JZ's Carrion Crown - (Wake of the Watcher) (Inactive)

Game Master JamZilla

Sorry. Busy day and I was hoping someone no one else would take the reins. I'm about to crash from exhaustion but I'll try to post first thing in the morning.

I've been out of town and slept most of yesterday and am only just now getting caught up.
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Hazel breathes a sigh of relief as the creature is finally brought low and she even offers up a simple prayer for its soul, having once been just as human as she.

"I think...I think that's all," she finally manages. "The other wolves are dead or fled. I know it sounds like Vrood went to Feldgrau, but..."

She shoots Vala a nervous look.

"Duristan is hurt and we still don't know anything about what Vrood actually wants. I think...I'd...I'd like to try using the scroll. To talk to Desna," Hazel continues, swallowing hard. "Maybe she will be able to give us some help, if she's willing. And we need to get Duristan out of here and back to the lodge, we can't leave him here and we can't take him with us. He's...he's done enough."

Kazamir rubs at the scathing wound the were-spirit gave him as he gives Hazel a weary smile.

"I think that you have been granted a precious opportunity here, and I would certainly welcome divine guidance. And, yes, I think we should get Duristan back to the Lodge. We should also inform them of Estovian's passing, and the fact that the supernatural protection he had wrought has been undone."

I'm just going to pause here because this seems like a natural pause for roleplaying

Hazel knowledge check: 1d20 ⇒ 19

Hazel you know that the temple has become unconsecrrated in the years since its original use. You can either spend half a day cleaning away the mess caused by years of occupation by the wolves and prey, or use the consecrate spell to instantly, though temporarily, recreate holy ground.

Once done. You can attempt to active the dusk moth with the ancient scroll you found in a ritual that lasts one hour

Very busy with personal life right now. Zed will volunteer to help Hazel cleaning up the area.

Hope everything is ok, Zed

"This thing has been haunting the werewolves here for generation. Kind of surprising that nobody has ever managed to face it down before," says Constantin. "Especially since they sometimes have silver weapons."

Vala frowns, the talk of doubling back to the lodge troubling her as Vrood's distance becomes apparent. "More likely they held in it in reverence, I would think. I had the impression all the packs of wood, or at least the importance of this particular place, came from fruits of what that poor soul's father did to him."

"Could be," Hazel replies with a small shrug. "But it needs to be cleansed either way," she adds insistently. "If the rest of you want to go back to the lodge or go on ahead then I'll catch up as best as I'm able. But this is something I need to do."

She frowns, looking around. "It'll probably take at least half a day to clear all this mess out and reconsecrate the site."
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Hazel doesn't have Consecrate prepared and thus would have to rest first anyway to do so. And truth be told, she'd rather make this cleansing a more permanent one if possible anyway.

Are you going to clean up through the night or rest and then do it in the morning?

Knowledge Geography Kaz: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

Feldgrau was a village in the Furcina area of the county of Ardeal in Ustalav lying close to the source of the Millrun River. Today it lies silent and ruined in the middle of the blasted wasteland called the Furrows.

During the War Without Rivals, the people of Feldgrau were slaughtered and their bodies dumped into a mass grave. However, the memories of the dead still linger in and haunt the place according to legend.

Constantin seems torn, and looks to Vala. "We can't spare time - we need to catch up to Vrood - but maybe Hazel's scroll will give us some guidance?"

If you clean through the night you will obviously be fatigued tomorrow. But if you want to do the ritual, that is probably the most time-efficient means of doing it.

"I don't think that we should split up. I'm in favor of setting to work right away, and seeing what guidance Hazel's patroness may grant us. It will mean a long, tiring day tomorrow, but I think it worth the risk."

Kaz glances at Vala before continuing.

"I know the urgency of our task, " he says, a little more gently than usual, ", and I do not take the time we would spend lightly, but I feel the chance for aid from a source beyond anything Vrood could counter is far too promising to pass. "

Vala sighs and her shoulders droop as the decision is made, but her voice is soft and gentle. "Of course." She offers Hazel an encouraging squeeze on her shoulder, "Of course we'll stay and help, dear." She turns then to Duristan and sighs a second time. "I'll tend to him as best I can."

