At noon the Revere daughter of Palatine emerges from one of the caves where she has been staying with a small procession of the young members of the church of the holy orders those were going to be ordained into the priesthood holler at the front of the procession while she is in the back.
When they arrive at the place they have been using for worship the Revere daughter before she is sentenced to a higher place Smiles at the new initiates. She thinks everyone who was in attendance at this joyous occasion.
faith is a powerful gift from the gods. Many times many events can do much to discourage us in our faith. Face however must be tempered. When it is tempered it becomes stronger just like a sword. It would seem that the gods of good had abandoned us so long ago in fact they were waiting for us, in our faith, to return to them. The faith of these two has been tested and they have responded with love the call of the Gods of light to become their swords in a time of Darkness. These two Shelby a light in the Darkness. The would be tested buy dragon fire comma through disease and death, their face she'll be a beacon to those who stand in darkness as a sign that the gods of good or still with us oh waiting for their children to return.
Looking up to the heavens the Revered Daughter, Chosen Prophet of Paladine invokes Mishalel Mishalel, labeled goddess of healing,the Healing Hand, it was your love and desire that hope be restored t9 the people of Absalom that led Goldmoon and us, with the Blue Crystal Staff to the ruins of X a c Tsaroth to find the disks which bear your name. As goddess of healing accept into your ranks your first cleric since the time of Istar to be your healing hand.
;Suntear, be clothed with the Blue of the goddess. May her color be a reminder of her healing power and your vows which you now take to stamp out disease and death with comfort and healing. May this wiarterataff be used to protect those you will heal. Finally, may this medallion of faith remind you of the goddess being with you in times of goodness and in times of trial.
She embraces the Daughter of Mishalel
Looking up to the heavens again the Revered Daughter invokes Paladine Holy One, Valiant Warrior, you have made yourself known in all times to all people's. Noblest of the gods and defender of humanity, majesty and mobility you use to protect your people, I thank you for adding to the numbers of your faithful.
Conel, may this white robe remind you of the purity of our god and the purity with which we are to serve. May this longsword be used in defense of the young church as well as put a stop to irredeemable evil when the time comes. May the symbol of the platinum dragon protect you and those you will minister to and with as we build the church of Paladine and protect the people of Krynn. RISE Revered Son as you begin your work
Looking at both new clerics the Revered Daughter reminds them that they are to help people in their need and add more members of the faithful and the clergy when possible.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Caitlyn was pleased with the results of the raid, even if she did have to admit Jackun's magic had been remarkably effective... Of course all this was but a temporary respite, soon plans would have to be put in motion. Still perhaps things were turning for the better, for this very morning Mariel was organizing the ordination of a number of several clerics, a most welcome occurrence!
While that was happening, Caitlyn caught up with Jackun and told him with a certain amount of trepidation, "It occurs to me that dragging all these refugees to Skullcap is a fool's errand. Loads of them will die on the way, and there will be endless bickering. I wonder if we can find enough food that they'll be safe for a few weeks while a smaller group goes looking. We can cover so much more ground in a small group and if we could find some horses or other fast transport that would be doubly true. I have a sinking feeling that those hill dwarves are right and we're going to have to use whatever magic's left over to break the doors down. Well I say we, but I mean you..."
"You are right the first time Caitlyn. There is no me without we.
You are wise here, a smaller group should indeed go to skullcap, first we must know how close or far it is. For now, let us gather more provisions..."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The refugees could not muster a proper blue robe or white robe, but the believers had enough vaguely blue and white bits of cloth, blankets, and such to suggest them for Sunmist and Conel. They and a few score onlookers gathered that morning to see what Mariel had to say.
The crowd stood in silence as Mariel spoke. Then Sunmist stepped forward and the Revered Daughter embraced her. A blue glow suffused them both and the tatters adorning the plainswoman fell away to show a pure, sky-bloke robe and a gleaming silver medallion of faith on her chest.
The crowd murmured at the wonder and the blue light shone in their faces, then broke into elation when the same thing happened with Conel and a silvery white light a moment later. The third and fourth members of the Holy Order of the Stars beamed and bowed to the Revered Daughter. As they did a sudden, warm breeze washed out from the three clerics and into the assembled many. It carried with it a sound at once like the roar of a dragon, but inspiring awe instead of terror, and an infinite calm patience that soothed many of the petty aches of the camp and trail. Many fell to their knees in wonder.
