Mercia sits unusually silent at this pre-dawn hour. Past days would have seen workers going about their repair of the wounded town, but today, the day following the feast celebrating the town and its heroes' victory, they rest awhile longer.
But not Irravin and Vladimir. Already they make their final preparations to meet with their guide. They must make their way to the northern gate of Mercia in the next hour. But what do they do with their final hour before leaving Mercia? How do they ready themselves, or what farewells do they seek?
Irravin rises before dawn. As he always does, he begins his morning ritual with a cleansing shave of his head. The cold water on his scalp brings clarity and calm.
He moves through a slow series of martial exercises, dons his robes and prepares his belongings. His humble garb could leave him mistaken for a mere mendicant monk, but if one were to look closely, they may notice several powerful and expensive artifacts adorning his body. Of course, his light purple and grayish skin would normally draw a glance or two as well.
His mind focuses on the trip ahead, and the discipline he and Vladimir might face at the hands of their hallowed order for breaking policy on speaking with a powerful excommunicated member.
We should seek Drusk's council once more. Once Vladimir awakens, we should make our way to our trusted friend's house and speak with him before we depart.
"NOOOOOO-" Vladimir wakes with a start. A rooster crows outside in the town of Mercia, seemingly in response to his troubled protests.
Another morning, another dream of demons and death. The downtime his party has enjoyed has taken a toll on him. Although he has the patience of a Samsaran whose spirit has experienced many lives, he is ready to leave the leisure behind him.
And hopefully the dreams too... he thinks, not allowing himself to wonder if they were premonitions.
He quickly dons his ranger's garb before throwing on his steel breastplate and fastening his latest acquisition to it: a magnificent forest green cape adorned with large eagle feathers. He grabs his Oath Bow and is out the door before the rooster has finished crowing.
Vladimir steps outside the inn and scans the area before spotting what he was looking for.
"Hail, Irravin! It is good to see you garbed and ready for a journey, though the journey itself may be grim. Shall we pay our friend Drusk a visit?"
The streets of Mercia unwind before Irravin and Vladimir as they make their way to the edge of the university district to visit Drusk. The bustle of the city is just beginning, and the streets fill before they reach their destination. Nearly everyone offers the two a joyful call or nod, and many wish to stop them to speak of the turmoil of the last week or of the festival of the last night. The two must move with purpose to make any reasonable time with the attention.
Eventually they find themselves at the front door of Drusk's home. No one is roused with a light knock.
Irravin knocks louder, and glances at Vladimir.
"If he does not stir shortly, would it be improper of us to simply enter? Surely he would understand the urgency of us needing his counsel one last time before our journey."
Perhaps it was his night terrors. Perhaps it was the plethora of demons they found infesting the city these last few months. Perhaps it was just Vladimir's cautious nature as a ranger of the forest.
Reason regardless, Vladimir ducks into a crouch and lightly steps towards the window of Drusk's abode to see if he can perceive anything amiss.
"See if you can detect any magic Irravin." Vladimir whispers as he moves past Irravin to take position at the window.
Vladimir listens to the door, but doesn’t hear anything other than the sound of a slowly-waking city behind him.
If there is a window to look through, Vladimir quietly and cautiously peeks through a window. Otherwise he waits to see how Irravin responds
Even with his sharp elven senses, Irravin can't hear or see anything noticeable in the quiet gray dawn light.
He pauses, opening his mind and letting the ethereal feel of magic wash over him. There is magic within Drusk's home, that much is certain. But it feels the way that spices and sauces in a giant, industrial kitchen would smell: plentiful, sometimes powerful, but ultimately indistinguishable other than a great mess of flavors and scents.
"I can't make out anything specific, brother. Drusk has too many magic artifacts in his home to be sure of anything. We should enter carefully."
Vladimir nods in response Irravin's recommendation and leaves his position at the window and moves back to the door, gently testing if it is unlocked (without opening it).
If the door is unlocked, Vladimir moves out of the way and quietly tells Irravin, "Seeing as you are our close-quarters fighter, I would suggest you take the lead into the house."
Most of the windows are blocked by shelves, bookcases, or simply stacks of miscellaneous objects, however Vladimir finds one to gain a glimpse into the house. No one is present. It is difficult to tell if their are any signs of foul play, as the room is so disheveled.
Testing the door reveals that it is unlocked.
