The Torture Chamber (Everquest RPG PBP)

Game Master Xenh

Gwendalyn laughs at Revery's neat trick, tracking the sound of his soft footsteps over to the stool, and nods assent at the growing consensus. "There was that bounty on Deathfist Apprentice Scrolls, and we're pretty good at bashing skulls. We'd have to make sure who that Tara something-or-other is friendly with, first; no way I'm throwing away everything that we endured in the desert to get in with the Militia, just for some money, if they count her as an enemy."

Weary from the endless scrubbing, she stops and stretches her aching back. "But the alternative isn't day labor. Aside from the tailoring that my mom taught me, I also learned some alchemy from the Church elders. I haven't really had a chance to practice either craft, and wouldn't mind trying my hand at a potion or three, but I haven't heard about any shaman guilds in Freeport. The likelihood of anyone else having the right ingredients is rather small."

Gwen sighs and resumes the kinkiest manual labor that she's ever heard of in her (admittedly short) life. "But definitely more coin next. There are so many spells that I want to learn, and I just can't afford them right now."

Being invisible does not convey the ability to see invisible things, so while Revery knows where his arm is, he cannot see it. It is a process of adjustments, and bruised shins as he gets used to the magics.

Random Duration: 1d4 ⇒ 1
Random Duration: 1d10 ⇒ 5

Gwendalyn easily tracks the enchanter's movements through sound.

Months drift past marked only by the fatigue wrought by endless scrubbing and scraping. While adventuring greatly reduced one's life expectancy, those few years would glow so bright in comparison to honest labour. Perhaps you would attract even the attention of the gods themselves if your deeds were great enough.

You have had time to consider the lessons as of late, come to terms with the horrors of the world, train, and most importantly get to know the others that you travel with (Ding!: Sajeek, Kwen, Nogglegrop. Bonus two spells to Sajeek and Nogglegrop, bonus rogue contact for Kwen).

The trio had achieved enough status within their own vocations to be referred with titles of respect:

• Rake Kwen
  
• Animist Sajeek
  
• Vicar Nogglegrop

While the day's custodial expectations are tiring, your linguistic lessons are doubly so. The iksar tongue was never meant to be spoken by a "softskin", and wrapping one's tongue around such a sibilant language is an adventure in itself (for those that intend to put ranks in language: iksar - please include a language roll vs. DC 15 in your next post to represent how well you have learned the language, including the number of ranks you have only if your have dinged, those that are successful with the DC can put up to 3 ranks into the skill, where those that do not can put up to 2 ranks into the skill).

Fropze waxes philosophic at times, but scattered loosely amongst his drunken ramblings are references to his people and his lands. You learn early on that this iksar does not give a flying monkey s%@@ about your stories, and only seeks an outlet to reveal his own. He is not an impolite host, he shares his drink with any that are brave enough (Ol'Tujim's Fierce Brew disables gag reflex and sense of taste, those that make the alcohol tolerance check vs. DC 20 gain a +1 metabolic bonus to constitution while the alcohol is in effect), but he is selfish with his time.

Revery had made a mental note of the date of the meeting between the Freeport Militia and the Desert of Ro Dervishes. It takes 9 days before you start to see the effects of that meeting, for the Knights of Truth had interceded through subtle means by arranging for Brother Jentry to be unexpectantly present.

Poisoned words move through Freeport at the speed of a juicy piece of gossip.

Kwen hears a rumour before the group does. One of the street urchins, a mopish 8 year old girl by the name of Nflic, had a crush on him and sought him out at every opportunity. It did not take long for him to notice that she was wearing her clothes like him, talking like him, and left unchecked she would probably lop off a bit of her ear like him. She relays that it is known that the party has betrayed the Freeport Militia, and civil war is coming. The rogue returns as the rest of the party are woken by a trio from Ooma's.

You are roused from a deep and exhausted sleep. Madame Ooma voluminous frame fills the stairwell, backed by Loxiasha and surprisingly Fropze. A bag of 20 gold pieces hits the ground near your feet, spraying a few coins across the floor. "Out. This minute. Gather your things and never darken my doorway again." From the look in her eye, and the naked steel in Loxi's hands, you understand how serious this situation is. Your lessons are not finished, but from the hurt look on the drunk janitor's face your lessons are done with him. He turns his back on you and walks away.

You are cast into the night where screams are normative, sounds of mortal combat assails your ears, the smell of smoke and fear are everywhere. The factions of good have made their move against tyranny. Freeport might not be the holiday destination it once was, now that over 1000 militia members want your head.

(-4 faction with Freeport Milita results in a "kill on sight" status, +4 faction with Knights of Truth)

Nogglegrop never was much of a scholar, as he was far too rambunctious to sit still long enough to heed his master's lessons, but this quest left him with an unfilled emptiness that he craved to fill.

Language (Iksar): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

He understands enough of the language to read the blood writing. The bones are located on the continent Kunark.

Sajeek had found an interesting friend in the iksar. He enjoyed his time learning the horribly difficult language of Fropze's people. The young Beastlord liked listening to the iksar's tales of his homeland. Not that the tales themselves were pleasant, the iksar had a talent for storytelling.

Well, before he was too deep into his drink. Sajeek had the feeling that Fropze drank to hide from something. Either something he had done in the past. Or, he drank to ease the fact that he was probably damn near the only iksar around, and had little in of friends. While Sajeek enjoyed drinking with Fropze, he had no intention of trying to keep up with him drink for drink. The next morning was much to painful, leaving his brain 10 times to large for his skull.

Between Fropze's lessons and listening to his tales and stories, Sajeek feels that he has a pretty good handle on the Iksar language. He remembers having more trouble learning his own peoples language. That had almost taken him a year to be able to string words together that passed for sentences.

Woken out of a dead sleep, Sajeek blinks his emerald eyes owlishly, staring at a coin that still rolled. His tail twitched. His eyes move across the three, surprised to she Fropze. And the Beastlord's tired mind finally grasped what the ogress had said. The vah shir catches the look of hurt and betrayal. Sajeek's tail twitched again, and anger clears the haze of sleep from his eyes.