Among them, but somewhat apart, stood a fit man carrying a heavy rucksack.
With a smile the Revered Daughter proclaims, looking to the heavens again The Platinum Dragon shows his favor this day
With a smile the Revered Daughter proclaims, looking to the heavens again The Platinum Dragon shows his favor this day
]ooc] LOL [/OOC]
The sack slung across his back was clearly heavy -- it was practically bursting at the seams with its contents nearly the size of another man -- yet its owner seemed untroubled by the burden. Which was not to say he was untroubled.
The worn and dirtied cloak, probably grey when it was newly made, now mostly brown and drab, presented a dour yet resolute image that matched his face. He had watched the ordination ceremony and, for those who watched him in turn, he seemed not so much moved as suspicious. It is either more conjurers and charlatans or... could it be? He'd seen plenty of false prophets on the road, imbuing their displays with pyrotechnics and minor magic tricks. But this was... something else. Something more? Or just better practiced?
He casts a glance around him, before stepping forth, the bag over his shoulder jangling from its metallic contents with each step. From lips beneath a mustache limned in the morning dew, his voice carries as if one accustomed to being heard -- yet quivers with something less than total confidence. "Is this real? Or more fakery meant to mislead and deceive? False hope, or do you speak true? Have the true gods returned to us with their blessings, or do you abuse the people in a time of need?"
Caitlyn smiles at Jackun's reply but adds seriously, "The Hill Dwarves mentioned a ruin with Aghar in it, supposedly there was good hunting and fishing. Maybe we should send some foraging parties that way?"
Caitlyn listened to what was said with a certain detached interest, while the good news was true she wasn't convinced the gods would have any particular interest in her. She supposed she'd just have to contribute in her own way, one woman and her hammer against the dragon armies. It had a certain ring to it but she was sure she'd heard tails like that before and they tended to end badly...
Her introspection was interrupted when a man with solamnic looks in a grey cloak and what appeared to be a suit of golden armor spoke up. She regarded him evenly and replied in Solamnic.
The Solamnic-looking man shifts his gaze to Caitlyn, not expecting someone other than these so-called clerics to respond. The surprise deepens when she responds in Solamnic rather than Abanasinian. Were it not for how on edge he was, he'd have been smitten by her looks. As it was, he could still barely find his tongue.
A... dragon? She's insa... she names many of the... and the Dragon Queen. His eyes go wide in stunned belief before narrowing in suspicion.
He starts to reply in Solamnic, the pauses and continues in Abanasinian. "I thank you for the kindness of speaking in what you assume is my native tongue. It is, and I appreciate the courtesy you show me, but I wish no discourtesy on the others here. My name is Loren. Loren uth Brasel." He leaves any knightly honorifics aside for now. The Oath prohibited lying and deception; he concealed nothing, simply preferring a small measure of discretion.
"I..." How to say this, without sounding like a madman... though no madder than they, I suppose. "I have been seeking wisdom such as what you have found. I am a member of an order pledged to Kiri-Jolith, though we have not known His blessing in many centuries. I fear..." I fear it is because we turned our back on Him, but I dare not impugn the integrity of the Order so publicly...
"I fear I don't know the way to find Him. If what you say is true... can you help me?"
Responding to the new comer
Your accent is Solamnic she says
Jakun snorts, "You Solamnics going to make me cast a spell just to understand your special monkey speak?
The Revered Daughter can certainly assist you Loren uth Brasel, to discuss Kiri Jolith though, Mittens might be more suited". Jakun gestures to the other Minotaur present.
Loren's relief at Mariel's words turns sour as the red-robed Minotaur chimes in. Monkey speak? Says the talking cow...and a magic user at that. He stares at the minotaurs for a moment, jaw stiff. "That's an interesting proposal."
He looks back at Mariel, considering his next words. I am the petitioner. Do not offend them. "Revered Daughter... if you agree that speaking with this... with Mittens is the proper course of action, I will do so."
The Revered Daughter raises an eyebrow at Jakun's comment but says nothing as there is a crowd.
