Disturbing shadows have grown long over the northern reaches of The Land of Song. The fierce people who once fished the chilly fjords and hunted in the evergreen peaks now huddle in their villages. An evil is abroad in the land. Outlying villages and holdings have become abandoned, their populations missing. Hunting parties and traders have vanished. Bandits and worse roam the lands unchecked. The harvests have soured and now, as winter descends, the Clans fear that their meager stores shall not last. A Moon ago, the six most powerful clans each sent their champion to discover the source of blight. The six never returned, nor has any trace been found. Putting aside his pride, Yngvar, the old Jarl of the Clans, has called for outlander heroes to aid the free peoples, promising great rewards and remembrance in song. The journey to Yngvar’s halls was long and arduous. The last leaves have fallen, and the cool air blowing off the sea has turned sharp and cold. The first morning frosts already grip the soil. Siri, the Jarl’s wise woman, has consulted with the ancestors of the Clans. An old evil has arisen, they say, full of anger at the living. The stain on the land originates from the Valley of the Sleeping Jarls, where all the Clans’ chieftains are laid to rest. The evil will not abate, the ancestors warn, for it bears a great malice for past deeds and hungers for vengeance. Siri has sought to discover what offense has been made, what appeasement can be offered; all for naught. Two nights ago, guards along the wooden palisade protecting Yngvar’s Hall disappeared. The spring calves have died and the poultry refuse to lay. The heroes are charged with traveling to the Valley of the Sleeping Jarls to discover the source of the malevolence bearing down upon the land and with eradicating it. The wellprotected gorge can be found on the eastern shoulder of a particularly rugged mountain some three days’ travel from Yngvar’s hall. Who can say what evil lurks amid the towering peaks and shadowed fjords?
"Aye, laugh if you will! But who knows what shapes of horror have had birth in the darkness, the cold gloom, and the whistling black gulfs of the North? In the southern lands the sun shines and flowers bloom; under the soft skies men laugh at demons. But in the North, who can say what elemental spirits of evil dwell in the fierce storms and the darkness?"
You have all been boarded on a ship bound for Yngvar's hall for many weeks and nears it's end it becomes apparent that it will only be a few hours or so before you dock when you see ahead the towering peaks of The Land of Song. Two other boats trail behind you they also carry outlander adventurers in search of easy coin the Jarl Yngvar of Yngvars hall called forth a request for outlander heros to aid his free people and free them from the grasp of the evil that now wakes. The captain rings a bell to indicate that thier trip is near an end these are going to be your last few hours of peace and quiet for a long long time....
Tok fluffed up her fur a bit and wrapped her tail around herself. The young Aasimar was still used to the heat of Katapesh, the lands of the Jarls were cold to her. The cleric let out a rather canine whine and frowned unsure of why she had agreed to come along with this group of heros. She was a healer, and someone who was meant to be in a much warmer climate.
As she leaned on the edge of the boat, she remembered why she had come. It was breathtaking beyond all description. She stood there, silent and awed.
Aksum shivers at the cold, which seems to seep in at every crack and seem in his heavy clothing. Already he misses the warmth of Osiria, and he has yet to see this "snow" that he was warned of. Below deck, he fumbles at the strings of his krar, his fingers not as nimble when wearing woolen gloves. It will take some practice to play in this weather.
Curvlk followed the tracks of the nicely smelling one up onto the deck from his bunk. He'd been in search of his friends, Morph and Stalk until he was distracted by a peculiar pair of foot prints on the dusty boat, coupled with an alluring scent. He followed the scent right up to the edge of the boat very quietly, and with out looking up, bumped right into the furry creature standing there. Curvlk stumbles, off balance on the the moving ship, and windmills his tiny arms in a comical attempt to maintain balance.
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The foxlike Aasimar blinks down at the goblin, however unlike most civlized folks she does not react less than favourably. After all there used to be all manner of strange beings in Katapesh. Instead of screaming or attacking the little goblin the young woman kneels down and puts a paw on his shoulder to steady him.
