The map, and what you know about the world in general.
Even here, in the capitol, the sounds of battle can be heard.
All of you have come to Izmir, all for different reasons, and now all of you are stuck here as the armies of the Black Dragonflight attempt to take this city, City of Light, City of the Inheritor. While their forces have been no match for the superior strength and skill of the Paladine on the battlefield, the orcs and bugbears and trolls and hobgoblins and humans(!) of the Black Dragonflight have superior numbers. Thus, so far, the battle is at a stalemate.
You have each been given quarters, and are fed with the scholars or priests or clerics, as you choose. There are various inns and fine restaurants you may patronize as well, though their fare is somewhat diminished in light of the reduced supply routes. You have been granted access to the libraries and museums, and any volunteer effort you wish to provide to assist in defense of the city is welcome, but none is asked. After all, you are guests.
@Belsarious: Give me a will save, please.
@Dolo: Give me a perception check and a spellcraft check.
It is a glorious, sunny fall day, or at least it would be were it not for the hideous black cloud of smoke to the east, caused by the battle. The angle of the sun currently allows its blazing rays to sneak through gaps here and there, but you know it won't be long before the sun is behind the war cloud, not to be seen again until evening.
It is 9:00 in the morning. And you are stuck here.
After a few hours of rest Min was wide awake and watching the black smoke, from the battle, roll lazily into the skies while Lindórievórea slept off there long journey to Izmir. After a few hours she rises, having shaked off the fatigue from such a long flight from Haelith. She gives a great sigh when she see's that Min was already awake and grim thoughts filled his mind.
It isn't long after that when Min leaves Lindórievórea so that she can get something to eat. He is wearing his full battle dress and moves about the corridors like a man on a mission. He tries to seek out a local commander and presents himself.
"My name is Min and Lindórievórea is my dragon ally, we have served as Messenger's and scouts during the war. Can we lend you any assistance?"
Soldiers follow orders. Sir Damian Lamorak is one such soldier, one of many assembled to fight the Black Dragonflight's advance on Izmir. When he received an order from The First Knight Protector of the Silver Flame, Damian followed it to the letter. He reported to Izmir from the Protectorate of the Lake, a few miles inside protected territory, seeking out Captain Korius Merit. With him, he carries a sealed letter for the Captain.
Korius,
I have sent you one of my knights, Sir Damian Lamorak. While he is not one of your paladine, he is as strong of spirit and body as any. You can trust him to assist you in any way you see fit to protect Izmir from the Black Dragonflight. The rest of the Order of the Silver Flame will soon follow.
Regards,
First Knight Protector Petrov Iridia
Sir Damian arrived late at night atop his loyal griffin steed. He had immediately attempted to contact Captain Merit, but was told that he was out in the field. Damian was told to return tomorrow at daybreak.
Three hours after daybreak, Damian stands in the courtyard, still and disciplined as a statue, awaiting the Captain. He has orders to follow.
It had been a long and perilous journey to end where her destination had been all along. Her long weeks and side-quests to help those in need had delayed, and now she was here. Here where she could at least try to fit in. Here, where her war would begin.
She awoke to the sight of Ansrithar's large self sleeping He'd gained much muscle in the times together, and his scales had toughened from their intense training. She'd also gained much in the ways of reflexes, but enough talk of such things!
She dressed herself as she had done so appropriate to her position - a champion against darkness, indeed! As soon as her armor had been fitted to her, and the rest of her gear accounted for, she put the tabard of Sarenae over her chainmail, and finished with the plated boots and gauntlets. Sylsalitae smiled to herself, and began to do one of few lady-like manners - ensuring her hair was in order, for it was long, and a lustrous blonde, and required her to put a set of braids in whilst her companion slept. It wasn't long lived.
"I see you're trying to be pretty again. You realize with your helm, most of it goes unseen."
"Hush, you. It will present itself when appropriate."
This conversation goes for about an hour, but that's not the point of this! The point, is that as soon as they are done bickering, both are awake, and both leave their assigned quarters. It's here she noticed again that the conflict has not ended, and endless pools of black smoke billow into the skies above them. She softly pats her companion on the side, and points to a high tower, and nods to acknowledge. They take off into the skies, and find themselves driven to find the captain of the guard - and who better to start with than a guard? Upon approach, they manage to slow down so she can speak clearly, her voice eloquent as always.
"Can you tell me where the man in charge is? I'd like to get some information before I go out there to assist in the defense! Time is of utmost importance, so I'd appreciate a straight answer!"
Dolo woke to another day in Izmir. Although he is miffed about the siege, it has done little to damper his enthusiasm as he continued his research in the libary.
He begins this morning as he has done countless mornings - by summoning his faithful companion, Glorfindel Ancalimë, elvish for ‘Spirit Companion’. The ritual was mostly in elvish, sprinkled with draconic. Once summoned, Dolo cast a long-lasting defensive spell on his companion, knowing the battle raging outside could easily spill over into the city at a moment's notice. It was always best to be prepared. He slips on his lightweight mail shirt under his clothing as well.
He wolfs down a spartan breakfast and heads to the libary to follow-up on several tomes he discovered the previous day.
Will save
This morning I will be checking my gear, stretching out any remaining stiffness, eating a light meal.
Head into an open area to survey the battlefield!
"All this fer a fey teapot!"
Dolo: Normally your visits to Izmir are happy occasions, as their libraries are supremely well-organized and their staff a pleasure to work with. This time, though, you have been on edge, and it's not just because 20,000 Black Dragonflight soldiers are on the city's doorstep, though that's certainly reason enough. Your entire time here you have felt an odd...tugging. A growth of shadow and movement of matter into power. The light in Izmir is not so bright as usual. "Dolo" Glorfindel says in his low, scraping voice that feels like it's coming from a spot just behind your right ear, "the world tastes wrong / doors are open to the planes that should not be / power is drawn / a darkness moves I cannot find / what is hurting a spirit is crying / nearby"
You yourself can feel arcane rumblings from a magic of immense strength, though you cannot ascertain what school it is from. It is a cross-planar magic, something old and raw and wild. It is not an emanation, but a gathering, a marshalling of forces, which frankly is rather worse since its point of origin is coming from within the city. These things should not happen in the City of Light.