Cooling slightly Caitlyn replies quietly in Abanasinian so Jackun may understand, "I see, Knight or Aspiring Knight of the Sword I presume? I spent some time in Palanthas a few years back. Anyway if you wish to know of Kiri-Jolith perhaps you should read what's written about him on the Discs Mariel carries. Or listen to Mittens who seems to have rather a lot to say about the Bison god." Of course Caitlyn wasn't about to tell some stranger that she'd tried out as a knight but been rejected on account of her temper. She knew she shouldn't hold it against him but neither could she change human nature ...
Loren listens to Mariel as she speaks in Solamnic and shifts a bit uncomfortably, casting a quick glance at the crowd around him. Perhaps she is simply trying to make me more comfortable... Still, he is moved by her offer and tries to respond in a way that conveys as much.
When Caitlyn speaks and guesses at his affiliation, he pauses again to consider his words. Well, that let the kender out of the bag. He switches back to Abanasithian, "You are both perceptive and wise, miss. It is not an affiliation looked kindly upon by all, so please forgive me for not volunteering it upon first introducing myself. More formally, I am Sir Loren, Knight of the Sword and son of Lord Kalrick uth Brasel, though I was only recently accepted into the Order of the Sword."
His mustache twitches slightly as something dawns on him. Far too late, Loren. You fool. He sets down the rucksack, its contents ringing slightly as it settles, then he lowers himself to one knee while adjusting his weaponry in a fluid motion. "I am not ignorant of the fact that I owe you all for my rescue. Had it not been for you, we would have all likely perished in those mines, or worse. If what you say is true -- that the Dark Queen has returned and you stand against her -- I offer you my sword and my life until such time as I can repay that debt and so long as it does not conflict with my oaths to the Order. Est Sularus oth Mithas."
Even, so help me, the talking cows. He may be a man of honor but he is not without prejudices.
Jakun's nose flares at the Oath given, "I accept your Oath Sir Knight. The best way you can help us though is by being an emissary to your fellow Knights when an opportunity arises. If they are not already under attack, they soon will be. We will need their help against the forces of Goblins, Hobgoblins, and evil Humans that serve the Dark Queen".
If no one has other questions for him, the young knight rises to his feet and half-nods, half-bows his head to Mariel. To Jakun, he offers a similar gesture though it seems perhaps a tad forced. "Please let me know how I can be of assistance. I know something of hunting for food, training men into soldiers, and even healing...well, simple healing, without the gods' gifts. Otherwise, I'll accept your kind offer and study these disks."
By all means Knight of the Sword, allow the gods to speak to your innermost being. she says.
Jakun nods in approval, "Mittens, Thistle, Caitlyn, shall we gather more stores of food from the bee hives?"
Caitlyn nods, "If there's any honey left then yes Jackun we must go. If not I say we pay a visit to those ruins and do a little hunting and fishing, although that does mean saying hi to the Aghur..." Perhaps it was a weakness of her character but she'd rather face giant killer bees than see the poor pathetic Aghur.
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Caitlyn, Jakun, Mittens, Thistletorp, and Loren set out for the giant bee hives in the caves once more. They had enough time to make four trips before losing their light, which brought them out stung and a bit bruised but laden with a tremendous amount of food. By the time the sun set, they believed they had taken all the honey combs to be had.
That night, Loren retired with the Disks of Mishakal. In his hands, the Disks had the weight of a sword, warm like a blade long-used. Something unseen guided his him through the them as the camp faded to softness, then nothing but a silent and watching dark that smelled of animals.
The heavens opened over a city of many tall spires, gleaming white. Day turned to night and the familiar stars blinked out until only a single one remained. It glowed red with hate and dragonfire raced across its face as it filled the sky. A thousand thousand looked up and their screams flowed into one endless, hopeless roar as the star turned air to fire, black smoke rushing up in great torrents like veins against the red hell descending. A terrible heat rushed across Loren's face and was gone.
