The Last King of Ireland

Game Master Amergin the Wise


301 to 350 of 2,914 << first < prev | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | next > last >>

M Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) 4 | HP 34/34 | AC12 T12 F10 | CMB +3 CMD 15 | F5 R4 W9 | Init +8 | Perc +12
X/Day:
Spells | Command x3 - Sanctuary DC17 | Bull's Strength - Calm Emotions x2 - Shield Other DC18 | Channel 5/5 DC14 | Inspiring Word 7/7 | Touch of Law 7/7

Ó Máille will gladly take the last watch and spend the dawn hours in prayer.


Male Irish Bard/2

"Thank you my friend" says Braedan, accepting the mushrooms. He then breaks out his pipe again and shares a cup of tea with Padraic before feeling relaxed enough to get some sleep himself.

"Everyone seems to be resting comfortably. I haven't heard anything in the last few hours. Well done with the mushrooms. We shall see what the dawn brings us."


The sun rises after a night spent mostly reflecting, praying, or dreaming of the nightmarish Banshee. The very existence of the spirit proves with any doubt that the old tales are true.

God be praised for having guided you through this ordeal.

You gather your things...


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

"So... Where are we actually heading?" Aoife asked as she put everything away and got dressed.


Male Irish Bard/2

Braedan says

"In order to release Aoife's children from their curse. They must be blessed by a priest. In order to do that, we have to go to the Druid's Altar and receive a vision. I couldn't understand all of the things she talked about and we may have to just go on a wing and a prayer. I believe I know where the old altar is...Let's go"

Throwing on his still damp clothes, the Bard leads the others to the location he remembers in Burren forest.


You head straight West across the boulder field of the plateau, and down the mountain, before reaching the forest of Burren. The day is bright and warm, and the hike is pleasant enough.

But you are stil haunted by the Banshee, and will not soon forget her decaying form or her anguished cries. "Kill me," she moaned, cursed to endure the centuries, a prisoner in the Marble Arch Caves.

Strange to think that only three days ago, you woke up in Largay without a worry in the world. And then the rider came and announced the death of High King MacLochlain, and everything changed.

Padraic takes his time to lead you deeper into the forest, where few ever venture. Hidden among the trees, you find the ancient Druid's Altar.


Male Irish Bard/2

"Pray for guidance brother. The banshee said that we had to perform some kind of ritual here in order to proceed with freeing the children. I'm not sure what to do...."

Braedan will circle around the altar looking for any kind of clues

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Lastly, he gathers everyone together and says....

"Brother O'Malle, the spirit said something about all of us going on a vision quest. Since you already had the vision and must be prepared to bless the children, I think she means the rest of us. She said these mushrooms would help induce this vision. It's the only path that I see. Please watch over us brother and fear not what may come..."

The Bard directs everyone to build a fire inside the Altar and prepare it like a sweat lodge. He gives some mushrooms to Aoife, Padraic and Fintan. Braedan takes some and gives the rest to Brother O'Malle.

"I think we all consume them together and wait for the vision. The vision isn't clear if you need to partake also Brother...hold these just in case."


Under fallen branches, you find a cold pool of water, a few steps away from the dolmen.

Inside the tomb, you see that there is room enough to sit around a pit.

Knowledge, Religion DC 15:
In a traditional celtic vision quest ceremony, participants would fast, and go back and forth between a sweat lodge, and a cold pool. The mushroom infusion served to free the spirit, and allowed the vision to enter the mind. Note that sweat lodges, or vapour baths, were still common in the 12th century in Ireland.


Male Irish Bard/2

Knowledge Religion: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13


Male Irish Bard/2

After walking around the massive structure, seeing the pool, the firepit, he finally understands.

"We build a fire inside, strip down and let the heat and mushrooms infuse us. We go out to the pool when we get to hot and then do it all over again until the vision comes."


M Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) 4 | HP 34/34 | AC12 T12 F10 | CMB +3 CMD 15 | F5 R4 W9 | Init +8 | Perc +12
X/Day:
Spells | Command x3 - Sanctuary DC17 | Bull's Strength - Calm Emotions x2 - Shield Other DC18 | Channel 5/5 DC14 | Inspiring Word 7/7 | Touch of Law 7/7

The priest stands outside the altar, a handful of mushrooms in his grasp. "I'm not sure how I feel about these Druidic rituals, Braeden. Nevertheless, you have yet to lead us astray." He pauses for a moment. "I can see now that God has brought us together to maximize our strengths. You are a natural born leader, wise, knowledgeable, and charismatic. Fintan is strong, not just in battle, but in heart. Aoife is a fierce warrior and she keeps us in line." Ó Máille chuckles. "Padriac is at home in the woods here. His affinity with God's creation is unsurpassed. And me, well I suppose my role here is to help. Help you to lead, our allies to fight, and this woman to be forgiven her sins." His gaze rests softly on Braedan. "Thank you."


Male Irish Bard/2

Braedan stares at his friend in astonishment...

"You diminish yourself friend. That's why the Father chose you. His humble servant...meek and lowly, just like our Lord Himself.

He choose you to have the Vision. To be the One to free these children and even Aoife from the devil's torment. You are his chosen one...sanctified...set apart for His special work. The rest of us just do our part but it's you who have been given the special blessing just like our great St. Patrick, an Englishman whom God choose to become a slave here in Ireland so that he could see our need and free us from bondage. He, The Lord, knows what He is doing, we're all His children and some are chosen for great things others for mundane things. Who are we to raise our voices in complaint? We are just clay in the hands of the Master Potter. the potter makes some vessels for special use...communion...other vessels to carry ordinary water.

Lead us in this Hymn Brother and grant us the Father's blessing...

The Willing Vessel wrote:

Lord, You are the Potter and I am the clay.

Mold me and make me, have Thine own way.
Lord, I give my life, I give my all to You,
To be a willing vessel, to use me through and through.
Lord, I need Your Spirit, Lord, I need Your grace;
Lord, You are the Potter and I am the clay.
Mold me and make me, after thine way.


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Yeah, the slave girl keeps you all in line

Aoife gave a small smirk at what the brother said before she looked down at the mushrooms in her hand "Never really liked mushrooms..." She told them. "You know I think I'll work on that fire, maybe I should just tend to the fire and leave the visions to you all." Aoife said as she slowly made her gathering wood and set about starting a fire.


Male Irish Bard/2

Everyone needs a fiesty red-headed step-sister slave-girl in their life to keep them in line. :P


Male HP 22 (16) / AC 17(19) Touch 14 Flat-Footed 13(15) / Fort +3 Ref +6 Will +0 / Senses Perception +6 / Eagle +12, Survival +4 / Eagle +6 Human Falconer/Trapper Ranger Level 1

Padraic coughed "Patrick was Welsh actually. And aye I'll go on your quest. Truth be told I eat these mushrooms to relax sometimes but never thought to get naked and sit around with three other men and a woman to let them soak in to my body. I'll give anything a try once I guess. I'll show you how to make a nice tea of them too. Trick is you dry an out and make them in to a crumbly pile before adding them right after the tea has boiled and let cool slightly. Lovely stuff on a cold night!"


The day is gray and the mist in the forest has yet to lift.

They tend to the fire, which takes a fair while, and prepare the mushroom infusion. When the small hut under the altar is a veritable sauna, the time has come to embark on the vision quest. Accompanied by Braedan, Brother O’Maille recites a blessing; and then they all strip. Some are comfortable, some are not. But they are all kin, and there is no turning back now. They sit under Druid’s Altar.

Fintan, Braedan and Padraic drink the infusion. It is bitter, but otherwise fine.

It is hot, and before long they are all wet with sweat. When it is too hot, they step out and into the cold pool. It is absolutely freezing, but not entirely unpleasant. They wash away the last days, the bloodshed, the nightmares…

They head back in. Then, Brother O’Maille and Aoife watch as in turn, each of their companions falls into a deep sleep.

”Now we wait,” Aoife guesses.

”I need to cool down,” O’Maille says as he stands. Aoife follows.

Outside, night is falling and the fog is impenetrable. The night is eerily quiet. Not a an owl. Not a rodent crawling in the bushes. No wind. They make their way to the pool. And that’s when they see them: three large wolves.