Seated at the library, you are shaken from scholarly reverie by the sound of footsteps. Two attendants approach your table; both meticulously groomed and polite without being unctuous or obseqious. One of them is holding a note bearing an official crest. "Professor, I apologize for interrupting your work, but Captain Merit has requested your presence in The Citadel...urgently, as it turns out. Can you attend him, or shall we send word back that you are not to be disturbed?"
It should be noted that a direct summons from Korius Merit, chosen of Iomedae, is impossibly rare. A summons to The Citadel, sacred ground of the Paladine of Izmir, even more so.
Belsarious:There is a pulling at your mind. "C H O O S E" a voice says, low and earth-shaking, yet apparently only heard by you. For days now, this has been happening. The lighter the teapot grew, the heavier the voice, the stronger the compulsion to walk over to the teapot and...and...and you're not sure, but you know the voice wants you to do something. Every time the eerie command is issued, the blue-clad figure outside your door suddenly appears within your line of sight.
Tendrils of old, wild magic are tugging, slapping at you. Thus far your patron has lent you strength to fight them off, and your will has been unbreakable, but you do not know how long you can keep this up. You do not know why you have not been allowed to leave, though you certainly have been treated well enough.
Now, as you stand in the Martial Courtyard, a few groups of soldiers sparring in the area around you, the figure in blue begins to approach, but now he? she? it? is accompanied by a stunning figure, a tall, muscular elf clad head-to-toe in scale mail made out of the hide and scales of a red dragon. The elf, impossibly handsome, speaks to you; "Well met, Belsarious, our guest. I am Arandur. Will you do me the honor of accompanying my companion and I to the Citadel? And can you bring the teapot? It is time to free you of its burdensome presence."
Sylsalitae: The guard in the tower, his eyes wide at your sudden appearance, takes a moment to find his breath and his words. "Ah, m-my lady, he approaches now!" The guard points past you. Turning around, your breath is whisked from you by the glory of what you see: an enormous gold dragon, the largest you have ever seen, is rocketing towards the city at an impossible rate of speed, a large human seated across his back, at the neck joint, in an ingeniously constructed masterwork saddle. As he gets close to the tower, the dragon suddenly pulls up, the wind from his wings as he reverses thrust so powerful you are nearly knocked from the sky.
Sir Damian: As you stand by your tent, an officer of the Paladine of Izmir approaches. "At ease, soldier," he says softly. "The Cavaliers of the Silver Flame are welcome here, their presence a boon." He inclines his head politely. "I understand you have a message for the captain. As it turns out, your presence has been requested in the Citadel immediately, by Korius himself, so you'll get to deliver your message in-person." The officer smiles and points to the sky. You see a massive gold dragon, huger than anything you have ever seen, plowing through the sky with eerie grace and power for something so impossibly big. It pulls up short by a white dragon (what is a white dragon doing this far south? and in the city?), and the gold dragon is so huge that the entire length of the white dragon is barely half as long as the gold's head and neck. Astride the gold dragon is an armored man, who the officer indicates is Captain Merit. "Will you accompany me, sir?" he asks you "Your belongings are safe here. Your steed may remain, or come with, as you wish."
Min: Finding an officer proves to be startlingly easy; trudging through the halls, you are intercepted by a noncom and two foot soldiers. The noncom flags you down at the same time you hail him, and after your query replies with "Sir! As it turns out, we were sent to retrieve you; your presence has been requested in the Citadel by Captain Merit himself, and he is coming to meet you and four others who have also been summoned." The officer looks at you again. "Will you accompany us? Your companion may wait here, or come with, as you wish."
"Well met! I have come a distance in a little time."
"You speak as though you know something of the pot and a burden, I would hear more of it. Is their a scholar or library that has information on tha pot?"
Knowledge arcane/nature/planes
DM
Do I need to seperate those rolls out?
"Well met! I have come a distance in a little time."
"You speak as though you know something of the pot and a burden, I would hear more of it. Is their a scholar or library that has information on tha pot?"
"We know," says Arandur, his leaf-green eyes flashing, "your road, and your burden, have both been unnecessarily difficult. Again, we thank you, and whatever powers guide you, for bringing the teapot here." Arandur and the mysterious figure in blue each give you a short, polite bow. "What there is to know cannot be learned in any normal library. You have come into possession of a magic artifact of great and terrible power, though I know it doesn't look like much on the surface." He gives you a wry smile. "If you come with us, we will explain to you all we know, and introduce you to Professor Luckbender, a scholar from Lesotho who will be assisting you. Time, I fear, is too short to spend time sifting the stacks in the main library, anyway."
Sylsalitae: The guard in the tower, his eyes wide at your sudden appearance, takes a moment to find his breath and his words. "Ah, m-my lady, he approaches now!" The guard points past you. Turning around, your breath is whisked from you by the glory of what you see: an enormous gold dragon, the largest you have ever seen, is rocketing towards the city at an impossible rate of speed, a large human seated across his back, at the neck joint, in an ingeniously constructed masterwork saddle. As he gets close to the tower, the dragon suddenly pulls up, the wind from his wings as he reverses thrust so powerful you are nearly knocked from the sky.
Give me a Fly check and a Knowledge(Nobility) check, please, also a will save for Ansrithar.
As Syl manages to adjust her crowned helm, one designed to let her hair flow out the back as well as keep visibility with some protection, she turns towards where the guard did indeed point - and finds herself entranced for a moment at the majesty of the draconic beast that flies towards them. She watches, and then quickly reaches to direct Ansrithar and direct him to take control - so they don't go plummeting out of the air as the other one leaves a channel of wind in its wake.
"Ah... so then we'll just have to make haste and give chase! Hyah!"
Seeing the majestic sight Min gives a low whistle and can't help himself as his eyes follow the gold dragons movements. After a moment though he regains control of his features and looks back at the noncom as the man speaks.
After listening patiently to the noncom speak, Min nods as he replies "Allow me a few moments and I will return with my companion shortly." He turns and briskly moves back to where their lodging's were located, before he entered the doorway he could already feel the intensity on their bond. As the unseen strain weighed down the bond he entered to find Lindórievórea already sitting and waiting for him, finished with her meal in a clean and timely fashion as always.
