Vissannica’s eyes grew wide with fear as the walls began to close in on her. It was the shaman who commanded this place, this was his domain, and if she wanted to live, she needed to get out of this warren, away from him. She did not even bother to call on light as she dodged past her foes and allies alike, ignoring her sister’s shrieks and as she fumbled her way through the pitch-black cavern back toward where they had entered. She wanted nothing more than to see the sky above her, and never enter another hole again.
But it was only a few moments before she understood that the little sorcerer had preyed on her fears, wielding cursed mind magic that not even her sister’s divine imprecations could prevent.
Fear was drowned in rage, and Vissannica wasted no time summoning a light source and barreling back into the fray, cursing loudly.
It was no surprise that the battle did not go well without her there to provide order. But she knew the sorcerer, like herself, would not be able to cast spells forever.
Seeing Kalthon and Zorthalus fall was nothing new. What was impressive was the organization of the kobold attack. The shaman was clearly a wise tactician in his own lair, and even though the weaker force, was using terrain and strategy to best a more powerful set of foes. Vissannica was impressed. When she noticed the mirror images surrounding him, she decided this creature might actually be useful. That spell was still beyond her own knowledge. But it was not until the creature slit Kalthon’s throat, and grinned at her as the bastard’s black blood gurgled forth onto the ground that Vissannica decided she liked him.
Kobolds were not unknown among the worshipers of Lord Azmodeus, and she believed this one might make a convert, if he could be shown where true power lay.
Vissannica grinned right back at him, even as she prepared to slay all his minions for the one she had slayed of hers. Kalthon had been weak, and an embarrassment to the family with delusions of grandeur. Bastards could never be trusted, anyways. It would be useful to have a native of this land to replace him, if no one else suitable was found.
Zorthalus was still useful however, as a meat shield if nothing else; it was time to end this before things got out of hand.
(OOC Vissannica's views do not reflect the views of Bannigan, who thinks both Kalthon and Z are cool and interesting characters)
Love the added details!! I've included introduction to my new character in the Discussions tab. Depending on how tonights adventure goes, he may make an appearance.
Ouch!
Look at the pretty light....
"You have been turned into a lemure!"
but?
After the coup de grace of Kalthon, the party resumes the offense against the remaining Kobolds. The Kobold shaman withdrawals with his mirror images, while the party deals with the remaining Kobolds and heal up Z. Battle Cat tries to run down the shaman to no avail. As the party tries to hunt down fleeing shaman, they come across many other rooms and treasure. Alas, the shaman escapes.
Part of the treasure they come across is a journal that explains the history of Kartuk the shaman. On the way back, they come across a forester, Jared, and his son, Alvin, who warn them of some animal traps they have lain. He then provides additional information on the area to include a haunted area where Davic Nettle was burned alive by the Stag Lord crew and now haunts the area to the north east of where they are (6-4).
The party makes it back to Oleg's where they are informed that someone is there to meet them. El-ion, a loyal member of House Thrune, is there to deliver the wand of cure light wounds and vials of anti-toxin. He also delivers a note from House Thrune congratulating the party on their successes and that El-ion will be joining them as they continue exploring and claiming the area.
Vissannica mulls over the evening’s events as she luxuriates in her bathtub, enjoying silent alone time with her sister. Her body is soothed. Muscles, grown taught from long hours in the saddle, slowly loosen. Tension unwinds.
Her mind, however, turns over and over, considering the implications of a marked agent of Thrune being sent to serve them. Some part of her wants this to be a coup, an acknowledgement of their value and importance, a chance to prove herself and her house worthy of prominence at court again. She knows well the stories of House Rasdovain’s glory days, the living memory of Livianus Rasdovain, the house's patriarch who orchestrated it's rise to power generations ago, magically preserved in The Lion’s Claw, having been her tutor for as far back as she can remember. Nothing would please her more than to bring her house back to power, to show the blade how worthy she was to be it’s bearer.
But a greater part understood House Thrune too well. It was just as likely…no, more likely, that this agent was here to learn their weaknesses for later exploitation.
She dared not move openly against him. She could not depend on her sister undermining his loyalty to Thrune, as that mark was an indication of a devil’s contract. So that left only one course of action. The only course she had ever been offered. She simply had to have no weaknesses.
***
Bathed and refreshed, having fully mended and cleaned her accouterments, Vissannica stands beneath the stars, listening to the raucous laughter as her men enjoy libations alongside Oleg’s guards within the nearby “dining room.”
One hand resting on the pommel of The Lion’s Claw, she flicks the fingers of her other hand and utters a few phrases. Three glowing lights form around her, revolving in lazy orbits. Next she summons her invisible shield, just to be on the safe side.
She enters the hovel and strides to the door, which is slightly ajar, letting the light of the lamps within cast a shaft of light into the hallway.
The door opens on the revelers, and all the flames in the room flicker a bit, casting dancing shadows. The laughter and conversation halt awkwardly at the entrance of the noblewoman, shrouded in finery and glowing light. She smiles, pausing a moment to take in the silence before approaching the guard captain. The dramatic moment is only slightly marred by a loud belch. No laughter follows.
“Your name is Kresten Garress, correct? You are guard captain of Oleg’s guards, correct?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’m finding myself uncertain about something you said earlier. Today was another long day of travel,” she continues, conversationally. “As you know, we’ve been out in the wilderness for weeks, slaying those how have harmed Oleg and many other common people of this land. We were regaining his wife’s wedding ring, reducing the number of bandits in this land.”
She begins to pace around the room, still watching the guard captain, her words an even flow. “Doing, essentially, what you are, ostensibly, here to do. Doing what some might call your job, while you sit here and drink an honest man’s mead.” Her eyes flick to his mug with a barest hint of disdain before returning to watch his features. “So you can imagine I was tired, and my hearing might have been a little less that perfect, though that is unlikely.” She tucks a lock of aqua blue hair behind her pointed ear. “But truly, it must have been. You see, I had sensed some doubt in your demeanor when my sister, the Demibaronness...When the Demibaronness discussed my men and I killing entire bands of bandits, entire tribes of mites and kobolds. It seemed you might be doubting my sister’s words," she said the last with punctuated precision.
"So, hoping to give you a hint, I tossed a few heads of our slain foes, would be sacrifices to our Dark Prince, so that you might correct any misconceptions of your betters. And I believe you said something afterwards. But I couldn’t quite make out the words, as I was fatigued from doing your job. I’ve now had a chance to rest, a bath, and I’m feeling refreshed. So I’m here to ask you to repeat what you said. What you said to a Lady of House Rasdovain. I want to make sure I hear it correctly, this time, so that I can get the joke. I want everyone here to be clear what you said, so we can all learn to react appropriately.“
Kesten Garress sits with his men eating breakfast, none armed or in armor at the moment. The Captain is wearing a gambosen that would go under the half-plate you saw him wearing before and it is quilted with a faded remnant of his house crest, though the significant repairs made to it show both its age and the fact that he has seen enough action to have it torn a few times. The rest of the men have the pads they would wear under their chainmail once they get into uniform.
The large man squints a bit as he looks at you, possibly still waking up after a bit much wine the night before. "Oh, that's right. Your lot got back last night. I almost didn't remember. Had a bit to drink by then. I am Kesten Garress. I am not captain of Oleg's guard because Oleg doesn't have a guard."
He nods to the group at filling the table and says gruffly as a boed and hung-over soldier:
"This lot is what is left of the 55th Irregulars, under my command. They've taken to call themselves the Free Irregulars since way out here I'm the only command structure they have. We are here because after we took some losses clearing out a group of gnolls that were bothering a hamlet, they sent us out here instead of back-filling our losses." He points with his knife and says, "That is Gael, that is Dhavik, that is Marcus, that is Harris, that is Mael, and that is Strum."
His voice changes becoming more formal and courtly as he continues in a clear basso with excellent diction:
"Lads, this is Lady Vissanica Rasdovain of House Razdovain sent to us by way of Cheliax. Her rather more human looking sister is the Demibaroness Prelate Anastasia Rasdovain, who some say should be heir to that ancient and honorable house as the sickly youth who fills that role now is more likely than not to get his family gobbled up by the Thrice Damned House Thrune. Not sure how they ended up here, but they made some noise back home as they traveled through and got all the nobles a twitter. Now they hold the rights to explore and settle these lands by the way of the high-and-mighty sword lords. I'm not sure what the rest of what she had to say meant, because I don't remember much of last night... but I'm guessing we should be more careful to curtsey nicely when she walks by because foreign born noble blood means oh-so-much out here in the Wild."
