GM Rednal's War of the Burning Sky (Inactive)

Game Master Rednal

<"Putting an end to what has befallen this forest will quite suffice. If it means I can be beautiful again..."> the hag trailed off wistfully. <"That hair is truly precious to me. You'd best be away before I change my mind. I do not know that I could restrain my desire."> With that, she turned and dove back into the water, quickly vanishing from sight.

"Well, you heared what the lady said...lets make our way, and see if the Dryad is indeed moved into being helpful by Lady Anyariels hair.", Farod explains to Ridley, taking off his coat, then picking up the strand of hair with both hands and wrapping it inside as if it was some great treasure.

"Aye, the ladies always loved my long flowing locks." The Dwarf stroked his beard with one hand. "Gentleman too, now I come to think of it." The Dwarf shrugged. He had been mildly confused by Farod's comments about husbands. Both usually enjoyed such things, but then, the Dwarf moved in odd ways.

Nodding to Ridley, he added, "Yon locks are from the Paladin Anyariel, former lover of this fine lady and the Dryad we be off to see. I imagine there was some tizwas over the fact the lady here had it, but she didnae say. Either way, she reckons the hair will make the Dryad listen, and that we shall need the Dryad's help." It did seem likely.

Assuming that, for now, they were continuing he headed for the Dryad's location.

"Neat. Let's go talk to some trees, then. And let me know if I need to cast tongues again."

From the information you'd gotten before, the Dryad's grove was several hours away... and you'd been up and moving for quite a lot of the day already. Pushing onward, you'd likely be quite tired when you arrived.

"Hm...we have directions to the Grove starting from the Fey's village, not the Nymphs pond. I believe we would not want to get lost trying to find our own way across the forest and hoping we come out right. Shall we return to them for tonight, and take their offer of a place to rest in so that we can face the Dryad with renewed vigor after a new sunrise?"
I'm sure there's a "morning wood" joke in there somewhere...

"Well. This seems to be a pretty uneventful week, but I suppose I can meditate some more if you'd prefer to go tomorrow."

Squinting upwards, Umbriak nodded. "We had best. Nae point reaching her in the middle of morning-night. She'll nae answer questions if we rouse her from a peaceful slumber, hair or nae hair." Turning, he began to trump back to the town.

Finding the way back wasn't too hard, given the light from the burning trees - though the fey were definitely on guard until they'd found you. Fortunately, the offer of rest seemed like it was still good... and the depths of the caves were actually decently dim. Sadly, you weren't able to check in with your other companions, but you did have a good night's sleep - and time to prepare before setting off to meet the dryad.

Cook: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

There are days when breakfast was good, and days when it was delicious. Thick, rich porridge with cream, honey and cinnamon simmered in a pot. Sliced of thickly cut bread with thick, creamy butter on a plate. Bacon sliced thin and fried in its own fat until golden and crispy. Plump sausages stuffed with herbs drip fat into the fire with a hiss from there skewers. And that was all before the fruits, the cheeses, the cold cuts of meat...

Umbriak focused his morning on feeding all who wanted it. He was on a roll. He also, of course, ate himself. Because when you're the chef you eat what you want, and you didn't get muscles like Umbriak's without some food.

Ridley appreciated breakfast well enough, though he was beginning to grow a bit tired of the forest.

"This...this is splendid!", Farod comments on Umbriaks cooking, "The second time you amaze me with your cooking, I would say you failed your calling, if you weren't just as gifted with that axe of yours."
Sampling almost everything, Farod almost overeats, but stops just in time.
Checking on his gear again, he is prepared to leave towards the Dryads grove.
How much travel time should we expect? Pondering when to throw on Mage Armor-

According to the fey, Timbre is about a mile north of their village. That's about 30 minutes at a speed of 30 feet, which is slower than normal because the forest is rather rough terrain.

That means easily fully covered with a casting on departure, just in case there's trouble on the way...I don't much expect trouble there, but IF so...*shrugs, then casts*
I also do think we are good to go, or did someone want any morning interaction with the locals before we depart?