She quirked an eye ridge at him as he entered feeling his haste through the bond. As she spoke in flawless draconic "Are we to heading to battle then Min?"
Min shook his head, "Not exactly, its seems they want us to gather in their Citadel, our presence has been requested by a Captain Merit. Although they did say you didn't need to burden yourself with this and I wished to see if you needed more rest after all that travel."
Lindórievórea chuckled, a sound like a low rumble in her chest, as she stood and moved over to Min. "You need more rest then I Min, despite what you think." She playfully shoved him back out the doorway with her large head as she adds "Lead and I shall follow.
As the intensity left their bond the pair walked briskly back, the talked quietly as they approached the waiting noncom's. Min addressed them in common as he approached "Thank you for your patience, we are ready to follow you now."
Maybe I have heard of them from my father in the trackless woods before the humans came and destroyed our village....
knowledge (local)
"Neither one of your names is familiar to my ears though I spend much time alone listening the either the great or quiet voice of my god. Twas that voice that beckoned me here!"
DM
knowledge nature
Knowledge planes
"What can I do to help?"
Sir Damian: As you stand by your tent, an officer of the Paladine of Izmir approaches. "At ease, soldier," he says softly. "The Cavaliers of the Silver Flame are welcome here, their presence a boon." He inclines his head politely. "I understand you have a message for the captain. As it turns out, your presence has been requested in the Citadel immediately, by Korius himself, so you'll get to deliver your message in-person." The officer smiles and points to the sky. You see a massive gold dragon, huger than anything you have ever seen, plowing through the sky with eerie grace and power for something so impossibly big. It pulls up short by a white dragon (what is a white dragon doing this far south? and in the city?), and the gold dragon is so huge that the entire length of the white dragon is barely half as long as the gold's head and neck. Astride the gold dragon is an armored man, who the officer indicates is Captain Merit. "Will you accompany me, sir?" he asks you "Your belongings are safe here. Your steed may remain, or come with, as you wish."
Sir Damian salutes the officer. "Yes, sir. If it isn't inappropriate, I would prefer my own mount. He gets rather antsy if he gets wind that I'm riding another steed, and somehow he always knows." He briskly marches over to the nearby stable in which Keythan waits. Like all good mounts, Keythan is untethered and waits for no other reason than Damian instructed him to. Damian makes sure the saddle is secure and climbs on the griffon's back. He makes sure that his lance is secure as it hangs in a special holster on Keythan's right side.
He leans over and affectionately whispers to his mount, "Time to fly." Well-trained, Keythan takes three steps and flexes his powerful wings, launching into the air. The world drops away as Sir Damian and Keythan fly upwards, then back to the courtyard. As Keythan hovers, Damian shouts down at the officer, "After you, sir!"
Dolo regards his companion in the silence of the library. His keen mind wandering far more than usual. 'Aye, my friend, I sense it too. Something odd is afoot.'
Soon Dolo is startled but recovers from his interruption by sputtering and cursing. "Daggnabbit! Don't ye know better than ta sneak up on a body? Could'a died 'a fright. Durn fools."
He lets the two attendents look at each other, both wondering what to do next when Dolo continues. "Cap'n Merit you say? In the Citadel itself, no less? Dang it, why de ye have me waitin' about then? Lead the way and no dilly-dallying!"
Dolo follows the attendents, all but skipping at the prospect of gaining access to Captain Merit and catch a rare glimpse of the insides of the Citadel proper. 'Sure'n but Na-Salene 'll want to know about this meetin'.' offers Dolo to Glorfindel on their journey.
@Syl:
Hanging on for dear life in your saddle as enormous winds buffet you, you realize that you are face-to-face with the legendary Great Wyrm Na-Calanon; greatest of the metallic dragons of this age, Prefect of the Draconic Protectorate of the Lake, and a champion of light. His head alone is the size of a cathedral, his massive body larger than a palace.
One instant, he is before you in all his might and majesty. The next, he has blinked out of existence and reappeared beneath you, shrugging his wings once to send a powerful updraft towards you, helping you stay airborne. With a flick of your wrists and a flash of thought to Ansrithar, you will your companion to execute a neat wing-tuck-and-barrel-roll maneuver, stylishly regaining full control while simultaneously bringing yourself back down to Na-Calanon's level of sight.
The Great Wyrm laughs, and each chortle is a thunderclap.
"HAH HAH HAH! WELL DONE, YOUNG FRIENDS. NOW, IF YOU PLEASE, FOLLOW ME TO THE YARD." He pumps his enormous wings once and starts down towards the center of the city.
@Min:The noncom nods, and starts leading you towards the center of the city. You notice that he is openly admiring Lindórievórea's grace and power. "What..." he starts unsuredly, "...what's...what's it like?" he finally blurts out. "I'm sorry, forgive me if I'm being rude, but, we have some dragonriders in our battalion, in the cavalry, but we never get to speak much as they're always off somewhere...flying..." he trails off, then looks at you again, an almost boyishly earnest look on his gruff face. "What's it like...the bond? The...flying?"
@Belsarious:You are not aware of any magical teapots of great power, and are thinking it's a preposterously silly idea, but something about the aura around the silent one clad in blue gives you pause, gives you an inkling there is more going on here than meets the eye, like currents deep under an otherwise placid lake, that pull you down, down, to your death in the silent dark.
Plus, while Arandur is not known to you, it is obvious that he is Tuathan, so you know he must have strong connections with Nature, and is of High Blood.
"Well, the best way you can help is to come with us as we fetch the teapot, and then carry it to the citadel. You see, at this point, it has bonded to you, and as such you are the only one who can carry it. At the same time it is shielding you from certain dangers, it is also busy devouring your spirit, your aura, and the aura and spirit of all the possible versions of you that exist or have existed on any plane, ever. We must take you to the citadel, where we will break the bond, and free you, and attempt to contain the teapot."
You are walking as you are talking.
Syl laughs, quite the girl still in her as they rejoice and enjoy the fun about with flying and the joys of small movements that obviously brought amusement to the great wyrm beneath them. She swears she can hear a bit of fear in Ansrithar's thoughts, simply due to the difference in size.