He returns to his more familiar method of speaking saying,
"They do have the Writ of Exploration, however, and that does mean something out here in the Wild. Our orders say we are to assist them as we deem appropriate as long as it doesn't interfere with our mission, which is keeping this Outpost free of bandits. Do you require assistance with something appropriate M'lady?"
The men all look back and forth between their captain and Vissanica, seemingly a bit confused.
Kesten Garress sits with his men eating breakfast, none armed or in armor at the moment. The Captain is wearing a gambosen that would go under the half-plate you saw him wearing before and it is quilted with a faded remnant of his house crest, though the significant repairs made to it show both its age and the fact that he has seen enough action to have it torn a few times. The rest of the men have the pads they would wear under their chainmail once they get into uniform.
The large man squints a bit as he looks at you, possibly still waking up after a bit much wine the night before. "Oh, that's right. Your lot got back last night. I almost didn't remember. Had a bit to drink by then. I am Kesten Garress. I am not captain of Oleg's guard because Oleg doesn't have a guard."
He nods to the group at filling the table and says gruffly as a boed and hung-over soldier:
"This lot is what is left of the 55th Irregulars, under my command. They've taken to call themselves the Free Irregulars since way out here I'm the only command structure they have. We are here because after we took some losses clearing out a group of gnolls that were bothering a hamlet, they sent us out here instead of back-filling our losses." He points with his knife and says, "That is Gael, that is Dhavik, that is Marcus, that is Harris, that is Mael, and that is Strum."
His voice changes becoming more formal and courtly as he continues in a clear basso with excellent diction:
"Lads, this is Lady Vissanica Rasdovain of House Razdovain sent to us by way of Cheliax. Her rather more human looking sister is the Demibaroness Prelate Anastasia Rasdovain, who some say should be heir to that ancient and honorable house as the sickly youth who fills that role now is more likely than not to get his family gobbled up by the Thrice Damned House Thrune. Not sure how they ended up here, but they made some noise back home as they traveled through and got all the nobles a twitter. Now they hold the rights to explore and...
Hmmm...we got our signals crossed, I meant Vissannica returns the same night, immediately after taking a bath, while the men are still drinking with Zorthalus, Dox, El-ion, etc.
Anastasia will put in an order for a Light Warhorse with Leather Barding
We decide to take a week long trek to the South. As we make our campfire for the night in the forest, something douses our campfire with water. We are assuming it is the work of Fae. Additional prank during the night involved covering several of us in purple dust.
Next we decide to head back to Oleg's. We then come across a cart that is disabled with 5 people trying to fix the broken wheel. We offer our assistance. In exchange for our assistance, they do a reading of our future.
"This is your card, representing you m'Lady. The Midwife set in the dominant place in the present. A card of balance and light. The Midwife is a conduit of creation, healing, and change. It is a catalyst, and in this Tapestry it is the key as to whether the dark past can lead to a bright future."
"This is the present, the Sickness... it represents corruption within the Darkwood - darkness and sickness. A novice reader would see it as potential for plague on the land, but it is simply the result of the cards of the Past."
"The Beating and Cyclone. This M'Lady is the past in the Darkwood, and what has brought about the Sickness as the present. The Beating represents assault on the mental self of a person, a breaking of the will and forcing of subservience. The Cyclone represents intentional destruction through the plans of others. The Foreign Trader represents spies, merchants, and Brigands. These show the past of the Wormwood is a dark one. The Pirate, the Foreign Trader, has used manipulation and violence to break the wills of others according to intentional plan. This has resulted in the Sickness of corruption, where power is used to force subservience and slavery simply to slate the lust for power. The past is dark indeed, infecting the present with this Sickness."
Pointing back to the central cards or the Present she adds, "But as I said, your card... the Midwife represents healing change and looking we also see the Queen Mother surrounding the sickness from the Midwife. The Queen Mother represents the opposite of the past, a powerful person who takes care of those weaker than she, so that they all add their strength together for the greater good. The Queen Mother is part of the present, and shows what the Midwife could become upon Healing and Changing the Sickness."
"Should the Midwifes succeed, the future is bright indeed. The Winged serpent, the coautl, is among the brightest cards in the Harrow, a card of light and order. It is a card of knowledge, understanding, good judgement - the opposite in many ways to the Cyclone. This is what could be the Future of the Wormwood."
Pointing below the Winged Serpent, the Varisian adds, "The Dance is how this bright future can be bought about. It represents a complex plan that require the efforts of many to succeed, but will be for the good of all. An intricate dance of planning and execution creating a future of beauty."
Indicating the final card, "And the Empty Throne is a warning for the future, not to allow the ghosts of the past tyranny to haunt you. Learn the lessons of the past and do not make the same mistakes in the future. Again a card of order and light, using knowledge of dark pasts to paint a bright future."
Looking deeply at Anastasia, the Varasiann concludes, "The cards show a dark past creating a sickness in the present, with a potentially bright future if the Midwife can heal the sickness. What do you think Tilly, can the Midwife overcome the Beating and Cyclone to heal the Wormwood through the Dance?"
Wormwood and Darkwood seemed to be referring to the same area.
Well, at least it was not in fact an ambush. Anastasia stifled back a wince as Zorthalis unceremoniously landed in the mud next to the broken wagon wheel. Looking around, none of the strangers made any attempt to move against the priestess' entourage at what would have been the most opportune time. Across the wagon she glanced up at her sister, who looked none too impressed by the aspiring hellknight's performance in lifting the wagon to fix the wheel. You there boy, Anastasia spoke to the one fully able-bodied young man in the traveling group. Do be a dear and assist, yes? The time for needing for a deadly archer seeming to have passed, she also looked back over her shoulder and added, and you El-ion, could you be so kind as to aid Sir Zorthalus here? The crossbowman promptly came, and Anastasia let a small smile creep across her countenance. Thrune or no, it is good to see the man assisting when called.
The wagon fixed, Anastasia looked back to the women apparently leading the caravan. On behalf of our group I will accept your offered reward now. The Demibaroness waited patiently and with some interest as the table was prepared. She knew little of such fortune-telling rituals but could not help but feel a lilt of excitement as the cards were drawn out and read.
The midwife....yes, a fair fit, she thought as the first card was placed. Balance, light, creation, healing, change. She will help create a new land here, one healed of the blight of wilderness, changed to a beacon of Civilization. Sickness...the next card, describing the land merely confirmed her suspicions regarding the healing and change needed. The Foreign Trader....pirates, bandits....for an idle moment she considered that there may be more cursing this land in its distance past than just the untamed nature. A horrific thought...mussent let nightmares get the best of me. Certainly the Beating and Cyclone cards were enough awfulness for this place.
Anastasia positively beamed as the Queen Mother card was revealed and read. Yes....a powerful, wise woman, leading the people where they must go....for the betterment of all. Not all will see, but all will be lead. She just needs to lead them in this Dance, as the card revealed. The Dance surely reflects the strain and savvy of both exploration and political calculations to succeed. The Coautl card clinched it: victory, via a Dance led by the Queen.
This must be a sign from Abadar and Asmodeus themselves...they are speaking through Prophesy! Anastasia's mind twirled with the revelation of it all. She vaguely listened to the last bit, about the Empty Throne and not allowing the ghosts of past tyranny to haunt. But it was not until much, much later that she really heard these last key admonishments. For now, being Midwife and Queen, leading the Dance and destroying the Sickness once and for all was enough.
Vissannica finds the exploration of the lands to be a chore, particularly when there are no battles to be fought.
First, tiresome fey and their cowardly trickery. Her suggestion of burning out the little pests was not met with any enthusiasm, and she let it go, as these were not the main threat they were facing. In truth, she knew little of the fey, only that they are no friend to Cheliax, and could potentially be more than a nuisance. She could bide her time. The forest wasn't going to get any less flammable.
The caravan, which seemed so clearly to be an ambush waiting to be sprung, turned out to simply be some incompetent traders who paid for work with meaningless words and bloodless ritual. Her sister seemed pleased however, though Vissannica could not imagine why. The only good thing that had come out that chance meeting was that her pearl, armor, and horse had arrived on time. That and seeing the Thrune slave follow Anastasia's request to aid in manual labor. That had been a good sign.