The vah shir was furious. Not at Ooma for kicking them out and protecting her girls. Not for naked steel being drawn on them, or even the hurt look on Fropze's scaled face. He was furious for being stuck in this spot. Being used as pawns by the city-dwelllar's guild. The keep getting in the way of his goal. Sajeek snarls as he quickly gets into his dervishes robes and snatches his gear.

"Let's go," Sajeek growls as he gets dressed. Completely ignoring the the small bag of gold, the Beastlord struggles to get his anger under control. Part of him really wants to lash out at the ogress, and turn the horde of wharf rat on her and the dark elf b$+!~. Then, he was going to find that damn lizard and start tearing out his scales one by bloody one while he sobs and screams.

Sajeek is staring at the three blocking him from leaving, his eyes burning green like hellfire. The Beastlord becomes aware of the tension in the basement. Not from any of them. From the horde of wharf rats. They had gone silent staring at the two on the stair. Sajeek could feel their hunger clawing at him. Their were eager to swarm. All it would take was a little push...

The faint scent of lilac reaches the glaring Beastlord's nose. He slowly blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. The rats continue about their daily rat lives as if nothing had just happened. Snatching his spear, Sajeek stalks out of the Flesh Palace, anger still burning in his eyes. It was contained, but still there, looking for a chance to escape.

Outside the places that he had lived and worked for the last few months, the vah shir wants to scream at the night sky. Taking a few more deep breaths, the young vah shir takes a couple of moments to calm himself down. Sajeek leaves the strip of cloth that was to be a turban as a scarf. He tugs up his cloak hood.

"We should probably hide. I doubt that the Milita is looking to take us alive," Sajeek says. "Or anybody else for that matter. Or take us alive to torture to death. Sounds fun." Sajeek sighs and looks up at the night sky. He listens to the sounds of battle, cries of death, smells the smoke, fear and anger. "I really hate cities," he mutters to no one in particular.

Revery pushes through the weeks and months much as one pushes through neck-deep water. It goes fast sometimes, but other time the current is against him and it requires all his strength to just remain. He had hoped to spend some time at the library where he had gone before for a short time, but between the work and the study of that impossible language, he finds he has no spare time or energy to make it out and about.

Through that time, memories of his studies come back to him, as do the nightmares. He misses his friend Marsus, who was missing last he heard, and Arwen, his fiancee. Many times he considers giving up and going home, but something drives him on, like a woman on the shore beckoning him. It is the quest, of course; he has no illusions about that. He wonders how powerful its magic is, and especially how true its promise. He knows how subversive enchantment magic can be, so he mentions this to the others; it's important they know what has them by the neck and is pushing them all through the icy water.

-----------------

Though they are not finished their lessons, their time abruptly comes to an end by force of a rumor. It must be more than a rumor, for it is true, and it's power is unstoppable. They are kicked out on their asses, into the Freeport night.

Revery has his spellbook, and his hat, which he hides for now, in case someone remembers the one day he wore it.

As the group start down the alleyway, he says, "The Knights of Truth have some power in the city now, and they put us in this position, so if we find any of them, let's ask them to put us up for tonight. Maybe tomorrow night, too. Perhaps we should seek Feitmere." By the sound of his voice he is disgusted, and knowing him you know it is the combination of the cutting short of the lessons, the cleaning, the costume (which he still hadn't gotten used to, and which he'd had to repair several times where the rats had eaten away at it), the treatment by Ooma and the Iksar, the expected treatment by the militia now, and the debt he felt the Knights of Truth owed them. He is more than ready to flee this ugly, now war-torn city.

------------------

Learning Iksar 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Earlier: Kwen found out, that the cleaning wasn't much different then picking a lock, spending all that time focused on the stains and the best way to take care of them. Still he didn't enjoy the fact that he was here in one spot for so long. When he had the energy after trying to learn the Iksar tongue, which was only once every 6 days and only for an hour. Kwen listened to other's speak on the street's trying to keep an ear out for trouble and any good rumors going on.

Language (Iksar): 1d20 ⇒ 3

Gwendalyn initially humors Fropze, bringing some semblance of structure to his disjointed stories with the active listening techniques that she had learned as part of her shamanic training. She assumes that understanding the reptile and his people would help with understanding his language -- and maybe it works that way for the others, but she just can't relate at all. Not just as a civilized mammal, but also as a champion of justice, his stories repeatedly repulsed her to the point that she found herself tuning him out, missing big chunks of everything he said. Only sheer determination -- and her bone-deep lust for that spear -- kept her at their self-appointed task.

It's really a kind of relief to the conflicted Northwoman when Ooma comes to evict them from the rat-infested basement, and Kwen explains just how much trouble they're in. "It's about time. I know it was for the greater good, but I hate deception. Frankly, I'm much happier now, knowing that they know that I'm against them and their petty tyranny. The only catch, of course, is getting out of the city alive." Gwen frowns thoughtfully.

"I favor the Knights. If you think we can make it to the front lines alive, then maybe we can hit some Militia from behind on our way across, and then I can help with healing from relative safety. That's a good tactical plan, as Tudan would put it. But since one back-alley thug nearly knocked me out with a single blow, I think that this conflict might be completely beyond us. Strategically, our best option is probably retreat -- and hey, we're already at the docks. How about we find a boat to somewhere nice -- or at least acceptable -- and get out of here while we still can."

You know not if Ooma, Loxi, or Fropze have betrayed your location to the Freeport Militia, but the fact that they evicted you, and didn't just have the guard cut you down in the cellar, was suggestive that you had at least a few moments before you are cut down on the streets.

Choices lie before you as to what to do next.

Sajeek shows an amazing faculty for the tongue of the iksar, perhaps finding commonalities in another race of humanoid animals (critical success on language roll, may put as many as 4 ranks into language: iksar).

