Looking at the wounds on the nonhuman corpse, Ssilax takes a few moments to examine the strange serpentine body. He tries to gauge how fresh the body was.
"[b]I wonder if "she" slew the half-orc? A slightly more important question is; What killed this creature?[/]" Ssilax ponders out loud. The young Theurge finishes his examination and goes back to keeping an eye on their surroundings.
|
Creatures from other planes such as this appear so very rarely on this one. You have never seen one of these, but from the description you read about Azatas, and the subtype Lillend, you now know them to be true. They are large and beautiful, and the opposite of devils in many ways. They supposedly sometimes inhabit places in the clouds here on Sel Torin. Lillends, of all the Azatas, thrive on music and art, and are often found with harps or other instruments.
This one is covered in blood, her own. Whatever did this to her had large, very sharp claws, and Argon is reminded of his childhood encounter with ... that thing. Indeed, Rygear says he suspects it might be the same creature. Under her blood you note a large, intricate tattoo of a stylized dragon going from the right side of her face down to her stomach on the left side. She has very little on her person, and you get the impression these creatures don't typically traipse around with lots of equipment. She does have an empty scabbard on a silk belt; the scabbard would have held a longsword sized appropriately for her.
Her body is cool but not cold. She has been dead a short while, perhaps an hour or less. Her face has a pained expression on it, and she's curled up, eyes closed, hands clenched, her tail in a coil, with only the end sticking out a bit - the part you saw from above.
Me'lar approaches after the body is uncovered.
Rygear seems shaken by it. "A spirit of freedom and music and love, I think. An Azata, I think she is called. Why or how she came to be here, I have no idea. "
Argon moves to search the body a square inch at a time, starting with the tail part everyone saw from above. He studies the scales, having no idea how such creatures can exists.
He tries to piece together a series of events that led to this. She slays the orc? Then something, surely no orc, slays her. Why was she here? To kill orcs? Did she leave the message for Wrathe, and all of them? If not, who did?
" Well that is very strange, could someone had summoned her from her plane? " Daxniss asks while looking at the tattoo on her face, her interest more in the style.
" Wait so something killed her, and I take it the Azata are powerful enough to travel the planes... " Daxniss pauses unable to put her finger on how to ask the right question.
Daxniss shrugs, she had an understanding enough on the theory of magic, one couldn't be friends with Ssilax and Wrathe and not pick up a few things on how magic worked. Unfortunately, Daxniss hadn't paid enough mind on the planes, and this lack of knowledge was going to bite her on the ass.
Wrathe relays what he knows of Azatas and Lillends to the others.
Scratching his chin, he nods along with Daxniss' question, "That makes sense, which suggest that there's a very powerful spell caster about." Twas likely the bearer of the warning.
Bugbear Wrathe starts sniffing around to locate the scent of the missing spell slinger.
"Well, something with long, wicked claws did this damage, not a blade. And it was less then an hour ago." Ssilax says glancing back at the body of the Azata. "Also, it looks like her blade was taken." He crouches down, brushing a lock of her blood splattered hair from her face. "She was in pain, alone, and terrified." The dragonkin's expression was completely hidden by cowl and hood. The tone of his voice was that of sadness. "I'm sorry," Ssilax says to the body almost to softly to be heard.
Looking at the intricate dragon tattoo decorating the side of the Azata as he stands up, Ssilax's mind tries to identify the dragon. Sighing, the young Theurge looks around at their surroundings. Bowing his head and closing his eyes, the dragonkin says a short prayer to help to ease the Azata's soul to her afterlife. It was a bit of modified prayer, normally reserved for those of a magical nature. Nethys' priests didn't really care about the afterlife of those that didn't worship the Mad God of Magic. He had taken a bit of there magical rites and some he had learned from Storm to create his own.
"I don't think she was summoned to this plane from another. If she was, it would be unlikely that the body would remain. From what I remember reading, creatures not native to the plane they die upon tend to vanish, almost called back to there own plane." the dragonkin pauses for a few moments. "Well, I'm pretty sure that's the case." Ssilax shrugs his robed shoulders.
|
|
Both Wrathe and Ssilax know that most outsiders do not have a body-soul duality - when they are slain, they are gone forever, barring a Wish or other powerful magics. There are some exceptions to this: summoned creatures who are slain here go back to their home plane are are not dead; and certain outsiders with human ancestry, such as Argon, do not disappear but can be raised, as their souls still exist after they are killed.