As he nods to Vladimir, Irravin places one hand on his own chest and communes wordlessly with the mysterious mark on his skin--the somewhat sentient, yet principled Verndar--before opening the door and entering slowly.
Vladimir waits a moment to give Irravin breathing room and follows him into Drusk’s house, bow at the ready
Irravin enters Drusk's home, followed shortly by Vladimir, both moving quietly. It takes effort to move through the room without disturbing the sprawling and stacked items. The hearth in the corner of the room retains the faintest glow of warmth from the previous night.
Moments after, entering Drusk's wooden voice is heard calling from upstairs.
"Who is there? Who enters my home?
Vladimir halts in his tracks and whispers forward to Irravin. “I can hear the sound of Raziel snoring upstairs. I think we have nothing to fear”
I think. Vladimir mentally repeats, his bow still in hand, but lowered now, not seeking to appear threatening.
”It is Vladimir and Irravin, your younger brothers in the Divine Visage. Did you not hear us knocking? We seek your counsel before we begin our next journey!”
Drusk makes his way downstairs. Though he is presentable his eyes are bleary from taking a greater part of the festivities than Vladimir or Irravin.
He looks between the two of you and nods in greeting.
"Hail, brothers. You've come for words before you part? Is there time for tea to ready your spirits for the journey?"
Drusk pulls a string from a pouch by his side and ties it around a bit of wood near the hearth. He speaks to them with arcane words and throws them into the fire. Shortly after, other pieces of wood begin to assemble themselves into a proper fire.
"I am sorry I did not expect you. I had thought there was no more to be said. But your presence one last time is still a blessing"
"Our deepest apologies for disturbing you so early." Irravin bows to his elder. "We have time for a cup of tea, but no more. As you know, we set forth for the Divine Visage this morning."
Irravin takes a deep breath and continues. "We had hoped to hear any last advice from you regarding our predicament. As you know, it is likely that our dealings with Zadan--though we felt them necessary at the time--will likely not be cast in a favorable light among the ranks of our order. While we intend to approach the proceedings with honesty and integrity, I thought we might ask any further thoughts you had about what may happen to us, and anything we can do to mitigate any consequences."
Irravin nods deferently to the older man. "It also occurred to me that we had neglected to ask if we could be of service to you in any way on our journey, or bring back word or parcel from the Divine Visage for you on our return."
Drusk takes a seat by the hearth, and gestures for his two guests to do the same, though clear seats are not apparent within his home. He stares at the fire coming to life for a short while before answering.
"You show your wisdom Irravin. Let truth be your champion when you come before the Countenance. Though the truth has mistakes within it, it also has great victory. The destruction of our immortal enemies is something rare, and it is valued. Even more, you kept the contents of the sanctum, both vile and divine, from their grasp. I pray that they shall seek to guide you, and purify whatever darkness may have tainted you in your journey, rather than punish.
As the fire takes full purchase, Drusk glances to the side, and a pot of water begins to fill itself from a barrel. He continues as the unseen servant prepares your tea.
As for my business, I have sent a letter with Gvene. I hope that it will yield the knowledge I seek. But there is something else that has worried me. Zadan is not without followers. I fear that they may seek you out while you are at the Enclave. I fear what they may tell you, but more that they will endanger your position within the Divine Visage further. I regret that it is so, but you must be careful whom you trust amongst our own.
Vladimir nods slowly as Drusk shares his advice, and silently accepts his tea from the unseen servant.
”Thank you for your sage counsel and support, old friend. We’ll walk cautiously down the halls of the divine visage. Other than Gvene, who else can we trust? Are there any fellow members in our rank that we should keep a friendly eye out for? And perhaps any a wary eye for?”
Vladimir winces as he attempts to sip his still steaming tea.
”Additionally, have you made any headway on your research? Do you have any idea what Zadan’s vision in the storm orb signifies, with regards to the battle between light and dark and the broken shards of darkness that spread across the land? Irravin and I will hopefully learn more in the coming days, and if there are any masters of legends or storytelling you know in the divine visage who might have some information verbally passed through generations, we aim to speak with them.”
Drusk takes a moment to blow on his tea before answering.
I'm afraid I don't have much to offer you on either account. I have never been to the Enclave of the Shattered Veil. I have no allies to offer you. The Countenance will be present, and they you can trust.
As for research, I know it may seem like much time has passed, it has only been days since the Dark Seer and the Demons were defeated. My time before that had been devoted to studying the Demons and the ritual the Dark Seer pursued. I hope when you return I shall have more to offer you.