Kwen and Gwenadlyn are less apt with the language (failed language roll, may put as many as 2 ranks into language: iksar).

Revery relies on his brains alone, and those brains are nothing to be scoffed at (successful language roll, may put as many as 3 ranks into language: iksar).

You have had time to consider the lessons as of late, come to terms with the horrors of the world, train, and most importantly get to know the others that you travel with (Ding!: Revery and Gwendalyn, 2 bonus spells each).

The duo had achieved enough status within their own vocations to be referred with titles of respect:

• Illusionist Revery
  
• Mystic Gwendalyn

"Well, rather then steal a boat, or stowaway, or even pay our way out of here, I'm sure the Milita has people waiting for us there and by every other gate in the city." Sajeek thinks for a few seconds. "We could head back to Hogcaller's. Swin had all but kicked us out, once we started working for Hazran. He probably would have if we hadn't been allied with the militia. Needless to say, I don't think he likes the Militia at all."

"Good idea, Sajeek. But let's do it carefully. We don't want to get him in trouble."

Revery looks around to make sure they are not being watched by the enemy. "I could make us invisible, but sometimes it only lasts a mere handful of heartbeats. What do you think? We could meet at Hogcaller's Inn, or just behind it."

"Probably best if we meet in the back. That way we can see if there are Militia members there. I doubt it, we only stayed a few times, but our luck is showing it's usual psychotic turn, so better safe then getting killed," Sajeek says with a shrug. "Or worse, ending up working for another one of this damned cities f%@@ing factions."

"Kwen, your better with people from around here, why don't you lead us. We should make some kind of effort to disguise ourselves," the Beastlord glances over and up at Gwen. "Ummm.., can you hide your helmet and stoop a little so that you don't look as tall?" Sajeek says as he starts tightening loose bits of his devish robes, covering up his exposed fur.

"You do stand out a bit being descended from giants and all," the vah shir says with a wink. Getting out of the street, he stands nearer to an allyway.

"Sure, I can lead us around on back streets follow me." Kwen says, spinning around hestarts to take the group through back alleys trying to avoid combat with anyone.. [ooc
] will post when I get home, this was from my phone. [/ooc]

Light shifts and warps, fooling the visual senses of living creatures into not seeing the target of the spell. As Revery warned, invisibility is far from trustworthy. It can last hours or seconds (random duration determined by a private DM roll: 1 round - 8 hour duration), and Revery is forced to drop his own protective spell every time one of the other party members lose their illusionary spell (invisibility drops with any casting of a spell, or direct attack upon another creature, may manipulate inanimate objects without issue).

It is an interesting experience to walk around while invisible, and you learn something important about invisibility, you get a warning a few seconds (2 rounds) before the random duration of the spell ends, in the form of a strange feeling in your stomach. Such information is tactically crucial for later applications of the divination magic.

Removing items that will draw attention to the party is a good idea, as is changing their mannerisms, but having a gnome, barbarian, vah shir, and erudite in one's party draws a fair amount of attention is the human-centric city of Freeport.

Nogglegrop pumps his little legs, and even though he is carrying his armour, he slows down everyone.

Freeport Map

Moving through the entire city of Freeport, from the middle of the docks, past the buzzing hive of activity of hundreds of guards around the Miltia House, to the north of the Western Gate, is a suicidally ballsy move, and one that is unlikely to be expected, especially if the Freeport Militia have an idea of where the group has been staying. Considering the number of guards that had previously seen you in your microscopic cleaning garb as of late, you have no doubt that the guard knew where you were. Luckily you are small fish in a very large pond, falling down the "to kill" list far enough to make good your escape to this point.

The Hogcaller's Inn (#9 on map) is a well-established and well-kept tavern and boarding house. Its half-timber construction is sturdy and sound. Very little of the city noise makes it into the great room, where good hot food is served each day. Upstairs the rooms are clean, large and simple, with woven cloth rugs on the floor of each one.

That is what you remember from your first visit, but now your impression is how well a half-timber building burns. The elderly proprietor bats at the flames sheathing the side of his establishment with nothing more than a broom, while others, mostly made up of regular patrons of the inn, form a bucket brigade to douse the flames.

Swin Blackeye surprisingly presents the group with a tired grin as they approach. "About time boys, I thought you would never return!" It is then that Swin sways something that makes you wondered if he is drunk, or perhaps addled.

Conspiratorially glancing about, he drops his voice a bit.

"Get inside, quickly now."

Yes, he is pointing at the flaming door of the Hogcaller's Inn.

(include a sense motive DC 19 in your next post)

Moving through the alleys and backstreets, Sajeek keep his head low. Creeping along while invisible had certainly been an interesting experience for the vah shir. The spell gave a faint shudder a few heartbeats before it faded away. At least it gave them some warning.

Seeing Swin, Sajeek can't help but grin. Emerald eyes taking in the scene before him, Sajeek wants to help put the fire out. The Beastlord almost wants to laugh out loud seeing Swin stagger as if drunk. That thought struck him as a little odd, seeing as Swin was the owner and operator of the Hogcaller's. And then he tells them to run inside the burning building.

Sajeek pauses for a moment, glancing around, looking for any Militia members.

Looking back at his friends, Sajeek shrugs. This was probably going to sting a bit. He sighs.

"Noggy, you want me to carry your bundle of armor before you run through," Sajeek offers before mentally preparing himself to run into a burning building. 'Probably not the stupidest thing I've done in my life,' Sajeek thinks to himself. His instincts were telling him that fire was bad, and that he was flammable. Very flammable.

Gwendalyn looks at her friends as if they've gone mad. Hogcaller's Inn is all the way at the far end of the city! Hiring a boat, or even jumping into the ocean and swimming past the walls, would seem to have better odds. They're determined, though, and it's certainly crazy enough that no one would expect it. And besides, they'll need her to keep them alive.

