are important as far as the fates are concerned, which is lovely. Additionally, there are three calamities that are coming, though only two of which we can fully prevent: Tiamat and Wyrden rallying the giants, the Voice Below, and the Twice Slain God. It's unclear who or what or how Habit fits with these three calamities. I shudder to consider the possibility that Habit is above these three rather than one of these three.
After our meal, Grey, Holly, and I went to the temple of Nyralis Analor, the elven god of healing, The temple itself was at least beautiful, set above the tree canopy and generously decorated with stained glass. We gave a donation of 400 gold to Alanii, and in exchange, she let us speak with the dead foes that Grey had been collecting in his bag.
Gael Novthora was difficult, as expected, but he mentioned that the entire Novthora line was helping their aspiring lich ancestor. When asked if there was currently living that was helping he said no, but he also mentioned a certain Gonora Novthora. We'll need to investigate this person while we're in town to make sure this threat is completely over.
Oda had some interesting answers, though unfortunately not terribly helpful in the grand scheme of things. She claims that she and Mr. Valdceer were not "allies", but she also said that she was helping him because "one always helps the one they love." It's unclear whether that person is Ms. Valdceer or the Twice Slain God. The memory stored in the skull was simply so she had a record of how she performed the resurrection ritual.
Mr. Valdceer said that it could be argued that he serves all three gods, and he claimed that there was no intention of going through the portal to the Prince's domain. Holly simply asked if he would like to do a villain monologue, and Mr. Valdceer obliged, telling us that he had finished doing his part and the recruiting was finished. Specifically, he was recruiting the living, the dead, mercenaries, and goliaths. Grey went a little personal and used the last question to ask why he was set free, and Mr. Valdceer mocked us, saying that he enjoyed the sport.
Tanis claims that he didn't know the Prince, even though they were using the portal. It is unclear whether he was just going somewhere at random or if the portal actually doesn't go to the Prince's domain. We asked what Breanna was helping with, and he referred to the Great Experiment, which seems to have been an operation to expand the lycan species. Iohannes was the first of the fox breed. Funnily enough, much of the grudge seems to come form the fact that Iohannes stole Tanis' cloak. Less funnily, Tanis clarified that the dwarf woman who had been helping him and Breanna was indeed Durzo's sister, Duri.
We had to break the news to Durzo afterward, unfortunate in timing since he had just gotten into a fight for no reason and lost. His first response to us telling him the news was when we saw her, he wanted to take her alone. More broadly, he told us a little more of his sister. Before our encounter with Duri the few weeks back, Durzo hadn't actually seen her for 15 or so years. They grew up together, but after an unfortunate incident where a bear killed their cousin, Durzo was exiled from the family while Duri remained as the heir. As far as what Duri is doing now, all we know is that she was headed north for "a job" which could mean either the family business of mercenary work or work for one of the three gods.
Durzo immediately doubted Duri's words that the family was ok, and fortunately, Holly revealed that she recently learned to scry so we went about verifying. Durzo's father was indeed dead, and seems to have been buried with honors, so it's good that Holly didn't find his body in a ditch. We will check on more family members tomorrow once Holly is recharged.
The end of the day, after our meeting with the powers of Summer's Rest, was even more somber than speaking with the dead. Grey had purchased some foul smelling liquor from Marcus after failing to get bloodwine (apparently this thing he's been constantly asking for is made with ritually killed sentients!) and set up pyres on the shore. He burned toys and mannequin parts in effigy as final respects to all those children killed in the Imaginarium.
Of course, there was a bit more that happened after that quiet event. Iohannes revealed that his silver raven figurine is actually a messenger to some Power. He asked the Power what she wanted with him, and the response was a cryptic "I have what I want."
Some final notes, Kay: there is a jewelry shop with no cant markings, so be wary of that one. Marcus also mentioned that the leader of the Ebon Arrows is named Vidanya, and she is also the primary contact with the Hollowyns. We noticed one of the Hollowyn servants walking down the street as we left Marcus' warehouse, though she did not make any obvious move toward the place. I did notice that her gait was more steady and confident than what we'd seen in the manor, though I decided that there was no point in following. Whether she's Vidanya or if she was just doing night errands is more of a curiosity at this point as I feel like we have enough of an understanding with the Ebon Arrows to stay unaccosted.
—Kay
|
|
|
Post by ch00beh on Jan 22, 2019 11:47:17 GMT -5
12 Kor, Year of the Lyre
The Voice Below -> Torog
Grand news, Kay! We have some clarity regarding our impending calamities, or at least as much clarity as we can get without seeing the Powers themselves. Grand Archivist Orevadal and Grey have been rather productive in the Vault today, and taking a peek at Grey's extensive list of research topics, it's not hard to see why. As foolish as the goliath can be, he is exceedingly meticulous when it comes to seeking knowledge.