You spend most of the evening clearing out the worst of the filth in the ancient temple It is back-breaking, foul work but each of you lend yourself to the task willingly and without complaint while alternating between taking watch and tending to Duristan.

As the first rays of dawn begin creeping over the tops of the trees and bathing the top of the tower, you feel your work is done. It is still a far cry for how venerated this place must have been at it's height, but the difference between the filth-ridden wolf hollow and now is like night and day.

I'm going to go ahead and assume after all that, that you are going to attempt the ritual

Hazel, Vala, Constantin and Kaz spend several hours studying the Dusk Moth and the scrolls that detail it's activation. The Moth itself, whatever it once was, is now simply a series of coloured tiles that have been embedded in the floor of Malthus' throne room in the rough shape of a butterfly.

The group fastidiously compare notes, from the perspective of a life-long devotee to Desna, another as a university educated scholar of history and religious artifacts and yet more opinions from scholars and practitioners of mysticism. And yet still, none seem able to activate this most ancient of relics.

At the point they are about to give up in exhausted frustration, Hazel looks up and suddenly realises that the entire room is bathed in a pale, pink glow. The image of the butterfly in the tile work is effervescent and pulsating with energy. Zed, Vermundr and Duristan, who has just recovered consciousness, look on dumbfounded while the others shield their eyes from the sudden glow.

Hazel attempts to stand but finds her feet rooted to the ground. In fact, she can't move at all. But for some reason, this doesn't concern her. She watches with distant fascination as Vermundr's body too freezes, dry rations halfway to his mouth, and then slowly, slowly, slowly topples from the barrel he was sitting on. Constantin's eyes roll back into his head and he leans heavily back against the wall whilst all the others are all suddenly plunged into a state of unconsciousness.

A tiny moth of impossible colouration lands on Hazel's hand, twitches it's antennae for a moment and then flutters off as the priestess too succumbs and darkness takes her.

........
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......
.....
....
...
..
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The stars wheel overhead in a miracle of streaking light. You realise you are standing on the roof of the ancient observatory and though you are there you are also below as you look down and somehow see through the roof as if it were made of glass, your unconscious forms prone in the throne room.

You see no one else, nor hear any other voices and yet can feel a great sense of gratitude for the restoration of the temple. It is overwhelming, a sensation more immense than any you have ever known.

Above you the stars begin to shift and change, forming images from their myriad pin-pricks of light. The dazzling display is almost too much for you to bear, too great for you to comprehend but you are compelled to look on regardless.

You see yourselves before this endeavour, with friends and loved ones, family you have not seen for years, colleagues and peers once close and now distant. And then the image changes and somehow you realise you are being given a glimpse of the future.

Several figures stand before a dark-robed human, a ruined tower shrouded in mist at his back. He wears armor made from human bones and a cruel look in his eye. It is a face you have seen once before - Auren Vrood.

Like chalk washed away in the rain, the image melts and then reforms to become one of those same shadowy figures fighting a terrifying tentacled monster, deep beneath the sea.

Once more it shifts to become that of a beautiful woman in an underground chamber, stunning and regal and pale. But she crouches like an animal, legs coiled beneath her and hands that end in wicked claws. She bears sharp fangs as she silently mouths the words of some unknown spell before that image too is swept away by the tail of a streaking comet.

Then the final, horrific image forms.

It depicts a great battle with a decaying creature that blazes with arcane power, high atop a spire in dark, swirling clouds. The image of the creature flickers and falters as if it were resisting the display. And yet, somehow, though you cannot perceive why, the corpse-creature carries with it a desperate familiarity....

The feeling of knowing everything, being one with everything hovers on the edge of your perception and for one terrifying moment you think the entire knowledge and wisdom of the the Heavens is going to come washing over you like a wave, a tsunami that would annihilate your very comprehension of who you are and where you stand in the universe.