Fintan, Braedan and Padraic, here is the strange opportunity to play a wolf! The wolves want to run into the forest, but their pack is incomplete.


Male Irish Bard/2

The Wolf-Braedan, head down, ears upright...walks slowly toward Aoife and Brother O'Maille. With smells so acute, it's mind boggling, he finds and begins to paw at the stash of mushrooms in Aoife's pocket. He looks into her eyes and begins to whimper...


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Aoife backed away from the wolf at first, but stopped when it pawed at her leg and whimpered. "I hate to take them... Don't I?" She asked, even though she knew the answer. With a long heavy sigh she returned to the fire to see if any of the tea was left. If not, or there was only enough for one, she made more before looking to the Brother. "Normally I wouldn't say this, but for the love of God, drink the tea."

Finally Aoife downed her cup in one go. She shook her head to distract from the bitter taste as she waited.


M Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) 4 | HP 34/34 | AC12 T12 F10 | CMB +3 CMD 15 | F5 R4 W9 | Init +8 | Perc +12
X/Day:
Spells | Command x3 - Sanctuary DC17 | Bull's Strength - Calm Emotions x2 - Shield Other DC18 | Channel 5/5 DC14 | Inspiring Word 7/7 | Touch of Law 7/7

The priest freezes at the sight of the wolves, transfixed as one approaches Aoife. Her calm reaction catches him by surprise, but he follows her back to the sauna. He had seen stranger things over the past few days.

Without speaking, he takes a cup of the tea and follows Aoife's lead.


They drink the tea, and wait... The heat is intense. They sit back and close their eyes.

When they open their eyes, they are in the forest. They are low to the ground, moving quietly through the undergrowth. And they are not alone. In all, there are five large wolves. The pack is complete. Taken over by their wild instincts, they run into the forest. They are hunting a large red deer, which has strayed from its herd. They stalk the prey patiently, and when the time is right, they pounce. They snap at its legs, claw at its sides, and rip its throat. The large animal falls, and the wolves feed.

The heroes of Largay awaken from the vision, naked under the Druid's Altar. The fire has long died, and outside the sun is rising. They step out –

The forest has changed. This is the very same dolmen, and the pool is there. But the trees and the bushes are noticeably different. And their gear is missing!

"What are you doing on these sacred grounds?" an old man asks, both curious and angry. He wears simple brown robes, has a sickle and a number of pouches attached to his belt, and carries a tall staff.


Male Irish Bard/2

Braeden kneels and bows his head...

"Forgive our intrusion to this holy place father. We mean no disrespect. We have come from another time and another place it would seem. We are strangers here. Please, can you help us find something to cover our nakedness so that we can talk?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

"Um... Braedan... I don't think he's a priest." Aoife said as she did her best to cover her breast with her hair. She was obviously not comfortable with this. "This was a Druid's grove remember? He, may be, a druid." She pointed out as she look the man over. "Though Braedan is correct, we mean no disrespect. We where seeking a vision that would help us, but it seems we have been sent here... And if you could spare something to cover ourselves with, we'd be very greatful."


The old man listens, ponders, and smiles. He seems to find the situation amusing.

"Another time," he muses, "but not another place, I think. You embarked on a vision quest, and now you are here... Why have you come?"

He stops. "Perhaps it is best if I do not know why you've come. It would ruin the surprise. And it could have grave consequences for the future. You come from the future? Not the past? In any case, I will trust in the spirits that have brought you here..."

He seems genuinely excited.

"I am Amergin Glúingel," he introduces himself.

Knowledge, History DC 15:
Amergin Glúingel was brother to the first Milesian Kings of Ireland - your ancestors. The powerful druid and bard is the stuff of myths that you assumed were no more than old pagan tales.


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

"This is Fintan, Braedan, Padraic, Brother Ó Máille, and I am Aoife." Aoife told him in quick succession. "As nice as it is to meet you Amergin, you said we're in another time, not place. Could you tell us the year? So that we may know how far back we've traveled? Also... Maybe tell us where we can get clothes?"