So, forty minutes at a speed of 20? Poor Ridley has short legs after all.
But yeah, you never know when we'll roll on the random encounter table.

Packing up his cooking supplies having eaten his fill, and leaving the remains for any late comers, Umbriak prepared to head for the Dryad's tree. Hopefully she would have the answers they needed.

No short legs, he picked the alternate racial fleet of foot, we all travel at 30 feet speed - Well I do at 40 until I get to rebuild but who cares, right?

Getting ready to leave, Farod looked over the village, scanning the Fey present, busy with their daily duties and singing. Of particular interest to him was wether those who believed the singing should stop were hanging around...or if they had gathered for some shady business now that outside forces had started to affect things.
Oh, also, just for the fun of it, I'll throw up a Detect Evil after breakfast and maintain concentration while we remain in the village, up until we leave. If that shady guy who wants the same thing as the devil is around, I'll try to pass by close enough to get a reading.

In most cases, a party is only as fast as its slowest member...

The fey who seemed to dislike the singing were largely keeping their distance on the far side of the village. They didn't seem to be at the point of violence - yet - but there was no telling if that might change. You could only endure so many decades of anguish as your home burned, after all, even if you were otherwise largely immortal...

And Umbriak has Fast movement. Although if someone wants to carry Ridley, he won't mind...

Ridley shook his head, and kept his eyes idly open for forest monsters. Maybe there were tensions in this forest, but a few days was nothing compared to the centuries of whatever had already happened.

Umbriak waved cheerfully. So long as they kept the knifes to themselves for a couple more days...but hopefully those who wanted the song to continue would be keeping to themselves with perhaps a bit of a guard.

But the Dryad was the next stop, since stopping this fast seemed a best bet.

Aye, hence why I said, 30 feet group speed-

Farods opinions mirrored that of his companions, even if they remained unspoken. If there were no inmediate signs of trouble, there was no reason to look for it. And the Dryad was close enough to the village.

Handling the package with Anyariels hair carefully, carrying it as one would a priced posession, he followed the path as it had been explained to them.

The grove you were told about is about a mile north of the seela village, along the path of a dry riverbed in a gorge. The gorge ends with a beautiful stone staircase that leads up to a 30- by 50-foot clearing surrounded by burning roses and thick trees, beyond which is a hill, completely engulfed in fire. Past the flames, you can see what looks like a tall, old willow tree, and at the far end of the clearing, you can see a pair of flaming boars clearly standing guard.

Umbriak looked at the others. The Pre-cooked bacon looked potentially delicious but likely angry, too. Stepping forward, he called out in Sylvan, <"We come seeking aid from the Dryad Timbre, and bring memories of the hero Anyariel as proof of out good intent."> Hopefully she'd be curious enough to come and talk, at least.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

Ridley, realizing this might be quite an important conversation, cast Tongues on himself as soon as Umbriak began talking.

(Sylvan)<"We wish to finish the task the Lady Anyariel started, and by that means honor her.">, Farod approached while keeping Umbriak between himself and the Bacon, not quite shouting out, but talking loud in a firm voice.
+2 assist on diplomacy

After a few moments, there was a faint rustling - and a tree-like woman, burning like the rest of the forest, stepped through the walls and gazed at you for a few moments. <"...Show me."> she said quietly, but rather intently.

"I think this where we get yon hair outta the pack," the Dwarf suggested with a knowing nod. Farod had wrapped it up in his coat for safe keeping, and he assumed the Half-Orc had it still.

Farod stepped a bit closer, kneeled down to place his cloak on the ground in the direction of the burning Dryad, and unwrapped it to reveal Anyariels lock.
Standing up and taking a step backwards, he looked at Timbre:"Here it is."

Ack, across all games: my bad!

Ridley nodded, trying not to look too weird as the party fished through a cloak for some stray hair.