"Easy there friend." She says, her eyes gentle. You may fall overboard if you are not careful, and I do not fancy a swim in these waters, nor I doubt you would. There are sharks and orcas." She paused and grinned. "I'm Tok, that's short for Tokara, but most folk call me Tok. So you can too. What do they call you, little friend?"
For Galstak, the boat ride has been a nightmare. He never was a boat person. His grandfather tried often to get him on fishing boats since they had arrived in this land many years ago. But even then he had problems. He had gotten seasick very easily. When he realized on a boat would be how he arrive to Yngvar's Hall, he balked. Add to that, the fact he would be trapped with so many strangers, made him very uneasy.
Actually it was Mophet and Curvlk who talked him into it. So here, on the deck he had spent most of the journey. He was amazed how his body could bring stuff up from his stomach even though he had not eaten for days.
Thank Erastil they would be off this boat soon.
The travelers stuck together on the boat had mostly taken to calling him the "white elf".
He stood nearly six feet tall and was typically slender of his kind. His hair was was white as snow and flowed freely without a tangle or snag. His clothes matched, simple white trousers and cross-over shirt similar to that which unarmed combat schools wear when training their students. A white cloak trimmed in white fur served to keep him warm with matching white leather boots and gloves and a soft white scarf completing the outfit. The only twinge of accenting color he wore was a small crystal medallion on a silver chain that caught the light and spun it into an array of dancing colors.
He was one of those annoying sorts of people who never seemed to have a hair out of place or a smudge of dirt anywhere. He was absurdly attractive but seemingly lacking in any sort of charm. He was reminiscent of a statue and seemed to have a similar personality. It was not as though he were off-putting, merely non-putting, as it were. He spent most of his time at the prow of the ship reading books and watching the horizon with a blank, unreadable expression on his flawless face.
He said very little, never joining in conversations between passengers even when small talk was perfectly permissible, but upon catching the large man named Galstak at the rail looking green the pale elf had handed him a cup, magically filled it with rain that seemed to fall in a torrent from his hand, then gestured to bring it to steaming heat. A small packet of pungent herbs was added and a final gesture made the concoction smell and taste like well aged mead.
"Drink this. It will help." he had said.
And it had.
Morphet, wearing nothing but a silk shirt, surveyed the deck, seeing Galstak, he felt bad for him. Boats had never bothered Morphet, but he knew many who like Galstak who would prefer an army of goblins to being on a ship. It looks like the "white elf" was trying to help him...good. Thinking of goblins, wonder what Curvlk was up to. Oh there he is with the Aasimar. Looks like he making new friends...good. He waves to Galstak and Curvlk. Walking over to the one named Aksum "How are you this fine morning." as he takes a deep breath of the cool morning air.
"If this is a fine morning, I dread to see the harsh ones," Aksum replies. He curls up tighter into the cold corner, and draws a gloved hand experimentally across his krar to produce a soothing chord. "I only hope this quest is worth the discomfort."
Jo looks bleary-eyed at the at the tall pale Elf. He had not seen many elves in his small village area, so the sight was interesting. He didn't think they were so.....pale.
At being offered the cup he was both naturally suspicious of the stranger and worried that whatever he put in his stomach would come right back up.
"No thanks." he said just before another dry heave. At the second offer, he took a sip and was amazed at the stomach calming effect.
"Where were you three weeks ago? I think I have lost 15 pounds on this stinking vessel." He drinks more of the pleasant tasting liquid.
Realizing his gruffness and remembering some lessons his grandfather espoused to him years ago, he apologizes. "Sorry, but this whole trip has been a nightmare. Thanks for the juice, it really does seem to help. Erastil's arse, my whole gut hurts from heaving so much." Galstak groans clutching his abdomen.
"Sorry, I sound like a woman. Name's Galstak. I didn't catch yours."