"Obviously you've nothing to worry about, my dear - if he wanted you gone, we'd already be dead!" she says with a bit of laughter behind it, having far too much fun with this.
"I think you may be correct. I feel something, but I haven't an idea of how to express it - let's just follow and see what we can do to help. That's why we're here, yes?"
And so they dive, and when they dive, they do many twirling movements, much like a corkscrew, and will eventually land in the courtyard, opposite Na-Calanon.
@Sir Damian: The officer smiles and shakes his head. He points up at the massive, city-sized gold dragon, which is now flying towards the center of the city. "Not me, soldier; follow the leader!"
@Syl:
Ansrithar, momentarily cowed by the immense size and magisterial air about such a massive and ancient Wyrm, recovers himself marvelously and at your urging tears towards the city. At first, the superior quickness possessed by the two of you allows you to easily power past the far larger gold dragon, but after a few wingstrokes, Na-Calanon's much greater speed and control allow him to rush past you, and he lands in a distant courtyard. You see figures converging in that courtyard, two are quite colorful; one clad all in midnight blue, and the other in brightest crimson.
@Min:The noncom nods, and starts leading you towards the center of the city. You notice that he is openly admiring Lindórievórea's grace and power. "What..." he starts unsuredly, "...what's...what's it like?" he finally blurts out. "I'm sorry, forgive me if I'm being rude, but, we have some dragonriders in our battalion, in the cavalry, but we never get to speak much as they're always off somewhere...flying..." he trails off, then looks at you again, an almost boyishly earnest look on his gruff face. "What's it like...the bond? The...flying?"
Lindórievórea's hides the pleasure of being admired by the noncom as Min smiles slightly as their bond betrays her feelings. With the small smile still playing across his face he thinks on what the noncom asked and responds calmly and politely. "You are not being rude in the slightest my friend, it is an honest question and sadly I will have to disappoint you because... The bond for me was a life changing event. It gave me purpose, a reason to go on when at the time I simply existed day to day." He pauses as their bond seems to resound with each word, he refrains from rubbing Lindórievórea's powerful neck. Which to his embarrasment she notices and rumble's quietly.
His voice betrays his emotions as he becomes more animated at the thoughts coming to the fore of his mind as he continues. "Now flying is an entirely different story and one that I can tell you in great detail, more so then we have time i'm afraid... Now When you are on a dragons back, even in full battle dress, you will feel moments of weightlessness as you soar through the air. As if you are one with the heavens themselves, every time we have soared into the skies the feeling is refreshing and a whole new experiance. The feeling is one of a kind! He pauses a moment as he calms down and takes on a more serious tone. "Now fighting alongside your ally is even more intense. When your fighting in a battle the world becomes so chaotic because instead of fighting what is before you or above, you are now forced to fight in every direction sometimes. At the end of the day you feel like you couldn't take another step, make another swing with your blade even if your life depended on it. But when the next morning dawns you put on your armor and do it all over again!"
As Lindórievórea, who had been quietly rumbling next to him, suddenly filling the area with the loud hearty sound of her draconic laughter. Min flushes slightly with embarrassment at the feeling erupting from the bond. "Perhaps it would be best if we took you with us one day, just a quick flight around the city and as high as we are able. Then you can understand what I speak of."
Watching the playful flight above them Min watches for a brief moment until Lindórievórea interrupts his thinking as she voice his thoughts "We could join them? I am not tired Min and it does look like great fun~"
Min smiles as he turns back to the soldier. "I will need to know your name, because I think we are going to take a shorter route my friend. You could come with us if you want and give directions~" Min smiles broadly as he waits for the noncom's response.
Tiria's Pinnacle - a history of the region with a focus on Lesotho
The Art of Siege Warfare A 'how to' guide on how to construct siege engines and defend against them as well
Machinations A treatise on various clockwork devices that are extraordinary such as the steam-driven cart.
Arcane Engineering A lengthy applied science tome on using magic and engineering together
A Tinker's Guide to Crossbows A 'how-to' book on crafting various crossbows, how to make them better, the physics of the launch, and his specialty - the heavy, repeating crossbow
Inter-agency Cooperation in the Arts An essary on the sharing of findings among different universities and libraries for the betterment of the world
Magical Metal A guide to Mithral
Nature's Broom Doctoral Thesis on the Gelatinous Cube
Damian and Keythan soar towards the great dragon, falling into the standard v-shaped formation of an aerial squadron, with Na-Calanon and Captain Korius in the middle. Na-Calanon's gliding speed is easily many times that of Keythan. Damian pushes the griffon, trying to keep up, but still falls a bit behind. He sees several other riders are in the same predicament, although they are not keeping to any standard formation that he knows of. As he comes to the courtyard a few moments after Korius and Na-Calanon landed, he spots the blue and crimson figures.
Damian puts a hand on Keythan's neck, their sign for Keythan to hover quietly. While Damian had indeed been invited, he still awaits the order to land. It is military protocol, something that he is quite attached to. He pulls his shield off his back and silently presents it as proof of authenticity.
Syl and Ansrithar dive, and dive, and dive... and then they near the ground. With great ability and almost a feral instinct to recover from such a freefall, the white dragon soars up to allow his momentum to stop - pushing forces of wind into the courtyard as a result, most likely coughing up dirt everywhere - and then landing firmly on the ground.
This is followed by the dragon's natural instinct to scream for dominance - a cacophonous roar echoes forth, though it is most likely tame compared to Na-Calanon's, if he chose to do so. As such, Syl joins in with her hollars and dismounts quickly, her armor making light noises that almost sound musical. It's here that she awaits the elder wyrm to land, and actually moves to greet the crimson and sapphire soldiers.
"'Ello there, dears - the name's Sylsalitae of House Dwinghymnaear! You can call me Syl, and it is a great pleasure to meet you."
Standing before you is a taller woman, elven by obvious descent and of Tuathan bloodlines specifically, though generally only elves can tell that sort of thing. Her attire is very abnormal, though her origins seem to be from the north according to it. Chainmail dyed in light greens, each link crafted with care, was her armor of choice, but it was aided by large, fur-covered pauldrons that flew out into a cape behind her. Such a thing showed she was from a cold environment of some sort, or that it had special meaning to her. Over the chainmail was a tabard, white as snow, but emblazoned was a green symbol of the goddess Sarenrae, and the colors she wore only aided her natural looks. Upon her head was a metallic crown, which spread into a larger, more protective circlet around her skull - this allowed her long, flowing blonde locks to be free, though a single braid fell at the right of her face. Piercing eyes of green stared, and almost welcomed you, as if she had been expecting your presence.
