As you make your way out of the castle, you catch the whiff of troglodyte. While you have no trouble leaving, it seems that a second visit may be much more difficult than the first.
A short while later, you arrive at the graveyard where Spivey greets you.
"Yay! You're alive! I was worried you'd come to a bad end with all of the yelling and hollering I heard," the diminutive woman says as she flits around your heads. "So did you beat them? Did you see the shrine? Did you find anything interesting?" The lyrakien's words come more and more rapidly as she goes into faster and faster circles above.
Emi reluctantly leaves with the others.
if anything happens to Ameiko tonight because we quit to relax I’m never forgiving any of you... or myself... she’s my best-friend, I should have just stayed alone; I have some magic left, plus the wand, I could have checked at least one more room...
She is as silent as Soliana on the walk back to Spivey’s. When they arrive there, she separates herself from the group and spends some time praying before she settles into camp and quietly cries herself to sleep.
As soon as she can get her breastplate off, Vigny flops down on the ground in a nice spot using her backpack as a pillow. She gets comfortable and lets the others relate most of what's happened to Spivey.
Vigny only cuts in occasionally to add a sleepy sounding, and fairly whiny comment.
"We came because Ameiko is sick, but now we also have to find Reiko and get Soli's voice back... The more stuff we kill.. farther we go, worse off we are."
"Mmm, castle is haunted, what are we gonna do about.. tha.."
Vigny is quickly snoring softly instead, happy to trade a meal for the extra sleep.
Before the slumber, Jerukh makes some tea using some orange petals that he steeps in boiling water.
Once ready he serves up a mild, aromatic tea, bidding everyone take a cup;
"Dreamer's Star. It will aid a restful sleep. Think we have all earned that much..."
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It seems to Randal like the longest day of his life is drawing to a close. He feels a little weird, trying to rest in a strange place so close to the creepy castle. But the others seem trusting and Randal has no alternative to suggest.
The tea is warm, and Randal is thankful for its soothing effects.
"Dreamers Star" he says as he takes the cup, looking at Vigny, "Great for hangovers too"
Half-sitting in a corner, he drifts off to a fitful sleep, and unsettling dreams....
Spivey helps each of you find a soft spot of ground to sleep in. She looks worried as she learns of Reiko's disappearance and that the castle is indeed haunted.
"Something dark is in that castle. Dark and powerful. I do my best, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to ward your dreams," she admits, looking small and helpless.
Clouds roll in from the west, blotting out the few stars that have begun to twinkle in the blackening sky. thankfully, there is no rain, but the darkness only makes the tiny refuge seem even smaller.
I know that we've been at this a while, and we've gotten about halfway through the castle. I'm eager to get back to the caravan and on to the next part, mainly because I get to throw in something I came up with at you guys, and we get vikings among other cool things.
However, I have a thing for dreams and nightmares. It can reveal a lot about a character, and I even use them as a tool to show how a paladin I play is growing and coping with what she's dealing with. I really want to do that with all of you, but I've learned that just writing up a dream for the player's doesn't exactly work. (And honestly there's a lot about the game I learned that running that I wish I could go back and tell myself not to do, but that's a whole 'nuther topic.) So, what I would like to know is if you'd like to take a little break from dungeon crawling for some RP fun?
Music flows from unseen musicians in a dark room lit only by a single candle. There's a sense fo familiarity as you dance to the lively tune. It feels as if you've danced here a thousand times before, even though you do not recognize the room. The music and your dance come to an end. The flame of the candle crackles as a chill draft blows through the room and into your bones.
"Beautiful, simply beautiful," someone says from the shadows, their voice deep and melodic.
Dark woods close in about you as you walk alone under a moonlit sky. Clouds above cover stars and give the white disk of the moon a hazy cast. Distant thunder rumbles and the air smells of the promise of rain. You'd spent long hours gathering herbs and other ingredients for your alchemy, too many hours. The sun has long set and you need to find Sandru's caravan.
From the darkness beside the trail, you hear a soft voice call out to you.
"Why do you travel alone?" It asks in a tone of sorrow and sympathy.
You sit at a battered table in a grimy tavern. It could have been any seedy tavern from any of Varisia's cities, full of the proverbial motley crew of rogues, murderers, and charlatans. Despite business being slow, you are enjoying a drink with a grizzled, scarred mercenary with about as many teeth missing as are still in his head. He chuckles at some joke you can't remember, the wheezing sound more akin to a death rattle than a sound of amusement.
"Boy, you are a strange one. Known many who lie well, but ain't never seen one lying to himself so well he believes it," he wheezes before taking a long swallow from his tankard, spilling much of it over his stubbled chin and stained tunic.