Male HP 22 (16) / AC 17(19) Touch 14 Flat-Footed 13(15) / Fort +3 Ref +6 Will +0 / Senses Perception +6 / Eagle +12, Survival +4 / Eagle +6 Human Falconer/Trapper Ranger Level 1

Padraic stretches slowly before standing, seeming to flow from lying curled around the others protectively to his feet like liquid. Gods hunting, such beautiful sensations and feelings. He could still feel the power, the tension in his body, could feel the call of the wild and, did he imagine it, or could he feel a stronger pull towards his brothers and sister, his pack.

"Water is good for me," He croaked, beginning to look around for a spring. "Mouth feels like it's stuffed with worked wool. Bloody awful."

"Ta brohn orm, a cairde, Paidraic o Cinneide is anim dom."


M Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) 4 | HP 34/34 | AC12 T12 F10 | CMB +3 CMD 15 | F5 R4 W9 | Init +8 | Perc +12
X/Day:
Spells | Command x3 - Sanctuary DC17 | Bull's Strength - Calm Emotions x2 - Shield Other DC18 | Channel 5/5 DC14 | Inspiring Word 7/7 | Touch of Law 7/7

As the gravity of the situation sinks in, the priest falls to his knees and begins praying feverishly.


Puzzled, Amergin stares at Brother Ó Máille for a moment, before answering Aoife: "We are in the first year of the first cycle of the rule of High King Ailill Caisfiaclach."

Sensing their confusion, he hands Aoife his cloak, and sits on a log.

"Without revealing too many details," he continues, "perhaps you should tell me why you have come..."


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Aoife takes the cloak from the man and wraps it around her naked form. "Thank you for your kindness" She said with a small bow before she say down next to him, holding the cloak closed. "I am unsure what would be... Too much?" Aoife answered honestly. "Braedan?" She asked as she turned to look at him.

Though she quickly turned to look at Padraic, "Do you think you could help Brother Ó Máille? He seems a bit shaken." She told him.


"It is best if I don't know your intent," he thinks aloud, "but perhaps you can tell me where you want to go? Or what spirits called upon you to come?"


"We were called upon by God to find King Lir," Braeden explains, not wanting to reveal too much.

"I can take you to King Lir," the old man promises, "But who is this God you speak of?"

Braeden turns to Brother Ó Máille. After all, it was his vision that lead them all to this point.

"You can explain on the way," Amergin suggests to Brother Ó Máille as he stands to go.

He stops, for a moment confused. Then he remembers: "Clothes! Stay here."

He walks away, and comes back not long after with five simple tunics. "There is a village nearby," Amergin explains, not knowing that they are all in fact from Largay.

They dress, and they they all get on their way. "The king is a few days South of here, at Lough Derravaragh."


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Aoife quickly changed into the tunic and returned the cloak to Amergin with thanks. "The town you speak of... Would it happen to be Largay?" Aoife asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He is a few days south? How few of days? And if I may, have you come cross something like this before? Those coming back to another time?" She asked.


"That's right," Amergin answers her first question, raising an eyebrow.

"Two or three days," he continues. "To be quite honest, I have seen many things. But never this. Very exciting!"

You find it strange how this old man can so easily accept something that you yourself find completely implausible! Perhaps this is no more than a vision? A hallucination induced by the mushrooms?

He leads the way with surprising visor and endurance, and you are beginning to think that there is something very particular about this old man... Are all druids this way?


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

"You're... very okay with this." Aoife pointed out as they walked. "Is it just a... Druid thing?" She asked before she stopped. "Oh that sounded rude didn't it?"


M Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) 4 | HP 34/34 | AC12 T12 F10 | CMB +3 CMD 15 | F5 R4 W9 | Init +8 | Perc +12
X/Day:
Spells | Command x3 - Sanctuary DC17 | Bull's Strength - Calm Emotions x2 - Shield Other DC18 | Channel 5/5 DC14 | Inspiring Word 7/7 | Touch of Law 7/7

"Fankly, I'm not quite sure what we're looking for. We may be in search of a specific group of swans. Though, if we're in a different time, maybe not.."


"There are swans at Lough Derravaragh," Amergin confirms.

He turns to Aoife with a smile: "I have been on this earth for many, many years. Since Eber Finn and Érimón defeated the Tuatha de Danann. And I have learned that the ways of the spirits are unfathomable."

