GM ShadowLord's Rise of the Runelords Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master GM ShadowLord

"Don't suppose we could set a whole fort on fire?" Sunday asks.

With the death of Mammy Krysta let out a crystalline roar of victory. With that accomplished she turned her gaze to the rest of the battlefield but found no other enemies to attack and so settled down and turned to face the barn as Shalellu and the others emerged.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

As the discussion continued the young dragon noticed that Kaven was being rather reluctant to be involved any any discussion or treatment of injuries and flapped her wings to gain height before winging over to land near him.

While Vale laughs at Sunday's quip, Jakardros does not. He gives the barbarian a stern look and simply utters, "No, you will not do this. We will retake the Fort and regain the honor that we have lost.

The Black Arrow's agree and quickly set off with the group away from the blaze that quickly disintegrates behind your party. Once you have put significant distance from yourselves and the blaze, Jakardros ask Delendir to accompany him on hunting for some dinner while the others setup camp.

While setting up camp, Vale engages with the mageknight in conversation about their status. "So right place, right time but not mercenaries then? This is quite interesting. However it may be, you have my thanks. Tell me silver eyed one, how fair you with a blade? I can tell my the lean of your muscle that most men underestimate you, no? Why, I bet you are a fair sparring partner in your own right! Ha!"

Kaven's face blanches when he draws attention from the dragon and confronts him on his less than forward approach. Kaven lowers his voice as if not to be overhead and his silver tongue quickly goes to work "Oh, ok. You've got me. You see, it's just I'm really not one for the limelight and, well, you are a mighty dragon and all, no? I mean, A DRAGON! I am simply awed in your presence. Are you a goddess?"

Bluff: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (10) + 15 = 25

Kaven takes Krysta's hand with a devious smile that is shot back towards Vale before heading off into the barn with her. He shoots a comment turns the bald man, "Don't wait on me buddy!"

Vale scoffs and shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively.

"Well, the jarl of Magnimar did offer us coin, but that was after dealing with some cult that had cropped up. As for men underestimating me, most up north have heard of the Whitescales' reputation with blades, and none here in the south have underestimated me twice," Ragnhildr answers with a grin, "If you wish to spar, let's get you patched up first. I'd hate to have you complain of losing due to your wounds."

While Vale laughs at Sunday's quip, Jakardros does not. He gives the barbarian a stern look and simply utters, "No, you will not do this. We will retake the Fort and regain the honor that we have lost.

"Ah, so it's something silly like that, I had thought you would be more interested in avenging your comrades." Sunday muses with obvious disinterest.

At camp Sunday walks around his arms wrapped around himself, occasionally bringing his hands up to his mouth to breath into as he shivers.

"Are you unwell?" Yavenee asks quietly, noticing Sunday's shivering.

"Huh?' Sunday responds, caught off guard a bit as Yavenee approaches, and at her concern. "Oh, I... don't really know actually. I'm cold, really cold and tired..." it's not cold out is it though?" he quietly responded, his breath slightly visible. "Are you doing okay?" he awkwardly adds on.

"I am fine. But the cold around you seems almost....unnatural" the witch responds.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

"That's good. About you, Senira." Sunday starts, tilting his head slightly. "Well it might have to do with the spirits that seem to walk with me when I start killing. I've started to notice them more and more. Or it could be..." he trails off as lips continue his sentence. Nair?

He puts a hand up to feel the side of neck and collarbone before looking at Yavenee. "Unnatural you say? Yavenee," he says with some hesitation, "What do you know about the living dead that still have bodies, have you ever had any dealings with them?"

Vale chuckles loudly at Ragnhildr's comment. "You have some spirit in you Whitescale, I like that! Perhaps tomorrow then, no? I think a fully nights rest would do me well before attempting to insert myself into a difficult situation. That and some hot food. Gods! I can't recall the last time I had a hot meal..." His smile wanes as memories of his captivity wash over his face, ending in a loud sigh. When he finally snaps out of his gaze and notes that several people are paying attention to him he apologies for the lapse.

Speaking freely to no one in particular he remarks, "I'd give anything to learn just how we lost the fort. The Arrows have protected these lands for decades without a problem. Hell! It's been near 45 years since the Kreegs have even mounted anything more than skirmish! Then suddenly, when it just so happens that both Commander Bayden and Jakardros, who was second in command if you didn't know, were out of the fort - we were assaulted and completely overrun? Something doesn't quite add up. It seems too much to just assume they were lucky enough to know the exact moment to strike."

"Everyone in my clan does," Ragnhildr agrees as she busies herself with making supper.