Vissannica's mind was not idle however. She had now surmised that it was this "Stag Lord" who was their next opponent of note. Their failure to capture or kill the gnome turned kobold, and his mastery of his home terrain, had given her much to consider about the prospects of rooting out the Stag Lord, who was certainly a more powerful threat at least by reputation.
She considered what they knew of him and his bandits, having one-sided telepathic conversations with her bared black blade. She noted that she begun to grow used to his silence, the pangs of longing for his voice in her mind having become less frequent. Yet she knew she harbored how that it was the defeat of this bandit lord that would earn her the prestige to re-awaken their bond. Perhaps that was what drove her mind to ruminate over strategy.
First, there were enough of these bandits that they used passcodes rather than simply knowing each other’s faces and names. Second, their loyalty was weak enough that they had been able to extract this information relatively easily. Third, he perhaps had some sort of chain of command, as the camp they had dispersed had a leader, who perhaps was the only one who had contact with the Stag Lord. Fourth, alcohol was prized to their band, perhaps to their leader, which was a weakness to be exploited.
A plan was forming in her mind. Subterfuge was not something Vissannica was well known for, but that was, at least in part, a front. As part of her training, she had faced opponents stronger than her, faster than her, bigger than her, more learned than her, even more skilled at sorcery than her. She had learned brute force, while a pleasure to wield, was not her strongest suit. But she had yet to face an opponent who was more clever than her, once she had understood their weaknesses.
She had to admit, she had expected taming this land to be a simple matter of showing up and letting them know who their new masters were. She had expected the savages here to understand who their betters were once confronted with true nobility. This expectation was meeting with reality, and she was beginning to understand this land would take years to tame, and that she would have to more calculating than demanding and forceful. These savages had their own, albeit misguided, sense of how things should be. They didn’t seem to crave their natural place in the order of things in the way she had imagined.
So she would have to approach this more like the game of houses she had been schooled in, though with a somewhat different set of rules. The principle was the same, however. By any means necessary, and the winners write the history.
So subterfuge would have its place here in this land, and these bandits, with their lack of ornate signet rings or livery, their simple passcodes and lax loyalty to their leaders, their penchant for overindulgence in alcohol, they would have these weaknesses exploited.
It was truly these easily exploited weaknesses that demonstrated the correctness of rule of law, she mused, and the purpose of nobility, the importance of order that her sister loved to drone on about. It wasn’t about morality, or even the edicts of the Dark Prince, may he rule in Hell forever. It was about strength, and true strength came from well-ordered societies with ruthless leaders who commanded complete obeisance. This “Stag Lord” had no idea how much his lack of true understanding of control and order would be his undoing.
As we relax for the evening, several of us went to bed and the rest were mingling with the traveling gypsies and guards.
During a dance, one of the female gypsy suddenly freezes and speaks the following:
" The Nymph Queen o'er sees the land she dost covet, her emerald tresses like mossy spider's silk sending tendrils in a vast web of influence. Fear these uncertain times, my friends. This is not a new age of lost omens, but a new age of chaos and wilderness! Who has seen the results of prophecy too many times before, and who believe the future is preordained are but fated to set their own fates in stone. For yea, those who would look to tomorrow are destined to create that tomorrow, and
those who would cast their stones to seek enlightenment from the spirits of the future do not know that they only slave their will to destiny. Only those who wake to each new day with eyes shrouded to their fate are truly free to
forge their own destinies. And now, in this new age, we shall all forge our own fates!"
After discussions with each other and the gypsies, we head toward 4-2. We then enter 4-3 and still have no signs of bandits. However, we encounter the mischievous fey once again, as they prank the sleepers by putting their equipment into the tree branches. The next night we awake as we have water dropped on us. Damn fey.
We then go to 3-4 the following day. And we encounter Tuskgutter the crazy large boar which charges us and lands a devastating blow on Zorthalus. Vissannica counters with a color spray and some whopping damage. The tide turns for us as we all deliver successful hits and finally bring the board down. We head back to Oleg's to deliver the head of Tuskgutter.
We then head out to 4-1. Unfortunately, we step into a bear trap which injures two of our horses.
Consider placing the new houses here instead, Anastasia's recommendation came with the easy confidence of one who presumed her guidance would be followed. Svetlana nodded eagerly, not surprising as locating the abodes here was her notion as well, while Oleg more grunted than responded. Nevertheless, the project would likely go as the priestess wished. Svetlana gets her way, whether Oleg presents himself as the leader here or not.
In truth this was shaping up as a victory en route to many more regardless of where the new houses were built. When Anastasia, Vissannica and their group arrived some time ago the couple were essentially prisoners in their own run-down home. Trade was sparse and even that only came out of a lack of alternatives. But now, the place grows. And it was not a function of blind arrogance to say her group's efforts toward the Writ were responsible. Threats removed and Civilization championed, commerce and passers-through, some more temporary than others, were multiplying. With proper leadership, it will continue.
The last thought worried Anastasia a bit. Not that she let it touch her wide smile and friendly chat with Oleg and Svetlana as the priestess parted ways with the couple. The proprietors were nice enough people, but myopic in their ambitions as commoners were wont to be. It was topic her and her sister had discussed before. Perhaps Vissannica was right, it was part of the nature of the underclass to lack vision. Whatever the etiology, there will come a time where Oleg and his wife will no longer be able to effectively manage the prosperity of it all. The key will be to continue to allow them a purview to control while sliding the reins of the overall effort into her own hands.
A matter for another day. For now, all is well. And more land calls out to be brought into the welcome embrace of organized society.
Back in her room at the trading post, Vissannica sits alone, staring listlessly at her bared blade. Her sister is busy out and about the place, chatting with the common folk, eking out what usefulness she can from the plebeians. Vissannica, meanwhile, is lonely like she has never been. Livianus has been silent for months now. She had begun to think she was growing used to it, finding ways to channel her longing into action and stratagem. But there was just so much waiting between battles, so much time spent wandering on horseback, sleeping beneath hostile canopies or bleak stars.
The boar had been a worthy foe, and she had felt pride at her small force’s execution of the creature. She herself had once again demonstrated her martial prowess, and had felt the strength of her minions amplified by their coordinated attack. The commoners seemed to be beginning to understand that changes were afoot. Satisfying.
Yet her Lion’s Claw remained mute, apparently yet unsatisfied that she had proved herself worthy. How long would it take? It was enough to make her consider a frontal assault on the Stag Lord’s camp, foolhardy as that likely was. No, she knew it was Livianus’s patience, in part, that had allowed him to bring House Rasdovain to the height of its courtly influence. It was likely patience and prudence that would earn her back his favor, as that was so often what she lacked.
Yet that thought gave her no comfort, and she brooded on.
When Anastasia finally returned to the room, obviously in high spirits about the meager growth in traffic the outpost was seeing, Vissannica couldn’t help but try to throw ash on her pleasant mood.
"You know this outpost might be a decent spot for common trade, but it will never be suitable for a fortress. It’s vulnerable to assault from every direction, even if it had a reliable water source. We should be seeking more defensible land and getting a foothold there, not wasting time on this trap."
Anastasia would have a placating and well-considered response, so she didn’t even bother to listen. She knew her sister well enough that her critique would land at least partially, as Anastasia depended on her military counsel. That, and it was at least partially true. This place was far to easily approached. Vissannica should look into having the well or whatever passed as a water source for this place tested for reserves, and she guessed that Anastasia hadn’t yet considered that, so the doubt would be enough. It didn’t lighten Vissannica’s mood, but at least she was slightly less alone in her misery.
We determine that the traps we encountered were set in such a manner that it was purposely set up to harm game and people. We may need to address the trapper who is setting these nasty traps. Heading into 2-2.
We come across a triggered log trap with a corpse pinned beneath it. After further examination, El-ian determines that the trap was triggered while the trap setter was setting it up, probably by a Fae character who gnawed the rope. We think he might be Breeg Orlivanch, a foul-mannered trapper, has been missing for some time—they say he gave up trapping and joined
the bandits! We now know otherwise.
