Akahale
More and more of them come, crawling out of the skull, making bloody trails across its face. Soon it seems the skull will burst from the volume of the creatures trying to escape, and just as that thought crosses your mind it explodes. Behind the skull you glimpse and unfamiliar constellation of thirteen stars before the bloody sluglike things rain down on the world like a million meteorites, obscuring the night sky with fire.
Always the end is the same, you wake up bolt upright, panting from fear. If you were human you would be in a cold sweat.
Last night, the dream changed. Instead of ending there, it continued. You fled madly into the woods, running to escape the exploding crash of things from the sky burrowing mile-long furrows into the ground. As you run, an explosion ahead brings you up short. Unable to resist investigating the crater, you looked within and saw the shape of a face burned into the ground. Inside the face's mouth was a large book opened to pages with words written in blood. Before you could read the words, the dream ended.
Your research has led you to discover references to a 'face in a hill' in the forbidding Warwood to the north.
Grafire, Manny, Akahale
Otto
More and more of them come, crawling out of the skull, making bloody trails across its face. Soon it seems the skull will burst from the volume of the creatures trying to escape, and just as that thought crosses your mind it explodes. Behind the skull you glimpse and unfamiliar constellation of thirteen stars before the bloody sluglike things rain down on the world like a million meteorites, obscuring the night sky with fire.
Always the end is the same, you wake up bolt upright, panting from fear. If you were human you would be in a cold sweat.
Last night, the dream changed. Instead of ending there, it continued. You fled madly into the woods, running to escape the exploding crash of things from the sky burrowing mile-long furrows into the ground. As you run, an explosion ahead brings you up short. Unable to resist investigating the crater, you looked within and saw the shape of a face burned into the ground. Inside the face's mouth was an amulet with what looked like an eye embedded in it. The eye focused on you, and the dream ended.
Your research has led you to discover references to a 'face in a hill' in the forbidding Warwood to the north.
Otto, Hadarai, Shaeryyn
"...it is my opinion that Mage Mandrake should have worn trousers for this expedition."
Akahale comes to a stop. For several hours, he has been distracting himself from his perturbing dreams with further thoughts on the usefulness of robes to a wizard. Now he can no longer pretend that he isn't worried.
"I always paranoid and suspicious, but the slug-like infestations of my dreams fill even me with more alarm than usual. It is my fear that another evil is seeking to enter the world. I shall take notes."
As Otto does have a tendency to lead the small group to interesting places, Shaeryyn is keen about heading to the Warwood. "Do you have any idea what we'll find there?" she asks as they travel along.
Hadarai grimly looks over at his two traveling companions, wondering how he had gotten pulled into this sidetrek.
"Hopefully something more than a 'face in the hill'."
He shifts the shield on his arm, adjusting the weight to a more comfortable position.
The road they were traveling on was still wide enough to walk three abreast, but based on the direction of their travels, Hadarai knows it will get narrower soon.
"No one carves a face into a hillside for fun. Besides, there has to be something there. I can feel it."
Sun glistens off new snow, making a stunning contrast to the tangled darkness of the forest next to the road.
Otto, Hadarai, Shaerynn
Ahead of you, you see a group of 3 travellers; by their garb and demeanour, you judge them to be adventurers similar to yourselves. Two dragonborn (one much shorter than average, the other a warrior) and an elderly man. There seems to be much conversation between the three of them, of which you catch snatches such as "shrimp... roasted over an open fire" and "dangnabbit, do these jumped-up water crystals have to be so dang cold?!"
Akahale, Grafire, Manny
Up ahead, you spy three wayfarers, two eladrin (to judge by their physiognomy, and a man who appears human. They seem somewhat more stoical than your band; of the fey, one is clearly a male warrior, the other a female magic-user. The other man carries a wicked-looking halberd.
"Greetings."
The short dragonborn extricates himself from the conversation about shrimp, tucks a notebook under his arm and nods in acknowledgement of the newcomers.
"Forgive my curiosity, but these are troubled times and it is scarcely seasonable weather to be travelling. Why are you doing so?"
His golden eyes whirl very slightly.
"Good to meet you! Name's Otto Samir, you might of heard of me. Maybe not, I don't care either way. This is Hadarai, this is Shaerynn. We're heading up to the Warwood, taking a look at the face in a hill, all the usual stuff."
"The face in a hill? You interest me strangely, Mr Samir. Do continue your most intriguing explanation."
Akahale remembers his manners.
"I regret that I have not heard of you, but doubtless this will be mutual. I am Akahale Gilbrid, resident of Drachenholme. These," he gestures to his companions, "are Grafire Serpenthelm, my egg brother and Mage Mandrake. What are your views on seafood?"
