Sir Constantine Godalming |
"They poke you with words of hate and harm your heart friend Takka, let them not be your full measure, I try and make the world understand that when pricked and made to bleed it harms the soul; goads and harries a mans path towards evil. Whether that man be like me or one like you. Thus making the redemption I have dedicated myself to so much the harder. It is just their fear and ignorance which speaks such hate."
Douglas Muir 406 |
"I mean no disrespect, Master Quednys, but I am curious: You do not speak with the Marquis? Why impose that artificial limitation on our efforts at such a threshold, instead of another?"
He pretty much already explained himself. You need to make a DC 15 Diplomacy check now, or he's going to quite lose his temper.
Douglas Muir 406 |
Welp, looks like Osei's course of studies will be interrupted for a while -- at a minimum, until Master Quednys cools down. Which might take some time; he's not used to wet-nosed apprentices asking him to explain himself. Meanwhile, you'll have to retreat as best you can, ears burning (and eyebrows possibly literally smoldering, if Quednys really gets going).
In other news,
The Marquis will be *delighted* to meet with you! He will be escorting his daughter to the Armasse celebration. Come, walk with him, and perhaps we can have a nice cup of tea.
Haruka Shiraboshi |
Haruka interposes herself between Laurine and the priest
to Laurine the miko says "Maybe your right and we should try again elsewhere"
she sights and adds, in a disappointed tone, directed at the priest"and I thought Sarenrae teaches pacience and empathy"
Haruka will try to leaf if the priest doesn't stop his spellcasting and appologises/acts in a way that shows he thinks he made an error of judgement
sense motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27
Knowlede(religion): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 what would be a good temple to try next (healing domain and values mercy/redemption)
Douglas Muir 406 |
1d100 ⇒ 40
The priest gestures, and a glowing golden scimitar appears in the air before you. "I cannot allow you to leave! This woman clearly needs to be exorcised, and you may have been infected as well. Stay!"
Sarenrae is actually a perfectly nice deity -- you just got a priest who's unusually jumpy. Possibly the poor fellow has been fighting demons and is suffering from PTSD. On the other hand, it's also possible that he's just a complete jerkbutt.
Haruka Shiraboshi |
Haruka draws her Quaterstaff and takes a defensive stace, putting empahsis on its defensive nature.
"I will defend myself and my friend should you attack or try to imprison us. Staying here as we are right now, till the head priest or someone to fetch him arrives, would be acceptable."
"I fully knew that I could be infected, if Laurines condition is not a heriditary one, when I took her hand and agreed to find her help" adds the miko with determination, giving Laurines hand a reasuring squeze.
spellcraft(identyfy his spell): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
draw weapon and ready action against approach
Osei Otieno |
Osei retires back to his room, frustrated and shaken from the mercurial change in Quednys' mood. One moment logical and calm, and the next - uncontrolled rage. What could be in the man's past that brings such vitriol? The Worldwound has taken much from that one - or was he always such an ass?
Having had his fill of the Master's attention, Osei steps out of the library for the first time in days. He is happily distracted to find a prompt and enthusiastic response from the Marquis waiting for him at the mailstop near the library. He quickly pens a response.
Lord Lambert-Adzel,
I shall meet you on the day of Armasse and look forward to a fruitful discussion.
-Osei Otieno
Having dropped that in the post, he wanders off to find some of his teammates. He seems to remember something about a tribunal ...
DMDM: How many days to the Armasse celebration?
Douglas Muir 406 |
Haruka draws her Quaterstaff and takes a defensive stace, putting empahsis on its defensive nature.
"I will defend myself and my friend should you attack or try to imprison us. Staying here as we are right now, till the head priest or someone to fetch him arrives, would be acceptable."
How is that different from being imprisoned...? But okay. You don't want me to roll low, here.
Will the jumpy priest do something foolish? 1d100 ⇒ 9
Will Laurine? 1d100 ⇒ 77
Douglas Muir 406 |
1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Takka of the Toad
Takka sleep on a bed of straw on the floor. (For kobolds, this is luxury.) Tonight his sleep is restless; grief still gnaws at him, and he misses the comforting presence of Sleek. Still, eventually deeper sleep comes...
The Wardstone is a tall, slender pyramid, very slightly curved like a great claw or hook. It is taller than a man, twice the height of a kobold. It is made of some unknown marble-like stone, tremendously hard and durable. Three metal bands encircle it. Runes of power are incised into them.
The mere presence of the Wardstone is immensely comforting. You can feel the arcane energies around it, immensely powerful yet held in perfect tension. Pure law and pure benevolence suffuse the air. It is like being in the presence of a stern but loving parent. The wardstone is the kindly teacher who will help you earn your grade, the dutiful priest, the honest cop on the beat. It is order and light. Against the festering horrors of the Worldwound, it holds the blade of Law. You could stand here and soak in its wonderful presence for hours, and you are sure you'd be better for it.