"How long to tha citadel an what will my role be in unbonding myself?"
DM
continue to consider this strange device....
Damian watches the elf girl land her dragon in the courtyard impassively. She must not be a soldier, so quick to land and informally introduce herself. He silently disapproves, but quickly catches himself. Thoughts become words for the careless, the first step towards a darker path. He simply waits silently for protocol to be followed.
THE COURTYARD is huge, the size of a small town, and possibly one of the few places a creature so great as Na-Calanon could land. It is surrounded on all sides by great glass-and-metal spires, structures of finely-hewn marble, and there is a glorious, giant statue of Iomedae in the center. Paladine and clerics are here and there, and seem not at all disturbed by the sudden appearance of a multitude of flying beasts and great heroes in their midst.
THE CITADEL ITSELF, meanwhile, is also massive, with four giant columns, each easily a dozen feet in diameter or more, and made entirely of marble and fine stained glass. It is rectangular, longer than it is wide, and gigantic.
@Min: The noncom stops and looks at you. "My name is Benjamin, sir, Sergeant Benjamin Rig. Um, Ben. I'm not sure what you…" His voice trails off. Suddenly he seems to realize what it is you're saying. "I…we could…you mean…? You mean it?!" He seems beside himself with excitement, and barely able to maintain the barest essence of decorum and protocol.
@Dolo: You are crossing the courtyard with the two functionaries when the largest gold dragon you have ever seen comes barreling out of the sky, a much slimmer white dragon trailing behind it. Both have riders. With an enormous thud that shakes the ground, the dragon lands and booms a greeting.
"PROFESSOR! IT IS A PLEASURE TO FINALLY MEET YOU."
As all this is going on, you notice a strange pair of what appear to be elven soldiers leading a third elf through the courtyard to where you stand. The third has a bag on his back, and is dressed like a druid of some sort, perhaps, or a ranger.
@Sir Damian: as you lift off, you realize that the gold dragon you are following is the legendary Great Wyrm Na-Calanon; greatest of the metallic dragons of this age, Prefect of the Draconic Protectorate of the Lake, and a champion of light.
When you reach the courtyard, Na-Calanon begins speaking with a tiny creature almost immediately, his voice booming across the city. His rider, meanwhile, dismounts and removes his helm. Looking skyward towards where you and Keythan are holding formation, he snaps a flawless salute, and indicates for you a landing spot near where he, Na-Calanon, and the gnome are standing.
@Belsarious: Arandur continues to do all the talking as you approach the edge of the courtyard. A huge gold dragon, a white dragon, and a griffon are all flying in together, each with a rider. The gold dragon, upon landing, begins conversing with a gnome who had already arrived at the door of the Citadel. "Well my friend, I fear I am ignorant of what the process will be, though I imagine a great deal of fortitude and an indomitable will shall be required from you. At first, if what I am told is true, you will feel an immense pain, as if your heart is being torn from your chest. Then you will suffer unimaginable loss, as if all you cared for were smote before your eyes. Then, after this, you will feel the euphoria of freedom; freedom you didn't know you had lost. But again I must say, this is all just what I have been told. I have never -- and hope to never -- experienced it.
@Syl: you approach the two dressed in Midnight Blue and Crimson, and the third they are leading. The tall one, standing well over seven feet, is clad in studded leather midnight blue armor, of a workmanship you have never before encountered. Bizarre characters, etched in a rich silver, line the armor like piping. His? Her? cloak seems to be less cloth than an actual piece of the night itself, and he? she? moves with complete silence, leaving no footprints. Their face, already difficult to see from the deeply cowled hood, is, you realize, hidden behind a strange mask made of a metal mesh. The metal appears to be like mithral, or maybe adamant, but almost…liquid.
The one in red, you realize now, is wearing armor made from the scales and hide of a red dragon. He is crushingly handsome, also tall, much more muscular than most any elf you've ever encountered, with broad shoulders. His dark hair is long and lustrous, and pulled back in a topknot and loose braid down his back. His eyes, too, are darker than usual, but still a deep verdant green. He addresses you coldly; "I am Arandur, of Ilunidel, Crown City of Tuatha, and friend to the throne, indeed I grew up with Princess Minathiel Ellethwen, current heir, and studied swordcraft under her father, and if you are truly of the house you say you are from -- for I will not speak that name -- then you may not call me friend, and I will call you deserter." His dark eyes flash, he is clearly very upset. "I will be civil in this place, in the Citadel of Light, as decorum demands, but can promise you no more."
The man who had been riding Na-Calanon speaks up as the Griffon-rider is landing. "Everyone! I am Captain Korius Merit. I welcome you all here. There is another dragonrider whose arrival we are awaiting, but we must tend quickly to urgent business. Arandur, please wait here for the final dragonrider and lead him to us when he arrives. The rest of you, please come with me into the Sanctum, where I will explain as much as I can." Captain Merit then turns and starts walking to the Citadel.
"Sir Damian Lamorak!" He calls over his shoulder. "Will you walk with me, please? I understand you have a communication for me from your commander."
@Min: The noncom stops and looks at you. "My name is Benjamin, sir, Sergeant Benjamin Rig. Um, Ben. I'm not sure what you…" His voice trails off. Suddenly he seems to realize what it is you're saying. "I…we could…you mean…? You mean it?!" He seems beside himself with excitement, and barely able to maintain the barest essence of decorum and protocol.
Min gives a hardy laugh as he gestures to his saddle and looks at the noncom with a broad smile on his face. "As long as I don't cause you any trouble Sergeant Benjamin, we don't see any problem with it." Lindórievórea's chuckles subside as she nods her head in agreement to Min's words. "We aren't going to do anything crazy merely a taste of what you wished to know~ Just remember you to point us in the direction of where we are supposed to be going. Min gives a laugh as he jumps up behind the saddle and takes hold of the saddlebags to steady himself. Lindórievórea's kneels slightly to make it easier for the Sergeant to get into the saddle.