Profession(Cook) Taking 10: 10 + 7 = 17

Knowledge Religion: Corporeal undead/living undead: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

"Quite a bit." Yavenee replies, looking up at Sunday and cocking her head to the side a bit, taking in the paleness, the dark aura. "I've seen the angry spirits that surround you in battle but...you are touched by something else aren't you? Nightwalker blood?"

That would be f~!*ing badass :3

Sunday tilts his head as Yavenee speaks. "Nightwalker? Is that what you call a vampire? Nair... the lady who... took me in after my parents were gone was one. She was like you and Grace, very pretty and regal." he says while rubbing his neck some more, as memories started to creep back.

"I don't know if I have this Nightwalker blood, but I do know she said mine was delicious." as he talks he stops rubbing his neck and holds his hand out towards the Witch's hand.

A little bit surprised, Yavenee takes the dark warrior's hand, noting it's rough strength. "Yes they are what the city dwellers call vampire. From what I've heard, blood exchange is how they might transfer some degree of power to those the see as deserving and that they wish to empower for some reason."

Quite a few things about the man were beginning to make sense. "So the woman who raised you....was a...vampire?"

Ah, at first I thought you meant this Nightwalker.

Sunday nods, a little relieved as Yavenee proved to know what he was talking about. Lifting her hand up he puts it on his neck, though otherwise unscarred there is the sensation of multiple pricks and bumps covering the flesh.

"Yes, it was just me and her for the longest time, she taught me to read and how to make connected letters with a pen, and would bring me clothes when I kept getting bigger and bigger, she took care of me, she kept me safe, she loved me, she was... everything to me." he started but stopped himself as he realized he was starting a tangent.

"She brought me food of course, and she had her own of course. She would take some every night, usually just a little but before I left she started to take more and more until I couldn't stay awake one night. It took me over a day to come back, and when I awoke I fled, I don't know why I did that, I didn't know why she would do that, I thought she wanted to kill me and didn't want me around anymore. Fear overtook me, took everything I had up to that point, my life with her, my safety, my happiness." he says morosely.

"But now I'm beginning to understand that I was wrong. I'm cold... and it feels like her. She didn't want to kill me, she wanted me to stay with her, forever. And I abandoned her." he continues, bitterness at himself starting to seep into the words.

That would be terrifyingly badass

Understanding his train of thought, the witch tilts her head, considering his words. "That is possible. But it is also likely that she was losing control. For many of her kind, blood is....a need..more than just sustenance...an addiction that becomes increasingly harder to control. It is possible that another time or two and she would have drained you dead before stopping. There is no shame in survival." she says, her fingers tracing the marks on the side of his neck, along the length of the main artery there.

Sunday quietly listens as Yavenee talks, though her finger was starting to cause gooseflesh.

"And I would have been okay with that, happy even. Even if I didn't get back up afterwards. Just to be of some use to her, to make her happy, is all I ever wanted. But then the fear took hold, I wasn't in control any more. So my fear cost me everything, and it's cost me more and more since. So thank you you, but I'm going to disagree, there is plenty of shame in my survival. Now I'm stuck inbetween living and unliving, and I don't know what that even means. It wasn't worth it."

"You can still be useful, you are useful, ask those men who love because we slew the ogres. Dying as food would be a waste of one as strong and fierce as yourself. Yes there is much darkness on your path, but it is a path of battle and fury and glory, not surrender." the witch says with a certainty and conviction that gives her words an edge of prophecy.

Sunday can't help but smile and chuckle at the Witch's words of encouragement. She was just like the others, interested in glory and honor."I'd still gladly die for someone I love, and I'm glad I was finally able to repay Shalelu, but thank you for trying to make me sound noble."

Taking back hold of her hand he slightly bows while giving her knuckles a light kiss before standing back up. "And thank you Senira Yavenee, for letting me pretend to be human for a little while. I don't really have any other option then, but to try and remain useful I guess... along this path that you speak of and know more of than I do."

Yavenee returns the smile. There was much more to Sunday Daud than he displayed to most people apparently. Under layers of armor built from what must be years of anger, and pain, lay a noble sort of savagery, something she was familiar with. "Than I am glad....and you should smile more Sunday Daud. You have a very a good smile."

Sunday did as she asked and smiled back "Thank you, so do you, Miss Yavenee. I guess I will try to do that as more as well then... at least until my fangs grow too long." he chuckles.

"I think Sunday should consider taking a leaf out of my book, and dance a little with his spirits, like I do with mine", Elisai remarks in an amused tone, casually listening in.

"Of course, mine might be a little more temperamental, but still, my magic relies a little more on being a bridge between the living and the dead...its hard Sunday, but I try and use the positives of both to motivate me to further my goals. Then again, its not quite the same thing as having your experiences."