Then all at once you are falling, not from the tower but from some impossible, unimaginable height. Stars and planets streak past and in mere moments you see your bodies in the Stairs of the Moon, blank eyed and staring up at the heavens. Careering toward them at a thousand thoughts a second, you instinctively cover your eyes that don't see and scream with lungs that don't breathe until the image of the tower gets larger and larger and LARGER....

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You suddenly gasp for air. You jolt out of unconsciousness with a powerful feeling of vertigo and grit your teeth against the wave after wave of nausea that runs through your quivering body.

As the visions come to an end, everyone is bestowed a +1 inherant bonus to either Wisdom or Charisma due to your brush with divinity.

You may also LEVEL UP!

So....?

Sorry, work has been busy.

Hazel groans and rolls into a ball as she returns to consciousness, trying to fight the nausea that grips her and as well as the pounding in her skull.

"Did...did you guys see that? What did it all mean?"

"That... was a hell of a dream" Vermundr says breathlessly as he struggles to his feet. "I don't know Hazel. Maybe some kind of warning sent by Vrood to scare us off his trail."

Zelda buzzes nervously, visibly uncomfortable with the brush with a foreign divinity.

It doesn't matter terribly but does she get the stat bump too?

No, characters only not pets I'm afraid

Vala groans alongside Hazel, and the older woman rolls stiffly on to her side before struggling to shakily regain her feet. "That was fast and too overwhelming to make much sense of it. But I know I saw Vrood. Is everyone alright, though? Are we all fit enough to make for Feldgrau?"

"No, that didn't seem like a warning," Hazel remarks as she finally manages to pull herself into a sitting position, wincing as the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through her skull. "Not from Vrood, anyway. He's a talker, he would've just talked us to death if that'd been his doing."

Once the worst of the headache seems to subside, Hazel slowly climbs to her feet, helping anyone else up who looks like they might need it. "Desna...it was the Starsong, I know it was. The visions had to either be a warning from her or some sort of clue....or a look into the future."

She looks at Vala. "We do need to get to Feldrau but what about Duristan? He can't come with us, he's too injured and we can't just leave him here. We need to at least get him back to the lodge before we go."

Vala looks over to the brash young wolf-hunter with an inquisitive eyebrow. "Why don't we let the man speak for himself?"

Vermundr busies himself preparing something to break their fast while the ladies question the young nobleman.

Duristan struggles to a sitting position and smiles wanly.

Oh you know me, nothing's too much of a bother... he lets out a rattle of coughs. With a little more healing I could make it back to the Lodge. But did you say you were going somewhere in Ardeal? That's over a hundred miles, how will you do it without horses? he asks.

"That's...that's a good question," Hazel admits. "I don't know if Vala or Kaz or Constantin can conjure anything for us to ride or not; my memory's still a little scrambled."

Noticing that Duristan is still rather injured, Hazel channels one of her spells into a healing spell.

Cure Light Wounds (Duristan): 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

"There...hopefully that helps," she says quietly. Then, unable to help herself, she adds, "I'm sorry...no one else was supposed to be involved in all this; it's too...we've lost..."

Hazel shakes her head, unable to continue.

Constantin's eyes flutter open, but they are still rolled up inside of his head. His mouth sags open and a ribbon of violet smoke issues out and up, dispersing into the tower above.

Kaz struggles to a sitting position and, after a swift glance to make sure his companions are alright - or mostly alright - darts out of the room, to open air at the edge of the temple. He leans against a pillar, drenched in clammy sweat, drawing racking, shuddering breaths for several long seconds.

His hand creeps to his chest, pressing his talisman through his mail and shirt.

"Zohls, Lady of Secrets, thank you for this glimpse beyond the veils of mortal knowledge," he whispers,staring off into space. "Please do not think me unfaithful or impious as I offer thanks to Lady Desna for this brief miracle."

" Desna, Starsong, Great Lady - I offer my thanks..." He trails off, lacking words to express the enormity of what is in his mind.

Feeling more stable, the investigator dabs at this brow with a handkerchief, composes himself a moment, then returns to his companions, plucking the ends of his sleeves into place as he walks.