Walking around invisible is an interesting experience, and she reminds everyone to be quiet, remembering how she could still track Revery by his footsteps. She suggests a rope, but anything a couple yards long becomes visible; so they form a human chain instead, each holding on to the one in front of them. Alert to the danger all around them, her heart jumps with fear a hundred times on the way, certain that they'll draw attention from knocking something over, splashing in a puddle, or just having to stop and renew the spell on someone. They somehow make it through in the chaos -- only to find their destination in flames.

Gwen looks at Swin blankly, then in alarm. "What, why? Is someone trapped inside?" She starts rummaging around in her pack for her waterskins. "Let's get wet, people! Noggy?"

Kwen gives a look at Swin, not sure if he was just trying to hide the group, or lead them to their doom. Giving a small sigh at the thought of having more burnt flesh but the fact that he was trying to hide the group, might mean that this fire isn't as bad as it could be.

Sajeek, Gwendalyn and Kwen all see nothing awry or untoward about the situation of Swin fighting to not lose his livelihood.

The insightful gnome catches enough information to understand everything. Those that were "fighting" the fire, were in fact spreading it, and dousing it the moment that it sought to do much more than superficial damage. It was a brilliant ruse, for who would expect an innkeeper to set fire to his own establishment, or who would hide refugees inside a burning building.

Sense Motive (Nogglegrop): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

Nogglegrop giggles, fully agreeing with the shaman, and starts casting spells of summoning (summon drink x5) dousing everyone thoroughly and leaving them looked like drowned rats. He hands over his armour to the beastlord without complaint.

You are "lucky" enough to enter just as the fire is doused near the doorway, and enter without getting as much as a single burn.

It is uncomfortably hot and smokey within the Hogcaller's Inn, and there is smoke billowing into the room from several angles, but it seems safe enough for now.

Within is Feitmere talking to several others around a map of the city. They stop talking when you arrive, and take note of your sodden appearance. The normally stoic Feitmere cracks a smile and invites the party to come closer.

Stepping forward to greet you, and judging by their garb, are a monk, fighter, another paladin, two clerics and a very familiar halfling druid. You have stumbled into a warroom. Names are exchanged, but one hovers longer in your ears: Brother Jentry. He is an older man with tortured eyes held together by an iron resolve. He thanks the group for opening his eyes.

Feitmere holds out his hand to each of the group and says, "We are forever in your debt. Pandemic will take you anywhere you wish." He nods towards a few sacks, "Provisions for your journey. Good travels my noble friends, we will meet again, and I will ensure that the bards sing loud enough that even the gods hear of your sacrifices for strangers."

The feral Pandemic awaits the group to gather up their s~+% and come hold hands.

Revery is tired by his Invisibility spell casting and running through the streets without getting caught. He manages to keep up with the others, though, and gasps twofold, one for running and one for surprise, when he sees the fire.

(mana: 55/80)

Then even more surprise as Swin asks the group to enter the fire!

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

It is a leap of faith, but being doused in divinely summoned water helps that leap, and Revery follows the others, last to run through the flames and into the doorway of the Hogcaller's Inn. By instinct he clutches his backpack, which contains his precious spellbook. The book now contains two new spell, which he had happened across while cleaning, buried in a book written in Erudian (which is why he noticed it).

Inside the room, which is distinctly, disturbingly, not burning, Revery hears these powerful allies thank them for their work. He is satisfied that they have recognized their contribution, but feels a little guilty taking so much credit now.

"We only did what we were able to because of Pandemics powerful spells, and other aid from Feitmere and his order. Your order?" He bows, and instead of saying more, he looks at Sajeek, questioningly. For it is he who holds the scroll that might indicate the nameless group's next destination.

The smoke thickens, and coughing is the norm.

Nogglegrop reveals the truth that he had deduced what was happening outside as the others slowly come to realize what was happening just outside. His impish smile is infectious and dances in his smoke-stinging eyes. The ruse had bought some time, but eventually the Freeport Militia would start to question fighting the same fire over hours.

Feitmere waves aside the modesty and bows formally to the group, then returns to his planning and troop mobilization.

Pandemic waits for the group to tell him where they wish to go, but impatiently starts casting the spell. Either he will leave without them, or drop them wherever he might decide fitting.

The soaked shaman slows to a halt at the most unexpected sight inside a burning building: a meeting, including some old allies. She manages to get through the introductions with as much dignity as possible with her hair plastered against her face and water dripping everywhere. "We hadn't really talked about where to go next. Um. Revery? I know you have a fiance that you haven't seen in awhile; maybe somewhere near Erudin?"

Sajeek greets Feitmere after making his way through the fire. Well, he actually greets him a few moments after pulling his jaw off the floor. He had not been expecting a war council in the inn. Drenched, feeling very confused, Sajeek numbly nods and clasps forearms with the people he is introduced to.

"Uh, I was glad to help," the vah shir says, both surprised and at a loss for words. He looks back at his friends at he offer that they were given. They would be teleported anywhere. Sajeek's mind races as he tries to figure out what to do in the confusion.

Chewing on his lower lip for a few seconds, Sajeek looks over at Revery. The enchanter is staring at him. The Beastlord knows that they need to go to Kunark to truly start the quest. The problem is he didn't know where yet. And his own ability to read the page was still lacking. He wouldn't have cared, except all of them had to be able to read it. Some of Fropze's tales filled his mind. Even if a quarter of what the drunken Iksar said was true, they wouldn't live long enough to find the bones that they needed to lay to rest.

"Gwen hit the nail on the head," Sajeek says with a grin. "Revery, lets head back to the town you spent the last year at," Sajeek says after thinking for a few seconds. "And that way, you can get married before we leave for another stretch of time." The Beastlord chuckles. "I think we need more time to prepare for our big trip to be honest with all of you," Sajeek looks at his friends and nods.

Nogglegrop smiles, finding wisdom in the words thus far.