If she wasn't summoned, she must have come here on her own, or live here if those stories are more than just fancies.
Ssilax looks back up the slope and spots something. On a large rock, up near the plateau, just off the path leading down, is a bit of writing - some kind of obscure symbol. It is facing down the hill and could not be seen from anywhere above it. He recognizes it as possibly from one of the Symbol spells, though he is unsure as to which one.
As you look around, Argon combing over the body, Rygear opens her hands. In the right one, he pulls out a small silvery cylinder, with metal caps on both ends. It actually looks like mithral, and is about two inches long and a half inch in diameter. He examines it closely and then unscrews one end, aiming it downslope and away from everyone. Inside, he finds a small slip of vellum, and unrolls it, looking at it for a few seconds. Then he shows it to you. It has five names written on it in beautiful, elegant handwriting, and nothing else:
Ssilax
Wrathe
Dorian?
Daxniss
Argon
Squinting a bit at the symbol, Ssilax tries to figure out what the symbol is supposed to be. Figuring it would be faster to ask Rygear, the dragonkin turns around. This just happens to be as the warrior-priest opens the small mithral cylinder.
The young Theurge can't help but stare at his name written down on the small piece of vellum. Part of his mind admired the elegance of the handwriting, the other part was rather creeped out by the sight of their names.
"That's... a bit odd. Any ideas as to why she had our names written down? I have several theories, but most of them are based in paranoia and not fact." Ssilax glances back over his shoulder at the strange symbol. "Rygear, is that Symbol something that is protecting the entrance of passages like the one we used?" the dragonkin asks, throwing a clawed thumb over his shoulder at the symbol.
" Tha.... That's just bloody odd, now why and the crows are our names on a scroll... ". Daxniss trails off shocked at this recent turn off events. Saxniss also trailed off as she felt a familiar chill go up her spine.
Daxniss turns her head and notices that her shadow had started to enlarge it self. What had truly sent the chills was that for the first time, she almost make out a predatory gleam of smile.
" Stop that! Behave now! ". She says in a hiss that is barely audible to the others standing nearby. The shadow flinches and starts to shrink back towards a more normal shape. The Stalkers gift that made all animals afraid of her, had always been present.
Daxniss shakes her head at Ssilax's words and asks " A symbol? I don't recall seeing one at the sank. "
Looking at Daxniss calmly for a few moments, Ssilax focus back to her question. He noted her changing shadow, but made no comment of it. It wasn't the first time her shadow had changed in size.
"No, I meant from the tunnel we exited from," Ssilax says. The dragonkin had turned half-way around and pointed up at the symbol. "I'm pretty sure it's part of Symbol magics, like wards." Ssilax mentions. "I'd rather not get closer to it, or examine it in detail. They have a decent range of effect, depending on what magics are involved," the young Theurge says.
"I wonder why Dorian's name has a question mark next to it?" the dragonkin comments out loud.
Wrathe turns at the mention of the symbol, wondering if its placement connects to the glamer they heard earlier.
They all appeared to be a known entity, which was confusing.
Having busied himself the wizard remains distracted, only perceiving the events moments after they transpire.
He hoped to be able to track those that were here just an hour beforehand.
|
|
The symbol is not near the underground entrance, rather it is just off the path leading downward. You would have seen easily it if you had taken the path. Neither Ssilax nor Wrathe recognize the symbol, as it is from a spell they had likely read about rather than seen directly.
Rygear says, "I don't think it was there before, and I don't think it protects the tunnel. I think it is some kind of trap on the trail, and we received that obscure warning about it. I have more to say, but it must wait. If there's nothing else here to learn, I think we should get going." He turns and looks at the rocky plain below, and the route to the keep. "Perhaps I can get Commander Braesen to send out a team to investigate."
Bugbear Wrathe notes the smell of the dead Azata before him, though it is not very strong; and that of the dead orc above, though it is stronger than expected. Perhaps it is not only from above? There is also the sea air, and a hint of smoke.
The sun threatens to rise soon.
" Alright, let us be gone from this area, I'll try to keep a watch for trouble ahead Rygear let me know if we have any surprise turns to make. ". Daxniss says in subdued tone and waits for the others to start moving before starting her role as scout.
Nodding along, Wrathe falls into line with the others as they depart from the area before the Sols reveal them.