You stand above a snow covered glen, the stream frozen over and branches of the trees heavy with winter's mantle. The sky above is gray with low clouds and a steady fall of snow rains down. A light breeze pulls at the thin robes you wear, and despite the cold, you feel no chill bite from the snow or the wind. Your breath mists in the air before you though you feel no more discomfort than on a warm spring day. Before you, across the glen, stands a tall, beautiful woman with flowing silver hair and eyes like shards of ice. She studies you with those unsettling eyes, her white and blue robes swaying in the breeze.
The dark tangle of an ancient forest threatens to close in around you. The air is deathly chill and banks of snow that has fallen through the canopy above lie in the gloom here and there. Dark shapes flit about out of the corners of your eyes. You feel your skin crawl and the unnerving feeling that you're being watched by something dark and monstrous sends tingles up and down your spine. Your sword rests heavily on you hip and the tankard you carry on the other feels as if it was filled with lead.
Jerukh pauses, looking about himself as the mournful voice addresses him.
"I... I am at peace on my own. Work better... Wh-Who are you? Why do you ask me this?"
The alchemist's tone is torn, one between curiosity and accusatory.
She mouths a silent prayer to the Lucky Drunk and caresses her tankard absently as she looks around. She needs to move, but which way? She must find a trail or path.
She hopes Cayden Cailean has taken a hand in her choice as she makes it. Drawing her sword, she leaves her other hand empty in case she needs to push brush aside.
She tries to hurry, hoping whatever is creeping about will find her too insignificant to follow. Where is everyone, anyone? It's so much worse that she's alone. Vigny doesn't like being alone.
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The woman cocks her head to one side as she studies you. A flurry of snow blows past, obscuring your vision for a moment. The woman is gone. There are no prints in the fresh snow on the other side of the glen.
"What is it that you seek child," a cold, clear voice asks. The womanstands behind you, barely a foot away now. There is a chill now, coming from her.
You search for the voice reveals this to be the Rusty Dragon's common room. Everything is stacked away for the night, and the floors have been freshly cleaned. You do not find anything as you move forward, and the voice comes from somewhere on your right this time.
"Ah, I see that you are not plagued by false modesty. That is good! Far too many go fishing for compliments these days." The voice sounds close, but then it seems to come from further away, and to the left this time. "Now, would you say that you are a good friend, Emi?"
"I am no one," the voice says. The source is impossible to pick out, though at least the words are clear. "I ask to know."
The wind blows in, putting a chill in the air. The clouds break for a moment, and in the pale light of the moon, you see something glinting on the ground.
The forest grows ever closer as you move along. The light grows dimmer, until you can barely see. The shadows follow you, getting closer and closer with each step you take. Just as the claustrophobia becomes unbearable, something falls from the trees to land with a thump at your feet.
Jerukh pauses, first at the words, then as something catches his eye.
"If no-one asks... Why should I answer?"
The alchemist speaks clearly as he stoops to retrieve that which glints...
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"But where's the fun in that," the voice asks, an amused chuckle punctuating the question. "Perhaps I will show myself, but first, I believe there's a question you have yet to answer."
"Is not curiosity enough? Do you not want to hear the answer from your own lips?" The voice almost pleads with you as you stoop to retrieve the glittering item. It is a medallion that has a shield with a dark line running diagonally across it and a stylized dragon around the boss. On the other is a circle with three stars in it.
"Why do you travel alone," the voice asks again, "it is dangerous."
Your hands find a medallion. On the one side is the image of a shield with a dark line running diagonally across it. Around the shield boss is curled a stylized dragon. On the other side is a circle with three stars within it. As you look over it, blood covers your fingers. Then a slow drip, drip, drip plops down onto your hands from the boughs above.
"Hello child of Ulfgar," a dark, melodic basso says, "Why have you come to my forest?"
"But child," the woman says, "do you not recognize this land? You are home." She reaches out, caressing one cheek in a deathly cold hand.
She can't bring herself to look up, not even the voice changes that. She has no answer she can think of that makes sense. "My father's name was Olafur, not Ulfgar. I don't know why I'm here, I think it's a mistake."
"Poor, ignorant child," the voice coos mockingly. "Do you not know your heritage? The history of your people? Do you not know why you are called ulfen?"
Jerukh eyes the medallion intently as the mournful voice speaks to him.
Something about the item stirs a sense of recognition, and of deep loss;
"Mama? Is that you?"
The alchemist's voice is both hopeful and nervous in its tone...
"Order us up another round, my friend, and I will spin tales to delight all night." Randall replies with a smile, looking around and trying to get his bearings.
How did I get here? Where is here?
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Staring back is a massive serpentine creature, over a hundred feet long with orange glowing eyes. It hangs in the trees from two powerful legs that end in wicked talons. Blood drips from its mouth as it peers into your very soul. A deep, rumbling chuckle echos through the forest as it gives you a ghastly, blood-stained smile.