After a few moment's discussion, verifying that they all saw much the same thing, he asks, slightly hesitantly, "That last figure...Was it the Tyrant?"

Then, noticing Constantin still not quite up to speed (and issuing purple smoke), he kneels to check on the psychic.

Not sure what's wrong with Constantin. Sounds like a bad trip though

Constantin's head falls forward, and then slowly rotates back up. He blinks and his eyes slowly focus on Kaz.

"Touched the Akashic source. Still... re-compartmentalizing my mind," is all he manages to say. He reaches out for Kaz with his left hand, misses, reaches again and manages to grip Kaz's arm. "Too much information... have to archive it all."

Pharasma...you are ever enigmatic. Although perhaps the overwhelming feeling I had was why you are so careful with your knowledge. Perhaps we simply cannot handle real truth. Zed slowly comes to his feet, sweeping the others to see if they're alright.

"We should finish this up and return. We can talk about what we saw once we're behind safe walls."

So is the plan to return to the Lodge and get horses?

Unless we find a secret door, that seems to be the next step.

Constantin struggles to stand, then adjusts his mail shirt and slowly scans the room.

Activating detect secret doors.

It sounds like we wouldn't be saving any time by heading out on foot. We had might as well bring Duristan back to the Lodge and nab some horses.

"Agreed", Vermundr grunts as he hands out steaming mugs of coffee to the party followed by hard biscuits and rashers of bacon.

"But we need to return prepared for battle. We have to assume that some or all of the staff at the Lodge were in league with the Way as well."

"I hope not...having to kill everyone or nearly everyone is getting old," Hazel sighs as she moves to aid Duristan for the journey back to the Lodge.

As the party gathers their gear, their muscles sore from yesterdays running battles with the wolves and topped off by hours consecrating the temple, Vermundr prepares a simple but plentiful breakfast from a collection of their rations. In typical northern field-operative style, it largely consists of dried meat, made dryer by heating it on a skillet over a fire and then covered in salt – all washed down by breakfast ale or strong tea.

The watery sun trickles through the oppressive forest canopy as the group makes it’s way back to the treeline.

The Shudderwood is a misnomer in the daylight. Whilst the great boughs of ancient trees loom here and there and vines and branches seem almost determined to block your way, with the daylight comes the sound of forest birds and the smells of wild flowers. Here are there where the canopy breaks, you are afforded a splendid view up into a bright but cold morning sky filled with wispy clouds.

Upon returning to the Lodge you find that most of the guests are packing up to leave or in fact have left already. Quiene is doing the same for her horses and Delgros of his creatures.

Kazamir intercepts Quiene, seeing about arranging mounts for the party, then heads to the kitchens to see to provisions for the trip.

Quiene is more than happy to sell horses to the party, realising it is going to be difficult to navigate the woods with the 10 she has already.

The kitchen is as well stocked as you imagine and given that panic seems to have set in and everyone is leaving, the staff do not object to you helping yourself

Noting that it seems everyone is abandoning the lodge, Hazel tries to catch Delgros or one of the other employees. "Hey, wait!" she calls. "It's up to him of course but if he'll go...would you take Duristan with you?" she asks, quietly. "He did a lot for us out there, in those woods, but he's hurt and it's not safe for him to travel with us...not to where we're going next."

Delgros sighs as he helps another three men load a crate onto a wagon. Something inside makes an irritated hissing noise.

So the bloody idiot got himself hurt did he? Delgros asks. Can't say it surprises me, brave but stupid. Well he ain't paying my wages any more I suppose so I can say what I like.

Duristan, mount up if you're able. Less you want to travel in the wagon with the animals.

The noble, still holding his ribs, smiles grimly.

I'm a salty old adventurer now Delgros, and thus immune to your jibes. Happy to travel with you. he looks off into the distance, somehow past the trees and to whatever lay beyond. But I don't know my path.

He turns to Hazel and, whether still delirious from pain or somehow embolden by his experience in the field, hugs her fiercely.