But all is not perfect here. You notice a small crack near the base of the Wardstone. That by itself is alarming. But the crack seems... active. It seems to crawl a little in your vision, and there is a faint green glow or flicker that seems to come and go. Seeing this fills you with a deep unease. The Stone should not be cracked, and there's something very bad and wrong about that green light.
The demons attacked it, let by their Storm King, says a great calm voice. They failed. The Wardstone was damaged, but the damage has been contained. Repairs are under way. Soon it will be intact again.
Relief floods through you. It will be all right!
Haruka Shiraboshi |
Haruka swings her staff at the priest and uses this distraction to put some distance between herself and the priest
I assume that Laurine moves backward when Haruka does
attack(nonlethal): 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (13) - 4 = 9damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4
else, treat as discriptive part of the withdraw action
"stop attacking us, or I will be forced to treat you as an enemy", spoken in a cold tone by a miko whose eyes became as cold.
I hope the doors are still open, or open to the outside
what was his spell, or was my spellcraft to low?
Takka of the Toad |
Takka hangs his head, not even paying the guards any mind, though he manages to summon up a smile, wave and nod to the leaving Molly. Walking back to Balek and Sir Constantine, he frowns up at the two of them. "...why? Why protect those who cannot appreciate it? Who mock you for trying to do so? What's the point of becoming a knight if you earn no recognition for your sacrifice?"
Takka frowned, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I... am not sure I wish to become a knight any longer. I... I need some time to think... my apologies..." Takka hobbles his way to the hovel he'd been using for his residence - the back of an old wood shed on the edges of the city.
He was tired.
*******************
"Where... is this?" Takka mused as his mind was held captive by this strange vision. The Wardstone. He'd heard of it, how it and more like it held the forces of the Worldwound at bay, though the one in Kenabres was by far the most known. The feeling of law, goodness, and protection warmed him... for the first time in a while, he was truly peaceful.
Huddling as close as he could to it, his yellow eyes caught sight of the crack, and they grew wider in conjunction with the crack! But... a voice... it spoke to him, assured him that all would be repaired in due time.
So many questions flooded his mind. The ward would be restored, but when? Was this real, or was it simply his imagination running wild? And who was it that was speaking to him? Takka couldn't find it in himself to look away from the cracks, his cautious instinct telling him not to take his eyes off it. But he could summon enough will to speak back. "When will it be fixed? ...and how do you know? Who are you? Are you... is this real? Or am I simply... imagining this...?"
Osei Otieno |
1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I've been wanting to write a nightmare sequence for Osei for a while now, but hurried and finished it here. It didn't quite capture what I wanted, but is a start. Enjoy?
Osei wakes with a start at distant thunder.
Nurrah calls out, "At ease, Otieno. It's just a training run - no need to be so spooked." She flashes a smile, but it doesn't touch her eyes. In her left hand, she nervously twirled a gleaming sharp knife.
The campfire he and his team built earlier in the evening has burned low, smoldering and casting red light on the three others sitting around the blaze. Aron Nir is bleeding from a small hole in his forehead, and does not notice when his blood, now black and thin, runs into his mug as he raises it to his lips. The rock Osei sits on is getting really uncomfortable, he shifts continually.
Flash.
The air in the Mwangi Expanse is stifling, even at night. Osei is silently stalking a kill that will feed his family for weeks. He must not fail, he must prove himself to be a value to his village. In the clearing ahead, he sees the beast and his heart flutters with fear. Frozen, he can only stare as it rips into something on the ground before it. He can hear flesh and ligament separating, like ripping thick parchment or splitting the spine of a tome.
Thunder.
"Yes, Osei, don't be such a downer. Lighten up - this might as well be a party! And one that won't betray you." Lewis says with a wink. His charming grin is extraordinarily wide, disturbingly so, and his eyes are reflecting quite a bit more light than the smoldering campfire is generating. His elegant white clothes are starting to wither and blacken, and his now impossibly wide grin opens to allow a grating laughter.
Nir takes another sip from his mug, staring into the fire. Drip.
Osei feels his breathing become panicked and prickles of heat rise all over his body - he can't move. Some weight has pinned him to the spot, like being trapped beneath a pile of smoldering timber.
Flash.
He raises his bow, pulls the fletching to his cheek, noting his tattooed bow arm - the runic marks on his forearm are quite visible, flickering and glowing with an internal light. Osei tries to ignore them. He holds his breath on the exhale and looses. The shaft flies true and plunges into the side of the beast, just behind its shoulder, halting is grisly meal. It cries out in unearthly anger, thrashes in the night - and then falls, silent. The hunter slings his bow, looses his dagger from his belt and walks out to give the beast mercy.
Thunder.
Kir stands up, turns around to look to the sky. Osei follows his gaze - blazing lightning flashes across the sky. Aron Kir turns up his mug and drains it, the blood from his forehead running in a rivulet across his temple into his hair. Storm's brewin', Kir's buzzing voice drones. When he turns back to Osei, Kir is no more and there is only the insectile face of the Oolioddroo. And this one has yet to receive the Gift. He turns to face the young wizard.