El-ian stops a prank from the obnoxious Fae during one of our overnight camps. We move on to square 3-3. We come upon a ruin stone pillars. We dismount and tie up our horses to explore the ruins. A 100' head of an elk statue dominates the landscape. The likeness of the statue is of Erastil, God of the Hunt. We start to head to the stairs when a large grizzly bear emerges to attack. After we kill the bear, it transforms into a young man who quickly ages into dust. Once he dissipates, the area brightens and the pool gets crystal clear and algae free and heals. The Fae leave us alone here. :)
Heading toward 2-4. Swamps! This area is miserable. As we trudge through this area, we encounter a Frog Dude, Garuun, and his fanged frog 'companion' Ubade. He warns of the Tasselworms SW of us. The East had the Boar we had killed. Cursed temple to NE, to the West is a statue. Giant frogs are in the river. He tells of his past. He was part of a tribe of Slurgh to the west and is now an exile of his tribe having escaped his imprisonment after trying to become chief.
Anastasia worked hard to maintain her pleasant, smiling demeanor as she conversed with the strange frog-creature. The struggle had little to do with the creature itself, it was odd but likable and inoffensive enough, but rather with the environs. What a wretched place! The thought screamed in the back of her mind as if a parallel stream to the communication at hand. Is there even any use for such land??
Why, that is a fascinating tale, she said after Garuun recounted his time with his former tribe. I for one feel that those who have competence and are the proper leaders of their people should be rewarded. Truly a shame your old tribe did not feel the same. Where did you say the tribe was? We would certainly want to avoid that area. It must be a rather large tribe, yes? Anastasia kept up communication with the creature, seeking to better understand its origins and the location and size of its original tribe.
We certainly appreciate the information you provided about the surrounding areas. And I hope the map we showed you expanded your knowledge as well. Moving forwarded we would love to work with you! Her dim view of the swampy lands at the forefront of her mind she continued. You seem to have a masterful grasp on the challenges present in this particular....terrain. As we tame the forests and plains nearby we would like to count you as an ally. Are you amenable?
Once Vissannica is content that no ambush is eminent, she steps back to stand beside Doxentine while Anastasia speaks with the beast and its....beast.
She speaks with him using the tongue of her race, pitched to reach his ears only.
"Lionheart, what do you know of this creature and his pet? Does his tale ring true? Is his a race that actually could organize themselves into a kingdom?"
Anastasia worked hard to maintain her pleasant, smiling demeanor as she conversed with the strange frog-creature. The struggle had little to do with the creature itself, it was odd but likable and inoffensive enough, but rather with the environs. What a wretched place! The thought screamed in the back of her mind as if a parallel stream to the communication at hand. Is there even any use for such land??
Why, that is a fascinating tale, she said after Garuun recounted his time with his former tribe. I for one feel that those who have competence and are the proper leaders of their people should be rewarded. Truly a shame your old tribe did not feel the same. Where did you say the tribe was? We would certainly want to avoid that area. It must be a rather large tribe, yes? Anastasia kept up communication with the creature, seeking to better understand its origins and the location and size of its original tribe.
We certainly appreciate the information you provided about the surrounding areas. And I hope the map we showed you expanded your knowledge as well. Moving forwarded we would love to work with you! Her dim view of the swampy lands at the forefront of her mind she continued. You seem to have a masterful grasp on the challenges present in this particular....terrain. As we tame the forests and plains nearby we would like to count you as an ally. Are you amenable?
The frog man nods at Anastasia and says, "Glad I would be to join you as an ally. There are few enough in this section of the mire. If you seek me draw on trees with chalk this symbol, and I will look to find you."
He dips a finger into the bog and uses mud to draw a symbol of a misshapen circle with a curved spike coming from the left side. It vaguely resembles the head of its companion with the large tusks coming from its maw.
Once Vissannica is content that no ambush is eminent, she steps back to stand beside Doxentine while Anastasia speaks with the beast and its....beast.
She speaks with him using the tongue of her race, pitched to reach his ears only.
"Lionheart, what do you know of this creature and his pet? Does his tale ring true? Is his a race that actually could organize themselves into a kingdom?"
Heading to 3-5. Forest. We hear a high pitch yipping noise from a pit. As we approach to see what is causing the noise, Zorthalus falls into the pit when the edge he was standing on gave way. Suffering falling damage he is then critically bitten by a canine critter. Battle ensues and we are triumphant again. We continue to explore 2-5. Coming to the Skunk river in this area, we come to some land masses and a ruin with dead mammals and people. We approach the rubble. Two Tatzylwyrms attack. Z decapitates the first one and ends up putting the final death blow the second one as well. He doesn't like Wyrms. We find a map that outlines some of the area to the west.
After the battle with the wyrms, we are now heading to 4-5. We come upon thickets of Fangberries, so we set to gather them up, hoping to do so without much damage from the 'fangs'. Unfortunately, we disturb a colony of spiders.
The sight of a carpet of swarming spiders is unsettling indeed—particularly when the swarm is made up of spiders each the size of a gold coin and possessing blade-like mandibles capable of lacerating flesh with sickening ease.
Vissannica 'burning hands' the swarm of spiders, destroying them, and the shrill screaming from the party comes to a halt.
We go to 5-5, 5-4 and enter 6-3 as we meander back to Oleg's. A large green dragon flys overhead heading west. We will want to avoid that for a bit. We see a single tree that resembles a claw. During the search of the perimeter of the tree, we see a 'disturbed' section. We find the buried treasure of a magician that we recall from a rumor.
We go to 6-2 and head back home. First we drop by Bakken to give him his requested fangberries and ask him to brew us up some poison (DC 16 Draughtcap Fungus Poison - Strength drain) that we can feed to the Stag Lord in the guise of alcohol.
Thank you Oleg, I do appreciate you taking care of this matter. Anastasia included a smile of thanks as well, as the man nodded and left the room. Afterward the priestess again examined the space. Not big, certainly not grand, but a start. The people needed to see a tangible sign of the faith to kindle belief, and this chapel would provide it.
Anastasia thought back to the previous night, the second since her group returned from exploring the wilds. Calling the majority of the people in and around Oleg's was simple enough, most seemed interested to hear from the group regarding what they had seen or vanquished. From there she simply let the zeal she felt for her god take over, much as she did when aiding her allies. It was always difficult to tell how deeply the seed had been planted when proselytizing, but Anastasia remained hopeful that most went home that night full of thought. This place, this humble trading post, it is the beginning of a dream much larger. And it needs to be the proper spark.
Satisfied that steps to set up the chapel were as far along as possible, Anastasia set off for her room in the Inn. It was evening she realized, as she strolled across the yard. Where did the time go! Between ministering to the people and the meticulous process of writing magical scrolls, the day went vanishingly fast. She returned nods and smiles to the locals she passed, and in the common room of the Inn proper she spotted Zorthalus and El-ion carousing with a group of the guardsmen. The priestess offered an endearing smile and a wave to the latter, still wary of Thrune's intentions in sending the man.
Opening the door of the room she shared with Vissannica, Anastasia offered an eye roll no one saw as she spotted her sister again in total focus on her sword. That seemed to be happening more often recently; Vissannica insisted House Rasdovain's ancestral weapon was now literally speaking with her and Anastasia knew better than to contradict the prickly woman on such things. In truth she was mostly glad Vissannica had not brought up the "spider incident". Shrieking and wailing while her older sister had promptly incinerated the awful horde that had attacked while picking fangberries was humiliating. Anastasia did not need another reminder that when she was a little girl, the elven woman was already full grown. That moment had seemed an unwelcome return to the past.
The day's events done, the priestess proceeded to draw a bath. Doing it herself, with no assistants even, had almost become second nature in the months away from Westcrown. But settling into the warm bath always brought a sense of luxury. Not for the first time she closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanks for the gift of days out of the forsaken wilderness. She knew they most go back, someone has to tame the abyss, but for now recuperation felt more than well-deserved.
It is clear something has changed in Vissannica.
Always a distant figure, unless in battle or in close conversation with her sister, she is, somehow, both more focused and more distracted then before. More aware of her surroundings, yet more removed from what passes as society in these parts.
She’s known to be mercurial, her dark moods palpable despite her careful reserve and discipline. Now, though, when the expedition is alone at camp or during long days of travel, these moods are punctuated by sudden gouts of laughter or muttering, both often bitter, followed by sharp looks directed at the agent of Thrune.
But it is the rare outburst of girlish belly giggles that is most disconcerting, and makes it hard to trust this highly trained battlemage is altogether sane.
Her blade is never sheathed anymore, even while she sleeps, curled around it like a child with her favorite toy.
Yet despite these increased…idiosyncracies…she seems more capable somehow. Her observations are more incisive, her blade training more crisp, her posture and manners more poised. When not immersed in her strange, silent reveries, she is more present, more whole.