His vision cleared for the first time in days he realizes that this tall white elf was in one of his visions...
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Stepping from the boat, the tall dwarf cracks his neck and stretches away a yawn. "I need ah drink. Anyone?". Dropping his massive greatsword, dragging the tip as he moves, "Blood Eagle" takes a few steps, "I be buyin'".
The barbarian-priest is massive, appearing similar to a dwarf, but taller than most half-orcs, and beardless. He wears many battlescars proudly, and sports nordic tattooes and various glyphs and runes, either dwarven or giantish.
Khalil stood at the rail of the aftcastle, his eyes staring south back down the long journey finally nearing its completion. With a deep breath and sigh he contemplates the last few months and resigning himself to his fate. He had certainly tried to get off of the ship once he was out of Osirion. Tried to get free. But every time his luck was supremely bad. First, there were the dock worker riots in Merab, then plague in Korvosa, followed by swarms of wasps attacking him in Magnimar, and finally the last straw was the gangplank simply snapping in half dropping him into the Riddleport harbor. His fate was clear and finally he was ready to accept it.
Wrapping his heavy cloak tightly around his shoulders, Khalil turned north to watch the growing gray and white peaks of the Land of Song. With the cold wind bringing tears to his eyes, he watched as the snow covered mountains slowly took over the horizon, filling it from end to end. As they grew, his thoughts of the past drifted away. Marza, her pig-spawned father, the Totra prison, it all was behind him now and he had a chance for a new beginning. A chance to thrive and perhaps one day return with enough gold to by and sell the old man and his treacherous daughter. A smile crossed his lips at that thought causing the frost on his beard to crackle. But until then, he had to worry about the here and now.
Dropping his eyes to the deck, he took the time to study the others who had made their way onto the deck. A goblin was speaking to an Aasimer, an unusual sight to say the least, while a krar player struggled to play with gloves, obviously not used to the colder weather. It looked the elf was getting sick near the bow, yet again.
Khalil stepped down towards the krar player, his legs balancing easily with the roll of the ship. Taking off his soft, leather gloves he hands them towards the musician with a smile "Greetings friend, Khalil Noyon at your service. I couldn't help but notice your predicament. Perhaps these would work a little better for finding the chord than those heavy wool ones."
Tok raises an eyebrow at Galstak. "Mmm... and what is that supposed to mean about women?" She asked, fishing in her bags for a hat. Then she put it on her head, forcing her ears to lie flat. Damned things were designed to loose heat, not retain it. She puffed up her fur more and pulled her tail closer to her body. Damned cold, she really didn't care for it.
"And unless you are offering something from Katapesh, I'm not sure I'm quite interested." She said, grinning her eyes bright.
"Name's Tok. What are you lot called?" Her voice carried a mixed bunch of accents, the strongest being the talk that flew among the urchins of the Nightstalls however it was mixed with more refined talk of someone brought up properly, and finally bits and pieces picked up from travellers and travelling.
Galstak looks at the "thing" speaking and thinks...."What the h*ll is that?"
He remembers also seeing "it" in his visions but figure that "it" was what was causing all the issues.
AND apparently it was a female...."Sorry about the woman comment. And beggin your pardon but, what exactly are you?
For a moment Tok felt her hackles rise and her lip pull back at the way the man spoke to her. He likely thinks her just a dumb animal. Then she clenches her fists and takes a deep breath, trying to get the fur on her back to lay flat. Tok was usually very laid back, however something just got to a girl. She smiles in a sickly sweet manner at the man. "I just said, I am Tok." She tells him. "I am a person, just like you. An aasimar who just happens to be closer to my celestial heritage than most. My grandfather was a vulpinal. That's where I get my good looks." she says, grinning cheekily at him.
"Vulpinal. Hmm. The fox-angels. Interesting." The pale elf said, mostly to himself.
"I am called Spectrum." he said with a slight bow. "That concoction should last until nightfall." he said to Galstak, "Should you need more come find me."