Nurrah and Lewis are both bleeding from their foreheads now. Osei is struggling, but he can't move a muscle. His runic laced flesh is searing now, the tattooed symbols glowing crimson, and ... melting? They shift and pulse in time with his thundering heart, coalescing into red-hot shackles and chains, lashing him to the rock.
Flash.
He reaches his kill, and his hands go numb, dropping the merciful dagger. On the ground, there are two bodies. One, the meal his prey was enjoying is ripped open, gutted, and full of botfly larvae. It is Master Quednys, completely still but alive - a look of rage frozen in a grimace - staring at Osei. He backs from the corpse, and stumbles over the beast he slew. His shaft sticks up from the terrible, scaled body that sports six clawed limbs from which long barbs protrude. And it's antlered head is that of the Marquis, slyly grinning up at the wizard.
"Evil is evil." Quednys' hollow voice intones, the Master's corpse now pointing at him, accusingly.
Osei stumbles back, away from the accusation and loses his balance. When he hits the ground ...
Thunder.
They are approaching him now, slowly, drifting on some unseen wind. Kir's face unfolded and extended a proboscis, writhing to and fro. Lewis to Kir's left, clutching his stomach and laughing so hard now that his bulging eyes leak tears that stream down his distorted face. His laughter growing ever louder. Nurrah is suddenly at Osei's side. A sharp pain lances through his ribs. The storm in the sky worsens, the thunder and lightning closer together, now.
"It is time, Osei Otieno," Nurrah says, purring in Osei's right ear.
Yesz, Oszei. It isz. Nir's voice laces into and around his mind, the officer's multifaceted eyes glittering.
Lewis tries to speak, but it doubles him over. In the non-time of dreams, it seems like he's been laughing for an eternity. He doesn't pause for breath. His laughter is grating. Repulsive. He's pointing at Osei, lashed to the rock.
Osei tries to call out, but his voice is stuck in his chest. Impossible to scream.
Did you really think you would eszcape unszcathed, Oszei Otieno?
The proboscis lances into his forehead, and all explodes in light and agony and laughter.
...
Osei wakes up in his quarters, screaming, drenched in sweat, with Lewis' mocking cackle ringing in his ears. He rises, and walks out into the common room to open the window for some air.
The air is still, as before a storm. The only sound is the song of locusts and a word in his mind:
... unscathed ...
Sir Constantine Godalming |
Flashback
Takka hangs his head, not even paying the guards any mind, though he manages to summon up a smile, wave and nod to the leaving Molly. Walking back to Balek and Sir Constantine, he frowns up at the two of them. "...why? Why protect those who cannot appreciate it? Who mock you for trying to do so? What's the point of becoming a knight if you earn no recognition for your sacrifice?"
Takka frowned, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I... am not sure I wish to become a knight any longer. I... I need some time to think... my apologies..."
"My friend you never have to be sorry to be your true self, even my parents wanted the life of the ranger for me, but they have not withheld love or faulted my choice, nor would I fault you your life choice...Balek is no knight, and I begrudge him not his path...."
Douglas Muir 406 |
"When will it be fixed? ...and how do you know? Who are you? Are you... is this real? Or am I simply... imagining this...?"
Is courage real, or do you imagine it? Is honor? The great voice is calm. It is kind, but there is an undertone of steely resolve. You are known to me, Takka. Now you are like a half-grown slurk, still stumbling on new legs, gasping for breath in the strange world beyond the water's edge. But if you grow straight and strong, you may leap very far indeed.
Despair is a tool of the enemy. Do not fall to it. As long as you walk the path of righteousness, the gift of hope shall always be yours. Never abandon it.
Be true.
There is a sound like a vast beautiful chord of music. The Wardstone seems to resonate and sing with it. (With the faintest hint of dissonance... around the crack, the evil green light dances and flickers.) It ascends on itself, harmonic upon harmonic, until your eyes sting and your heart swells with the crystalline perfection and beauty of it.
It is still ringing in your ears as you awake.
Takka of the Toad |
"I... I am? You know of me... why..?" Takka was confused, and had so many questions. He didn't even know who this strange voice was... he just trusted it, implicitly. Something about it was... comforting. Reassuring.
As the Wardstone begins to sing, Takka, squinting from the light as it was, could barely make out the flicker of green around the crack. But it was there. He could see it. As it rose to a climax, Takka suddenly had the sensation it was leaving him... or, was he leaving it? He couldn't make the distinction. He just had the notion it was preparing to leave.
"Wait! WAIT! Please, don't go! I still have questions! I don't know what to do!" Takka's mind flooded with thoughts, but only one found its way out of his maw. "W..why show me this? I..I'm just a kobold! What can I do? What... what can I do!?"