A man stood in a high tower, his robes shone painful white of the sun at full noon in a cloudless, merciless sky. He rose a clenched fist to the heavens and spoke words that each struck the air like a peal of thunder. Each syllable struck cracks in the heavy white stones at his feet. Yet he swelled with every breath. Six medallions sat in niches on the walls, framing him as he spoke. At the close of the first awesome sentence, a copper medallion bearing the sign of a bison's horn to one side and a silver one bearing a blue phoenix broke in two. From each half flowed tears and blood as the man's light fled from their faces and they became dull, dead points in the terrible glory. The next sentence sundered two more copper and silver medallions, the copper holding a rose and the silver a flute. A silver sign of two rings joined and a platinum disk bearing a dragon in flight broke last and an endless, hopeless roar rose.
Loren stood at the foot of a mountain range, looking up at the snow-capped peaks. It was the mountains of the Tharkadan range. It was the Vingaards. The Garnets. The Dargaards. Mountains Loren had never seen. Every mountain. Between one heartbeat and the next, their snows melted and the burning red blood of the earth poured down their slopes as ash blackened the sky.
Loren stood on a dock, looking across the Bay of Branchala as the tide rushed up in a dead, red wave that crashed against his dock and raced past it into the streets of Palanthas. It drew back and left the city bloodstained, then rushed back again higher and higher. The trough drew carts, horses, buildings, and people into the deep.
Loren stood in the deep forest, watching as deer leaped through a glade. They stopped, fawns and parents still for a moment as the sounds of the forest tied. Then they turned upon each other, charging and kicking madly as blood flew and bones broke. In the air birds fell on one another and descended in a chaos of feathers. Serpents consumed one another.
Loren stood in another forest, on the edge of a graceful city standing on an island in a river. Cries of horror rose behind him as the branches of every tree bowed low, lost their leaves, and thin streams of blood flowed from where they had been.
A white mist filled the world and Loren saw monks in a scritorium grope about, unrolling scrolls that soaked in the moisture until their ancient ink ran. Then the mist closed in deeper still and everything vanished behind a wall of absolute white.
A Knight of the Rose delivered an elf princess from ogres, and Loren felt the lust quicken in him. The same knight stood before a council of honor, three high knights resplendent in their armor as they pronounced a doom upon him. Unbowed, he drew his blade. The knight again, clutching the elf close. She shone with a blue light as she spoke. He turned to the east and drew his blade. Still gleaming, he rode from his castle and met three elves on the road. They spoke to him and his wrath quickened. The blue light died as he turned and rode once more, into the west.
On the plain, Loren saw lightning strike from a clear sky. Flame raced across the horizon and columns of death black smoke darkened the land. In the distance he saw the Tharkadan range.
Somewhere deep under the earth, proud dwarves struck hammer to glowing iron again and again. Each blow echoed through the halls and sparks flew up. Unmarked, they hung in the air and drifted nearer one another with each strike. When they met, they dimmed, grew cold, and then came alight again with a black flame. The instant it tasted air, the dwarves fell dead where they stood.
The night sky unfolded above Loren, the silver moon and red moon shining. The black moon of evil passed before the silver, small but hateful, and then swelled. Its living shadow devoured the silver moon and the sky dimmed, then passed to the red and consumed it in turn. A cold wind passed over him.
The light of a bright forest faded to a silent, still gray and the smiles died on the faces of countless kender. They fled and cowered in tight knots beneath beds, weeping as the shook.
The sky was clear again above the city of the tall spires, but the angle of the light changed like at dusk and from the east a sickly green stained it like aged copper. A dreadful wind howled about one of the seven tallest spires. It leaned and then shattered. Marble rained down as the wind tore through Loren.
A man with Loren's face, not him, stood alone in a castle chamber. Somewhere outside angry voices howled for his blood. Heavy things struck the door and its wood creaked. The man who was not Loren laid down his sword and shield. He unbuckled his armor. On his chest rode a copper medallion with the sign of a bison's horn. He set his armor aside with care as the door began to splinter. Weeping, he fell to his knees and prayed.