My dear, you both stole my heart and steeled it as well. Perhaps I'll never be as great an adventurer as you, but perhaps I'm not just the buffoon people assume. At least I like to think not. If.... he blushes. ...once your quest is done, I mean, if you want to... that is... you don't have to but it would be nice... or at least I would think it nice... <cough>. Well, once it's done I would love to see you again. I don't know where I'm going yet, but if you write to my estate at Courtaud, I'll find a way to that correspondence.

He smiles warmly, his blue eyes glinting in the morning sun.

Farewell and good luck! That's something an adventurer would say, right?

He mounts up with a grimace of effort and, as he trots out of the gate and away from Ascanor, he swivels in his saddle and shouts;

Hey, Mr Rhuul, I saw you get slashed by that wolf ghost. Good thing you had that scar-ward right?

With that, he trots into the forest and onto new adventures.

I'd been meaning to ask about that...

"We shall see if it was worth the price. Safe travels, Duristan. Have fun devising new ways to show off your scars." Kaz smiles wryly at the departing nobleman.

As they are seeing to details:

"Vala, Hazel, Vermundr...I was slashed by the Vilkacis. Is there any way to determine if I have indeed been infected? I'd much rather find out before the next full moon..."

"Farewell Duristan. May Pharasma grant you wisdom to see the paths ahead of you."

Zed turns to Kaz. "I could enchant my weapon and hit you with it." Zed suggests.

That's the most Inquisitor solution to a problem I've ever heard :D

Kazamir blinks silently at Zed for several long seconds. Of course he is jok...no. not of course. I have no idea if he is joking, the investigator admitted to himself.

"Ah...let us call that 'Plan B'. Or C. Or Q," he says, shuddering slightly as he recalls some of the more spectacular hits the inquisitor's tetsubo had dished out.

As the time comes to say their goodbyes to Duristan, Hazel is surprised to find herself tearing up. "I...I don't know where we'll be going after Feldgrau or what'll happen. The vision Desna gave us...it makes me think that we've still got a long road ahead of us," she admits, scowling a bit as she wipes at her eyes.

Dammit, I hate crying in front of people!

Then, she does manage a small smile. "But, um...once it's all said done, then I'll write to you. Courtaud, you said? I think I can remember that."

She watches him ride away with Delgros and the others, unable to help but laugh a little at his parting words. "Yeah...yeah, something like that! Farewell and good luck! May Desna guide your path!" she calls out.

But then her laugh falters when he reminds them that Kaz had suffered injury from the Vilkacis. She turns to study her friend, suddenly anxious. "You...you feel okay though, right? I don't think Zed cracking you across the knees is going to tell us anything. Besides, um, I still have my silver dagger - if you're really desperate, just slice your finger with it or something."

Vermundr takes the investigator's concern very seriously.

"Can the Vilkacis spread its curse through its claws? Wolfsbane tea might be in order. You'll be sick as a dog but it's better than the alternative."

It definitely can. Whether it did or not is another matter

Did we learn that at some point?

Vala's knowledge check would have revealed that

Vala turns to Kazamir in surprise as he mentions the wound he suffered. "You WHAT?! Goodness, Kazamir, why in heaven's name would you wait so long to mention it! Such power from that head of yours but not a lick of sense sometimes." Vala then worriedly examines the psychic before pressing a vial of distilled wolfsbane into his hand. "Drink it. Now, young man. Yes, that's it, all of it. Good, good." She then cradles his face in both her hands and meets his eyes, her tone gentler now, "We're not out of these all-but-Desna-forsaken woods yet, Kazamir. If we run into any more wolves or vilkacises or whatever and the same happens again, tell me right away, dear. Please."

It's plain that her severity is born from worry and care, and before Duristan and Delgros can pass beyond earshot, Vala turns the same attention on the adventuresome noble and calls out. "Duristan! Don't you dare ride off just yet!" She then presses the other vial into his hands and looks up at him in the saddle. "Drink this. I trust that a good sight more than those scar wards you boast about. You were in rough shape when we found you and if that vilkacis took a swipe at you like it did Kazamir, then that may well save your life." She then softens and squeezes his hand, adding in a gentle whisper, "And the world needs as many people like you as it can get, dear. Desperately so."