Lindórievórea rumbles lightly again as she says in draconic "This will prove most interesting, shall we do something... Fancy~
Min continues to smile, just barely avoiding joining Lin in a soft laugh, as he replies in draconic "Nothing too crazy we don't want to scare the Sergeant."
Syl seemed to frown at him and his antics - his arrogance at feeling superior, believing he had the right to give her a negative title, all of this felt unnecessary. She'd smile anyways, in the most polite of ways, and was almost sarcastic.
Stop while you're ahead. Don't lower to his level, Sylly, or you'll lose what you already have over him.
She still smiled, and gave Arandur a slight bow - almost respectful, as if giving him a disregard to everything he had said. Her eyes show nothing but mischief, as if he had walked right into a trap.
"It's very nice to meet you, Arandur of Tuatha," she recites in a very casual dialect, informal at best, "and hope to see that your arrogance does not blind your wisdom. This is my very established partner, and he is called Ansrithar - but you may regard him as a noble of any other land, and he appreciates being shown the utmost respect. Isn't that right, milord?"
She turns to the now-confused dragon, who takes a moment to catch on, and then gives a toothy grin.
"Why, yes indeed! I am of a great bloodline, seeping from deep within the mountains to the far north. My foes know no mercy in combat, for they deserve none from the greatest predator in the region! It is a great honor to have met you, though I fear your manners may need some reworking!"
Meanwhile, Syl giggles lightly, and moves to follow after the Captain, Ansrithar strutting close behind as though he were a consort - but he stops at the entrance, and trots back to lay down and relax in the courtyard, now slightly bored.
@Min: The noncom stops and looks at you. "My name is Benjamin, sir, Sergeant Benjamin Rig. Um, Ben. I'm not sure what you…" His voice trails off. Suddenly he seems to realize what it is you're saying. "I…we could…you mean…? You mean it?!" He seems beside himself with excitement, and barely able to maintain the barest essence of decorum and protocol.
Min gives a hardy laugh as he gestures to his saddle and looks at the noncom with a broad smile on his face. "As long as I don't cause you any trouble Sergeant Benjamin, we don't see any problem with it." Lindórievórea's chuckles subside as she nods her head in agreement to Min's words. "We aren't going to do anything crazy merely a taste of what you wished to know~ Just remember you to point us in the direction of where we are supposed to be going. Min gives a laugh as he jumps up behind the saddle and takes hold of the saddlebags to steady himself. Lindórievórea's kneels slightly to make it easier for the Sergeant to get into the saddle.
Lindórievórea chuckles again as she says in draconic "This will prove most interesting, shall we do something... Fancy~
Min continues to smile, just barely avoiding joining Lin in a soft laugh, as he replies in draconic "Nothing too crazy we don't want to scare the Sergeant."
Ben is grinning from ear to ear as you and Lin give him a lift - literally - to the Courtyard in front of the Citadel of Light, which Ben barely remembers to direct you to. As you come in to land, you see that there is a white dragon -- bit big for its age, you reckon -- and the largest gold dragon you have ever seen. As you land, a lone figure, an elf in red dragonhide scale mail armor, approaches. He eyes you up and down, and introduces himself. He appears to be in a most foul mood.
"I am Arandur, of Ilunidel, Crown City of Tuatha. You yourself look Tuathan, like one from Haelith if I don't miss my mark. Tell me, do you feel the Leylament? Or have you deserted the homeland as well, like the other one that has gone inside? Answer while we walk, if you could, your mount should remain here with the others." He indicates the dragons, a strange extraplanar creature, and a militarily caparisoned griffon that are all standing or lying in the courtyard. Arandur motions for you to follow him as he begins walking briskly towards the Citadel.
Just before you leave, Ben thanks you profusely, shaking your hand about forty times, and says quietly, reverently..."I understand now. Only just a little, but I understand." He turns and also thanks Lin.
Korius turns as he mounts the top step. "I am sorry, my friends, but your companions must remain here. The places we are about to visit in the Citadel, they may not tread. I do apologize, and beg both your understanding and forgiveness."
"Why, yes indeed! I am of a great bloodline, seeping from deep within the mountains to the far north. My foes know no mercy in combat, for they deserve none from the greatest predator in the region! It is a great honor to have met you, though I fear your manners may need some reworking!"Meanwhile, Syl giggles lightly, and moves to follow after the Captain, Ansrithar strutting close behind as though he were a consort.
Arandur takes in everything you say, cocking a single perfectly arched eyebrow. He seems baffled by your response, more than anything, but is obviously still upset. He chooses, for the moment, to remain silent as he watches you walk away.
The other two, however, walk to the Citadel as well.
Ben is grinning from ear to ear as you and Lin give him a lift - literally - to the Courtyard in front of the Citadel of Light, which Ben barely remembers to direct you to. As you come in to land, you see that there is a white dragon -- bit big for its age, you reckon -- and the largest gold dragon you have ever seen. DC 15 K(Nobility) to know the stuff about Na-Calanon that Sir Damian and Syl know. As you land, a lone figure, an elf in red dragonhide scale mail armor, approaches. copy -n- paste the description of Arandur here. :-) He eyes you up and down, and introduces himself. He appears to be in a most foul mood.
"I am Arandur, of Ilunidel, Crown City of Tuatha. You yourself look Tuathan, like one from Haelith if I don't miss my mark. Tell me, do you feel the Leylament? Or have you deserted the homeland as well, like the other one that has gone inside? Answer while we walk, if you could, your mount should remain here with the others." He indicates the dragons, a strange extraplanar creature, and a militarily caparisoned griffon that are all standing or lying in the courtyard. Arandur motions for you to follow him as he begins walking briskly towards the Citadel.Just before you leave, Ben thanks you profusely, shaking your hand about forty times, and says quietly, reverently..."I understand now. Only just a little, but I understand." He turns and also thanks Lin.