A Knight of the Sword, no the Knight of the Sword, appeared before the praying man with all the virtues and honor of the order write upon his form. His head was that of a bison. The Bison Knight stood between the man with Loren's face and the door as the first crack opened in it, his back to the mob outside. He reached out and took the weeping man's hand and pointed with his free one. The weeping man turned and looked into Loren's eyes. The tears died on his face as the Bison Knight led him to Loren and silently laid a hand upon the copper medallion, then pointed to Loren again. The other man bowed his head and removed the medallion from his neck. Smiling, he held it up and touched it to Loren's chest. Loren felt warm metal about his neck and a comfortable weight for a shining moment before it faded away and left a coldness in its place.
The Bison Knight met Loren's eyes, a man, a vast stampede with thundering hooves that filled the air, knights with lances lowered in a charge, a minotaur. With them stood defiant men in antique armor and some wearing feathers, elves holding bows, dwarves with their axes, even kender that smiled as their gripped their odd weapons. At their back lay the weak, the vulnerable, every innocent being. Ahead lay every evil, proud, then afraid. Somewhere above, gold, silver, bronze, copper, and brass scales shone. The din of hooves, the creak of harness, armor and tack jingling and clanking, steel drawn, the snorts of the horses, the roars of the dragons, the hot breath that washed across Loren's face all spoke as one: "Est Sularus oth Mithas."
And Loren was in the camp again. He came back to it looking directly at the medallion around Mittens' neck. Something unseen but real about the minotaur reminded Loren heartily of the man with his own face just then.
Tired from a day of work yet lifted in spirit, Loren turned his attention to the Disks at first with a sense of eagerness but then, as he settled down to study them, apprehension. What if he learned nothing? What if he stared at them and... nothing? Clear your mind of doubt, Loren. Set yourself in the present. You have a task before you. Do it, and come what may.
Within moments, he is transported. Realization of what he is seeing crashes upon him in waves. The Kingpriest; pride, arrogance, folly. Warnings from the gods. Sign after sign. Ignored. And then scenes of the Knight of the Black Rose. It... it was not as I was told. He was supposed to have been betrayed. Not to have been the betrayer.
And then destruction. The mountain of fire. Ash. Waste. The Cataclysm. As if his own chest were on fire, wanting to scream out but having no breath and so he heaved, silent, tears streaming down his cheeks.
When he saw himself, he knew it to be his ancestor from before the holdings of the uth Brasel family were lost. And when The Knight appeared... a bison... a minotaur with the knights... He felt shame, and more shame upon that for thinking of his own sins when so many were dying. When his ancestor was willing to sacrifice himself to avoid more bloodshed.
And with a flash of heat, he found himself back at camp, his breath ragged, emotions raw, wanting to scream and cry and cheer all at once.
The copper medallion on the paladin's neck caught his attention, then his eyes drifted up to study the minotaur's face. Men are pirates. Men are brigands, murderers, robber barons... yet there are also the good. If that is true of men... Corij, Sword of Justice, forgive me.
He takes a few deep breaths, tries to center himself as best he can, then stands and walks over to the minotaur. "I... I am not sure how to address you, but I see you wear the symbol of Kiri-Jolith, the Bison of Heaven, around your neck. The Disks showed me... That is to say, I believe it would be helpful, if you are willing, for me to listen to what you have to say of Him."
Jakun spends the night recharging his quarterstaff as a Lesser Arcane Staff imbuing it with 7 spell levels but with no spell above second level as follows:
1. Darkvision,
2. Resist Energy,
3. X3 Magic Missile (4d4+4).
The Minotaur's tough hide allows him to ignore most of the worst of the bee stings until he finally gets to rest leaving Kossel to watch over him through the night.
|
Mittens smiles as Loren speaks to him. There is a kindness and a knowing in the minotaur's eyes. He speaks to the man in a slow almost childlike way but there is wisdom in his words
"Mittens greets you, I am Mittens, I am the sword of Kiri-Jolith. Mittens is always happy to speak of the Bison god and to lead people to his strength. Above all Holy Kiri-Jolith provides us strength to be good and crush bad. Bison god wants the strong to protect the weak, strong of body, strong of heart and strong of spirit. Mittens dont fight for glory but to honor his god. Kiri-Jolith hates weakness of the heart and spirit, those are the weakness that leads to the dark and he hates dark for the dark knows no love and he is love and protection.
He stops for a moment as if searching for words. there is a passion in his voice as he talks, there is love.