Apologizing for confusion everyone on with the placement of the symbol, on the path. He had taken a moment to give a final blessing to the body of the Azata. The Theurge comepletes the blessing, shaking a bit of holy water on her body with his Battle Aspergillum. The young dragonkin quietly thanks her once more.
Ssilax joins in the marching order, capping the holy weapon so it would leak and dropping it back in the loop on his belt.
Daxniss mulls over the events so far wondering who, or what, would be spending so much effort to aid them. Daxniss knew that they had one person with an interest in finding and capturing/killing them.
Shaking her head to ward off future problems she keeps her focus back onto looking out for trouble.
|
|
The group avoids the path, lest there are more Symbols of mystery upon it farther down. Using the rope method, you reach the bottom of the hill and the broken ground stretches out toward the keep a quarter mile away.
But as you start out, you see to the northwest, also at the base of the same hill, smoke rising. Stopping to look, you see the remnants of a camp, of sorts, and bodies laid out haphazardly. They are orcs, and none of them move. You guess there are probably between forty and a hundred orcs, based on the size of the camp and the bodies you see. After studying the scene from a good seven hundred feet away, Rygear urges you on.
He speculates, as if to get your minds off the carnage of the orc camp, "The more I think about it the more I suspect Storm sent her to watch out for you. Storm has all kinds of unusual friends, and didn't you think that looked like Storm's hand in the list of names? The Azata came, met with trouble, someone else waiting for you or setting a trap, and got in a fight, which she lost. And somehow she was able to leave a warning there to make us avoid the path down."
With those thoughts and theories in your head you ou continue on for the rest of the way. As you approach the keep, you see it has a moat, maintained if not well kept, and a narrow drawbridge. Once the guards see Rygear they lower the drawbridge and you are allowed to enter. A man is summoned, one Commander Braesen, and after a short wait he arrives. He is a short man, in his forties, and he looks like a veteran of many battles. His hair is short, his uniform clean and neat, and his boots polished. He admonishes a few men who are a little too relaxed for his liking before greeting Rygear with a strong handshake and a smile.
Rygear calls him by his title, Commander, and explains that you all are under his protection and that you need shelter for a few days, of the discrete variety.
Sol'Daemos is rising as you are led off to an area of private quarters. They are in the donjon two stories below the ground, but you are assured they are safest from prying eyes. You are also pretty sure they are the dankest and coldest you have seen. You are shown to three rooms for sleeping, one for eating and relaxing, where you will be brought meals, and several store rooms. Rygear tells you you will all be leaving aboard a ship on the eve of the next day, and before that you may take from the stores what provisions you need, within reason. Me'lar will be escorted to the city by a regular patrol, tomorrow morning, and staying with Nelina.
You are encouraged to rest and eat for now, and in the afternoon you will have a meeting with Commander Braesen and Rygear.
(Please stock up on mundane items you need, maximum value of 100gp for any item. The store room has most equipment listed in the Core Rulebook: here.)
Argon's eyes drink up every aspect of the keep - he had been taught about defense but had had limited access to different sites. This one, being an island in a sea of chaos, has some different challenges than the walls of Caern. He asks questions of the guards when he can, and even the Commander if it seems appropriate (but he's careful to ensure it's only if appropriate, and is always very polite).
After Rygear leaves them in the 'guest area', Argon goes to check out the stores, inviting Me'lar to join him. He finds a dagger and a staff for her, and suggests she learn to use those weapons as they and be found anywhere; and a staff can be made simply by cutting and carving a thick branch. And one never knows when one must defend oneself.
He is sad to leave Me'lar, or rather, he'll be sad to watch her go. But he's also excited to be moving onto a new place, to take a ship again (it had been ten years since the last time, and he was so young then), and to embark on an adventure far from Caern. He lets the task at hand, choosing some new equipment, keep his mind occupied, and as he goes through the items he tells Me'lar about them, as if he's her mentor.
He considers giving Me'lar his amulet, his balanca, but is doubting whether that's wise. Me'lar is young, and the amulet is an image of his parents, who mean nothing to her. No, he'll find something beautiful to give her on his adventures.
Propping his travel journal upon his knees, Wrathe busies himself to record the adventures of the past days.
"That does seem possible, Ssilax had said in response to Rygear mention that Storm was probably the one who sent the Azata. He still wasn't sure about it though.
Feeling, safe, and yet not safe with all the humans around, Ssilax all but disappears into the guest area. The only time he had left, still cowled and robed to pick up his supplies and food, heavy on the meats. He was a growing carnivore after all.