Keeping his face neutral, but polite, Min waits until after the High Elf is done with his tirade before he bows respectfully. As he stands upright he catches Arandur's eye as he responds respectfully in Tuathan to his 'oh so direct' questioning. "Elwaaw aey amama el anira silmn. sa lilsa ela Min, eo Haelith, illw E ils le sema il 'walaamanam' aniral Celwómeaelómail ela il 'seylan' Irevir Cemw Arandur. Laelnya aey illanaw E we oaac anira Caacilsalan waaty el sa felala ameanir aelama fmailanir E anilna ilamila omes anira oemalaanla eo Anyilaniril. Tymila amirilan fmelvla aey lae oilm omes eym iresacillw?
Min shakes Ben's hand with a firm grip and wishes him good fortune in the coming days, smiling at the Sergeant's retreating figure as the man approaches Lin. Lin bows her head to the excited Sergeant, taking a quiet pride in making someones day with so simple a service. She keeps her stance neutral at Arandur disrespectful words, as she easily sees that anger is what drives this elf.
The bond fills with the weight of words, unsaid as Min is forced to walk briskly out of the courtyard, he looks back for a fleeting look at his companion before disappearing into the Citadel proper.
@Dolo: You are crossing the courtyard with the two functionaries when the largest gold dragon you have ever seen comes barreling out of the sky, a much slimmer white dragon trailing behind it. Both have riders. With an enormous thud that shakes the ground, the dragon lands and booms a greeting.
"PROFESSOR! IT IS A PLEASURE TO FINALLY MEET YOU." ** spoiler omitted **...
"Greetings Prefect Na-Calanon.begins Dolo in draconic, using all of the required protocols and proper greetings befitting such a majestic and noble being.
Dolo beams at the dragon's references and chuckles as he references the others. So down-to-earth for one so ancient, especially given that he has such a burden of responsibility as well.
"I am most humbled by your affectations and generosity of kindness related to my works. I had no idea you had read them. Perhaps I can sign a copy for you." teases the gnome while smiling and winking at the dragon.
"You have Na-Selene to thank for my publications, as she is my generous and patient benefactor. I also appreciate the information regarding Cassien but I don't know if being eaten by an angry red is my cup of tea. Perhaps with you as escort I could conduct the interview, yes?"
"I am Belsarious and it seems tha I have miles tah go before I sleep."
(in Elven)
"Long has my path departed from yours, but thanks for reminding me o better days long past."
Damian lands his griffon on the courtyard, where his talons click against the stone. He dismounts and salutes the Captain, doing his best to hide a smile of excitement. Most of the paladine treated his order as the military equivalent of a younger brother, so to be spoken to with respect is a great boon from a great leader. He performs a quick inspection to make sure his lance is secure on Keythan and the saddle is still in place, then quietly whispers to the griffon to stay.
He strides confidently to Captain Merit and presents the sealed letter. "Yes, sir. I bring word from First Knight Protector Petrov Iridia of the Order of the Silver Flame. He speaks highly of you, sir." He falls a step behind Merit and matches his marching speed. Damian keeps his eyes straight ahead, his walk steady. While the sights of the Citadel are impressively overwhelming, Sir Damian is determined not to appear as some starry-eyed squire.
@Min:At your words, Arandur's attitude softens considerably. "Ah, then you know. You understand. I am sorry for judging so quickly." He inclines his head politely. "It's just that other one, to meet one so young, so careless and callous..." He stares at the door to the Citadel, where you assume this other elf he's speaking of must have gone.
While Arandur is genuinely angry, he also seems to be jealous of Syl's freedom from the Leylament, which you can certainly understand.
"In answer to your question, friend, I too return to the woods of our homeland, at least once a year. I joined the Paladine of Captain Merit as directed by my patron god, Ketephys, the Hunter, for my skills in combat were wasted in patrols and defenses. So it was, after speaking with my King and Queen, that I came here, and have been fighting back the Black Tide ever since.
Your dragon, sir, is a marvelous specimen. I envy your fortune."
@Dolo:
As for Casien, she is not so quick to anger as your typical Red. She is...very ancient...and has other interests besides eating random travelers, especially one as small as yourself. Most of her time these days is spent philosophizing about the essence of being, of spirit and life, and she spends much time wandering the outer planes.
She has quite a fondness for well-brewed tea, so if you begin your entreaties to her with a fine cup, it will get you farther than any draconic accompaniment ever could. Of course, that being said, she is still an embodiment of evil, so great care should be taken to be as diplomatic as possible."
@Sir Damian: Captain Merit is a tall man without being unusally so. Standing 6'2" and possessed of a solid, soldier's build, he has black hair that has gone near white at the temples. His eyes are a deep, electric blue, like the waters of the Deepest Lake itself, just to the west of the city, from which the Protectorate takes its name. His beard and moustache alike are neatly trimmed and show some of the same whiteness as is at his temples, but he has a remarkably -- you would say quite remarkably -- youthful appearance and gait. It is no wonder he is an inspiration, you've known men half what Captain Merit's age must be who walk and talk as if they are twice as old. As the two of you walk, a little ways ahead of the others, he reads the sealed letter you hand him, then speaks to you in a low, clear voice:
"Ah, Petrov. Dear Petrov." A silence passes, in which a shadow briefly clouds Korius' azure eyes.
"He is a good man, your leader, but tilting against an old guard stuck in its ways. I have an assignment for you, Sir Damian, that will not only be of immense value in the war against the Twin Tides, but will also help elevate your order beyond the unfortunate second-class status it has so unfairly been saddled with.
I have always been a great believer in the Order of the Silver Flame, Sir Damian, but I was one voice in a minority. I never understood others' objections or protestations. Never. Now you will have a chance to silence them all, oh and incidentally, prove me right, though I assure you that's not my main goal."
He winks at you and smiles winningly.
"Provided our friend the wood elf" he indicates Belsarious "survives the coming magical ordeal, I will be sending you, and hopefully the other four, on a mission to retrieve some...items. All are magical, cursed, and quite frankly, possibly the most dangerous things in the world. Would you be willing to undertake this, sir? If not, I will gladly have you fight in the Air Cavalry, but I believe this to be a better use of your talents and drive. The professor will need a dedicated protector, and I want a military presence involved should you encounter other organized forces."
"If you accept, then we will dine together tonight, and I will give you the rest of the details. First, we must see how this...exorcism goes, as much hinges on it."