They were on a quest that would take years, and the next part of the quest would lead them to the unknown lands of the dark continent of Kunark. Little was known of those lands, but if Fropze's words could be trusted it was a land that they would require great power to navigate.

While the quest was always in the background there was time aplenty for other things, like the union of one of their friends.

Pandemic is not a creature of patience, and that is never more apparent than when he turns his head, glimpses at Revery and teleports the group to Odus.

You find yourself suddenly in the Toxxulia Forest, and a moment later the druid is gone

Toxxulia is the forest that separates Erudin from Paineel. It is home to many different types of creatures, the most noticeable and prominent of which is probably the kobolds. With the Warrens so close in proximity, the Erudites of Odus are in a constant state of battle with these pesky beasts.

The Kerrans would be the other creatures of note. They have a small village in the outskirts of the forest and generally keep to themselves.

Located in the western part of the continent, Toxxulia also serves as a gateway into the Buried Sea with a network of tunnels leading to the Barren Coast of Odus.

The transition is as jarring as going to the desert. One moment prior you were in an oppressively hot and smokey tomb, and now you are in a pitch black forest with humidity near 100%.

While Revery knows of his city, his knowledge of the lands beyond is almost nil.

"Hmmm." Gwendalyn digs through her pack to find a flask of oil, unhooks the hooded lantern from the outside of the pack -- a place of honor that it shares with her bedroll and tent -- and fills it, lighting it with the flint and steel in her pockets. She casts a familiar spell that gathers sparks of light into symbolic flames in front of Revery's chest (Inner Fire), but then she invokes an ancient pact of her people, and the ghostly image of a polar bear appears to push the stylized fire into the erudite's chest and hold it there for a moment before vanishing from sight.

"There. Now the Great Bear will make sure that the spell lasts, no matter how long the hike takes. Speaking of which... Does anyone know which way to go?" She refastens her pack and picks up the lantern.

Ducking into the burning inn, Kwen had been surprised by the war council, not too thrilled at being a pawn, but not having too much of a choice still annoyed the half elf. Helping out the knights of truth had of course made things difficult for him, provided that he ever returned to Freeport, he would have to make nice with the guild... again.
Grabbing his part of the provisions, he had turned around and joined the others, no soon had that happened, when Kwen and the others were transported to some forest.
Sputtering, not able to voice his shock and anger, he looks around and sees just about nothing until his eyes shift, and he is able to see the heat from the other members of the party. This light allows him too see a whole nothing world, that while he was used to it, still brought a sense of wonder.
Kwen enjoyed the forest, it called to a part of him that he now wished he could have explored at a young age. His anger forgotten, he starts to take stock in the surrounding area, not moving until the others did. Then the heat hits the rogue, while compared to the arid heat of the desert, this was akin to breathing through a wet cloth.

Revery is in shock that they had been summarily relocated by Pandemic, without so much as a word from Revery or the others indicating their assent (only suggestions). He quickly gets over it when he realizes where they are taken, and, despite his protestations, a small tear comes to his eye. He is home.

Revery had never been to the Toxxulia Forest, but he had read a fair bit about it.

Knowledge/geography: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

He tells the others it might be dangerous, with kobolds and Kerrans about, but he thinks the group should be able to make it to Odus intact. Though he has told them how civilized the city is, he warns them now that they may encounter a similar racial prejudice to that in Freeport, a prejudice based on a perceived superiority to all other races that some Erudites maintain.

He thanks Gwendalyn for the boons. "I'm hoping they are not necessary, but you never know, right? Perhaps I should do something... But then, we should probably camp for the rest of the night."

Revery yawns, and looks around when Gwen shines the light. "I suppose any clearing is as good as the next, " he says, and starts looking for somewhere to camp.

Wilderness Lore: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

The small continent of Odus was founded by a human named Erud who, along with his followers, left Antonica searching for a place to establish a new enlightened utopian society. Like any "enlightened" conquerors, the Erudites took it upon themselves to forcibly relocate the native inhabitants of Odus. The Kerra, a once proud and noble feline race, have been pushed from their lush homeland to a small island off the western coast of Odus, though there remain a few tribes that have hidden from the oppression of the Erudite.

Gwendalyn is unable to discern the north wind from her current position (please include an update of current mana when spells are cast). Illumination, from the barbarian's lantern provides the ability to see out about 10 paces. The flickering light conveys an ominous intensity to they wyld. It is a risk to reveal the party's presence with the flame, but it is also a risk to stumble about in the dark.

Kwen is able to see an entirely different forest than the others, for their infravision provides momentary glimpses of heat/light coming from the many animals within the Toxxulia Forest. The rogue searches out his part of the provisions and finds food for the entire group lasting 9 days, along with 4 bottles of cheap white wine.

Revery is able to see much more once the shaman's light is lit. North of the group is the small city of Erudin, which is literally one large castle devoted to magic and learning. South of their position is Paineel, the infamous heretic city of the Erudites that have fled their kin. This is the likely location of Revery's sister, for it is where shadowknights and necromancers go to learn of the writings of the first necromancer: Miragul. Other landforms are about, but not as pressing as finding the Stonebrunt Mountains, for they run the entire eastern side of the forest.

The party is able to find a suitable camp next to a expansive felled tree that looks to have been rotten before it dropped. Sea water fills the air. You are close to the Abysmal Sea, though you see no signs of it.

"This looks like a good place to stop. We can finish our interrupted sleep, then head out in the morning. Let's see... Since it's the middle of the night, how about Noggy take first watch, then Kwen, followed by Sajeek and then myself? If it even takes that long to first light." Gwendalyn busies herself setting up a fireless camp next to the big log.

Sajeek looks around once the lantern is lit. His nose had been attacked by the range of different scents. Ears twitching madly at the sounds of nearby night life annoyed by the intrusion of light. Distacted, the cah shir follows the group to a nearby fallen tree. Rev had a good eye for on a campsite.