Ssilax spends a fair amount of his free time using Prestidigitation to scrap the years of tarnish from the heavy silver statue.
Wrathe watches Ssilax work for a time before adding his own prestidigitative magics to the task of cleaning, though his focus is the group and their gear.
|
|
You rest, and feel relatively safe. The donjon is dark and clammy, but it is as clean as can be expected, and tidy. The store room is remarkably well organized and tidy. This is what it means to be in a military place, where the militia is well-disciplined. You imagine that such a life might be stifling to some of you.
During the morning, a detachment of soldiers was sent out to investigate the orc camp and the dead Azata, but you have not heard if they are back, or if they are, what they found. In the afternoon you meet with Rygear and Commander Braesen. Rygear explains about the goings on in the city, more than you had heard before, or perhaps it is just new information.
The donjon is safe from magical detection, using a simple mundane technique - within the walls is a lining of lead, which prevents most scrying and other divinations from getting in. The room you meet in is similarly shielded, though most of the rest of the keep is not. You were led through a hidden door in the donjon, up a narrow set of secret stairs, to the send storey, from which a door opened directly into this room.
Me'lar is asked to stay in the donjon, or if that is too dark and lonely for her, she could stay in the kitchens and try to talk to a few of the soldiers who work there. There are a few women, and though she does not speak common, she will need to start learning. Me'lar chooses this latter option.
Rygear explains the background to you all.
The queen, Eoqium the VII, long suspected of being a wizard, is now playing with devils and other creatures from the underworld. It is thought that she is influenced unduly by her closest advisor, one Dylin, who is fiercely loyal to her and who advocates tougher laws and more severe punishments on citizens who break them. Within the walls of the palace, there is another faction, a secret one but significant, who are fighting this trend. They are called the Defiant. Led by a woman named Sloan, they resist change that leads to more pain, abuse and death of the citizens of the city, especially those less privileged. Dainoth and Rygear are within this faction, and the Commander, though the Commander and Rygear must be so secretly. Rygear's dream, which he reveals to you in an unusual moment of opening up, for him, is that Dylin or the Queen herself would be replaced by a monarch whose charter and purpose would be to serve the people of Caern and the lands around.
But right now there is a clandestine battle going on, with the Dylinites expanding their use of power, using devils on occasion as their agents; and the Defiant, who are trying to fight this trend, but are having difficulty.
Just yesterday, as all of you know, Dainoth was taken by the Dylinites, and this is a great blow to the Defiant. Further, all who conspired with Dainoth are suspect, and immediately subject to arrest; that includes all of you. Rygear had a very small window of opportunity to talk with Dainoth remotely, and decided on a course of action.
Rygear and Dainoth had previously discussed the possibility of enlisting aid from an unlikely source. It is known that there live, in the layered clouds over the great mountain called Ayrtor on the isle of Doldrom, creatures of great power and magic, called Azata.
"Yes, Azata!" says Rygear. "I was shocked to see the dead Azata up on the hill this morning, given what our plans entailed. Either Storm or someone else was in on our plans and had already gained the help of one of them, or it was a coincidence. But I don't really believe in coincidences. You see, the Azata are known for their hatred of devils, and we thought there may be a real chance we could convince some of them to help us in some capacity. But first, to see if they are amenable to this, and to determine what they might be able to offer us, we must make contact with them. They are from another plane, and some of them have great powers and resistances to the devils we fight."
"Now, Dainoth has a great-niece named Momordica who lives on the isle of Doldrom. She is an outcast, living on a huge plateau above the town of Blackburn. This is because she is a suspected wizard, and indeed, she is a theurge, like Ssilax. She too has the mark of Nethys upon her, though it is not nearly as obvious. Dainoth and I thought it might be a good time to get you away and also start the process of contacting and eventually enlisting help from the Azata. It will not be easy, and it will take time. They are good creatures, but capricious, and they value their freedom. Their aid will not be given lightly or easily, but any that pledge their help will put their lives at risk to fight for the right cause."