Sunday arches a brow at the nosy diva. "I do like to dance, very much so, but the spirits I've noticed are only interested in one type of dance, the one that promises blood. The blood calls to them, and to me, but I don't direct them, merely dance alongside them."

At her last comment he adds "No, not quite I suppose. But then there aren't very many positives immediately in the act of killing. What are your experiences then, that lead you and Grace down this path? If I might ask that is."

Yavenee smiles as she watches the interaction between Sunday and Elisai. Good. He was talking to his companions. As the talk of spirits arises she listens with a degree of interest.

Elisai considers the question for a moment. "I don't think Grace uses this combination like I do, she is more focused on the music, while I'm more built around the dance. The idea is to channel someone particularly powerful in a specific field, so I can truly master a given situation. For instance today I was able to channel the spirit of the Champion, but I could have easily channeled a powerful archmage and switched to spellcasting if any enemies were particularly resistance to physical attacks. Warrior, Trickster, Mage, Healer, Leader and Defender are the 6 spirits I can channel, but I have to be careful relying on them too often in my dances - if I overuse them, such spirits are tempted to take over. While most that I channel are fairly benevolent, its still not a risk I really want to take unless I really have to."

Sunday listens quietly as Elisai explains her abilities. "Ah, so you let your spirits possess you then? Even if they're benevolent that sounds quite dangerous. Mine don't take over... I don't think. I would hope not, since they seem to be remnants of whatever I've killed. And I've collected quite a few."

Elisai shakes her head adamantly. "No, I don't let them possess me, I dance with them, and it lets me rely on their strength, their power. If however, I dance with them too long, and being to rely on them, then yes, they can take control, but such a thing shouldn't happen so long as I manage myself and my abilities."

"And how do you go about doing that?" Sunday asks, not entirely convinced.

"Its relatively easy, each particular spirit has a strength, that I can easily tap into and not feel overtaxed. Having said that, each spirit also has a unique ability - for instance maybe a warrior I channel might have a signature move - that I could use, and still be fine. Use it too often though, and I invite the spirit more power, and therefore more control. At the end of the day, I can rest, and reset myself for a new day. So its very simple to stay in control, I just have to be careful as to how many tricks I can do." Elisai explains.

"You shouldn't worry Sunday, in all the time you have known me use this magic, I haven't asked any spirit for the slightest amount of power - let along enough times for me to lose control, so I'm not anywhere close to being in a situation where I might lose myself. I know my limits."

Sunday nods after Elisai finishes explaining. "Okay, that's good to know."

"And that sounds wonderful, to have such friendly spirits to dance with."

Vale continues to small talk with Ragnhildr while she prepares supper. Eventually Delendir, Jakardros and Shalelu return with some fresh game. Collectively the group begins to assist with preparation while Jakardros observes his new companions mingle with each other.

"So why did you decide to become a Witch?" Sunday bluntly Yavenee asks once everyone's meals are done. There was no ill will in the tone, just morbid curiosity without a good sense of timing.

A bit surprised by the boldness of the question, Yavenee considers for a moment. "It wasn't so much a choice as a response. A boy decided he could take what he wanted from me, being bigger and stronger. When he tried, I reached out for some way to fight him and the magic answered my call. It punished him and his friends. TheY went back to the tribal council, declared me as a witch who used magic against them, speaking nothing of what they tried to do.” she says with a slight hint bitterness. ”The chief, my grandfather saw fit to cast me out me as a practitioner of ‘dark magics’”

Sunday's eye twitch as Yavenee starts her story. "I'm sorry." he says quietly before adding "So the magic came to protect you? It can't be that bad then, can't say the same for your tribe or family."

"Worthless rabble, you're grandfather should have skinned all the bastards instead of punishing you," he growls. "And then you came to Magnimar?"

Ragnhildr's shoulders tense and she begins grinding her teeth as the conversation between Yanevee and Sunday turns to her magic. She says nothing, and just concentrates on her bowl of soup as she tries not to let her prejudices get the better of her.

... you use magic too though...

Grace looks up. Apparently, she became lost in thought as she sipped hot tea and lemon juice. The last battle was particularly nasty on her vocal chords.

"Hmmm?"

"Senira Yavenee is talking about how she became a Witch..." Sunday starts before his words trail off.

... you use magic too though...

She has a problem with witches.

Ah.

Most people do

Sunday just has problems with people who use magic to mess with other people's heads. And who make him get naked around other people.

That said he likes Yavenee, still terrified of her though.

"Yes." Yavenee says, answering Sunday's question and affirming his comment to Grace. "After that I eventuay made my way to Magnimar, drawn by the ancient power there and the flow of the lay lines."

"Ley lines?"