"I think seafood is tasty. It's a pleasure to meet the three of you. Perhaps you could tell us why you are travelling, since we did tell you why we are."
"It appears that there are disturbances in the fabric of time and space. Our investigations have suggested that a face in the hill is the underlying cause. Therefore, we are examining the matter. My notebooks will verify our research."
Akahale bows politely and continues, "Seafood, Miss Shaeryyn, can hold unexpected perils. It behoves you to be wary. We have recently suffered at the pincers and tentacles of crustaceans of unspeakable evil. My dreams were slug-filled and I am suspicious by nature."
Hadarai listens to the conversation, hoping to make some sense of the archaic and confusing words being tossed around.
"Seafood is a little too squirmy for my tastes, and I personally cannot abide anything with tentacles. Death comes too late to creatures of the abyss. But now that we have gotten the philosophical debate out of the way, perhaps we can communicate more clearly."
"Maybe you should have attacked them with butter and potatoes." jokes the Eladrin mage. "Since we are all, it seems, heading to see the face in the hill, perhaps we should travel together?"
As the two parties discuss shellfish and dreams...
Ahead you spot a large group of travelers approaching, both on foot and by horse-drawn wagon. They appear well dressed in white and black robes, and in a moment you can hear the mournful sound of their distant chanting. It is a sort of religious pilgrimage.
"Sir Samir, what a fine crafted Halberd you have......" Grafire stiffens up a bit upon hearing the chanting. Still warey from his last encounter and his untimely chance to meet Bahamut. His ears twich as his eyes scan the back drop of the large group looking for people of a supsicous nature. Grafire moves to the front of the group and stands at the ready.
check vs. religion
Grafire notes that the party seems to be comprised of worshippers of the Raven Queen, to judge by their black and white garb.
Hadarai watches the pilgrims pass by carefully, uncertain what their intentions are.
Shaeryyn steps back a little but, happily letting Grafire be the closest to them. She also studies the pilgrims.
Akahale bows politely and continues, "Seafood, Miss Shaeryyn, can hold unexpected perils. It behoves you to be wary. We have recently suffered at the pincers and tentacles of crustaceans of unspeakable evil. My dreams were slug-filled and I am suspicious by nature."
"Slugs? Yeah, dreadful thing to dream about, slugs..." Otto drifts into an awkward silence.
"Sir Samir, what a fine crafted Halberd you have......"
"No time for crude innuendo, we've got guests."
Still considering his slug-filled dreams, Akahale takes only a passing interest in the approaching group, although the chanting perturbs him.
Grafires mind swirls with conflicting thoughts.
"Could it just be a front" he mumbles under his breath. He tries hard not to be obvious as his eyes dart in and out of the group searching for anything looking suspicious.
perception check-
Grafire notes nothing out of the ordinary. Otto has not heard of these pilgrims on his travels, although Hadarai remembers something:
Hadarai
Do I know anything else about this monastary?
History
Hadarai
As the pilgrims approach you can see they are a mixture of humans and half-elves. With them are two wagons, adorned with skull and raven decoration. The first is open to the air and has four passengers: three white-haired old women and an albino girl about 8 years old. They are heavily bundled against the cold and each wears the robes of an acolyte.
The second wagon looks like a funeral wagon, with open sides beneath a heavily ornamented roof. Behind sheer black curtains you can see a masked figure lying atop a bed. Between the wagons walk a number of priests and acolytes, the hems of their robes stained with mud from travel.
A handsome, dark-haired woman in her forties leads the group, "Hail, travellers!" she calls out in a calm, confident manner.
"Good day."
Akahale takes in the procession with some interest and bows a polite acknowledgement to the dark haired woman.
"Hail. Who is laid here?"
Hadarai responds, motioning toward the funeral wagon.
The elderly mage examines the other three travellers from under furrowed brows, nodding politely when introduced, but otherwise simply leaning on his staff.
"IT, will you,... Ah, right, dangnabbit rassin-frassinsquid-for-brains,..." He begins, and lowers his voice into unintelligble gibberish. He finally raises his head back up and contiues mutttering, presumably to himself?
"Crazy kids and their new-fangled triple-speak. In MY day, if we wanted to say, 'I sense a disturbance in the interface of the space-time continuum, and am seeking to ascertain it's origin', We would SAY so in plain Common, Dangnabbit!" The old mage continues to grumble as the next group of travelers approach. He is too busy fussing with the icy slush that seems intent on collecting on the bottom of his robes to pay much attention to them.
The woman continues, "To judge by your garb and demeanour, you are not bandits, for which I am much relieved."