**********************************************
Takka winced as his eyes fluttered open, before snapping back shut as rays of sunlight jolted his eyes. His ears were ringing... his head was spinning... was it all a dream? It was so vivid... so lucid. Or was something trying to actually reach out to him? If so... why him?
That question again.
A sense of dread was coming over him. He felt uneasy, jittery about things. As if... something was coming. And alarmingly soon. Stumbling to his feet, Takka stood up and steadied himself. If that was a vision, how could he be sure of it? What allowed him to see it? And why? In spite of the sense of looming uneasiness, Takka felt that he had to do something. He had to warn someone, explain his vision. But who? If he learned anything from yesterday, it was that everyone in Kenabres saw him as a monster. And his allies were busy with trying to appeal their judgements... and his.
Hobbling out to the front of the wood shed, Takka paused. Who would listen to him? How could he persuade anyone to listen to him? It seemed insurmountable to him... but he had to try. Perhaps... someone he knew would give him a chance...?
*******************************
"Lady Nurrah! Lady Nurrah, please, where are you!?" Takka pounded on the door of Nurrah's quarters... or at least, where he had been directed to find it. This is insanity! She won't be in any mood to hear your drivel!
"Lady Nurrah, please! It's me, Takka! I need your help!" He persisted his banging, before leaning his forehead against the door. "...please... tell me you haven't left yet..."
Balek Nine-fingered |
Balek looks down at Takka as they move away from Molly and the guard. "Why do we protect those who mock us? Because demons do not ask if we have done proper honors before they slay us, or devour us. They must be fought.". Balek clenches his fist. "I do not think the lords of this crusade have always done wisely. I think they plunged in knowing far too little of how things were done here, how people lived, and they called demonic much that was not demonic. I do not think the people here have always acted well, either. Ill-done, to mock those who fight for you.
"None of that changes what we must all do. Our parents protected us when we were little, and theirs before them. The duty remains for us, to go forward from this day, and stand against the darkness as long as iron is hard and stone abides."
He picks up his bun and munches down, decidedly. "For now, make sure you eat. Hunger drives many bad decisions."
Douglas Muir 406 |
Hobbling out to the front of the wood shed, Takka paused. Who would listen to him? How could he persuade anyone to listen to him? It seemed insurmountable to him... but he had to try. Perhaps... someone he knew would give him a chance...?...
Nurrah is not there. It was the little apartment she shared with Benno, so... she's cleared out her stuff and moved on.
Takka of the Toad |
Takka waited as long as he could, before getting no response. Turning around, he leaned back against the door and hung his head. "...please forgive me, Lady Nurrah... you gave me a chance, when no one else would, to prove my worth... and I squandered it by disobeying your command, and costing you your work... and your companion... I pray you find peace, wherever you are. Apsu protect you."
Nurrah was no longer here. Who else would listen to him? Who in Kenabres would listen to a kobold like him? ...wait! Irabeth! She was commander of the Eagle Watch, and he always admired her dedication! And she was a half-orc, like Sir Constantine. She might listen!
Takka began to take off in a hustle, before falling as his legs gave out. Right - his accursed legs! Why must he be limited so? Lives may be counting on him! Kenabres itself may be in danger... or worse, all of Golarion! "...get up! Get! Up! You must keep going!" Takka growled, pulling himself to his feet once more and hobbling as quickly as he could move. "Lady Irabeth... I have to find Lady Irabeth..!"
Douglas Muir 406 |
Armasse is one of the biggest celebrations of the year, and it's about as close to a Mardi Gras as a fairly strait-laced Lawful Good town under military rule can get. Originally, it was a ceremony at which knights chose squires, and squires were promoted to be knights. But it's grown, and now it's basically a big city-wide party that includes jousting competitions, mock duels, battle reenactments, you name it. It's a welcome distraction from the daily grind -- tedium punctuated by horror -- of being on the front line of the war.
While Armasse is city-wide, the most exciting and interesting stuff will be happening at Clydwell Square, in the city center in front of the great cathedral. (Osei, that's where you will be.)
Douglas Muir 406 |
Takka growled, pulling himself to his feet once more and hobbling as quickly as he could move. "Lady Irabeth... I have to find Lady Irabeth..!"
1d100 ⇒ 25
For the Commander of the Eagle Watch, Irabeth lives in very plain and simple lodgings: a small townhouse in the Gate District. It's past midnight now, so the streets are mostly empty. Mostly: not entirely. As Takka trots anxiously down the street, he passes someone coming the other way. It's Sergeant Kir.
Kir looks very distracted. If you don't call out to him, he'll probably walk right past you.
Osei Otieno |
The late afternoon of 15 Arodus (the day before Armasse) finds Osei slipping quietly through the halls of the Blackwing Library. He knows that at this time, Master Quednys is taking his evening meal with other librarians in a downstairs mess, and is very much wanting to avoid confrontation. He slips to Quednys' office, and deposits a roll of sealed parchment in Quednys' inbox for review.
It is this research, and associated reading, which likely fueled the coming night's nightmares.