The dryad moved forward, taking the lock of hair and examining it intently for a moment before pressing it close to her chest. <"...What aid is it that you have come here to seek?"> she said, her tone definitely softer than before - with the gift you'd brought, it sounded like she was now open to being swayed to friendliness.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Farod clears his throat, then kneels before the lady of the forest, as befits a supplicant: "We seek aid in completing Anyariels final task. Indomitability. She used a wooden blade you granted to trap it at the lake, and the Fey sing to this day to keep it trapped...yet the forest suffers still. We mean to change that, to put things right. You provided aid in this battle once, we now stand humbly before you and request aid and any information that could help us accomplish the deed."

<"We understand it is a grave task, one that may be beyond our power. But to see the suffering of this place...we must try.>" Doing as much as she had done had killed Anyariel, and despite there greater numbers it was likely to be a desperate fight.

Umbriak looked at his arm, trying to work out where the tattoos would go...once he got more ink.

Ridley, finally including himself in the conversations again, nodded, as the others spoke for him as well.

<"I see."> Timbre mused. <"Then perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning, so you may know how the forest came to be this way."> she sat down and beckoned. The two flaming boars behind her moved forward and sat down at her sides, relaxing as she idly scratched them. <"In the primeval times of this world, my tree - the First Tree of Innenotdar - was blessed by the empyreal lord Shei in order to breathe life into the forest. Its first seeds were the Seela, the caretakers of the forest, and they were followed much later by the elves. I arose from the Song of Forms when the Seela here first learned to sing it from the earth deep below us. Recently - for me, at least - the forest faced a crisis when the Shahalesti attacked the elves living here. Anyariel, a warrior even then, came to rest in my glade... I came to love her then, and gave to her a gift - a branch from the tree, a part of myself that she could take to drive the invaders back. Years later, the forest was infiltrated by something vile, a creature of indomitable life that infested the nightmares of the forest and would not let natural death take its course. Anyariel died after she imprisoned the creature, and the survivors erected a shrine to her in the hopes that her spirit might be as resilient as that of the beast she defeated. But when the Shahalesti came forty years ago, there was no hero to save them. In the end, there was only the fire.">

<"The Seela are tied to the First Tree more than the forest itself. The First Tree will burn if Indomitability's connection to the forest is severed, but as long as the blade exists... well, they shall survive. It may not be pleasant at first, but in nature, all things change with time. There will be a new tree, a new forest coming from the ashes of the old. However, the branch only lives while it is bonded to a living creature. The Living Sword is currently pinning Indomitability to the bottom of Lake Seela - they were quite creative when naming it, no? - and it is still bound to Anyariel. If you wish to retrieve it, I will end that bond - and it will forge a new pact with the one who pulls it out. That will free the beast, though... and it may be weakened, but it remains formidable.">

Yay! Now it all makes sense.

"So, uh, thank you a great deal for explaining all this," Ridley replies slowly. "Are you saying all that needs to happen to save this forest is for one of us to take on the curse of this sword?"

"Curse? Surely your spell is faulty or you heard a different story...someone among us will be honored with the blessing of this sword and it's pact, given a chance to resurrect this forest."
His expression growing more serious, he turns to the Dryad:"What about you, mylady. A new tree...a new forest. The Seela may be bound to the forest, but aren't you bound to the tree? Or will the branch also safeguard your essence?"

"Er, just thinking ahead... 'forging a pact to spend your life fighting a nightmare demon' sounds like a bit of a mixed blessing, is all."

<"Fear not about being forced to fight the creature the Living Blade currently pins - there is no such compulsion on the blade. When we pass a tool into the hands of mortals, then for good or for ill, it is theirs to use. And I... well, I shall not be around to complain. Do not fear for me - death is merely another part of life, and indeed, it will give me a chance to join Anyariel. I would enjoy that more than remaining here anyway, so there's no need to hold your mission back on my account.">

Umbrial stroked his beard. The sword held little value to him - he carried an axe for religious as well as practical reasons - but it was still interesting. "<If you are certain, then it shall be done. But could not the tree - and yourself - be saved somehow?" He didn't like the idea of sacrificing her...or risking the people on the possibility that the magic failed, or the sword was destroyed.