"Riddleport? No, there are other smells, older smells, on you than from that wretched place," it says as it weaves through the trees before lowering itself so that it's mouth, large enough to swallow you in a single bite, is even with your face.
"Tell me, Olafursdottir, where are you from? What land saw your birth?" It's breath, from between scaled lips barely two feet away, reeks of carrion and decay.
Something long forgotten comes back to you as you study the medallion, a long forgotten memory from before your mother's death when you were just a small boy. Your mother's face was a grim mask as she readied herself to head out, and at the hollow of her throat was a clasp with the same imagery of a shield and a dragon on it. A name sits just on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't recall it.
"No, not your mother. She is gone," the voice says. From behind the trees comes a young woman, her skin fair and her hair fiery-red. She looks at you with sad, green eyes. "Are you not afraid of where this road will lead," she asks.
The wind picks up and pulls at your hair. A wolf cries out in the distance. Your skin tingles. Everything becomes sharper, more vibrant, and more dangerous.
"Do you know who you really are?"
The voice chuckles as you illuminate the Rusty Dragon's common room, and find no one.
"You didn't expect it to be that easy now, did you?" The voice laughs in amusement for a moment. "I'll make you a deal. If you answer one of my questions," the voice says from the bar before sounding like it's coming from right behind you. "I'll answer one of yours."
"Deal?" A hot tickle of breath falls on your neck as the voice sounds so very close to you.
"Oh, I see," the woman says, sounding crestfallen, "he never told you."
She takes a step back, bowing her head, though you can clearly still see the tears on her cheeks.
"Your father never told you anything about who you are, did he? He never told you about your mother."
The place appears to be a nameless dive that you'd visited once in Riddleport. The place is known to many as a gathering spot for old mercenaries and sea dogs. A good place to get a few tall tales and cheap ales, but that's about all it has to recommend itself.
The man shakes his head at you, his expression sour.
"Tales and tales, that's all I ever have heard from ya. That's all that's in yer head!" He grabs the front of your tunic and hauls you closer, so close his grizzled, scowling visage is all you see.
"Tell me, boy, what do you really want? Fame? Fortune? Family? What does a little bastard like you want?"
there’s nothing behind me but walls... whatever this thing is it’s using some kind of illusion or enchantment to make me think it’s somewhere it’s not...
”I am not a plaything,” she answers flatly, ”if you vish to play a game, you must treat me as another player... join me vhere I can see you and I vill gife you an answer for an answer.”
There's a sigh as the Rusty Dragon falls away, leaving you to fall to the ground when the chair you were sitting in disappears. A simple table and chair, seemingly made from black stone, rises from the ground. Around you is nothing but black void and the somewhat glossy stone that stretches for miles in all directions.
"Please, have a seat," the voice says, sounding much less amused as one of the chairs moves out from the table. "I would not presume to seat myself before a lady."
”Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” Emi answers sarcastically as she rises from the ground and brushes any dirt or dust from her backside. Having already committed herself to the game, she takes her seat without any additional posturing.
At the realisation that this is not his mother from beyond, Jerukh looks forlorn biting his lip in a grimace;
"Ach. Of course... No true goodbye for me..."
The lanky alchemist steadies himself as he scrutinizes the amulet, absentmindedly wiping moisture from his eyes as he acknowledges he is not afraid to the strange woman.
At the howl Jerukh is suddenly refocused and snapped from his sad, but precious memory state.
He looks around him, senses heightened;
"I am man. I am orc. Neither and both... I am lost yet found... and lost again..."
After you are seated, a set of fine traveling clothes in a chelish style with a broad-brimmed hat walk to the other chair and sit down across from you. a bottle of wine and two glasses appear.
"May I interest you in something to drink while I await your answer to my question," the voice asks, coming from the outfit seated in front of you.
"No, he wouldn't have," the woman says sadly. "Do you not feel it, Soliana? Do you not feel the pull?"
At the question, there is something besides the cold now. You feel a pull in your chest, as if something had put a string around your heart and is now gently tugging at it. A deep ache of longing makes it hard to breath as you notice the strange sensations.
"Do you not feel it, my daughter," she breathes, barely a foot from you now as she looks at you with those cold, lonely eyes.
"But are you not more," the voice asks, insistent now. "Have you ever wondered why your mother got involved in the fight between those two ulfen clans so long ago? Do you know why she went out that night?"
The forest grows colder as the voice becomes more insistent, stronger. You can just hear... chanting? Yes, chanting, the harsh, guttural voices of orcs, and something else. A singsong chant in a language you do not know, but sounds so familiar to you. Almost as if the voice knows what you can hear, it asks one more question.
"What sings in your blood Jerukh?"
The old sellsword smiles cruelly as he hears your mumbled words.
"Well, well, the great Sir Cupshot ain't so great after all!"