15 Arodus, 4713 AR
The following encounter took place on 11 Arodus, 4713 AR in former safe house Hildegrin. Two teams
(hereafter noted as Red Team (RT) and Blue Team (BT), see P1) were dispatched on 10 Arodus to familiarize the trainees with the area between Kenarbes and Valas' Gift as well as verify integrity of safe houses Hildegrin and Palatianus. Demonic encounters were expected to be minimal, based on previous patrol reports (e.g., KPR-47130728-T, KPR-47130808) routine scrying, and integrity of the Wardstones. What follows is based on first-hand account offered by trainees and officers alike, as well as post-debriefing interviews and further research.
After RT and BT secured safe house Palatianus, RT advanced towards Hildegrin to scout surrounding area and verify secured entrances. BT embarked on a terrain exercise which led them to arrive approximately one hour after RT. After engagement with traitorous cultists (see KPR-47130811-T), RT was subdued by a strike force from the Worldwound consisting of four individuals (see P2).
As has been reported previously (BLRR-47101025), the Oolioddroo exhibited the ability to communicate via telepathic transmission and reception, with no discernible audio vocalization. What has not been previously reported, however, is that the voice was likened to frequency modulations in the song of insects (locusts, hoppers, etc.), so that words and inflections of the Oolioddroo were separated from the constant background drone. Curiously, despite the invasion of our thoughts, there was a slight accent reported and agreed upon by all in RT and BT, phonetically mixing the ‘Z’ and ‘S’ as if formed by a physical vocal tract. The present author notes that there is, most likely, a specific plane (or subset thereof) of the Abyss which births these entities which influences their telepathic speech by Scrimsen’s Theorem (BLRR-RC8-012), which previously has been shown to affect the psychology and seeming cultures of Abyssal species. Further, the present author would like to offer the possibility that the soul larvae and Abyssal ectalis that produce the Oolioddroo are fed from certain Prime Material worlds or locations, which carry some semblance of the mortals’ prior cultural affectations into the spiritual amalgamation which produces the moth-like entities. All conjectures in the present work, however, must account for Arolinus’ Law for Abyssal Formations (BLRR-RC8-188) and its noted entropic effects.
All members of RT had been secured to the eastern wall by a projected, chrysaline material that hardened rapidly while maintaining its adhesive properties (see, e.g., BLRR-47011104). It is expected that this material was produced by the combination of arcana and Abyssal ectalis, willed into being by the Oolioddroo much in the way that is exhibited by other Abyssal species (BLRRev-46930130). The material was not corrosive, nor did it seem to exhibit any psychic effects on those captured in its essence. This is a departure from what has been previously reported (BLRR-47000619), in which Oolioddroo seemed to implant emotional catalysts in those enmeshed in such bonds; the present author posits that due to the focused nature of most known extraplanar bio-emotional interruptions (BLRRev-46991212), extending such efforts into multiple hosts simultaneously diluted the effects such that strong responses were not reported. Whether this is due to the increased contact area of the multiple bodies of trapped entities and/or a limitation of the arcano-Abyssal twining is not clear.
The Oolioddroo then implanted Sergeant Kir with larvae (see, e.g., BLRRev-46881110) through a small hole punched through the centroid of his frontal bone, approximately 1.1 cm above the center of his brow ridge. It is expected, that the larvae or egg which was injected was attached or affixed itself adjacent to the hippocampus and amygdala which allows the Oolioddroo to directly access and modify both memories and the emotional responses of the host. This control has been theorized to occur due to the similar arcano-Abyssal twining present in the crysaline material reported above; however, the present author believes that a neuro-alchemical secretion must be combined with the arcano-planar twining to establish the completely dominating and expressly singular control over the subject of which the Oolioddroo seems capable. This is unfounded, and a recently deceased host has yet not been made available for dissection. The surviving (and assumedly no longer infected) Sergeant Kir was unfortunately unwilling to discuss his visceral experiences for the present work.
A more detailed future work will be focused upon arcane and alchemical experimentation to validate the above conjectures. However, funding has not yet been secured and expected date is unknown.
-Osei Otieno
Personnel 1 (P1):
- Sergeant Aron Kir (TM LDR)
- Lance-Corporal Benno
- Balek Nine-Fingered (T)
- Haruka Shiraboshi(T)
- Anycek(T)
- Laurine (T)
Blue Team:
- Corporal Nurrah (TM LDR)
- Lance-Corporal Cherano
- Torg, son of Torg(T)
- Sir Constantine Godalming(T)
- Kyami(T)
- Takka of the Toad(T)
- Osei Otieno(T)
TM LDR = Team Leader, T = Training Enlisted
Personnel 2 (P1):
- Staunton Vhane(TM LDR-?)
- Oolioddroo (“Sissy”)
- Lewis (Sczarni?) (T)
- Vidkun Lauritz (Arcanist)
Douglas Muir 406 |
Balek Nine Fingers
Armasse Morning.