Of the calamities we know most about—Tiamat returning with an army of dragons and giants—Grey learned more of Ostoria. It was the giant empire that fell over 13,000 years ago under the rule of Elaris the Golden Storm. The fall of its capital, Vaneheim, is regarded as the beginning of the end 15,000 years ago, as the next 2,000 years were simply minor warlords squabbling for power over the pieces. The empire may even predate the dragons as it occured during the Dawntimes. Grey also learned of another city, Skiergard, which lies in the northern part of the worldspine and was the last known location of a giant stronghold that was never claimed by us smallfolk.
The Voice Below is mentioned extensively in conjunction with the Spider Queen Lolth, goddess of Drow. A reminder that one of the first people we encountered with Mr. Valdceer was a drow man. There are then mentions of Torog, though it's unclear exactly what the relationship is besides him destroying the drow city of Erenira. It seems that the destruction was simply to prove a point—perhaps to Lolth, perhaps to the drow—that the drow presence was something that Torog tolerated and allowed. Besides his malice and claiming the Underdark as his own, Torog is known as the patron of jailers and the Chained God. He has been trapped since the Dawn War and can be allegedly killed by particularly epic adventurers.
We found less regarding the Twice Slain God, but we now know there is a solid connection to the Raven Queen. Specifically, the Twice Slain God is fixated on usurping the Raven Queen's power over the balance between life and death. The Raven Queen is somewhat better documented as well: she was once a mortal elf that was raised to status of godhood by slaying another—perhaps the Twice Slain God?—and she has powerful followers known as Shadar Kai that retreated to the shadowfell. Most contemporary, credible interactions with her are lunatic ramblings, so her disposition is an unknown, but all accounts seem to agree that she is a collector of sorts. I do wonder if Iohannes' silver raven is communicating with her. It seems rather on-the-nose, but Iohannes does suspect that she has his memories as well.
Mr. Orevadal was also able to help me read some information about the feywild, and Grey even had some notes to cross reference once I told him that the source of my magic stems from the Prince. Dearest Kathrynn, do you remember Lady Talla? The one who allegedly created the talking door behind which the Prince left our party various weapons? Apparently she retired to the feywild.
The feywild itself is an interesting place. The book that Mr. Orevadal procured for me, On the Nature of the Unnatural by Alhera Daekian, asserts that the feywild is almost like a blueprint realm of our prime material plane in that it's what our world would look like without mortality. It is the ancestral home of the elves, who used to be fully immortal (I can only imagine what that might be like!), and a place where the flora is just as, if not more, dangerous than the fauna. The feywild is ruled by two courts: the Seelie and the Unseelie. The former tend to be more good natured than the latter, but the latter tend to be more about balance. Though the book mentioned no names of courtiers, I imagine the Prince must be of the Unseelie court as his domain is about using decay to bring new life.
Travelling to the feywild is sometimes random, with travellers thinking they walk down an overgrown forest path and ending up trapped in the feywild for years. There are mentions of greenish portals for more purposeful travel, and there are three known portals: Toravi Grove, the Spring of Solace, and Ahnkarat. More have been known to open whenever there is a whim. The portal within the tree where we fought Mr. Vadlceer was greenish in color, but it did not match any of the known places in this book.
A final note: the orange pseudodragon has taken the name Rhogar. The little bean is still somewhat standoffish, but I would be too if Grey was the first mind I connected with after being born.
—Kay
13 Kor, Year of the Lyre
Marcus woke me today with news that Mistress Breanna is ahead of schedule and that she is expecting a shipment in four days at Crabber's Home. Marcus and his crew will be leaving at midnight in two days time with a load of ore. With a good ship we can get there in a day or so ahead of them and prepare. The deal will likely go down at the docks themselves, though we'll need to figure out how to go unnoticed—Crabber's Home is a small village where everyone knows each other's face.
Given the suspiciously accelerated timeline, we spoke with Edric to see if he could vouch for Marcus. The Ebon Arrows have a standing contract with the Hollowyns to double any offer to double cross them, though it hasn't needed to be done since before even Marcus and Vidanya came about. The last incident was with the Chained Cartel, who Edric described as awful low lifes who deal with the worst kinds of brutal crimes. It seems that the Ebon Arrows are kept in line with an actual blood oath to act in the best interest of money, which the family has in droves, and all violators have vanished.