Knowledge, History DC 15:
Eber Finn and Érimón are the legendary first Milesian Kings who conquered Ireland well over a thousand years before the coming of Christ. This would suggest that Amergin is in fact Amergin the Poet, brother to the first Milesian kings.


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

"There aren't any... Odd takes about the swans are there?" Aoife asked, doing her best not to say too much about why they had come.


"There are indeed! The swan is sacred, a symbol of light and life. It travels between the land of the living and the Otherworld," Amergin explains.

"And there is the story of the Wooing of Étaín," he continues. "Midir of the Tuatha de Danann fell in love with beautiful Étaín, daughter of Ailill, King of the Ulaid. They were married, but Midir's jealous first wife, Fúamnach, casts a spell on Étaín, turning her into a purple butterfly. After many years of aimless wandering, poor Étaín fell into a glass of wine. She was swallowed by the wife of Étar, a warrior of the Ulaid, and was reborn.

"She really was a remarkable beauty," he reminisces.


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

I hate posting from my phone... it changes tales to takes... *sigh* But I've been so busy that the main down time I get is at work! XD

"I meant about the swans themselves." Aoife muttered. "You mean Étaín? The one reborn or the one who was turned into the butterfly?" She asked trying to follow the story.

Why is it jealous people turn others into animals?!


M Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) 4 | HP 34/34 | AC12 T12 F10 | CMB +3 CMD 15 | F5 R4 W9 | Init +8 | Perc +12
X/Day:
Spells | Command x3 - Sanctuary DC17 | Bull's Strength - Calm Emotions x2 - Shield Other DC18 | Channel 5/5 DC14 | Inspiring Word 7/7 | Touch of Law 7/7

The priest turns to his companions, his face expressing confusion. "Well, this swan could be one of the ones we're looking for. I'm not entirely sure if that's the case or even what I should do when we find it." Ó Máille breathes deeply and begins quoting a psalm. "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. I have sworn, and I will perform it, that I will keep thy righteous judgments."


"When Midir won Etain's heart, and when her father tried to keep them apart, Midir and Etain turned into swans to escape," he continues his story.

I sort of omitted the most relevant part of the story!

"You are hunting swans?" Amergin asks after having paid particular attention to Brother Ó Máille's prayer.


M Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) 4 | HP 34/34 | AC12 T12 F10 | CMB +3 CMD 15 | F5 R4 W9 | Init +8 | Perc +12
X/Day:
Spells | Command x3 - Sanctuary DC17 | Bull's Strength - Calm Emotions x2 - Shield Other DC18 | Channel 5/5 DC14 | Inspiring Word 7/7 | Touch of Law 7/7

Ó Máille looks to his friends then back to Amergin. "Well, we're searching for specific individuals who have been transformed into swans to restore them to their human forms." The priests shrugs in recognition of the ridiculousness of his statement.


"Interesting," he considers Brother Ó Máille's words. "I know of no such people. But perhaps the King of Lir will know. Or his wife Aoife, who has been known to speak to spirits. She is a good and kind woman. She will listen to you."


Male Irish Barbarian (Mounted Fury) 1 / Fighter (Dragoon) 1
Defenses/Stats/Resources:
HP 14/26 | AC 16 T 12 FF 14 (-2 AC raging) | Fort +6 Ref +2 Will +1 | Initiative +2 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +1 | Rage Rounds 4/6

Fintan has very little to say about the whole affair - mostly, he just wears confusion on his face as he travels with the others, seeming uncomfortable with neither his horse nor his lance. But while he has few words to say, there is much thought on his face, and he seems to ponder something as the group follows this strange fellow, Amergin.

When he does speak, it's to ask a question. "Who travels with King Lir?" It's a question he seems to have spent quite a lot of time deciding on, and he only asks it after Amergin speaks of Queen Aoife.

Rolling Nobility in case I roll well. I'm hoping Fintan might know something about these old, dead kings and queens.

Knowledge (Nobility): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12


"Any number of chief could be at the king's fort. Each with warriors. Lir is respected," Amergin answers Fintan, and hesitates before continuing, "and feared. Bob Derg would not have given Lir his daughters if he had a choice."