Irravin drains his tea and looks at Vladimir, before resting his gaze back on Drusk's friendly, wizened face.
"As always, your council has been invaluable. But, our time here grows short, and we must depart soon. If there is nothing else, Vladimir and I will hold your words in our heart and take our leave."
Drusk nods to Irravin's reply.
"Travel well, my brothers. Desna watch over you in your travels. I shall do my best to guide the wayward Raziel."
Drusk stands as Irravin and Vladimir take their leave.
Drusk's warning of being careful of whom to trust echoes in the air as Irravin and Vladimir make their way to the northern gate of Mercia.
Gvene and Graaden await the duo outside the gate, along with a stranger, presumably their guide. The three stand beside an odd structure. The bottom half resembles a small boat made of large and thick leaves woven between curved bars of iron. The boat has a cage of iron over the top of it such that once could not fall out. Topping the cage is a horizontal wooden post, twice as thick as a man's arm.
The stranger is a young elf, barely over a hundred years old, dressed in brown leathers with accents of green. He looks to Gvene and Graaden questioningly, and they give him a nod. He approaches Vladimir and Irravin.
"Hail. My name is Elion. The Divine Visage has commissioned me to take you quickly and safely to their monastery on Wrim Peak. We will be flying. With fair winds it should be naught be 5 days. One of you is capable of speaking with animals?"
He looks expectantly at Vladimir as he asks the question.
"Aye, you would be correct Elion. My name is Vladimir, and I can speak with animals for a brief period of time using some magic. Nothing fancy, but it gets the job done. Why do you ask?" Vladimir asks while innocuously sizing the young elf up.
"Are you in the business of aerial transport?" Vladimir delivers the question in a casual manner but is intent on learning more about their new companion and verifying his trustworthiness.
While he waits for an answer, Vladimir attempts to sense Elion's motives to verify that Elion doesn't appear to have any malicious intent and is a trustworthy fellow.
Elion smiles at the question with youthful confidence. To Vladimir's first question he answers, I'll be shapeshifted to carry you for our journey. Taking off takes a lot of effort, so I'm not going to just land if we need to talk about the weather or where we're camping. So when we must speak, I'll caw three times, quickly. That means you use your magic to speak with me."
To Vladimir's second question he considers a moment before responding, "Not the business no. But, for now, I serve the Divine Visage as such."
Elion appears to be very intense, and seems like he has something to prove. He speaks of the Divine Visage with respect. Vladimir senses no malice in him.
Graaden approaches Irravin as Vladimir speaks with Elion.
"Hail, friend. Derek asked me to come see you off in his stead, as Saersun needed him for some ritual at the temple. But, I came for more than that."
He leans closer and speaks in a quiet voice
You must guide a spirit besides your own. And if you falter, two may fall instead of one. Think long my friend."
Vladimir's eyebrows raise.
"I see. Your system seems sound, and I can see why the Divine Visage commissioned you. How long can you fly before descending for rest? Surely this won't be a straight shot to the Enclave of the Shattered Veil? Additionally..."
Vladimir pauses pensively, as if wondering how to word his question.
"Shapeshifting is no minor skill. I have no doubt you are capable but am curious where you picked up the ability. Have you trained in the Druidic arts?"
Vladimir is unable to hear Graaden's conversation with Irravin.
Elion looks Vladimir up and down with sharp grey eyes. His leather jerkin cuts off at the shoulder lined with feathers and the clasp of his cloak is a carved wooden set of wings.
"I worship no god by the Sky. It is from the wind and rain that my magics come and those magics were taught to me in the Druidic tongue. From where does your magic come, that you may speak with animals?"
"With the right magics and fair wind, I can fly the whole day. With any luck it will only be three such days to the Enclave."
Elion closes his eyes for a moment and takes a breath through his nose.
"But the wind whisers of a foul mood, and dawn has crept passed us. We would be wise to make haste."
Irravin listens to Graaden's question thoughtfully.
"Derek did indeed ask to pledge his service to the Divine Visage, and I agreed, inasmuch as I have the authority to do so. As you said, he is a bright light and has proven himself in character and in combat. I am willing to guide him along the path, whatever the risks may be. He and I have stared down death and despair side-by-side on many occasions, and I would consider it an honor."
Irravin bows slightly to Elion as he and Vladimir finish their respective conversation.