The Sarkorians in Kenabres tend not to identify themselves as such. In the early days of the Second Crusade, a group of demons got inside the city's defenses by disgusing themselves as Sarkorian refugees. They nearly brought Kenabres down, and killed many in the attempt. The result was a reaction against ethnic Sarkorians, which reached horrible extremes during the Third Crusade. Those who remained in the city afterwards have mostly kept their heads down and have tried to blend.
Similarly, the organized Sarkorian clergy of Erastil... aren't, very. For a lawful deity, Erastil is relatively uninterested in hierarchy and formality. "Know your place, do your duty, and follow tradition" pretty much covers it. That goes double for the Sarkorians, who don't even have a formal temple as such.
That said, there are small gatherings of the clergy on important days. The group in Sarkoris has the self-deprecating nickname "The Leftovers", because most of the more senior priests moved on deeper into Mendev. The Leftovers -- just half a dozen or so -- gather at a wooden table in the courtyard of a house that's owned by one of the faithful. There are no complex rituals; prayer beneath the open sky followed by a simple meal suffices.
Douglas Muir 406 |
The discussion is of Armasse events. Some are violent, like the jousts and games, and injuries are not unknown. So it's wise to prepare spells of healing and prevention. Also, while prejudice against ethnic Sarkorans has died down considerably in the last decade, one should keep an eye out; folk will be drinking, and the young and foolish may be... young and foolish. So walk around, pay attention, and keep your wits about you; have a beer now for the day's work if you like, but otherwise leave it at that until the festival tents are struck.
Father Cadwale is the senior Leftover. Lame and blind in one eye, he is still a competent and practical leader. When the discussion is done, he'll do a short divination and then bless you all and turn you loose.
Osei Otieno |
Seriously, wow. That's some effort on your part!
Strangely, that took me less time to write than the nightmare sequence. Dunno if it was due to differing blood levels of caffeine or the fact that it's closer to what I typically do in my career. At any rate, I enjoyed writing it immensely, and wanted to make it longer but didn't want to make it too long/boring; plus, if Osei survives, further research will be done - didn't wanna exhaust myself of all ideas right now. Gotta keep something for the future.
Takka of the Toad |
Takka huffed as he tried to hurry along, stopping to catch his breath before he noticed a figure passing his way. Sergeant Kir? What was he doing out so late... and where was he going?
Then again, he did suffer some pretty heavy trauma... which was partly his fault. He could've moved a bit faster and prevented it. NO! Don't think like that! You what you did. No amount of regret and despair will fix that.
"...Sergeant Kir! Please! Wait! I need your help! Please, you must hear me out!" Takka called out, hoping to draw his attention. No, he might not believe him. He may not even want to look at Takka. But the kobold had to tell someone about this. He had to let people know his fears...
Douglas Muir 406 |
"...Sergeant Kir! Please! Wait! I need your help! Please, you must hear me out!" Takka called out, hoping to draw his attention. No, he might not believe him. He may not even want to look at Takka. But the kobold had to tell someone about this. He had to let people know his fears...
1d20 ⇒ 20
Huh! That was an untrained Sense Motive check. Well...
Douglas Muir 406 |
Kir is in bad shape. Really, really bad shape. He's lost weight, there are dark hollows under his eyes, and he walks like a man who's just been kicked in the gut. Takka isn't normally the most sensitive of souls, (1) but misery and despair are fairly radiating off of the Sergeant.
He turns slowly and stares down at the kobold. He looks completely distracted and a little confused. "Private... Takka? What...?"
(1)No Sense Motive and a 10 Wisdom: I would model that as Takka is a decent sort who means well, but he doesn't have a lot of natural empathy. Maybe he's a little self-centered, or maybe it's because he's a reptile. (2)
(2) Okay, probably kobolds aren't reptiles but some sort of hot-blooded archosaur, like dinosaurs.
Takka of the Toad |
He's trying. Kobolds typically don't care for anyone else's feelings, and their own emotions typically consist of grumpy or devious behavior. The mere fact he's trying to display some empathy for others is a big leap for him... and he's not always good at it. Like I said, he's trying his best.
Sergeant Kir looked terrible. Takka could tell, though why exactly wasn't obvious to him. "Sergeant...? Ah, Sergeant, please, I need help. I know you must be busy, but... I... I think something terrible is about to happen to the Wardstone... or, it may already have happened!"
Takka explains his dream to Kir and pauses every so often to make sure this is registering with him. Finally, he stops and looks up at him with a perplexed gaze. "Erm... Sergeant... are you feeling okay? You... you like you need some rest..."
Sir Constantine Godalming |
Dream sequence ahead.....
Late that night SCG dreams, at first his dreams are joyful trips to truestone quarry to obtain the strength of the rock needed to ward the town against the demons….