Back at Oleg’s, she spends even more time holed up in the rooms she shares with her sister, leaving only when there is a matter that demands her consultation, which is nearly never. She has cleared a space in her chambers for practicing her sword forms, and spends her time either practicing the blade, studying the arcane arts, or offering obeisance to the Dark Prince.
Once or twice she asks for the Lionheart to join her, to discuss something of the surrounding flora or fauna, as she has begun to study the plains, forest, swamps, and rivers, so as to be able to more easily dominate them.
Occasionally, she engages in conversation with her sister, particularly on the matter of scroll scribing.
Vissannica had decided Anastasia, as a recognized and capable scion of House Rasdovain, would be allowed to know the true nature of the Lion’s Claw, should she ask. So when the priestess had, ever-so-diplomatically, inquired about Vissannica’s apparent brooding and unexplained outbursts, she had told her the truth. Her sister’s reaction had surprised Vissannica, who had expected the woman to pepper her with questions for the blade. She was somewhat relieved that Anastasia did not seem particularly interested, though the reason eluded her.
Heading to 7-1 (Plains). We decide to start Eastward and then head Southward from there and explore those areas. Nothing of note. Going to 7-3 and then into 6-4 (Plains). We come across the remnants of a burnt out building. This is where the spirit of Davic Nettle is said to roam after being burnt alive by the Stag Lord. We string a rope across the river and proceed to cross over. The ghost of David Nettle rises out of the river and demands the corpse of the Stag Lord in order to cross the river safely.
We decide to find the camp of the Stag Lord and scope it out. So we head to 5-5 to cross the river on the Eastern side. Shrike River East, Thorn River on the West. The Stag Lords stronghold is on the Tuskwater Lake. We cross into 4-6 and spy a large fort on the Western side of the river.
During the third watch a group of furtive figures approaches the camp. Dox unleashes an area effect of falling stones upon them sending them running in panic. We kill all but two whom we interrogate.
Anastasia eyed the dark horizon warily, staying ready in case any more bandits came while mentally preparing what she would say. El-ion, whose eyes were better by far than the priestess' for detecting threats, positioned himself on a low hill nearby to keep watch. Meanwhile, Zorthalus seemed to channel his frustration at not playing a meaningful role in the quick fight by roughly and tightly tying up the two prisoners. Dox and Vissannica stood nearby, while the former prepared the means to extract more information from the two should talk alone fail.
Remember staging! Anastasia reminded herself, half the battle is the right context. Taking her own advice she wheeled around the side of the two prisoners, such that the dim waxing gibbous moonlight gave her face a pale, menacing glow. Order has come to the Greenbelt, gentlemen. She added the last word with a derisive sneer. Not the false order of brigand strongmen, but the True Order of Civilization and proper Law. Unrepentant bandits, such as you have proven yourselves to be by your actions, face the headsman's axe. Here a glance over to a scowling Zorthalus clutching his glaive. Should you decide to be fully compliant, you may be spared....additional measures to get you talking. Now a glance over to Dox preparing torture implements. Now, you will tell us everything you know of this so-called "Stag Lord", as well as all details of this fort. Speak with detail, the one who is most helpful has a chance to live.
The two bandits look at each other with wide eyes. One says to the other "If you ain't gonna tell 'em I am! I ain't dyin' fer that giant sumbich!" The other starts to try and talk faster. "The Stag Lord is crazy strong and I saw him crush a man's head with his bare hands! He wears that crazy mask so no one knows what he looks like! He can drink more than any two other people!" At the same time the other starts shouting "I ain't sure its a helmet, it might be his head that has horns cause I seen him sleepin' and he didn't take the helmet off! He runs all the bandits around here and he's killed any that don't join up!"
The two seem to be trying hard to out-do each other, though most of what they say is lost in the over-shouting.
The two bandits look at each other with wide eyes. One says to the other "If you ain't gonna tell 'em I am! I ain't dyin' fer that giant sumbich!" The other starts to try and talk faster. "The Stag Lord is crazy strong and I saw him crush a man's head with his bare hands! He wears that crazy mask so no one knows what he looks like! He can drink more than any two other people!" At the same time the other starts shouting "I ain't sure its a helmet, it might be his head that has horns cause I seen him sleepin' and he didn't take the helmet off! He runs all the bandits around here and he's killed any that don't join up!"
The two seem to be trying hard to out-do each other, though most of what they say is lost in the over-shouting.
Vissannica, her ebon blade held casually at her side, watches the bandits with contempt as they so easily give in to pressure.
She adds the following questions, letting them know that her magic will reveal any lies:
1. How many bandits reside in the fort itself?
2. Who, if anyone, besides the Stag Lord holds sway there?
3. Are there any divided loyalties that could serve his foes?
4. Where does the stag lord get his alcohol?
5. Where were you coming from, and where were you headed with no lights on a night such as this?
6. What defenses surround the fort, and what are the ways to enter or leave?
7. What is the pass code for entrance to the fort?
8. Do you have any other codes that you use amongst yourselves?
9. Does anyone wield magic within the fort? Does anyone offer healing there?
10. How does the fort watch for intruders?
20? No at least 30... But those guys didn't come back! Ok, maybe 25. 20 at most - probably 18. 18? How do you figure preceicely 18? At least 30, maybe 40! No way there are even 30! Shut up! Pshhh...
"He only sways when he is really drunk." Other nods.
"Um... no?
"He drinks anything! But he likes that special stuff... Yeah, but he drinks anything, he drinks whatever we bring. But the special stuff is special. Fine, he drinks that special stuff that Kressel used to bring him, but he drinks anything else too."
"This is our territory and we patrol it. And we ain't no city guard so dumb to use torches and tell everyone where we are! They know we aren't in the city guard stupid! I was saying city guards are stupid, not us!"
"There is a high fence and a gate up front, that's about it. And water on three sides! Well that ain't part of the fort is it? No but it counts! Fine... Water too."
One says: "The stars don't shine at night!" The other responds "The cock don't crow at dawn!"
"Ummm... no?
"Some say the Stag Lord's got demon magic! Nah, he's just tough as nails. I didn't say I said it, I said some say it and some do! Fine! Stag Lord might have demon magic!
"We got people on the roofs all the time. The big dummy doesn't count! 'Course he counts, he's got eyes don't he? Yeah, but he's mostly playing up there... But he's not the only one up there, is he? Well no. Ok, we got people on the roofs all the time.
Into the Stag Lord’s fort! We deliver the poisoned draught for the Stag Lords consumption, and we wait until the next day to let the poison do its effect. The battle is on!
Z begins the assault, with El-ion following up with a swing of his great sword. Dox brings some serious pain with his dropping of stones. With some Blessings and song to bolster us, battle sways our way initially, but now the big boys are coming out to play…
Posting Troy's recap of the last session while the forums are up.....
he fight begins with El-ian shooting a flaming crossbow bolt into the Owl Bear. Dox attempts to attack with a flaming orb, but misses. One of the enemy soldiers drops to hands and knees in supplication. Anastasia continues the song. Vissonica casts shield and steps back. Z readies an attack if the Owlbear comes into range. Evil Emo rapier guy steps into view.
Owlbear attacks and Z hits it for 17 damage. In response the Owlbear misses Z. One of the enemy attacks evil emo rapier guy which surprises us all, and does some decent damage. At this time the Stag Lord comes into view, leaning agains the wall which we surmise as him having drunk the wine.
El-ian shoots another flaming bolt into the Owlbear for 11 points of damage. Dox’s second attempt at fire orb doing 7 damage. Anastasia continues the song. Vissonica swings and hits twice, once with a critical roll for 31 points of damage killing the Owlbear.
Z moves forward in an effort to engage the Stag Lord. El-ian hits the Stag Lord with a long distance shot for 3 damage. The new ally turns and engages the Stag Lord doing 11 damage. The Stag Lord drops his bow and draws his long sword and swings at our new ally and misses. Dox holds onto his final flaming orb and moves forward.
Anastasia continues her song and provides ‘inspiring command’ to Z and our new ally. Vissonica moves forward toward the Stag Lord as does Z. Evil emo rapier guy attacks Vissonica doing 9 points of damage. El-ian tires to shoot the Stag Lord, but misses. New ally hits the Stag Lord doing some decent damage. Stag Lord misses his return swings. Dox misses the evil emo rapier guy with his flaming orb. Anastasia casts cure light wounds onto Vissonica for 10 points healing her up. Vissonica casts color spray onto evil emo rapier guy who fails his will save suffering the dexterity penalty of the spell. She then follows up with an attack for 13 points of damage felling the enemy.