"Thank you for your service, friend. We appreciate you bearing us home with such haste."
Magics from the wind and rain? Hmm. I wonder if I've seen that sigil before, Vladimir muses. He quickly uses his knowledge of religion to answer that question.
Regardless of whether or not he recognizes Elion's cloak and carved wooden wings, he responds: "I see. A practiced druid makes for good company, in my experience. Vladimir smiles, recalling their meeting with Odell. It seems so long ago. "My magic comes from a combination of Samsaran blessings and my training as a Ranger. I can tell you more during our journey. Let us heed what you've heard and be on our way.
He turns to Irravin and Graaden, giving Graaden a deferential nod as he speaks. "Graaden, your appearance is a welcome send off. I hope the coming weeks see you and Mercia well in our absence. If you and Irravin are done conversing, we'll be on our way now."
Vladimir doesn't recognize the symbol as anything other than a personal charm.
For hunch on Elion.
Elion nods to Vladimir. He directs Gvene, Vladimir, and Irravin to board the strange caged boat. The door to the cage bears no lock, but has a thick and solid latch. The leaves woven into the iron provide a soft padding for the floor. There are several large, thick blankets folded in the center, and a number of packs and satchels.
Gvene greets Irravin and Vladimir with a simple hail, her attention captured by their method of transportation.
Elion climbs atop the cage, and stands on the thick wooden haft. He spreads his arms open wide in an invocation to the sky. In a smooth, fluid motion, feathers erupt from him and his clothing melds into his body. He size soars as his spread arms become spread wings. A piercing falcon's call erupts from his beak.
Perched atop the wooden post of the cage is a black and grey falcon the size of a horse.
The huge wings beat down and the cage jolts as the talons strain at the perch and lift the boat. Elevation is costly in effort and beats of the powerful wings, but it is gained nonetheless. Graaden gives a wordless shout and wave's his arms in farewell. As the ground falls away further and further, the flight changes into a northward glide. The pace is swift, and cold wind presses its embrace on the passengers.
Behind is a beautiful vision of the sprawling city of Mercia in dawn's light. The vision is marred by visible paths of destruction through buildings and streets like a scar across the features of a friend. Even with this great height, the glittering lake reaches the horizon.
Slowly the city fades, the world becomes miles upon miles of the dense forest of the eastern edge of the Lesser Faedark. Mountains make the horizon, far in the distance.
Gvene stands sheltered from the wind gazing at the view. She calls out landmarks or particular sights, but is otherwise focused on her thoughts. She meets her companions eyes with an odd mixture of excitement and severity.
The experience of flight in such a manner is fantastic, but as minutes turn to hours, the sight alone is not enough to occupy Vladimir and Irravin's minds. What do they think of on their flight? Is any significant conversation shared?
Vladimir spends the first few hours of the journey sitting in contemplative silence. This experience is very novel for him, but the novelty fades quickly and is replaced by thoughts of what they’re leaving behind and what they're flying towards: judgement.
Eventually Vladimir walks across the cage and sits next to Irravin, breaking the silence. ”My friend. In addition to these last few hours I’ve spent the last several days reviewing everything and holding it in the harsh light of hindsight. Our collaboration with Zadan brought a much needed breakthrough, but I cannot justify Zadan’s methods and philosophy. Still, I find myself balking at the idea of refusing all communication with him. I asked myself why this was. After some pondering, I believe I’ve come to an answer:
I fear not having the knowledge that we’ve acquired through Zadan. His vision from the storm orb is still our best understanding of the darkness threatening the realm and the Faedark, and Dormin’s sanctum may be overflowing with demons if we hadn’t enlisted his help with the Dark Seer. In order for me to rebuke Zadan without hesitation, I want to believe we can still gather knowledge before it is too late. We’ll need to investigate mysteries faster than Zadan’s methods can shortcut them. We’ll need to befriend, question, and truly listen to each creature we can. I believe we can do that. I believe we MUST do that, if we are going to maintain our belief and membership in the Divine Visage. What do you say, my friend?
Also, I’d like to ask what Graaden spoke with you about shortly before we departed. I noticed his quiet tone but feel oblidged to keep the flow of information clear with my partner in the Visage.”
Irravin gazes out contemplatively over the landscape, before sinking into a habitual daily meditation, calming his breathing and centering his focus. As easily as they enter his mind, thoughts of worry, fear, and agitation are allowed to leave. He is as a boulder in the stream--silent with balanced power as the world changes around him.