Looking around, the Beastlord pulls a few outer layers of his dervish robes off and wrings them out. He finds a spot on the fallen tree hang them up next a few feet from where they will rest. Picking Noggy's bundle of armor up, he sets it near the gnome with a grunt. Shaking his backpack off of his shoulders, he sets it where he will rest.

"I'll take first watch," Sajeek offers, his emerald eyes bright and aware. The Beastlord felt more alive then he had in the cities. Here in the ancient wild all of his sense were awake, knowing that his survival depended on it. Looking over at Rev, Sajeek nods to the enchanter.

"Can you tell us a little about what you have read before going to sleep?" Sajeek asks, curious to know more about this old forest. The scent of the sea hits his wet nostrils and a shiver dances down his spine.

Kwen boot's were giving a nice squishing sound every time he took a step, the water from the gnome, had soaked him, luckily his coat was proofed against water. The canvas jacket did a great job at repealing the elements. Still he knew that he was going to have to take off his boots and his stockings and let them dry out, that was not going to be a pleasant task removing them. Reaching the clearing with the others, he sees Sajeek, hanging up the dervish robes, Kwen finds another spot to hang up his coat, throws his bedroll down close to the others' and then sits on the bed roll.
Unlacing his boots, then giving a grunt, he finally removes his boots and stockings, hanging his stocking up next to his coat, he sits back down. When told of the watch order he nods, then says " Fine with me, wake me when it is time."
Pulling out his sword, he sets it next to his bed roll, then digs out one of his trail rations from his backpack, setting the bag close by his bedroll, he starts to eat the dried jerky and bread. Not really caring about having a conversation, his thought's on what could be watching them at the moment.

It appears that the gnome is unequipped for travel for he simply lays down sans bedroll or tent, and falls asleep like a cat, curled in a tight ball.

You awake from your restless slumber of only a handful of hours (full mana, full healthy, level 5) to the spring sun working hard to both pry open your eyelids and melt the morning chill from the wet air. The sleep had been restless because the ground was so hard. It appeared that Odus was nothing more than a large jagged rock jutting forth from the seas.

Though the temperature is warm, it is far from extreme. It might be uncomfortably hot at times, but nothing that would be a risk to your longevity (no rolls against the elements required).

Splashes in the night had been heard by the watch not far from your current location.

Nogglegrop dons his armour, bounces his tiny mace off the palm of his gauntlet a few times, and looks ready for travel. His time cleaning had actually been an upgrade from rotting in a cell, and he looks greatly rejuvenated, and excited with the prospects of exploration.

Revery obliges Sajeek, and tells them what he knows of this area, Odus in general, and Erudin. Well, of Erudin there is far too much, so he starts to tell of it but soon realizes Noggy and Gwendalyn have fallen asleep, and Kwen and Revery himself are not far behind.

Upon waking, he feels stiff, but emotionally much better knowing they have the Militia off their backs, and he is so close to home he can almost taste it. He does some stretching to relieve his muscles, and prays to Quellious to bring himself to inner peace, reaching the most profound level of it since he last set foot on this continent. With the coming of day, it is truly good to be home.

He thinks of Arwen, and her small apartments in the eastern section. Being an Elf, her family are far away, so she has little in the way of material goods in Erudin. The group would not be able to stay with her; they would have to get rooms at the Magician's Mouth, which is not too far off. Yes, that's what he would suggest. As to Arwen, being an Elf she had not tried to hurry up the wedding, so he expects she is still working on preparations for it.

He thinks of his family, or rather, lack thereof, mostly. He wonders what has become of his sister, Plangent. At least his half-brother Jaan would still be in town. The two are not extremely close, but they get along reasonably well. Revery had been closer to Plangent. Had been. Jaan has many more friends than Brontide (as he is known by his family), and so does Arwen now that he thinks of it. They may be surprised to meet the number and diversity of his new friends.

"North, to Erudin!" he exclaims when they are all ready.

Gwendalyn's foot twitches in her sleep. There's something behind her, immense and powerful, and she dare not turn around. She can feel its breath hot on her neck, and her back arches with pain as a blow simultaneously slashes it to ribbons and launches her through the air to land face-first in the snow. She lies stunned for a moment before levering herself up and turning around so that she's sitting facing a giant polar bear as it rears up and roars. Her hand finds a thick root that would make a decent club, if only she could tear it out of the ground; she pulls with all her might, so that her injured back burns, but it won't budge.

The polar bear sits down and yawns, seeming to mock her worthless efforts. It has all day to wait for her to tire herself out uselessly. She becomes afraid and invokes a ritual chant that she'd heard a thousand times, never realizing its power -- until now. Her back heals as if it had never been hurt, and as she jumps to her feet, her fear turns to anger. She suddenly realizes the use for another ritual; stomping her feet and shouting defiance into the arctic wind, Gwen feels a rush of strength, and pulls the root out of the frozen ground bare-handed.

She rushes at the sitting bear, who whuffs and puts out a single paw, pushing her down and into the snow and through the ground and out of the dream and "Augh!" she sits up with a start, suddenly awake -- and aware that the new spells had followed her, pulsing in her memory like living things. She didn't even have to look at her spellbook to know that they were already there. Standing up, the young mystic closes her eyes briefly in gratitude to the Great Bear, and calls upon him to bless her and her companions with his strength. A light appears above her, then spears out to embrace each of her friends like the spokes of a wheel, before fading away (Talisman of the Beast plus totem spirit).

"Good news! Bad news! News!" Gwendalyn announces cheerfully to the group. "The Tribunal has granted me a spell that can make all of us stronger, and it's one that the Great Bear can maintain. On the other hand, I have no idea which way is what. But if you point me in the right direction, I'm confident that I can keep us going that way!"