Then he dreams of Takka and Sleek, the gentle slurk that he was unable to save, at first he is seeing them riding with him in a carefree way far away from the town, when they first met……in his dream Sleek is killed by a flashing blow a cut that begins to bleed uncontrollably……
Then he dreams of the Wardstone standing tall, slender pyramid, very slightly curved like a great claw or hook. It is taller than a man. It is made of some unknown marble-like stone, tremendously hard and durable. Three metal bands encircle it. Runes of power are incised into them.
Even though the stone is hard it too begins to hemmorage blood from a massive cut near the base…the very heart of the stone. I fall to my knees and with both hands vainly attempt to stem the tide of blood! Wound and blood impossibly spurting out of stone, like a heartbeat in spurts of crimson blood!
My hands do nothing to stop the flow of blood eventually I am covered in it, then like some desiccated corpse the blood slows and stops but the crystal is no longer strong is it fragile and empty of all power hollow and fragile like blown glass, that crumbles beneath my hands, the shards of which remain on my palms like some type of brand…..
Once again I see Sleek the Slurk bleeding away beneath his hands, and once again I fail….nothing I try works and once again in the end I am alone my hands covered in blood…
Then the wardstone is intact once more and there is calmness and light ”Redemption and restoration are your proper course.”
Then the Sarkorians, the ones I know the ones I and Balek helped years ago; how they must live with constant distrust as if they are a source of evil when all along the evil was always comes from the same source; it is the fear and loathing that gives the evil entry into the city…….
Then Takka in front of the crowds being called a monster, the same evil the same one that always seeks some entry into the hearts of men….The crowds faces turn tongues like demons come out of their faces as they continue to call Takka a monster, “Let us feed upon him and cure our evil!” clamors the crowd…..
Once more peace surrounds me. The voice repeats it’s order…”Redemption and restoration, neither may stand alone.”
I ask quietly and without conviction ”How can I ……..?”
Douglas Muir 406 |
Sergeant Kir looked terrible. Takka could tell, though why exactly wasn't obvious to him. "Sergeant...? Ah, Sergeant, please, I need help. I know you must be busy, but... I... I think something terrible is about to happen to the Wardstone... or, it may already have happened!"
Takka explains his dream to Kir and pauses every so often to make sure this is registering with him.
After a minute or so, it's pretty clear that it's not. Kir is...
reaction roll: 1d20 ⇒ 11
...not hostile, but he's not really engaging with what you're saying. "I... am sorry for your troubles, kobold. But I have troubles of my own. I need..." he pauses and seems to think for a moment, "...I need... a drink. Of something... really strong. Several of them. I need to be completely..." He shakes his head. "Anyway. Don't listen to dreams, kobold, and for all gods' sake don't try to follow them. That way, madness lies."
He turns and walks away.
Do you
-- run after him and try to continue the conversation?
-- shake your head, let him go, and continue on to Irabeth's? or,
-- throw up your hands, go hom and go back to bed?
Takka of the Toad |
Takka stands silently, listening to Kir before watching as he walked away. He didn't fully grasp what was up with Sergeant Kir... but something seemed off about him. Don't follow his dreams... did he mean the one about the Wardstone, or... did he mean his ambition to become a knight?
Even his former leaders were telling him not to pursue it? Was it... really that hopeless? His head bowed as he pondered what to do. Should he continue? Was there even a point now...?
...the gift of hope shall always be yours. Never abandon it.
Takka's eyes widen as he recalled those words, a glimmer of life returning to him. The words from his dream! The kobold turned and began to make his way with renewed vigor to Irabeth. Sergeant Kir had to be wrong! He would listen to his dreams! He would follow them! Knights were, brave, strong, and not afraid of anything! Be it monsters, mangled legs, or madness, he refused to let anything deter him.
**************
If he makes it to her place without interruptions.
"Lady Irabeth! Lady Irabeth! Please! I need your help!" Takka cried out, rapping as hard as he could at the door. He'd finally made it, "It's me, Takka! I think something terrible is going to happen, and I need someone to hear me out! Please!"
Douglas Muir 406 |
1d100 ⇒ 10
As you approach Irabeth's door, you see that someone else is already approaching it! A slender figure -- human? female? It's hard to be sure, as s/he is wearing a cloak and a hood. You're a little bit ahead, and the other person doesn't seem to have noticed you.
-- You got there first; go ahead and knock on the paladin's door. The other person can wait their turn.
-- Make your presence known, introduce yourself.
-- Stop and try to go unnoticed; watch what the other person does.
Takka of the Toad |
Takka paused briefly, peering up at the cloaked figure. Who... was that? And what were they doing at this late hour, at Irabeth's house? Takka's initial instinct was to approach and introduce himself... and yet, something about that felt like the wrong move. He felt uneasy about doing so, and he wasn't sure why.
Takka hesitated, before quickly ducking behind a barrel and trying to peer out without drawing attention. ...Apsu, please tell me this the right thing to do...
Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 9
Haruka Shiraboshi |
Haruka will try to protect Laurine no matter what and try to find someone to help her.