He opens his eyes as Vladimir approaches, and listens to his faithful brother's thoughts on their situation.
"I'm glad you've pondered this as much as I have. Indeed, the knowledge we gained from Zadan was of utmost importance. However, I struggle with the idea that we may break code in order to advance our purposes, however noble they may be. Speaking and cooperating with him was in direct opposition to our orders, and it is not for us to decide what is acceptable conduct for a member of the Divine Visage. For is that not what Zadan's justification is for his own actions? Indeed, I myself used a cursed artifact to what I thought were righteous ends, but as my arm was burned, so shall we be burned by our refusal to adhere to the path."
Irravin sighs before continuing.
"There is no way to be sure that our actions will bring any measure of good to the world, other than through purest devotion and faith. If we cast off the rules and necessities of our order, we may bring greater calamity to the world than we can even fathom. We are but dust motes on the breeze, and the larger picture may never be revealed to us. I see now that only strict adherence to the codes can grant us the freedom to move along the righteous path."
"I do agree that our tireless investigation will serve us. Your sharp mind and clever thinking has led us to victory many times, and I'm certain that it will again. We can move forward without regretting the past, but also without repeating our previous mistakes. In this we are of the same mind, my brother.
"Regarding Graaden, he spoke to me regarding my taking on of Derek as a Feature. With your blessing, I will bring it before the council as something that I support whole-heartedly. He is a true friend and a champion of the light."
A Feature, Vladimir recalls from his training at the Divine Visage, is a form of squireship. Derek being a Feature of Irravin means Derek would serve Irravin and his goals within the Divine Visage, while Irravin would be responsible for training Derek, physically and spiritually.
Vladimir nods his head in response before placing his hand on Irravin's shoulder in a brotherly fashion.
"Irravin, you may be half-drow, but you have the patience and determination of a long-lived Samsaran. I am proud to call you and Raziel my brothers-in-arms. Thank you for your honesty and openness about Derek. I can think of no better mentor for him than yourself; his skills and spirit will flourish under your tutelage."
Vladimir removes his hand from Irravin and stands up, turning and staring out from the cage at the endless horizon.
"When the Countenance asks me how I feel about our work and adventures in Mercia, I will know what to tell them. I have you to thank for that."
Vladimir's eyes close as he inhales deeply, letting the breath out in a slow puff before continuing. "I have some important questions for our companion Gvene. Feel free to join me in speaking with her."
Vladimir walks over to Gvene and sits down beside her.
"Hello Gvene. I was wondering if I may ask you a favor. While we are on trial, would you do our friend Raziel a huge service and aid us in finding an expert in abyssal or oracle curses? I want to do something to try and break the new language barrier, for I fear it will lead to our harm in times of battle and stress. However, being that Irravin and I are on trial for the dark magic we performed, I imagine it will be detrimental to our case to ask around ourselves. Will you do us this service?"
Gvene listens closely to Vladimir's words as she still scans the flowing trees beneath them. She does not hesitate in her answer.
"The Enclave is the perfect place to find such guidance. Wanderers seeking such wisdom have made pilgrimages to the temple-fortress that is the Enclave atop Wryn peak. Children with strange blessings or curses are often gifted to the Divine Visage to raise. There are many teachers there who are familiar with the fingerprints the Divine leave behind upon those they speak through."
"There are also texts that explain the abyssal tongue. I think it wise that you delay requesting such a thing. After your trial, assuming you are still in a place to need it, I will request it for you and ask for guidance on the matter of who should learn the cursed tongue."
She gasps, and grabs Vladimir's arm as she points to something in the forest. There is a empty spot, where the shifting green trees die away, leaving a barren grey mark on the landscape. From below, within the forest, the clearing's shape would not be apparent, but from Vladimir's vantage above, the mark bares a striking resemblance to a paw mark, as if it had been tread upon by a monumental beast.
"I wonder what sorcery.. or even creature could leave such a scar. Truly this forest holds more than we know."
Vladimir's head turns to follow Gvene's prompt. His eyebrows raise, but his expression remains calm.
"Truly, the Faedark does. I suspect the next perils threatening Mercia resides there."
As silence one expects such an awesome sight falls over them, Vladimir turns away from the cage, Gvene's words echoing in his head.
"...assuming you are still in a place to need it..."