He looks searchingly at you. "What say you, sir?"
"Provided I survive the first process I might ask tha someone else grab tha other items or find a pair of tongs tah grab them up!"
"Knowing tha curse o this item makes me quick tah be rid o it, an tah find an be rid o tha others, great and terribly it feeds upon me, to ah great an terrible end!"
DM
I am prepared to use hero points for this unbonding process, to survive it!
"My thanks, Prefect Na-Caladon, for your insightful words. I will pen a follow-up history based on the information I glean from the ancient Casien. I will be sure to send you a copy as soon as it is penned." gushes Dolo, clearly swept up in the glorious fandom of the dragon.
Your dragon, sir, is a marvelous specimen. I envy your fortune."
Seeing as Arandur continues speaking in the human tongue, Min changes back to his more favored dialect. Min bows his head in respect and thanks for the kind words about Lin "She is indeed one of a kind, and one of the few reason's I still exist today thankfully. Our meeting could have only been through fates intervention I believe. Or else I would be long dead in the woods having made a reckless and foolish stand against the Black Tide and she too, sadly, would have died long ago as well."
He pauses a moment as he contemplates what to say next. Taking a deep breath to steady himself he continues, his voice strong and confident. "Before I continue to build myself up on what could be seen as false pretenses, I will be honest, I wasn't always Bonded to Tautha in fact I left the homeland when I was young. If you are wondering why it is because High Lord Arandur I am in fact a 'half-blood.'" Min doesn't pause for his reaction and continues speaking "Besides that I became bonded mainly in honor of my mother who decided that a wretch like myself was worth giving life and love to, she never faltered in supporting me against more venomous tongues. I was too young and foolish to understand that until I met Lindórievórea who helped me to grow in ways I never thought possible. I mean no disrespect when I say this, but I don't know if I can share your views of this young elf. At least it sounds like they are of a pure bloodline and in time perhaps they too will come around. 'Ameanir anesa nyesala amelawes illw ylwamlaanillwelv.'" He waits this time to hear Arandur's reaction, through all of this he doesn't cease walking alongside Arandur as they walk into the Citadel.
With time comes wisdom and understanding.
I have to be honest I have found some pretty handy language converters online that help me form sentences. Mainly because I suck at figuring how to say everything just right on my own. So if you want to take back that boon that's fine. Just thought i'd be honest, since this isn't all just my work~ ;)
But it does adds some flavor, if it ever gets annoying just let me know xD
"Provided I survive the first process I might ask tha someone else grab tha other items or find a pair of tongs tah grab them up!"
"Knowing tha curse o this item makes me quick tah be rid o it, an tah find an be rid o tha others, great and terribly it feeds upon me, to ah great an terrible end!"
DM
** spoiler omitted **
Captain Merit looks back at you, Belsarious. "I can understand, friend. Once one becomes aware of what something like The Teapot of Exquisite Poison -- for that is its name -- does to you, any person with any common sense is eager to be rid of it. But I will say this, Belsarious; your Patron, whoever or whatever it is, has lent you great strength in resisting the teapot's charms. I am certain Arialanar Maren" he indicates the tall figure in blue "has had something to do with that, but most of the power is yours. If I'm right, then something about your connection to the Great Trackless Woods is in play here."
** spoiler omitted **
The two of you are able to chat up until you enter the Citadel, though at this point its mostly Na-Calanon asking after favorite haunts and certain professors and musicians and tastemakers in Lesotho. He seems extraordinarily up-to-the-minute with all the goings-on in the city. If you didn't know better, you'd swear he was a brass dragon. ;-)
Sir Damian quickly agrees with Captain Merit. "Sir, I would be honored and proud to take on any assignment you had for me. I appreciate your kind words regarding the order." He allows himself a rare smile. "And if that assignment is proving you right, all the better for both of us. I assure you that I will give everything I have in pursuit of this item, whatever it is." Damian salutes and takes a step back.
When Merit speaks to Belsarious about a curse, Damian silently falls a little. It still stings him that Iomedae did not bless him with the healing powers of a paladin. He banishes the thought as soon as it comes into his mind. It is not his place to question which blessings he had been given, but simply to live up to the ones he did have.
Sir Damian quickly agrees with Captain Merit. "Sir, I would be honored and proud to take on any assignment you had for me. I appreciate your kind words regarding the order." He allows himself a rare smile. "And if that assignment is proving you right, all the better for both of us. I assure you that I will give everything I have in pursuit of this item, whatever it is." Damian salutes and takes a step back.
When Merit speaks to Belsarious about a curse, Damian silently falls a little. It still stings him that Iomedae did not bless him with the healing powers of a paladin. He banishes the thought as soon as it comes into his mind. It is not his place to question which blessings he had been given, but simply to live up to the ones he did have.
After speaking with Belsarious, Korius turns back to Sir Damian. "ItemS, plural, Sir Damian, I'm afraid. I will be sending you to retrieve a number of items. But that discussion can wait."
He continues to lead you all through the noble halls of the citadel. Everywhere around you is finery and wonderment; high marble ceilings glossed with amazing frescoes, wall tapestries a hundred feet long, and statues to the Inheritor, her heralds, and great heroes of the past.
@Belsarious:
Discipline.
Honor.
Truth.
Justice.
Normally, these are simply words, mere concepts. But in the Citadel, they seem all the more real. There are statues dedicated to those who lived and died in pursuit of them. Just being in this place heartens Damian. He stands in front of a statue of Iomedae and quietly prays to her for strength.
Saves including spending two hero points!
Fortitude
Will
Discipline.
Honor.
Truth.
Justice.
Normally, these are simply words, mere concepts. But in the Citadel, they seem all the more real. There are statues dedicated to those who lived and died in pursuit of them. Just being in this place heartens Damian. He stands in front of a statue of Iomedae and quietly prays to her for strength.
Saves including spending two hero points!
** spoiler omitted **
@Min: Arandur thinks for a moment on what you said, then responds in Elvish as well; "Of course you're right. Spending so much time in the company of humans can make one...impulsive, I find. Humans in battle, even worse." He gives you a wry, sideways smile. He shares some of his favorite memories of Tuatha, and your home town of Haelith, as you continue walking to the Citadel.
1d20+5