Mittens will teach you if you know that your life is given to the bison god to stop darkness and to protect those that lack strength
The young knight's eyes flicker across Mittens's face, not quite familiar with the 'bestial' visage and the snout that throws off his depth perception, his gaze constantly being pulled upwards to the paladin's horns. But he listens and feels something tugging at his gut. These are the values of the Knighthood. To find them in a minotaur when sent away by my own... And its name, no, his name really is 'Mittens'? Right... ask another time, focus.
"Thank you, Mittens. These are the precepts of my Order -- to protect the innocent and to honor our Lords -- and I have sworn oaths to their effect. We talk sometimes of Kiri-Jolith, but it has been so long, we..." Again, Loren finds himself weighing his words, not to gauge the truth of them, but so as to not offend the honor of his superiors, yet the practice is so ingrained in him he doesn't quite realize the irony.
"We do our best but much wisdom has been lost. I would be honored to learn what you have to teach."
Looking at the rather large pile of honeycomb they'd retrieved from the bees Cailtlyn felt a mixture of pride and dread. Pride because they'd stopped the refugees from starving, dread because it was temporary. Ideally before the honey ran out they'd need to leave.
Caitlyn told her friends, "Well that bought us some time, lets check out the hunting and fishing the Dwarves told us about and make sure that's being taken advantage of before we head out to find Skullkeep."
Looking at the rather large pile of honeycomb they'd retrieved from the bees Cailtlyn felt a mixture of pride and dread. Pride because they'd stopped the refugees from starving, dread because it was temporary. Ideally before the honey ran out they'd need to leave.
Caitlyn told her friends, "Well that bought us some time, lets check out the hunting and fishing the Dwarves told us about and make sure that's being taken advantage of before we head out to find Skullkeep."
Mittens smiles and nodsMittens will show you the path of the bison god. we are to be strong but yet soft. lets make our bodys and hearts hard at once.
Loren blinks a little in surprise when he realizes the minotaur is going to take him to what passes for the column's training fields. We're to spar?
Briefly stupefied, he stares at the backside of the massive, armor-clad beast man. This is spiritual training? Alright, Loren, you said you'd learn what he had to teach. Keep an open mind.
So, with the slightest sigh of disappointment, Loren follows, not entirely sure what to expect. I guess some sparring will do me good. I'm surely rusty.
Autumn Twilight 1, Day 21 (Day 3 of 14 to Thorbardin, 18 miles from Pax Tharkas, Day 2 of 6 of free food in valley.)
The night passes quietly, with a gentle snow falling through the clouds that shield the valley. Morning finds a mere three deaths and spirits much improved in the camp. With things mostly to right, the Companions set out to find the Aghar that the dawrves spoke of.
It didn't take long walking along the southeastern wall of the valley before they came upon a large, carved archway built into the cliff. Runes marked its surface.
The tunnel beyond plunged forward for hundreds of feet, straight as an arrow. The heat rose up to meet them and the stone above constantly dripped. Despite the close quarters, it felt like walking through a hot cloud more than the heavy earth. The Companions came at sweaty length to a wide gate where a long gully dwarf stood, helmet falling over his eyes and a long halberd leaned against the wall well more than an arm's length away.
"Halt!" he said. "Answer me before I let you pass! Are you supposed to come into this kingdom?"
You're in camp now, and fairly secure, so chance of attrition drops to 60%.
yeah
Half the dice of last time because you're safer. Three.
2 seekers, 1 plainsfolk
With losses and converts
Believers: 87
Free Folk: 44
Plainsfolk: 285
Townspeople: 168
Seekers: 173
Total 757
Excluding Free Folk because of intimidation. Damn, Seekers pop up to Unfriendly. Plainsfolk also go up.
Standings are
Believers: Helpful
Free Folk: Hostile
Plainsfolk: Indifferent
Townspeople: Helpful
Seekers: Unfriendly
Conversions:
36 converts from the Seekers moved over in totals above
0 new priests.
Jakun snorts at the sign in dwarven as he cannot read it, "Any of you read dwarven? If we enter this skullcap it would be best if Mariel had a spell that could comprehend languages if none of us can speak dwarven..."
Jakun grins, "Of course, why else would we have come here if we were not supposed to come?"