Edric also called an introduction to Vidanya Foestalker herself at my request. Ms. Foestalker, if it turns out you can read sylvan, apologies for writing this down—you must understand the nature of understanding your friends better than your foes. It turns out she is the elven woman who helps with serving us breakfast. A fine actress, if I might say so! I had suspected something was off about her when Adria went missing, though her genuine concern for the child threw me off of further scrutinizing her.
Ms. Foestalker does not know much about Mistress Breanna, and in fact knows her as Alexa. She did, however, offer as much help and information as she could. She gave me a black arrowhead pin to show my allegiance to the Ebon Arrows if we need their aid in Bilgothh. She also mentioned that about three miles out of Crabber's Home there is a cliff and woods where we can pull a small skiff into. Regarding the Chained Cartel, she said they were fairly easy to spot due to their shackle tattoos. As a final note, she told me to stop giving Marcus so much coin as it was all going to his head. I know I should follow that directive, and I said that I would, but quite frankly having the gnome in an exceedingly agreeable mood toward me is rather nice.
Dearest Kathrynn, I'm sure you know what comes next: trust but verify. Iohannes and I scouted the docks to see what else was being delivered by Marcus. Unfortunately, even with his incredible stealth, Iohannes was caught by the even more perceptive rogues operating the ship before verifying the cargo. They followed us as we tried to make our escape, even going so far as to issue a signal of three shrill whistles to make the guards turn away, so I ended up having to confront them. After simply taking a seat on a bench and waving to one of their rooftop scouts, a human man, perhaps 35-40 in age, in a well-tailored outfit and chain of gold came to speak with me. Thankfully I was able to clear up the confusion without a fight and they simply walked away.
In other news, Grey finally came back from the vault after a night there with some fun information regarding the Triad in that Mr. Taun is in fact the silver dragon of that group. It makes sense for someone so gregarious to be a dragon, so I'm not terribly surprised. He also found some information about a cult known as the Children of the Crimson Sky which historically had tried to get Tiamat and Torog out of their respective prisons during the Third Magi War. He suspects that Mistress Breanna may be working for them, or for some descendant group of theirs. Unfortunately I could not recall her mentioning any of that during our training days. About the wars, The Third War was about stopping gods, and was stopped by the Triad 1,850 years ago. The Second War was about stealing magic from everyone and was stopped by the Three Kings—the elven, human, and tiefling kings—about 4,000 years ago. Not much is known about the First Magi War as it happened 8,000 years ago.
Most disturbingly, Grey showed us a chromatic die that he found after Mr. Valdceer destroyed his herd. I was not able to alter its roll, no matter how hard I tried, and I checked with a coin and another die to make sure I hadn't lost it. He asked about odd items that we may have found in the past, and I took out Mr. Crabbyface. Grey's normally accurate identification magic only was able to show that it was crawling east to something, though it was unclear what. Eastward only lies a perpetual maelstrom that only genasi like Naiya have historically been able to navigate.
Anyway, it seems this will be our last evening in Summer's Rest, so I am going to take an exceedingly long bath and luxuriate in this bed one last time. It will be missed.
—Kay
14 Kor, Year of the Lyre
Captain Gregnar *Lysander Passedwind* Honey -> *Linsoramine Passedwind* Dorravor Kreel Osmund Eck Thomas the Mercenary
Regrettably, dearest Kathrynn, infiltration of Crabber's Home did not go as expected, but at least I am still alive to write this all down. There are two unfortunate souls who cannot say the same, and I do promise to avenge them once we get to Bilgotth.
When we arrived at Crabber's Home, a convoy of four wagons and an entire troop of mercenaries had already set themselves up at the local tavern. As Iohannes was the only one of our party that Mistress Breanna hadn't seen, I disguised him as a vagabond so he could get closer to town and tell us what we were dealing with. It turned out the wagons were lightly guarded as most were inside, along with their leaders: a pair of air genasi twins named Lysander (Lin) and Linsoramine (Linsey). Conversation indicated that they were doing a delivery to Bilgothh for "the Cartel"—presumably the Chained Cartel.
Once we knew it was only the guard outside, Holly, Grey, and I went to scout the village. Under an invisibility spell, I went to the wagons and found quite a good haul inside! One chest filled to the brim with gold, one chest filled to the brim with a spell that temporarily turns anything inside it into gold, and a closet full of expensive clothes. Around the wagons, looked like they were mostly personnel transports; there was nothing else big inside the chests, and it didn't look like there were signs of them carrying anything heavy out.