Z takes a swing at the Stag Lord with his reach weapon scoring a hit for 15 points of damage. El-ian hits with a bolt for 6 damage. The new ally misses his swing, however the Stag Lord hits twice on the new ally.
Dox moves up toward the fight. Anastasia continues singing and casts ‘inspiring command’ onto Z and new ally. Vissonica moves forward. Z swings again and misses. El-ian shoots and hits for 9 damage and moves forward. New ally hits the Stag Lord who is gravely injured. Dox heals our new ally 10 points. Anastasia continues her song and ‘inspiring command’ to Vissonica and new ally. Vissonica casts ‘brand’ and swings at the Stag Lord hitting for 14 points killing the Stag Lord.
While we talk with our new ally, Akiros Ismort, he draws a symbol of Abadon from under his tunic. Anastasia casts cure light wounds to one of the other enemy combatants that had dropped to his knee.
As we tour the fort, we find that 14 of the bandits died during the rock storm. Akiros mentions that there is one more thing that needs attending. He takes us down to a cellar where there is the Stag Lords father, whom is a wizard and quite crazy.
We proceed to find the Stag Lords father. As we move forward, El-ian hears a growl and sees movement. It turns out to be a swarm of spiders that engulfs us doing 4 points of damage to everyone. Z is nauseated. A wolverine attacks the party. El-ian misses his shot, but Akiros hits it. Anastasia casts ‘inspiring command’ to Vissonica and Akiros. Z moves downward, out of the way. Vissonica moves across the cellar. El-ian gets out of the swarm and shoots the wolverine for 8 points of damage.
The spider swarm moves over Z and Akiros, but this time Z is not nauseated. Thus ends the evening.
The fight continues. Akiros delivers a devastating blow to the wolverine and Z finishes it off as they move away from the spider swarm.
El-ian throws an Alchemist fire onto the swarm doing 7 points of damage. In retaliation to the attack the swarm engulfs El-ion, Dox and Anastasia. El-ion is nauseated.
The swarm dissipates and the Stag Lords father tries to put up a fight, but we easily kill him. During our search of the area, and collection from the dead bandits, we find sizable amounts of treasure and equipment.
We find out more about the background of Akiros (ex-paladin of Abadar). Ox is a big, but simple man.
We are going to bring back Falgrim Sneed’s body and the Stag Lords body for the rewards.
On our way back to Oleg’s we drop off the Stag Lords body to the ghost at the river and receive a +1 Glaive in return. We arrive at Oleg’s and level up!!
We received note that states:
“Be it so known that the bearers of this charter, having delivered the northern reaches of the Greenbelt from the scourge of banditry, having provided detailed maps of the lay of the land, and having done no small amount of work in the exploration of said land and the culling of hostile monsters and indigenous hazards, are hereby granted the right to rule. The nature and laws of rule are theirs to define, and the wellbeing of this new nation is theres to protect. In accordance for providing a stable nation to the south of central Rostland, let there be a generous stipend of funds, support and advice provided to this fledgling nation as a token of Restov and Brevoy’s goodwill, such that future relations between kingdoms might be mutually beneficial. So witnessed under the watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and by the authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne.”
Oleg’s Trading Post: The trading post is a versatile structure built to serve as a place of business. If the PCs decide to found a city in this hex, they can incorporate Oleg’s as a free Shop, Stable, or Watchtower in their city grid (once chosen, the function of Oleg’s within the new city cannot be changed).
Temple of the Elk: Although the Temple of the Elk is partially ruined, building a city here gives the PCs a head start on a Temple, halving the initial cost of building such a structure.
The Stag Lord’s Fort: Located at the heart of the Greenbelt on a defensible hill near a plentiful source of water, fishing, and trade, the Stag Lord’s Fort may be the single best place to place a capital city. The fort itself gives the PCs a head start on building a castle, halving the initial cost of such a structure. In addition, if the PCs make this site their capital city, their nation gains a +1 bonus on Economy, Loyalty, and Stability due to its centralized location and ease of defense.
Where IS a good Qadiran mirror when you need one! Lacking the right proportion of real silver behind the glass, the scratched excuse for a reflecting device Svetlana had graciously hung in Anastasia and Vissannica's quarters made the priestess squint to get a good look at herself. Dressed in the well-maintained noble garb she had made sure to cart all the way from Westcrown, the attractive and poised woman looked every bit the part of the royalty she was about to proclaim. She even wore the heirloom jewels of House Rasdovia, brought for this very occasion. She was especially happy now with the Tiara. Dox, who had taken to imbuing items with magic much as she herself did with scrolls, was kind and prompt enough to enchant the crown with magic to enhance her oratory . A good performance was a must today, momentous new beginnings demanded it.
In the background of the mirror Vissannica sat in bed, hunched over the sword. She wasn't sure whether to call it "Great Grandpa" or what exactly, but regardless her elder sister seemed to suggest the spirit in the blade approved of this move. The Sword Lords had given an opening: "...hereby granted the right to rule. The nature and laws of rule are theirs to define." Anastasia smiled at that. So kind of them to grant us what we were going to take anyway. Regardless, it meant that at least for the time being the neighbor to the north would not be a foe and in fact provided much starting aid. Later, once our new land was thriving and the Thrunes in Cheliax saw the benefit of supporting us, what the Sword Lords grant or not would be immaterial.
With one final smoothing of her dress Anastasia was out the door. She just glanced at Vissannica; no words were needed as the elven woman knew what was about to take place and had overheard Anastasia's speech rehersed multiple times before. She would attend the event if she chose, whether Anastasia asked her to or not. Such was her way. No matter how powerful a Ruler I become, THAT one will be un-command-able.
As she strode down the hall of Oleg's post to the gathering mass of people in the field outside the front gate, she offered a wink to Svetlana, who gave a warm smile and squeeze of the shoulder in encouragement back. The two had formed something of a bond, and Anastasia hoped the woman had taken the priestess' recruitment pitch to heart. This new domain will need good people with talent, and the simple tavern woman had a knack for relating to others. It was for the same reason she had spoke at length with Kesten, Oleg, the Erastilian Jhod and even Bokken and Garuun. With few notable allies and much to do, as many as possible with skills will be needed. She hoped she had found fertile ground with each.
Speaking with Akiros had been the easiest. The man was looking for a chance at redemption, and what better way to do so than to materially lend one's services to the rise of a new civilization. She would work to keep his heart on Abadar. And, she admitted to herself, if that kept his eyes on her then that wasn't so bad either. The strapping, handsome man was most definitely not a burden to have around. The thought made her blush, not a good look for the speech she was about to give. To thwart it, she thought of Auchs. The lumbering oaf had ben a challenge ever since returning from the fort. Dox had been extremely helpful finding wayward animals to supply for the man's sadistic "play", but it felt like he was one unsupervised moment away from a diplomatic catastrophe.
Striding into the yard before the gate to Oleg's compound, Anastasia could now see the breadth and width of the crowd. It was truly impressive the number of settlers and craftsmen that had streamed down out of the northern lands looking for a new life in a new realm. They had all seen the posted signs and had heard from the various leaders that Anastasia, already well-known for her near-daily sermons extoling the virtues of Civilization, would be making a major proclamation today. They looked....hopeful, ready. She would not disappoint. The speech was already given in her mind. She would continue to remind the masses of the need to spread the life-enhancing benefits of Civilization around the world, and that we all would be doing our part. She would then let them know that the wild lands of the Greenbelt would be the next to be pried away from the lawless forces. And that we would be doing it together. Then, the big reveal: the announcement that on this very day we are establishing the Most High Imperial Magisterium of Rasdovia, with herself as Ruler and the other heroes who purged the land of the chaotic bandit horde as esteemed leaders. She'll remember just a small pause then, for dramatic effect, then move into a sweeping vision of the prosperous land they all, as citizens of this new realm, will create. Yes, she'll remind them, there will be hard times. But with trust in their leadership and an indefatigable work ethic, they cannot fail. By the end the crowd will be full of hurrays and cheers, ready to take on the task ahead of them.
Two more steps and she alighted the small stage that Oleg had built. All eyes looked towards her as she smile, and began to speak.