She replies to Hadarai, "This is the body of Sir Malagant, a great hero of our order. We are on a pilgrimage to anoint and bury his effigy to honour him as our order was instructed by Achreisis, most holy exarch of the goddess. Sir Malagant died just a few miles form here. Just over a hundred years ago, a terrible war raged throughout this area, with the forces of men on one side and an evil cult and its allied horrors against them."
"On the eve of what was to be the largest battle yet fought, Sir Malagant challenged the enemy leader to single combat, with the loser vowing to leave the field and disperse his army."
"An unusually equitable solution."
Akahale takes notes.
Shaeryyn listens to the start of the story. "Both men trusted the other to do that? And, trusted thier own underlings, in case they were the one to fall? It does seem a novel way to avoid carnage, and if it did work, they were both wise men."
"Men can be wise and foolish at the same time."
Hadarai focuses on the woman in front of them. "Which is not to say that Sir Malagant was such a man. But perhaps your Goddess inspired him to do what no other would do."
Hadarai examines the effigy. "It is of beautiful craftsmanship, and does honor to the hero of your history."
"Men can be wise and foolish at the same time."
Otto laughs. "Like there's a difference. Every great man is a fool, because only a fool would think he could become great."
"Course, that makes the effigy the most sensible person here."
"Pardon me madam if I may, I have been hearing about some face on the hill. Might you have some insite to share with us?"
Diplomacy check
Otto's good humor is infectious.
"Where are my manners? I am Sister Naenia. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?" she asks.
"Akahale Gilbrid. I am an investigator by profession. Your story is most interesting, although it is the worst time of the year for such a journey, or so one would have thought."
Akahale does his best to quell his permanant rampant paranoia.
"You mentioned bandits. Do you have adequate security precautions in place? Some of your party," he glances at the small girl," would appear to be particularly vulnerable."
"Hmph. Shows what YOU know. The little ones are the most dangerous. Especially if you have a beard!" MAnny mutters aside to Akahale, making sure that his long, grey temptation is well out of said little girl's reach.
Akahale's eyes whirl slightly and he backs nervously away from the child.
"I have not encountered many small children. My endeavours have taken me down the path of tentacles and crustacea. I shall heed your warning."
Sister Naenia continues, "Well, the end result was that both commanders were killed; thus, both armies lost. This led to some fighting, but eventually both armies disbanded, and peace has held sway over this wilderness since then. We have had no problems with bandits, but these are desperate times."
Hadarai
Just over a hundred years ago, two armies met in a cataclysmic conflict that threatened to destroy both sides. An evil paladin favored by his deity led one force. At the head of the other army stood something
worse—a creature of greater wickedness whose master possessed far darker aims for the world. Knowing that a battle between the assembled hosts would devastate both, the leaders met in single combat. The loser’s army would forfeit the field and disband. The result was a fluke of fate: The evil generals killed one another simultaneously.
Hadarai bows his head in respect as he introduces himself, but maintains his solemn nonsmile.
"I am Hadarai Valanara. We are well met, though the confines of this road are narrow for a proper meeting. I have no wine or mead to share with a new comrade."
"My name is Shaeryyn and like my companions, I offer greeting to your party."
"Otto Samir. Pleasure to meet you."
"Greetings to you Sister Naenia, I am Grafire Serpenthelm."
Manny raises himself haughtily up to his full height, the effect of which is spoiled by the fact that he is currently standing on the hem of his robe, which jerks him up short. After recovering he sniffs and nods in the groups direction.
"Mandrake the Magnificent, Mage Most Mighty. Or is that'Mandrake the Mighty, mage most Magnificent'? I can never get that straight. And my manservant and mobile coatrack, IT." He adds, gesturing to the empty air beside him. He looks, blinks, looks to the other side, and mumbles curses.
"Stoopid hatrack's never around when you need him,..."
"Sister Naenia, judging by your display of honor for Sir Malagant, this must have been some battle. The forces of evil must surely have left a impact on the surounding enviroment. Did the battle happen here in this area?"
Diplomacy check
The Sister replies, "Well, it was a hundred years ago, I don't know the precise details of the campaign, but I do know that Sir Malagant fell a few miles from here."
"It is good to meet such friendly souls, and indeed even in our seclusion, I think I have heard tell of some of you, or fellows of your ilk."
Akahale looks slightly concerned.
"It is always my endeavour to conduct our investigations with discretion. This is not always possible."
He looks thoughtfully at his comrades, old and new, and considers that it may be even less possible than it was before.
"Mage Mandrake refers to his former manservant. IT is currently undergoing extensive renovations."