As a contingency, I pocketed some of the gold and slipped a few more coins in a guard's pocket. Unfortunately, the guard felt it and called for high alert, and more unfortunately, the genasi twins are a cruel pair. A stableboy ended up as scapegoat, and what was supposed to be an easy whipping with the entire village forced into attendance very quickly escalated into Lysander cutting the boy's hand off. The reaction of the crowd when this happened was the worst part—not a peep. The twins, or whoever the Cartel sends, must do this often. Despicable.
The escalation was caused only because Grey tried to buy the boy's peace for the 50g that had been stolen. Grey obviously retaliated, prompting the twins to signal for the mercenaries to kill all the villagers. Imagine being so twisted! Needless to say full combat broke out that two of the locals did not survive. We hurt the twins and scattered (or killed) the mercenaries handily enough (though for future reference, Kay, air genasi don't breathe, so mind your poisons), though they all disappeared without a trace using what Grey identified as a thunderstep spell.
I spoke to the town elder as we cleaned up. He apparently knew about the decoy chest—again, it seems the Cartel make the rounds here—and explained how it works: items placed into the chest are transmuted into gold then if they leave a certain radius, they revert back. Grey inspected further and determined the spell would last anywhere from 10 minutes to 2 hours once an item was removed.
In any case, I advised the the elder to take the remaining townsfolk and leave as the Cartel would likely retaliate once the twins gave them news. After a brief argument with Grey, we left them 10,000 gold. Given the problems they had before them, I would have liked to leave the entire chest but Grey insisted we could put much of it to use trying to stop the three calamities. It left us with an overly abundant 40,000 spread between myself, Grey, and Holly.
One of the fallen mercenaries wasn't dead, and I took him for questioning. His name is Thomas. Dumb, pliable fellow. He's absolutely terrified of the twins, saying that Lysander had a temper and liked to test his magic weapons on live targets. He was even more scared of Linsoramine. The twins are not originally from Bilgothh; they had arrived about eight months ago and have acted mostly as errand runners.
The gold in the wagons were meant for the Ebon Arrows' supply of copper and tin, as expected. Thomas only knew the shipment was supposed to go back to Bilgothh but not to whom. Whoever it was, they were located deep within the tunnels underneath the city, past the gambling caves and fighting pits, possibly even closer to the underdark itself.
I asked if Thomas had heard of Vincent or Astora or "Alexa," and bless this boy that he had. They all answered to Breanna, as expected. Thomas did a pick up directly for Vincent before and didn't think he was too bad of a man, and in fact was more quiet and bookish. Perhaps a wizard? Thomas hadn't been deeper down the tunnels as gladiators with "fancy golden necklaces"—just like our old friends Mr. Norixius and Mr. Stonebreaker—would take things further down.
A bit more about the Chained Cartel, well: they run all the pit fighting and gambling, and Bilgothh itself belongs to them. A human with greasy hair and a penchant for sleeveless shirts by the name of Eck is their leader. Two other notables are Osumand and Dorravor Kreel. Osmand is a big boy and responsible for the dirty work. Mr. Kreel is a triton—one of those underwater folk—and does the talking.
Of Torog or the Voice Below or the Chained God, Thomas had never heard. After this I left Thomas tied up in an abandoned house.
It's well past midnight, and Marcus' ship has not shown, which is worrying. I'll have to keep watch for the night as I need to clear up what happened here.
—Kay
15 Kor, Year of the Lyre
My dearest Kathrynn, it seems that Divad, Mr. Norixius, and Mr. Stonebreaker live, and they bring with them great news: The fortress of Great Gate has fallen, their leader mysteriously dead from poison, and the thugs who lived their now working for our intrepid triumvirate as an entire warband. It seems that the former gladiators' new mission is to destroy Bilgothh. They want to break the wheel that was their life of slavery and fighting, and I wholeheartedly agree with this goal. In some sense a fortune, and some sense misfortune, they are not putting the city under siege now. In fact they were on their way to gather more troops at the Worldspine. The attack will happen more in the span of years than weeks.
Besides the merry band dropping a tree in front of our new wagon, the only notable event is that my conversation with Marcus went well. I told him the truth: we simply intervened in those thugs' power trip through a defenseless village. Marcus seemed to accept this readily enough, and didn't seem the slightest perturbed that the deal was not going through. Perhaps it was a welcome relaxation after having had to fight off wyverns—their reason for being late.
Alas, Kathrynn, I believe it is time to sleep, and not on a wonderful, feather mattress. Durzo and the other dwarves are singing the Tale of Durin by the campfire, and it is a lovely hum to close one's eyes.
—Kay
|
|