Kwen gives a groan at Revery's words, glad that the Erudite Enchanter was thrilled to be back in his homeland, but still feeling the effects of months of cleaning. Hoping that they would get to town soon, wanting to feel a real bed and a real meal for a change.
Shaking his boots out, making sure that nothing had crawled inside, waiting to attack a foot for invading it's new home, was almost second nature. After all the time that was spent in the desert, and with all the rats in the Flesh Palace, had made Kwen cautious when dealing with his own boots.
Glad that his boots and coat were dry, he gets his gear ready, stretching his body, he gets it ready for what ever could happen for the day. Digging out another day of rations to eat from his bag, he scarfs down breakfast, and quickly packs up.
" Well, lead on I guess. The sooner we get there, the better, perhaps today will be an easy one." He says with a grin, the thought of a new city for Kwen to be in was a pleasing one.

Revery thanks Gwendalyn for the magical strength. It makes everything seem so much lighter.

He takes a few minutes to review his spellbook and prepare a few new spells.

Not even paying attention to mace or supplies, Nogglegrop Fendlebar IV carried over 30 pounds of armour (medium load), so the strength buff was greatly appreciated. He wanders up to the tallest of his companions and simply hugs her leg. The cleric was considered strong among his own people, but amidst the talls he was nothing to write a scroll home about.

Odus was such a strange place that it appeared as if the north wind did not travel here (failed sense heading check, may check again after hours of travel). Gwendalyn was confident she could remain on a heading if she had a heading to remain on (successful wilderness lore check).

Sajeek understands that there are kejek tigers on this continent, for he can sense them. Bonding with one will take a week and maybe more, but it will be a relationship that will last a lifetime.

You are confident that you know the direction of the splashing.

It really is a lovely morning, and though you are deep in a thick forest, there is an occasional playful rays of the sun that peek through the dense foliage to caress your cheek. You have never been in a forest so quiet and peaceful in your lives.

Gwendalyn squeezes Nogglegrop's shoulder, then leans down conspiratorially. "How would you like a piggyback ride? It wouldn't slow me down any more than my tent and water and stuff already does -- which means that I might get rid of some things in Erudin, but for now, there's no reason why you couldn't be the tallest person here!" Her green eyes sparkle with mischief; maybe the gnome's influence is rubbing off on her, or more likely it's just that she's still an 18 year-old girl underneath it all.

Nogglegrop lets out a squeal of glee and proclaims, "I thought your mighty trees would never ask!" He clambers up onto the shaman's upper back and lets out a contended sigh. The gnome adopts the mien of royalty, making you wonder if in his mind he sees himself astride a mighty steed.

A horned helm was a wonderful means of holding on.

The gnome is surprisingly heavy, for his size, but is only 97.8 pounds, half of which being his body weight.

Gwendalyn moves slower, due to the heavy weight (higher than medium load), but is still faster than the gnome. Her magically-enhanced muscles will tire quickly, but in the interim she will speed up the group significantly.

"Revery, I would love to hear about this lovely place that you come from. I have never been to Odus, and so far it is akin to a paradise." Nogglegrop looks ready to melt with glee.

"Oof! You're heavier than you look!" Gwendalyn exclaims. "Almost like you're all muscle and bone and steel... Yeah. Anyone mind carrying my tent until we get to Erudin?" At 20 pounds, it just might make all the difference.

Sajeek gathers up his gear, almost as in a trance. So much caught the hunter's attention, it was easy for him to phase out the words of his companions. Waken up, he had stretched out a little and then, on a whim, he dug out the battered spellbook the Tribunal beastlords had given the vah shir. Probably for a good laugh. The spellbook had to have seen at least three times the amount of years that Sajeek had. While he had struggled with it, he had managed to keep one of the spell rituals in his head.

With a great yawn and shake of his head, Sajeek attempts to bring himself back up to current events. Listening to the others, the vah shir gathers up his gear, putting the heavier layers of his dervish robe in his backpack. Lifting his back, his eyebrows raise, as if surprised by it light weight. Blinking a few times he remembers Gwen saying that she had cast a spell to make them stronger.

Walking over to the barbarian woman, he wraps his arms around her shoulders and licks her cheek in thanks. Purring faintly, he walks back over to his belongings. Stopping in his tracks, Sajeek looks down, something having caught his eyes.

The perfect outline of a single tiger's paw lay etched in the some of the dirt of the fallen tree. Sajeek was positive he had not seen it the night before. The tiger had brazenly walked through their camp at some point in the wee hours of the morning. Sajeek's claws itched, eager to follow the tracks.

The noise from the others cut into his thoughts. Sajeek looks back at his friends from where he crouches. Hie ears twitch at the sounds of the forest. His nostrils were a fire from the scents that demanded the vah shir take note of them. The group of them standing their and talking. Part of him want to run off into the woods right then and there. A sigh escapes the vah shir, as he looks into the ancient forest.

After Gwen mentions that she can find their heading, Sajeek looks up at the sky that peeks through the leaves. The Beastlord aims to figure out which way was north. A beam of sunlight hits the vah shir and almost puts him back to sleep.

" Sure give me the tent Gwendalyn, after all you are carrying another person." Kwen says, shaking his head slightly, due to the sight of Gwen carrying the gnome.

Gwendalyn's shoulders bunch and sway under Nogglegrop as she shrugs off her pack, unstraps the tent, hands it to Kwen, and swings the pack back on. She bounces on the balls of her feet to test the weight. "There, much better!" As they trek through the forest, Noggy gets a unique barbarian-level view as she exults in her youth and her strength, levering herself up onto fallen logs, and leaping over creeks.

But it isn't all fun and games. Hands on the horns of her helm, the gnome could hardly fail to notice every time that her head whips around at a sudden noise, or that she cocks her head to get different angles on a repetitive sound. He's right there every time that she hesitates to mark the position of the sun before heading into shade, and then shifts upon emerging to place it back at the exact same point in the sky. Whenever she freezes to stare intently at an interplay of light and dark that might only be shadow and breeze, he can't just walk by.

There is only the most rudimentary training involved. Her "skill" is almost entirely just being so present in the moment that hardly anything escapes her notice.

Gwen stands at the top of a small hill, feet braced wide, hands on her hips, and smiles with her voice. "What do you think. Should we run down?"