"She walks a fine line" murmured Livianus, a mix of reproach and admiration in his tone. She felt the bare black blade that rested so naturally in her right hand convey it’s meaning through a familiar blend of images, emotions, Infernal, and Taldane phrases.
Vissannica poised not thirty feet from her sister, off to the side of the stage, watching the crowd that was gathered, listening to Anastasia’s proclamations. Her garb was no less ornate than her sister’s, though she had her lacquered and filigreed lamellar on, and an intricate gold headband worked with blue and purple gemstones that accented her aqua blue eyes and hair instead of her sister’s less practical tiara.
She paid Livianus only a fraction of her attention, letting him parse her sister’s words, consider their meaning afresh. Vissannica’s focus was elsewhere. She had positioned her men about the gathering, taking lead on security until the Warden was formally chosen. Zorthalus had chafed a bit, but it was necessary, as she wished to make sure El-ion was somewhere she could watch during this speech, and it was his reaction that most interested her. It wasn’t the content of Anastasia’s speech that was at all risky, but what it lacked. There was only the minimum in the way of fealty to Queen Abrogail II and house Thrune, and no mention of the Archfiend, Asmodeus. There was considerably more about various ideals of civilization and quotes from Abadar’s sacred texts. Not that her sister was at all disrespectful, and it was perhaps even wise given the planned recipients of the speech. But still, Vissannica could not disagree that her sister walked a fine line. Then, what choice did she have? No words of fealty would diminish the danger that Thrune presented them, and Anastasia needed to secure her power here before she could present any threat worth quashing. So Vissannica had listened to the speech without comment, and continued her preparations for the inevitable conflict. Or perhaps it was Livianus that was preparing, and Vissannica who was simply his vessel. She didn’t know, and often didn’t care.
The half-elf’s face was inscrutable, but she watched him, if, for no other reason, than to make sure he knew he was being watched.
In her left hand, she noticed she was gripping the cold iron box that held what she guessed was the fey queen’s hair. She did not remember bringing that with her from her chamber, but perhaps it was just as well. House Thrune would be a threat, was always a threat, but that was for another day, another year, perhaps another generation.
What would this emerald-tressed “queen” of the fey think about her sister’s speech? That thought made Vissannica giggle with rare delight.
During the down time and settlement founding, Dox visits with Viss and shares he has become fluent in Infernal (ooc, assuming that is the correct language). He presents the information on one level as letting her know she can now speak to him in the language if desired and on a more subtle and unspoken note wanting to ensure she understood he would now know what she said to Ana or others if in earshot and did not want any "misunderstandings" or surprises on her end.
After sharing that info, Dox advises he also had a breakthrough on his training with Battlecat he needed to share with Ana and she was welcome to join.
Meeting up with Ana, Dox is very excited to demonstrate how Battlecat now has a rudimentary understanding of the common language. He asks her to join him in some "practice" fighting to fine tune the inspirational sermons and exhortations to provide the best effect.
The view down the crest of the hill was nothing short of thrilling, at least in Anastasia's opinion. Not long ago, the group visited these scrub plains as interlopers, about to quite literally rain destruction down on the former bandit masters. Now, easily visible nearby the ruined fort, the unmistakable vestiges of a town starting to spring forth on the river banks and shore line could be seen. Likewise, farms sprouted up nearby that would feed the growing population. Yes, thrilling was the right word. Nothing else could adequately describe the feeling the priestess had watching Civilization emerged from the neglected wasteland.
But she needed to focus on the task at hand, at least for the moment. Dox had approached with more than a bit of excitement. The man had been scarce since taking on his assigned role as Marshall, roaming the borders of the lands they had recently claimed for Rasdovia to the north and east around the bridge. In truth though she had hardly noticed, given how consumed she had been putting together the rule of Law for the land, resolving disputes and keeping up the general morale of the populace. Hard work, long days, with comparatively little sleep. But she would have it no other way.
The task at hand, she again reminder herself. Dox was right, Battlecat WAS looking at her more closely when she spoke. Anastasia wasn't sure how the lion tamer had managed to get the creature to understand language this well, but there it was. Pointing at the straw practice dummy Dox had set up, she met the large feline's gaze. There! she spoke loudly while pointing at the target, rend its legs but watch for an overhead attach in response! Use all your might! It is all that stands in the way of a delightful steak dinner! Tailoring inspiration to the combatant had developed into something of a specialty, but this was still out of her comfort zone. The lion nevertheless attacked as Dox instructed it, and gripping its mighty jaws on the straw man's right leg proceeded to wrench it free from the rest. Looking at the druid she smiled and clapped, Well done! I'm uncertain if he responds as much to my tone or the words themselves, but the effect is there. The practice continued a bit more, until the straw man was reduced to a pile, and then Anastasia saw to it that Battlecat was in fact rewarded with steak.
Vissannica stood at the edge of the square of green grass that served as the corral for the commoner's children. No schoolhouse, no shelter, not even fences guarded the borders, only tall grasses. All ages and genders mixed together, all youthful exuberance and chaos, barely held in check by a few women not yet 16 years of age. These were to be her teachers, younger even than her little sister, having taken to wearing their hair in imitation of their new liege, bleaching it with lemon and sun.
"Young minds. So...impressionable." intoned Livianus.
"They are the future, are they not?" replied Vissannica, whispering under her breath.
There was some surprise at Vissannica’s choice to be Magister, when she could have had any appointment the fledgling kingdom had to offer. Vissannica herself had been surprised when Livianus counseled her to seek the office. Surely she would have been better suited as General, or perhaps Spymaster, ensuring the safety of the realm. Making certain Rasdovia would be feared.
But it was not without some frustration that Livianus reminded Vissannica of where true power lays. ”A nation is not a set of laws enforced, it is not a territory with borders defended. A nation is not a pile of money in a treasury, or the buildings and trappings of civilization. A nation is an aggregate of people united by a set of ideals, language, a shared concept of history, culture. Control the culture carriers, control the language, control the history, control the ideals. This nation will be formed by children. Control the children’s ideals, what they believe to be true, what and how they think, build a nation that will stand.”
Vissannica couldn’t help but note that she, herself, had been raised by Livianus, had been shaped by him as surely as he now wished her to shape this nation. How far had he seen?
Nevertheless, it was time for school to begin, and that meant bringing these little heathens to heel. A simple cantrip and a long peel of a bell rang out above the cacophony, cutting through, bringing a moment of silence.
“Girls, gather the children in lines. It is time we began instruction.”
Only three children went home that day with the word "dunce" branded painfully across their foreheads. After the third example, the children seemed to understand who was in charge. Vissannica, despite, and perhaps in part because of, her brilliant mind, was not a good teacher, but she wasn’t there to teach. She was there to control, to establish order from chaos, and set up a structure by which ideas would be disseminated. With any luck, one or two of her girls would be decent teachers, but Vissannica doubted it, and ultimately didn’t care.
This wasn’t about passing along knowledge. These were only commoner children. They simply needed to learn their place in the world.
El-ion felt the eyes of Vissannica watching him. Analyzing him. Weighing him. I know it is because I am from House Thrune and she wonders where my loyalty lies. Understandable. I must be careful on my reports to my master, to not elicit any concerns from her or anyone else. For now, all is going well. We have achieved the start of a burgeoning kingdom, one that will further House Thrune's influence over all of Cheliax.
He jumped at the opportunity to take on the role of Spymaster. It will enable him to gather, control and respond to information at all times. It will allow him to stamp out chaos and implement the true rule of law. Order must be maintained at all times, now more than ever, as it will shape the kingdom properly.
The task of hiring his network of spies has begun. He will miss the peacefulness and serenity of the forests. But, as a forest needs pruning and burning to control it, so too does a kingdom. He is confident that his masters will help him guide his hand.
El-ion is conflicted though. He has grown to bond with his new friends having shed blood with them in taming the lands. They are of similar heart and mind as himself. Though they are not of House Thrune, they have not gone directly against any of their interests either. Perhaps they can each be swayed to join House Thrune when and if the opportunity should arise. That would be wonderful he thinks. And if his noble master should rise in the ranks of the House of Thrune, they will see his loyalty and worth and perhaps one day, he will have his own land and castle. Long live House Thrune and glory to Queen Abrogai!