HIs voice sounds loud and clear as the rest of the tavern grows silent and turns their focus on you. There's a feeling in the air, the scent of blood just under the reek of ale and stale sweat, the humming tension of stalking predators, the cold chill of merciless steel. It's the kind of feeling a performer gets when a crowd begins to turn ugly. Sneers and leering grins shine white and bloodstained from the many shadowed faces around you as they loom over you, towering ten, twelve, fifteen feet!
Your knees buckle even as you answer with a whimper of fear in your voice. It's too much, the presence of this thing. It is at once majestic, graceful, and wholly terrifying. Even your divine connection to Cayden Cailean, the Lucky Drunk, the God of Adventure, Bravery, and Alcohol isn't enough to stave of the crippling fear that grips you and squeezes at your heart like an icy talon of some great beast of the lowest levels of the Abyss.
"Ah, so you are not from that wretched clan to the north of my forest," the great beast muses as you kneel before him, your legs too weak to stand. "But I can smell something else on you. Something deliciously vicious. Too vicious for you, perhaps?"
The long sinuous body weaves through the trees once more as the beast circles around you. You can still see the tail of it when you feel the hot, unpleasant breath of this monster on the back of your neck.
"What is it that you keep locked away inside that pretty head of yours," it asks, eager for the answer and the fear grows even stronger.
how many times have I sat across a table from a man and made him change his game... I always knew what those men wanted though... this is different...
Taking a sip, she lets the wine roll back across her tongue to taste it fully. ”I said ‘vhere I can see you’ not vhere I could see you,” she answers dryly, ”I vill answer your question as soon as you join me face to face.”
Vigny tries to answer the great monster but she can't think straight, and the question confuses her. Her words come out in little batches between sobs. "I don't... Don't know what... You mean... There's no... Nothing in... My head... Nothing... Like that."
Pulling forth all the bravery he could muster, Randal stands in a flash, sending his chair across the room.
"I will not flee this time!" He cries at the shadows.
"Do you hear me? I will not flee!"
Whatever comes, even if I stand alone, I will stand.
"No, this is no trick my child," she whispers softly as she kneels beside you, her hands, cold as ice but as gentle as the fur of a newborn pup or kitten, gentle stroke your hair. The woman cradles you in your arms as you weep.
"You feel lost, alone. You do not know who you truly are. I can help you, Soliana. Come north, to the Land of the Linnorm kings. We can be a family. I can teach you all that your father so foolishly kept from you. We can be mother and daughter at last."
The voice sighs and laughs helplessly.
"But I have many faces. Sometimes I am a thief," an invisible hand grabs the hat and pulls it off with a flourish revealing Jubrayl, Sandru's older brother and noted sczarni in Sandpoint. "Other times I'm some one sweet," he says in a perfect imitation of the man's voice and accent. With another flourish, Soliana sits before you. "And sometimes," Soliana says before snapping her fingers. Before you sits a woman that could be your identical twin, no, she could be you.
"And sometimes," Emiliana says to you, "I am you."
Fafnheir laughs as you cower before him. The king of linnorms circles you like a stalking wolf, his form shifting and changing in the shadows until a tall man with curly black hair spilling over his shoulders walks out before you. The curling horns of a linnorm sweep back over his head and he's dressed only in a ragged wolf's pelt he wears around his waist.
"You are right to fear the fey," he chuckles, amused by your efforts shrink away from him. "You are right to fear me, Fafnheir, the king of the fey dragons. You are nothing next to me, but I do find you amusing." He laughs again, the sound grates on your nerves despite the ringing, musical voice he possesses in this form.
"I can feel it," he says suddenly, as he crouches over you, your back against the trunk of a tree. "Pain that has been locked away. Pain that has been hidden." His eyes, those glowing orange eyes of a linnorm, bore into yours as he presses closer. "Should I let it free? Should I just leave it there to fester? No, that would be cruel." His smile is like that of a hungry wolf as he waits for you to answer him.
The shadows stop smiling and shrink back. The closet even recoil from the soft light that curls off your skin like steam.
"And what are you? Just the bastard son of a whore! You are nothing!" The old mercenary sneers, his expression grotesque and distorted with rage.
"Fery vell," Emi answers, lifting the other glass from the table.
"Sometimes I am a fery good friend," she begins, reaching forward to offer her other self the cup. Then dropping it unceremoniously to the ground she adds, "and sometimes I am not."
I'm trying to be a good friend, Ameiko... I'm sorry it's taking so long...
"Now," she continues, "I belief it is my turn to hafe a question answered... vhat is your true name?"
Jerukh wipes another tear from his eye as his blinks become a scowl. At the talk of the Ulfen who he long blamed for taking his mother the half-orc bitterly answers;
"I do not know why she went. Why she was taken from me. Why they took her... but they did!"
He stifles an angry sob;
"The orc bellows. M-M-Mother... M-My mother sings to me... She helps me sleep and keep the fire inside from burning too bright."