Sajeek easily determines north (critical success) by the lichen formations on the trees around him. So in tune with the lichen formations he is confident that he will be able to automatically determine north at each stage of this journey to Revery's home city.

Between the beastlord's sense of north, and Gwendalyn constantly ensuring they are on track (successful wilderness lore) they are confident that they can maintain that heading indefinitely if need be.

North is opposite the direction that the group had heard the splashing the previous night.

Nogglegrop is always ready for a challenge. "RUN!" He laughs as he bounces along on the journey.

Snakes, spiderlings, fire beetles (with their characteristic glow), elementals, a handful of kobolds, and decaying skeletons all are glimpsed, but easily avoided. It throws you off course a bit, but your heading is mostly northward.

It is a wonderful time for travel and exploration, full of stories and good cheer. This is the life of an adventurer, with trusted companions at your side, and endless possibilities ahead of you.

Three days of travel are behind you when you reach a small hut sitting happily nestled in the bosom of the Toxxulia Forest. A contended little waft of smoke sways up from its chimney. Sitting on the step is a young erudite being warmed by his fire elemental companion. He stands and grabs a staff at your approach, wary, but not agressive.

Speaking in the tongue of the erudite he asks if you are here to buy his wares, for he sells the trappings for magicians, spell components, blue robes and gems.

He is more than happy to direct you northwest to the entrance of the city that Revery was born.

It is the same old story, where only one of the party is treated with anything approaching respect, except this time it is your enchanter that is at the centre of things.

Revery is heartier than he looks, and he manages to keep up with the others reasonably well. He tells what he knows of Odus, and some about the Erudites and Erudin as well. It comes out better the second time, though he is not a particularly good teller of tales. He tends to assume others have basic knowledge of many things, and is continually surprised when they don't; and thus he must backtrack and explain things in more detail. He wonders at their education, but then realizes they probably spent a lot more time doing than studying, and this is why they are so much better at the doing part than is he.

As he talks, he reminds them again, "And don't forget, though my friends from school call me Revery, or Professor Revery sometimes, my family and fiancee always calls me by my given name, Brontide.

When they meet the seller, Revery hails the magician, and looking around at his friends, thinking they must appear a very strange group, says in common, "This man sells spell components, robes and gems, if you would like to buy any."

He turns to the seller and says, again in common so that all may be included, "Thank you kind sir. I have no need of any such materials myself, and we are anxious to continue our journey. How long is it to Erudin from here, anyways? Assuming a walking pace."

During their travels north, Sajeek is hard to peg into marching order. He takes turns scouting ahead, or wandering behind the group. Sajeek always keeps them within eyesight. For the most part. Listening as Revery begins to talk, the vah shir is left scratching his head in confusion more often then not.

Shrugging, the young Beastlord listens, trying to make sense of what the enchanter is talking about. He is really thrown when Revery tells them he has another name, Brontide. Sajeek blinks, puzzled as to why Rev would have more then one name. 'Ohh, maybe he is a criminal,' Sajeek thinks with a grin, having a hard time picturing Revery robbing general stores.

When they approach the small hut, Sajeek cautiously eyes the caster right back. His attention is drawn when the man's fire moves out of the fire pit. The vah shir stares at the moving fire, blinking slowly after his eyes threaten to dry out. Realizing that it was a element of fire, Sajeek glances at Rev. He had only seen the enchanter summon a floating shield and sword. Sajeek wonders if Rev could summon elementals as well.

Trying to be polite, Sajeek attempts to ignore his itching claws, and settles for attempting to ignore the fire elemental. Which is easier said then done. Stopping himself from looking around for a small branch to poke the elemental with, he turns at looks at Rev.

"Umm, I think I am all set," Sajeek says with a nod.

" No thanks, I don't think there is anything that I need at the moment. " Kwen says with a half smile. Kwen hated to admit it, as much as he was felt at home in the forest, he felt the pangs of not being in a city. At least there was elements that he knew and understood, the forest felt like home and yet, alien to the half elf.
While Kwen was enjoying listening to Revery, he felt his mind drifting with some of the stories, or 'education', or whatever. Kwen was paying more attention on making sure that nothing was trying to eat the group. At times Kwen made sure to still make a few comments here and there, At least getting a history of the land that he found himself in was a nice change of pace.

The answer comes in the tongue of the erudite, "Your journey is only a few hours away to get to the cit..." It is then that the merchant gets a good look at the others that accompany the young enchanter. Revery had not seen many of the other races in his home city, and he quickly discerns why.

Strangely it is Sajeek that is treated with a modicum of deference by the magician (vah shir racial faction of OG compared to erudite racial faction of OG results in kindly faction).

Gwendalyn and Kwen are treated like some sort of infection that is tolerated (human/barbarian racial faction of N compared to erudite racial faction of OG results in dubious faction), but not acknowledge. They are akin to someone bringing up that one time, when you were really drunk, that you open mouth kissing your grandmother.

The reaction to Nogglegrop is brutal, as the merchant throws everyone out and slams his door. Threats follow that if the little bastard isn't out of his sight in the next 5 seconds he will be sorry. Nogglegrop, like all gnomes (gnome racial faction of DN compared to erudite racial faction of OG results in threatening reaction) is far from welcome in the enchanter's home city of Erudin.

Nogglegrop stands with his head cocked to the side, and his mouth agape, and then follows the advice to vacate the premises. Once clear of the magician's perceived sphere of influence he says, "Tis okay my friends, I can wait outside the city."

"Well! I never!" Gwendalyn is very upset at the uncivilized treatment, but Nogglegrop seems to be taking it in stride, so she tries to calm herself down and not impose indignation on him that he didn't feel himself. "It isn't right." After considering the situation for a moment, she hands Noggy an empty sack. "But you know, if you get bored or something, where there are spiderlings, there are webs." She leans down and whispers with a wink, "I have an idea for a wedding present."