During our first outing of exploration, we come across three wagon’s crossing the shallow portion of a river. Two of the wagons successfully crossed the river to the other side, the last one of them is starting to flounder in the river. The wagons are full of gnomes and they are asking for assistance. Zorthalus throws a grappling hook onto the floundering wagon and stabilized it. Dox swims out to the wagon and successfully controls the panicking ponies and finishes crossing the river.
We all gather on the other side and talk with the gnomes. The leader of the gnomes, Jubilost Narthropple, a ‘famous’ explorer and map-maker explained that they were set upon by a bunch of kobolds. Anastasia engages her diplomacy with Jubilost and gains his interest.
As we depart our base to explore we come across a pack of wolves led by a Warg. Battle ensues!
The Warg turns out to be a pretty nasty enemy doing some serious damage to El-ion. Battle cat and Zorthalus combine to take it out and mopping up the other wolves was less of an effort. This reaffirms El-ion’s favored enemy status for magical beasts.
As we continue our exploration, we come across a barrow. We put a dancing light ahead of us as we enter the barrow. Shortly after entering we are swarmed by two hordes of bats. A well placed burning hands destroys them and singe’s El-ion. He is not amused. :)
Vissannica grimaces at the scent of burning bat fur, and with a gesture and muttered phrase she replaces the scent with the sweet dark aroma of myrrh.
Her hand tightens on her hilt as she gazes further into the barrow, clearly not enthused.
In her mind, she complains to Livianus, "Another hole in the ground. Seems we are forever finding nuisances hiding in holes in this land. No doubt there will be some sort of dirty pit or nest of wretched creatures to disinfect."
"And you will no doubt fall into the pit and annihilate the creatures." His reply was a bit quick, sounding almost distracted, as if his focus was elsewhere. Vissannica glanced around, looking for what might hold his attention. She noted the singed Thrune agent. Ah, that would be it.
She couldn't help but smile, earning a sharp rebuke from her blade that turned her smile into a sudden scowl.
We come across four entrances and four badly eroded skeletal statues stand at the corners. As several of us (Dox, Z and Vissannica) enter the room, purple rays emit from the eyes of the statues hitting Z (strength and Dexterity loss). We see skeleton warriors come at us from the south and north, being directed by a skeletal warrior leader.
Mirror image paid off, taking some serious damage away from the characters. The skeletal leader turned out to have quite a lot of hit points, but finally succumbed to Vissannica’s attacks (aided by others).
As you are in council, Svetlana produces a sheaf of parchments and says, “We are starting to get… requests from the people in the area. They seem to be hoping that you or some adventuring type might help with. Oleg used to hear about such things and post them outside the hall at the Trading Post. I was thinking that if we had an Inn or some other place to socialize, it would make for a good place for a similar posting area. A number of the citizenry have made similar comments about needing a place to socialize, and I think there may be some underground drinking clubs popping up. Better to have it organized and profitable in my thought.”
Oleg nods and says, ”Speaking of the Trading Post, people are startin’ to gather there more than before. I appreciate the custom, but its seemin’ to be more permanent. People supposedly camping at the walls are startin’ to build things more permanent than tents. I reckon the trade down to hear is increasing traffic on the highway too.”
Good Morning children, said Vissannica
Good Morning High Magister Rasdovain! replied the chorus of children’s voices in a well-rehearsed sing-song.
It was rare for Vissannica to make an appearance before the gathered children, and the fact that she punctuated her talks with illusions and potent displays of magic gave an even greater degree of import for the children.
Today she had an even more noteworthy visual aid, and her teachers began distributing them among the children. Tiny skulls, children sized, though clearly not human. A buzz began among the children as different reactions surfaced. Horror, jokes and laughter, callous bravado, quizzical confusion.
Vissannica let it build before she cut in, her voice amplified sixteen-fold.
Who can tell me what you hold?
The buzz stopped, and children returned their attention to their High Magister. Even the little girl in the front who was crying managed to master her tears. The children of New Westcrown had grown hard under their new school.
A bold boy raised his hand and received a slight nod. Skulls?
Vissnannica’s response what neither pleased nor displeased. Yes. But whose skulls?
A slight buzz began again before cutting itself off when Vissannica raised her hand in anger. I’ll give you a hint. Why do some families put glasses of milk out on their doorsteps at night, often on the new moon?
The same boy raised his hand but Vissannica ignored him, instead calling on the little girl who had been crying. She drew herself up, and managed to stammer out a few words. For the Fey. To keep them from playing tricks.
Vissannica nodded, and offered a smile to the little girl. I ask you all again. Who’s skulls do you hold?
Again, a buzz began and then halted, this time when The High Magister clapped her hands like thunder. Answer me. she boomed.
Children’s voices called out at intervals. The Fey? The Fey! The Fey!
Vissannica nodded. Children of New Westcrown, you need no longer fear the Fey. Unless you and your fathers and mothers are cowards, you need no longer leave your hard earned milk for lawless pests. We don’t want to be branded cowards do we?
This time, in sing-song unison. No, High Magister Rasdovain.
Good. The boy and girl who answered questions today may keep a skull. The rest are to be returned. Teachers, resume your lessons. Dismissed.
What is that fool doing? shouted the voice of Livianus the Lion’s Claw in Vissannica’s head. At the same time, Vissannica shouted in Infernal at no one in particular. What is that fool doing?
Dox, rather than mounting his horse, ran on foot, then turned and hurled a small ball of flame at the immense tree, enraging it. Vissannica was once again frustrated at the druid’s lack of ability to follow a simple order of tactical retreat, and this time he did not have the excuse of his pet being in the creature’s mouth. However, it seemed it may not do any harm, as he had put a good distance between himself and the tree just the same.
Of course, there is a reason for following orders and not just taking them as suggestions. There are reasons for listening to one’s betters. And those reasons were soon demonstrated when a second tree came to life and closed on the unarmored man and his cat. Dox was out of position, and not behind Vissannica and Zorthalus, both of whom were considerably better prepared to face the tree’s razor sharp branches.
You have no control of your men, do you. How will you control an empire? said Livianus, his voice calm and quiet. Vissannica had a moment of missing the months when the blade had been silent.
Now is not the time! shouted Vissannica, in a confusing nonsequitor to those listening. Scanning the battlefield, she could still see a path to victory, or at least a way to buy them more time to assess.
Retreat and come back and kill these trees tomorrow. This day is lost. said Livianus.
No! Carissa, burn the tree to the south, I will keep it at bay with grease. Carissa, cast now, then back away at least 20 feet.
We come to the area where the 'mad hermit' is located. After a brief and strange conversation, the subject came up about the eating of Boken's finger, which started initiative rolls. The Puma pounces on Cringer to start the battle. Z takes the Puma out with a well placed hit.
The mad hermit puts up more of a fight, but succumbs to a combined effort by the group. Carissa gets her first 'game kill'.
We then head West to explore Hex 2-7. We enter a swamp area.
The sweet stench of decay hangs thick in this woodland clearing.
Knotted branches of sickly trees line the perimeter, creating a
thick canopy that blocks most of the sunlight and cloaks the
hollow in shadow. Withered vegetation struggles to grow in
ragged clumps among the multitude of bones strewn across
the forest floor.
Without warning comes a large tree creature swinging at Vissanica
We withdrawal from the fight with the tree creatures and camp for the night. Unfortunately, they have followed our trail and are attacking our camp. Luckily, our watch saw them and awoke us in time.
A few well placed Grease spells, a couple fires spells, nice summoning of fire elementals, a vicious Cringer and a pissed off Hellknight in a loin cloth won the battle.
That...was luck said Livianus, as the hacked and torn remains of the colossal tree smoldered. Acrid smoke wafted up through the air, half-visible against a sky only beginning to lighten with hints of dawn.
And tactics, magic and might said Vissannica. She turned to catch Doxentine’s eye and gave a slight nod, acknowledging the druid’s much improved performance.
There was no verbal response from her blade, but only the psychic analog of a dismissal, as if her response didn’t even warrant a rebuttal.
Chastened, she walked over to her saddlebags, where she withdrew a skull that had been acid-etched into a bowl. Then, approaching one of the fallen trees, she used her dagger to hack off a razor sharp leaf, wet with what was likely her own blood. Gathering the sticky ichor from the trees wounds in the bowl, she walked between the two carcasses, and poured the ichor into a inverted pentagram before sitting in the center of it, where she offered supplications to the Dark Prince while the leaf dissolved in her hands.
After that was complete, she approached her sister, allowing her own small wounds to be tended by her younger sister’s god’s magic.