With that he simply drifted back to his chair at the prow and opened a old-looking book.
Curvlk failed to maintain his balance and fell flat goblin arse, and quickly sat up, giving his awkwardness not a second thought. He stared at the Aasimar for a short period of time, with his large mouth hanging open. The small creature's head bobbing back and forth as the goblin is effectively dazed.
A strange set of sounds escapes this large mouth, and those familiar with the small creatures would recognize it as goblin tongue. It's relatively high pitched, and a bit yappy, and it seems a bit confused "Riħa sympathique... ġej minn... pjuttost volpi-mara..."
Curvlk shakes his head and stumbles to his feet. "I'm sorry fox-lady I did not mean to walk right into you!" The little goblin states in very clear common. Strangely however, his voice seems to have dropped an octave into a deep rumble that seems not to be coming from the creatures. As he snaps of out his daze, he sees the fox-lady speaking to a great looming figure. The goblin suddenly speaks in a powerful, clear, and warm tone that does not sound like a goblin in the slightest. "Stalk! نظرة! لقد وجدت سيدة جميلة الثعلب الذي تنبعث منه رائحة ملاكا!" Curvlk runs forward and does his best to scale the large barbarian, in the hopes that the large man will at least put the goblin on his shoulder. When he achieves the great stature, (assuming he does so) he speaks into the man's ear while wistfully gazing at the aasimar. "اريد حقا ان الحيوانات الاليفة لها..."
"I really want to pet her..."
"قد ترغب في الانتظار حتى أنها تعرف بشكل أفضل..." The elf said to the goblin as he walked away.
Tok smiles at him. I'm glad you think I smell pretty she says to him. "Oh yes, I understand Celestial little friend. She turns back and looks at the shoreline.
Having learned that the Goblin creature named Curvlk was a little unpredictable, it was no surprise to Galstak when he tried to climb on his shoulders. Galstak appeased him.
He whispers to Curvlk "I am not sure I have put her in a 'petting' mood. You may lose one of your hands, little friend."
He reaches up and assists Curvlk to the ground and then makes his way to Tok's side at the rail.
"You know I did say 'Beggin your pardon'." He did not expect that to go over too well. He decides to ramp up the charm a little. His looks, wit, and demeanor always had a way with the women in the village.
"Look, I apologize, but you have to admit, to the average idiot human like myself, you are a bit unusual, like Whitey over there." He points to Spectrum who is cracking open a book he quickly decides he would like to have a look at.
Anyway, I am sorry and I hope I can make it up to you. I think we all have to get along well because there are some rough times ahead for all of us."
because there are some rough times ahead for all of us."
Spectrum glances toward Galstak with a raised eyebrow, obviously skeptical and curious about the bizarre statement.
"It is merely rough winds. It will pass."
Wearing winter clothing is a man with almond colored skin. He seemed to have kept to himself for much of the journey. The man is well groomed, and it seems everything he has on him is place there for efficiency. Beside him is a light horse.
"Hello everyone my name is Kaiden."
The pale elf at the prow blinks at the odd human bringing his horse onto the deck of a ship during such cold and rough weather. Making a "tsk"ing sound he returns to his book.
The goblin inquisitor wanders over to the pale elf quietly, and plops himself down near where his chair is, and pulls out a dusty old copy of "The Birth of Light and Truth" and some parchment, a long with diminutive ink well and a quill that looks suspiciously like a chicken feather. The goblin opens the religious text to an apparently random page, places his finger at the beginning of the text and closes his eyes. He traces each sentence with his finger, and as he does so, his other hand writes with the quill, penning out into an odd scrawling text as he does so. The goblin's large lips mouth the words as he appears to write them, and the goblin seems to be unbothered by the sway of the ship.
Wearing winter clothing is a man with almond colored skin. He seemed to have kept to himself for much of the journey. The man is well groomed, and it seems everything he has on him is place there for efficiency. Beside him is a light horse.