Braedan chimes in: "How did Aoibh die?"

"His first wife? They say that she took her own life. But I don't believe it." He sighs, stops for a moment, and warns them: "To be clear, King Lir is a dangerous man. I do not want to know why your spirit God has quested you to find him, but I urge you to be careful."


Through green pastures, you arrive at Lough Derravaragh and see King’s Lir’s fort at the top of Knockeyon hill. It is raining, and you are eager to find refuge. You climb the hill and are greeted by warriors wearing simple cloth tunics and wielding wooden spears. They welcome Amergin with reverence and genuine friendship. Clearly, he is well-liked and respected.

The King himself comes out of his hut too greet the druid. King Lir is a large, powerful man with a vicious scar across his face, and a wild look in his eyes. He is followed by four cheerful children who immediately run to the druid’s side. Amergin hands them some treats: sweet berries and honeyed nuts, which he conjures from a pouch. They grab the gifts, and then run back to their father.

”Welcome, Amergin!” the King speaks loud enough for all to hear. ”I offer you my hospitality for as long as you will accept it. You are our honoured guest.”

Amergin bows, and smiles. ”I thank you, King Lir. I accept your hospitality. Tales of your generosity will be told across the Emerald Isle. I would ask that you extend your hospitality to my companions: Fintan, Braedan, Padraic, Aoife, and… O’Maille. I am accompanying them on their spirit quest.”

The king looks upon the group with curiosity. ”Of course. So long as they respect the rules of my house, they are welcome. If they do not respect the rules of my house, I will hang them by their entrails.”

As the king speaks, you see her step out of the hut. Aoife. She is absolutely beautiful, mesmerizing even. And there is an undeniable sweetness to her. She walks to her husband’s side, and looks up at him with genuine love. ”Welcome, Amergin. It is always a pleasure to receive you in our house.”

”Aoife, your beauty is equaled only by the kindness of your heart. It warms my spirit to see you well and happy.” Amergin answers.

”King Lir has proven himself a fair husband, and my love for him grows daily,” she admits happily, blushing.

”Go back inside,” the king barks, pushing her away, barely concealing his contempt. She obeys promptly, perhaps hurt, but eager to please. Upon seeing her so compliant, Amergin is puzzled. But he bites his tongue.

By now, the rain has ceased. The King looks up at the sky. ”Come. Let us go down to the Lough, and see what the fishermen have caught.” He leads the way, and his children follow. They are a happy group of kids: a girl, Fionnuala, the eldest; and three sons, Aodh and the twins, Filcher and Conn. As you visit the king’s lands, it is plain to see that while he seems a brutish, violent sort of man, he loves his children dearly.

As the sun sets, you all are invited to the king’s hut, to partake in a feast in your honour. Fish from the lough, wild pheasant from the nearby forest, berries, honey, and nuts make for the finest meal that you have had in a very long time. Throughout the night, you observe Aoife, and you simply cannot find in her the tortured spirit that led you here.

When all have eaten their fill, each of the guests receives a cup of strong mead. The king makes the first toast: ”Travellers, welcome to our house. May your enemies bleed, and may your quest lead you to victory.” He raises his cup, and everyone cheers and drinks.

Amergin offers his toast: ”King Lir, we thank you for your hospitality. May you hearth be warm, and your bed, fruitful.” People laugh, and drink.

Amergin turns to you, clearly inviting you to propose your own toast.


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Once more it's raining... That's all it ever does here is rain...

Aoife followed close behind Amergin, though stepped back when the children ran to him. She did smile at the scene though, as it reminded her of some of the fellow slave's children. No matter what in the end children are still children. When introduced Aoife gives a respectful but short bow to the King as to not seem disrespectful.
Then Aoife, King Lir's Aoife, stepped out.

The name far suits her then it ever will me.

Yet she got a slightly confused look when the King pushed her away, forcing her to return inside. Though the look was quickly gone.

She's gorgeous, yet he'd just push her aside? A proud warrior who obviously got her as a wife because he's such a warrior... Would he not want all to see her then? A sign of his power? Maybe I am wrong...