"Forging a pact to cleanse the world from evil sounds like a noble thing to do, though, if that pact gives you the power to do so. Ì don't know about you, but I'm on the run from a good number of guys who want to murder me based on my heritage. That sounds plenty evil to me, too, so the purpose seems sound, even if the situation differs-", Farod starts talking, then looks back at the Dryad :"My apologies, mylady, I got excited - I do second the notion of my brother-in-arms, though. If there is some way to save you, any way, I implore you to tell us of it. If there is none, then let us know how much time you want to come to terms with what will happen, and if there is anything you want passed on to those who will rise anew."

"Ah. That's... good to hear? Although yeah it sounds like a real crappy move to take this magic sword and not try to save the forest with it."

<"At this point, it would take a miracle."> the Dryad answered sedately. <"One way or another, Indomitability will be free someday, and my tree shall burn. You have tasks of your own to accomplish, do you not? It is good that you care for others so much, but you should not sacrifice your own goals to pursue an unrelated matter when there is no reasonable hope of success. Renewal by fire is natural for forests, and this fire has burned for far too long.">

Umbriak stroked his beard. He wondered if, perhaps, the Fey below could arrive with buckets and barrels of water, dousing the flames before and as they appeared. It had the added bonus of removing them from the waterfront, where at least some of this battle was likely, and from Indominability. <"We rarely have things easy, good lady, but a little effort might bear great fruit. I know you wish to know your love once more, in the next and most blessed realm, but sometimes the Gods have an unusual path for us all to walk. If we have any ideas we shall return, or send some of the Fey below. But I suppose, now, we must find out - is there anything we must do to break the magic holding the blade, or to replace it once we grasp the sword?"> Considering, he added, "Dinnae wish to find a cannae finish without two tubs 'o grease and a silver sppon, ye ken?"

"I understand, mylady. I hoped that there was a way, and you simply refrained from telling us because it would add more peril to a task already dangerous. But we did make up our mind to save everybody we can, and return things to normal if we are able. And we're quite good with prevailing against unreasonable odds. We will make sure the children of the forest learn how far their mothers love went.", Farod talked...maybe to keep talking, and not need to come to terms with the fact the creature before them would soon perish in flames.
Suddenly, one more thing came to mind:"Indomitability is given form by the Song of the Seela, right? It was necessary to have form to be pinned at the bottom of the lake. Is the magic of that Song with the Seela, or the song itself? Could we evacuate the village and give it form ourselves, or will we need assistance to be able to fight it in a physical form?"

"And this is a minor afterthought, but how big is the sword?" Ridley added, wondering who in the group know how to handle such a weapon.

I would daresay Elf-sized right now ;) - it may be able to adapt it's size anyway but right now, unless Anya was a midget elf working in Santa's strike team, our resident battledwarf seems the fitting choice.

It's a stick, though. If it functions as a quarterstaff, Farod might be able to use it (and Umbriak can't use a 1H sword nearly as well as his axe). Hence: asking

Sadly, chances are that it's gonna end being one of those awesome weapons none of the party actually uses, and stays in the backpack except for cutscenes. I always liked Legacy of Fire for making it so the plot weapon was one of the heroes chosen style.

If it can resize, I can wield it pretty decently as a tiny shortsword at a -2 penalty...

<"It will bond with the first of you to pull it out. Anyariel kept the blade in the form of a greatsword, but it is very much a living thing... and like all living things, change is possible."> the dryad explained patiently. <"One way or another, I believe you will find it suitable before much time has passed.">

So, limited to Melee, I guess? Otherwise a living Longbow would also be fancy *gg* Then again, we have no idea how plot weapons interact with ABP. Guess we can roll for it or something, though I admit Umbriak is probably the most weapon-centric build.