The implications of Gvene's words are obvious to Vladimir, and although he does not stiffen or react strongly, a slight frown curls the corners of his mouth. The prospect of heavy punishment such as excommunication does not please him.
"Thank you for your understanding and advice Gvene. For the realm's sake, I hope there is still a need for your request."
The small frown Vladimir wore is quickly washed away as his face returns to a calm, blank, expression.
"I would like to learn more about you Gvene. I would like to learn who you were before the Divine Visage and what your life has been like since joining. Irravin, Raziel, and I have learned a great deal about the mysterious Faedark below us, and I would love to enlist your thoughts on what we've learned. I have no doubt that your experience and mind will cast a new and helpful light on the questions our party seeks to answer. However, I will wait until we can speak freely, without the shadow of the trial looming overhead."
Vladimir politely bows his head to her, and gets up and walks back to his corner of the cage. He closes his eyes and begins to meditate.
If Irravin or Gvene have nothing else to say, he is ready to continue the journey in (contemplative) silence.
While he is waiting, Vladimir envisions the footprint...pawprint?...that they flew over earlier. He racks his mind and memories as a ranger while the print is fresh in his mind, to see if he can discern anything of the nature of the creature that left it.
As you continue your journey, the wind grows colder and the sky darker, but not from the hour. To west and north-west, dark clouds gather and creep closer regardless of your swift flight. It is unclear, to the untrained eye, whether you can outpace the storm or not.
Elion screeches, powerfully into the open air, three times.
Irravin positions himself to listen to Vladimir and Gvene's conversation from afar in an unobtrusive way. Her implied warning adds to the storm of thoughts circling his brain.
What future would we--would I--have without the Divine Visage? My salvation rests on my being an instrument of the sacred order. Without the blessed ordained struggle against the darkness, my life is forfeit.
The idea of his righteous struggle ending here is overwhelming and at times frightening. He, Raziel, and Vladimir have a mission that feels more and more important by the day. Failing would cost likely many lives and alter the fate of the land forever. And yet, a voice, small but clear and strong, persists in his head.
We will not fail.
Irravin knows nothing of the pawprint, and allows the expert ranger Vladimir to take the lead on trying to figure something out about it.
Vladimir opens his eyes and stands, gazing directly into the malevolent clouds. Can our group evade them?
In the span of milliseconds, Vladimir's mind races and flashes past memory after memory:
Watching a storm pass overhead from beneath the shelter of a thick Duskwood grove.
Riding on the back of a horse towards a herd of black clouds.
Riding on the back of a horse AWAY from a herd of black clouds, before quickly being engulfed in rain and wind.
Vladimir relives these all in less than a second before coming upon his answer:
"These clouds will catch us, without a doubt. Our only options are a full retreat or bearing the storm." he shouts to his companions.
Vladimir begins chanting and purposefully moving his hands as he runs up to the front of the cage towards Elion's head, staggering slightly from a small pocket of turbulence already signaling the oncoming storm. As he grips the front of the cage, his Speak with Animals spell is completed and he shouts:
"Elion, my experience promises me we will not be able to outrun this storm! What are you planning and how should we act?"
Turning back means sheltering the storm within the Greater Faedark. That is no succor. I aim for the base of the mountains. The edge of the forest is safer, and we can find shelter in the hills. I shall glide in search of a cave as long as I can. The landing may be rough. Be prepared
As he finishes speaking the boat, steady thus far, bucks and trembles under a burst of wind, making its passengers stumble to catch their feet.
The giant falcon puts on greater speed, and races the clouds circling from the west. The wind grows more intense and the boat, now more like a cage on a string, is tossed and shaken.
One gust of wind lifts the cage into Elion, who is forced the maneuver to keep his flight. The cage freefalls for too many heartbeats before its weight is caught once again, slamming the occupants downward with considerable force. Irravin loses his footing and is hurled to the floor.
Elion begins dropping altitude quickly, and the wind lessens to a mere ferocious gale. The trees, once a current drifting below, are now rushing past a few feet away. The mountains loom ahead, marking the northern edge of the Faedark.
The density of the trees falls away sharply, and the incline of the land grows. Elion turns eastward, running parallel to the mountain range, gliding low over the land.
Elion's speed slows as he surveys the land. Suddenly, there is an enormous uptake of wind. The handle of the boat escapes his talons. There is a gentle lurch as cage freefalls. Then a horrendous smash that does not cease as the cage tumbles along the ground. The incoherent moment of spinning and jolting lasts a terrible while.