While on the way to the Lough Aoife remained closer to the front of her group, though behind the King, Druid, and children. Though any child that came to speak with her found Aoife gladly speaking with them, being kind and playful, though never over stepping or being too familiar with them.

While the feast took place Aoife couldn't help but feel out of place. Normally she'd be serving things at something such as this, not sitting among those served. But she seemed to take to it quickly. When toasts where made, Aoife was unsure if she was allowed to make one. Though she quickly reminded herself that if she didn't it would be greatly rude. She picked up her cup and said "You hospitality is second to none King Lir. May strength never fail, and your children strong with many years ahead of them"

I'll do my best to ensure it... for their sake.


Male Irish Barbarian (Mounted Fury) 1 / Fighter (Dragoon) 1
Defenses/Stats/Resources:
HP 14/26 | AC 16 T 12 FF 14 (-2 AC raging) | Fort +6 Ref +2 Will +1 | Initiative +2 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +1 | Rage Rounds 4/6

Fintan almost seems to forget what it is they all came to do, and seems happy to enjoy such a warm reception. Indeed, he remains quietly cheerful up until the moment when he sees how King Lir treats his wife, and a shadow comes across his face then. It is all too familiar to him.

The large man does not entirely regain his previous cheer as the group feasts with the King, but he nevertheless does his best to be polite and show respect. When the time comes for their group to offer toasts, Fintan isn't sure exactly what to say. But as Aoife says hers, he remembers a toast he heard someone else say once...

Standing up with his cup upraised, Fintan speaks thus: "The love of your people, the respect of your allies, and the fear of your enemies be yours for so long as you reign." They are not his words - merely words he has parroted from someone else - but they come out with a mighty rumble from Fintan's chest.


Brother O'Maille? Padraic?


M Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) 4 | HP 34/34 | AC12 T12 F10 | CMB +3 CMD 15 | F5 R4 W9 | Init +8 | Perc +12
X/Day:
Spells | Command x3 - Sanctuary DC17 | Bull's Strength - Calm Emotions x2 - Shield Other DC18 | Channel 5/5 DC14 | Inspiring Word 7/7 | Touch of Law 7/7

Despite the incredible circumstances, Ó Máille manages to keep his focus on the task at hand. God had sent him, and those with him, to save Queen Aoife's children.

When prompted to raise a toast of his own at the dinner table, the priest speaks softly in comparison to his companions, though not uncharacteristically. "Many thanks for welcoming us in your home. May your kingdom grow prosperous and your children carry your tale for generations to come." Though it feels incredibly awkward, Ó Máille purposefully exempts any mention of God. These people seem to have no concept of Him and religious confrontation would only slow their progress.


Amergin and Braedan together play a beautiful song of love and hope, each toast follows the last, and the mead flows aplenty.

Throughout the evening, the King is vicious to the Queen who seems only to want to please him. Clearly, she is in love. And clearly, he is not. It is incomprehensible. Her treatment is, simply put, cruel. While the King’s children are invited to sit near the fire and their father to enjoy the festivities, Aoife is cast away to the far corner of the large hut, and eventually told to leave.

On her way out, she is teased by the children who are cruel, but perhaps no more so than any other children. They are accustomed to having their way and resent the presence of this aunt who would replace their mother.

Braedan, who is quite drunk and truth be told smitten by the queen, interrupts the music to propose his own toast: “To the Queen: never has such a perfect flower bloomed on such a pile of dung.”

An awkward silence follows.

And then, the King, his face red and his fists clenched, throws himself at Braedan.

Braedan’s initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Fintan’s initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
O’Maille’s initiative: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
Aoife’s initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
Padraic’s initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

2 x warrior’s initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
6 x commoners’ initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
King’s initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Order of initiative:
1) Brother Ó Máille
2) King Lir
3) Aoife, Padraic
4) warriors and commoners
5) Braedan and Fintan

You are all seated in a circle, in a 30’ diameter hut with a fire in the middle. Only the King and the two warriors have weapons, which have not yet been drawn.

301 to 350 of 2,914 << first < prev | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | next > last >>
Community / Forums / Online Campaigns / Play-by-Post / The Last King of Ireland All Messageboards

Want to post a reply? Sign in.