"Hello everyone my name is Kaiden."
With a shrug towards the krar player, whose obviously too involved with his music, Khalil slips the gloves back over his hands and wanders towards the bow where the unusual act of a goblin writing has caught his eye. Walking up to the diverse group surrounding the little fellow, he nods his head slightly to everyone and says in a low, soft voice, "Greetings friends, Khalil Noyon, at your service."
Curvlk opens his eyes at the sound, and carefully stows his writing materials and the holy work of the Dawnflower into his pack, kissing the seal on the front as he does. He then turns to the young man and extends his hand to the man. [b]"I am called Curvlk Wyrdon, Khalil. Well met." rumbles the goblin. The goblin eyes the man up, and tilts his head up from side to side.
Pushing his warm cloak aside, Khalil extends his own arm and takes the goblins hand in greeting, "Well met to you." With a quick nod towards the pack Curvlk just tucked away he says, "I believe you are the first one of your kind I've encountered who has taken an interest in written words. That is...most unusual...is it not?"
Just as Kaiden was about to go back to his quarters:
"A reading goblin, it can't be. I thought they were only good for target practice, and why is one here anyway. Whoever heard of a goblin being any good in a fight?"
I move over to the goblin, looking over his shoulder to see if he has anything more than a picture book.
Just as Kaiden was about to go back to his quarters:
"A reading goblin, it can't be. I thought they were only good for target practice, and why is one here anyway. Whoever heard of a goblin being any good in a fight?"I move over to the goblin, looking over his shoulder to see if he has anything more than a picture book.
Those who peer at the writing in the two books would see the religious text of Sarenrae, marked with her holy symbol on the binding of the book, written in the flowing language of the angels. The holy text appears to be very old, and the parchment has yellowed. The goblin takes great care with the dusty tome. The parchment that the goblin write on has a similar flow to it, and the penmanship is remarkably clear. The writing looks strangely similar to the text in the book, but somehow very different. The book is actually a peculiar hybridization of both goblin and celestial tongues..
Not being able to read the book I assume it is some made up language(not a language at all) and walk off.
"That one is clever."
"Hmpfff..." Galstak rubs his head as he walks away from the strange dog lady. Perhaps if I scratch her belly she would lighten up little. He smirks at the thought.
He looks around at the various people on the deck of the moving ship. He recognizes everyone from his visions. It is disturbing to say the least. He heads over to the two he knows the best, Curvlk and Spectrum.
He is looking off in the distance. He just notices the mountains off in the distance. Hope that means we are close to port he thinks to himself. Not watching where he is going he bumps into a strange looking man who was walking away from Curvlk and Spectrum.
"Oh, sorry." he says to the almond skinned man.
Catching the look from Tok, Khalil offers a friendly smile back to the goblin, "No offense meant by the question. It was simply an observation, sometimes my curiosity gets the better of my manners."
With another smile, Khalil slips off to the bow rail and leans out a little into the wind letting it blow back his hood to reveal a bit more of his face. Stepping back he bumps into another who had made his way over. "No need to apologize friend my fault. Khalil Noyon at your service." He says while extending a hand in greeting.
Stak quickly shakes the man hand with a nod.
"My fault, I was looking at the mountains in the distance hoping that we would be making port soon. Galstak is the name."
"Well met Galstak."
With a slight a tilt of his head, Khalil motions his agreement as he focuses on the shoreline. "It has been a long trip from Osirion. I am certainly ready to be off of this gods forsaken ship." He stomps his foot lightly on the deck and says with an air of slight resignation entering his voice, "It will be a true blessing for my feet to feel solid earth beneath them again, although I wonder if I may be walking into something far more...uncomfortable."
Morphet quietly chuckles at the others huddling in their winter clothing. Nodding at everyone "Morphet here...Ahh I love these nice crisp days. How are you doing Curvlk and Galstak? " Hearing all the celestial, he thinks those months of learning Celestial could definitely pay-off.