In this case, please roll a will save and reflex save for your characters.
Take 4d6 damage, Reflex save DC 15 for half damage. (roll the damage yourself!)
Will save DC 15 for be shaken for 5 minutes.
As the first strong winds of the storm begin to rock the boat, Vladimir shoves his back against the wall of the cage and hooks his arms around the iron bars, fitting them into the crooks of his elbows.
The winds batter Elion and the cage he carries, but Vladimir's braced position holds fast. Each second the turbulence and shaking grow worse, until finally, a gust of wind lifts the cage towards Elion, sending the cage into a momentary freefall. Vladimir uses his position to brace and stay steady. Looking to his side, he sees Irravin cage wall beside him. Vladimir's gaze flashes down to Irravin's feet and he notices the small gap between Irravin's feet and the ground: being less braced to the cage, Irravin is disconnected.
Time slows down. Vladimir's mind races to the realization that the ground will reconnect with Irravin far, far, faster than it disconnected.
Erastil steady me!
The next few motions cascade after one another in only a few seconds:
Vladimir unhooks his far arm during the freefall.
Using his still hooked close arm, he pivots around the iron bar and swings his body and free arm towards Irravin.
Elion flies upwards to avoid the cage and returns gravity to the group.
Irravin is jerked downwards, his hand wrenched from the iron post as he begins to crumple.
Vladimir's arm and body catch him just in time, effectively clotheslining Irravin against the side of the cage.
The impact is harsh, but is the lesser of two evils against Irravin's body.
Vladimir has little time to celebrate his successful manuever, as the cage descends once more into freefall; this time, Elion has lost his grip entirely.
Vladimir's reflexes kick in once again, and he attempts to use his one arm still wrapped around the iron bar to brace against the impact. He still crumples against the floor, but with reduced force.
The storm begins and Irravin immediately braces himself, preparing for the worst. Though he knows that the elements are part of the divine order of nature, Irravin always felt that storms like this one mirror the worst parts of mankind's flaws: sudden, unpredictable, filled with capricious rage, destructive and cruel. He grits his teeth against the storm.
As the cage begins to fall, Irravin's feet lift nauseatingly from underneath him and off the floor. His arms are ripped free of their hold on the cage and time seems to slow as images flash through his mind--his father's cold drow sneer, his mother's drunken anguish-filled face, Raziel guffawing at the festival, Zadan's face lit by dim candlelight deep in a Mercian prison, Vladimir's eyes as they draw back the string before a fatal arrow streaks away beautifully.
Sarenrae's Blessed Light guide them all.
The wind is knocked out of him as time jolts brutally back to normal speed. He looks over and sees Vladimir's arm pinning him to the cage. Although he is being choked and is dazed from the impact, there's no time to waste as he feels the cage begin to plummet again in a moment, crashing rapidly to the ground.
My brother has given me a second chance at life. I will not waste it!
Steeling himself as he has been trained, in the span of a single breath, Irravin summons every bit of energy he can muster. Protecting his head and neck, he crashes into what feels like dozens of surfaces, but miraculously only sustains blows to his torso and legs as the cage finally lurches to a halt.
Ever alert, Irravin pops up immediately, fighting through his own pain to check on his companions who may need aid.
Although the cage has stopped tumbling, the world spins on for a few more moments in Vladimir's mind. Although he avoided the worst of the crash, he finds his mind shocked and reeling from the experience. (-2 on attacks, saving throws, and skill checks for 5 minutes).
Upon gathering his bearings Vladimir finds himself thrown 20 feet from the cage, which has many twisted openings in it. However, more pressing, he hears a low hissing growl coming from the trees nearby.
Ill hidden, there are two large cat-like creatures built like giant leopards, sitting in the tree nearest Vladimir. The growl rises from the throat of one, while numerous hissing voices emerge from the snakes that form the creature's mane. Its fur in midnight black, and his snakes have red patterns on their black scales.
Irravin and Gvene remain within the cage from the crash. Gvene landed hard, and has a bleeding puncture wound on her leg. Blood marks one of the twisted pieces of metal that was the cage.
The sky is dark. Lightning and thunder dance in the distance. Rain approaches.
Vladimir is 20 feet south of Irravin and Gvene, and he is 15 feet from the more dense tree line with the creatures in it. We are not in combat, but posts should execute a turns worth of actions.