If the priest continues to attack her she will try to flee with Laurine, if escape is not a available option she will use her bow at range and her staff and brand (writing "no duty") in close combat (nonlethal if possible, lethal if pressed (with stabilize))
Douglas Muir 406 |
Takka hesitated, before quickly ducking behind a barrel and trying to peer out without drawing attention. ...Apsu, please tell me this the right thing to do...
Mystery person's Perception roll: 1d20 ⇒ 9
Okay, the cloaked person does not notice you. S/he stops at the door and knocks softly.
The door opens almost instantly. The cloaked figure steps inside. The door shuts.
Now what?
Takka of the Toad |
Takka ponders for a moment, before coming out of his hiding spot and approaching the door. Whoever it was, they seemed to be expected. But that wasn't really important right now.
Takka raised a clawed hand and knocked at the door. "L..Lady Irabeth? It's Takka. Please, I need to speak with you. It's... I think something bad's going to-"
The full force of how ridiculous this all was suddenly hit him. He was wandering the streets, middle of the night, sneaking about, trying to relay information that may or may not be real, about an object he might have seen in a dream, that may or may not be in jeopardy.
...this is absurd. Lady Irabeth is clearly busy anyways. I... I need to calm myself. Go back and get some rest... Takka said, before turning and walking back down the street.
Douglas Muir 406 |
Haruka will try to protect Laurine no matter what and try to find someone to help her.
1d20 ⇒ 6
1d20 ⇒ 181d100 ⇒ 88
...okay, the priest eventually calms down, a higher priest is called, and you spend an uncomfortable day in quarantine. They do decide that Laurine is not imminently dangerous -- it occasionally happens that people get weird effects in or around the Worldwound, and it's not always a sign of demonic infection. So while it's not a terribly fun or dignified process, you're eventually cleared.
Douglas Muir 406 |
Well, sort of cleared. The conclusion is that Laurine has a demonic connection somewhere in her ancestry... not necessarily a demon as such (though maybe!); it could be that she had ancestors who were cultists, experimented with demonic influences, what have you. The senior priest (who seems a lot more sensible than the panicky guy you met) recommends that Laurine leave the vicinity of the Worldwound. "This sort of influence is like a... congenital weakness. You wouldn't send someone with weak bones into combat, or set someone with a weak heart to heavy labor. No? Well, this is probably the last place in the world she should be."
Laurine gets really quiet and doesn't seem to want to talk about any of this. However, you do agree to meet at the Armasse festival, walk around a bit, and have a cup of tea. Perhaps the festivities will cheer her up.
Douglas Muir 406 |
Armasse morning:
The Divination spell normally requires some moderately expensive offering. Erastil knows the situation of his Sarkoran devotees, though, so he accepts something else instead: rarity. There are probably not a dozen bottles of real Sarkoran applejack left in the world. Father Cadwale pours each of you a finger, then pours the rest of the bottle into a bowl. The bowl already contains a large lump of bacon. With a few whispered words he sets it alight.
The applejack-and-bacon mixture burns energetically (and smells great). After a few moments a large gobbet of fat goes SNAP, flies out of the bowl, and lands on the table right in front of Balek where it burns smokily for half a minute or so. "Message for you, Balek," murmurs Father Cadwale to a general chuckle. A few minutes later, when it's burned down, the old priest peers into the bowl.
"Stain at six o'clock, that's danger. Hm! Dark one, too. Two overlapping patches at nine o'clock, that's separation and negation. Don't... separate. Stick together, stand with your comrades, don't break up."
"The kids these days say, don't split the party," adds Brother Baltrit helpfully.
"Hmmmph. Well, there we have it! All of you, be alert today. And... stick together."
Douglas Muir 406 |
Armasse day! Everyone is gathered in the main square.
Osei is seated at a table turning a doll over in his hands. The doll is a simple little thing with a rag dress and a gourd for a head, but it has a spell cast on it that causes it to speak every few minutes. In a cheerful, squeaky voice it says things like:
"Kenabres, widely known as the jewel of western Mendev, was founded in 3382!"
"Today's weather forecast is sunny and warm, with light breezes from the northwest. It's a beautiful day for a festival!"
"The wardstones protect our country against the terrors of the Worldwound!"
"The Sisters of Holiness welcome your contributions!" (The dolls are free handouts for the pilgrim trade, but their creation is funded in part by paid ads...)
"It's a beautiful day for a festival!"
"Help keep Kenabres clean!"
Osei is not particularly interested in what the doll has to say, but he is quite interested in it as a magic item. It's obviously a variant of the classic Magic Mouth spell, but it's more flexible. These dolls are being handed out for free, though, so the caster must have found some way to mass-produce the effect. Probably it will wear off in a few hours... but still, it's an interesting puzzle. There are some runic markings on the doll's raggy boddy, undoubtedly part of the spell. Now, how exactly...?
Of course, Osei could just find the caster and ask him or her. But I'm guessing he's the sort of guy who would consider that a distant second best to figuring it out himself.