Curvlk smiles, still a rather intensive sight in an of itself.
"Curvlk make new chapter in boo- *hrhmm* I mean to say, I was able to pen another section of my goddesses message to goblin kind." The goblin had began to speak in a high pitched goblin tone in his excitement, and dropped to his deep rumbling timber in mid-sentence, with a look of one catching oneself in the act of committing a bad habit on his face. "Also, I've been able to meet many of our companions. They are a varied and interesting lot, and I believe we will have much to offer in the way of solving the problems of this land. I also remembered that I don't know how to swim." The goblin looks anxiously at the broad expanse of water they'd just covered.
"I'll have some ale if yer buying." to Blood Eagle. "Do those tattoos mean anything?"
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"Message to goblinkind?" She asked. The gods of good open their hearts to all in hopes they will be willing. The cleric said, then paused and smiled. "Say, would you like to learn another language? I could teach you Katapesh Streetrunner talk, it's sorta a mix of different languages, the streetrunners in the Nightstalls taught me it."
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Gunther will remove one of his bearskin capes and hand it to Tok, "Don't ya be worrying about these mongrels" he whispers to her, "I know youv'e tested your mettle on the only field that matters, an you are worthy. They still need to prove themselves, and are just jealous, my friend."
"Do those tattoos mean anything?"
"They do. Sort of a record of me names. I am Gunther, son of Donner, called Blood Eagle, Giant Slayer, Warlord of Gorum, ravager of . . . well, never mind. 'Bout 2 years ago, I went raiding in a giant empire up near Juttyhiem. One of their kind had taken a warrior-princess from da Clans, and their warriors failed to retrieve 'er.. . . Sound familiar? ha ha ha!. Well, I strolled up into their "empire", an' demanded they either hand 'er over or do a proper sacrafice. Of course, being giants, they didn't understand a thing I be sayin'. . . and I was a lil' drunk. . .", he sort of stares of, as if remembering better times. "I've grow so much since then, though, so no reason ta worry.", with a wink towards Tokara, who knows the whole story.
"Osirion! If I remember my geography right, that is many thousands of miles to the south by floating vessel. What brings you this far North?" Stak asks Osirian.
"I have not been further south than Northern Varisia. Is it as hot as they say it is in your land? I have never seen night air where the breath could not be seen on an exhale."
Galstak acknowledges Morphet's arrival with a nod.
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Quite frankly, I wouldn't care if they were the arse of Asomdeus." She spat, using some rather foul language. "I would rather just go home to Katapesh, well maybe not Katapesh... but somewhere just as godsblessed warm." She sighed.
"You know that I only care for healing, and fighting evil. Not for combat for the sake of it." she told him, gently punching his arm. You're the one who's about the glory of war, not me."
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"I would rather just go home to Katapesh, well maybe not Katapesh... but somewhere just as godsblessed warm." She sighed.
"Do ya need another cloak, or perhaps somethin' else to warm ya up, girl?" knowing that she is a little uncomfortable about that sort of thing, and he can always play it off the other way she doesn't try to reprimand him about (alcohol or companionship).
"You know that I only care for healing, and fighting evil. Not for combat for the sake of it." she told him, gently punching his arm. You're the one who's about the glory of war, not me."
"So you say, and as I tell ya, I've seen the real you, no matter what ye say when it comes to yer "evil". Besides, your magical might is impressive and only a fool would think that might of sword or hammer is the greatest on the battlefield. I'm jus' glad you are on me side", with an honest smile and laugh.
"You are a flatterer, did you know that. And a shameless flirt... I like it."The tips of her ears turn a bright shade of pink as she looks away. "Prehaps... something else than a coat can warm me up." It happens, at certain times in the year, that she got like this. Likely something to do with her vulpine form. She lets out a little growling purring noise and leans in to lick the cleric's cheek.
"If you have other plans for keeping warm," Aksum interjects as he shivers, "then I would certainly not put that blanket to waste."