"We have no maps of Doldrom, but the captain of the second ship you'll take may have one. It is a small Isle, perhaps fifty miles in width. There is a great plateau in the North, and a large volcano called Ayrtor, in the southwest. Farther east is another mount called Dragon's Head. You will be rowed out to a small trading ship, the Lucky Blue, tomorrow at dusk. That ship will take you around the coast and begin heading north, where it will meet up with a larger vessel, the Shield of Eoqium. That larger ship will take you to Doldrom as part of its voyage across the Okeanos Sea to Bryn. It will drop you at the port town of Blackburn, and from there I understand there is a staircase to the Plateau of Peril. Once upon the plateau, look for the woods. Momoridica's home and temple is there. She will not be expecting you, though she must certainly appreciate your help. She has been having troubles with goblins, and worse, of late."
He takes a swig of the ale in front of him on the table, as each of you also have.
"Questions?"
|
|
At some point during the day, Rygear asks for the hand and the staff, and he suggests the group can keep the ring for a while. If Dainoth is freed he'll want those first two items, but he has access to another ring. You might find a need for it at some point.
He also mentions Dorian's remains. It is up to you whether you want to keep them, or leave them with with Rygear.
Ssilax sits there stunned at the full revelations of what Dainoth had been part. Not to mention Rygear. The dragonkin leans back in his chair, trying to organize his thoughts after the startling news had been dropped upon their heads.
Daxniss snakes her head at the new information about Dainoth and the two factions at odds with each other. It makes since one is using devils to aid themselves.
Daxiss nods at the thought of trying to enlist add from outside the mortal plane, if anything just to tip the scales back to a more level playing field.
Daxniss had made sure to get a dagger, that way she would have some form of protection against someone getting handsy.
Sheathed in a layer of silver and decorated with gold and amber sunbursts, his master's staff reflects the room's torchlight as it is handed over to Rygear a moment after Dorian's remains were conveyed.
Such power was heady, making him want more, though he sought it from within rather than through an arcane adjunct.
A few items are picked up for their travel ahead, including a few smokesticks, thunderstones and some tindertwigs.
Once again he offers the ring of heavy gold, forged meticulously through fine workmanship, to the other members of their dwindling band. While it was potentially-useful item, it also attracted unwanted attention, while conveying very specific benefit, and he didn't want to get his hand chopped off by some overenthusiastic cutpurse. Worries in mind, he wraps a piece of scrap cloth about his finger to obscure it from sight as best as possible.
It is a revitalized Wrathe that attends the meeting with Rygear and Commander Braesen.
They were on the lam, and he trusted Rygear with his life, so he extends that trust to the Commander, "Was the 'demonic parasite', or Possessor Daemon, or Stalker, that fed upon Lilith's soul, summoned by Eoqium the VII? Was that what struck down that Azata?"
He looks quizzical, but does not voice it, though he wonders how Rygear avoided being associated with Dorian. They were seen together, and they were related by blood. Perhaps only they knew that the cleric was his master's nephew.
"What is to become of Dainoth in the interim?
After a time he asks if there is some method of convincing the Azata that they might not be considering, some leverage to use, or something to dangle before them (other than being the harbingers of good) that might sway them.
"The Stalker is the invisible one that just hunts around in the poor sections, and it's touch drains life. And I think it takes trophies of those it slays. I don't think it leaves those areas it hunts, if I remember correctly." The dragonkin pauses taking a sip of his wine. His cowl was down for dinner, but he had left his hood up.
"The Possessor or parasite demon had the nasty blade-like claws. If it had the chance to "reproduce" while it wore Lilith's skin, then it would be a safe bet that it would be one of those that did that damage." The dragonkin says, answering Wrathe's question as he stares off into nothingness. He shudders at the thought of multi versions of the Parasyte demon running around. "If I remember correctly, it was made by the dwarves and some group of demons during the Elf and Dwarven wars. I think it can only make more of itself with an elf, possible a dwarf."
Unusual for the dragonkin, his dinner was picked at, and he had mostly just pushed things around with his fork. Dog was noisily eating his own dinner.
Thoughts touching on the gear that was pick out earlier. Aside from coffee and a pot, refill both his and Dog's rations, and some survival gear, Ssilax had been mostly all set. He did refill the missing bandages and supplies from his Healer's kit, making sure it was full once more.
Pulled out of his thoughts when Wrathe spoke once more, the young Theurge blinks a few times. He waits for Rygear's answer, stomach tense as his mind tryies to anticipate what the warrior-priest will say. After mulling over Rygear's answer, Ssilax asks his own questions.
"Not to be rude, but how trustworthy is the captain of this ship? Ssilax ask, holding up his hands to the Commander, not wanting to insult the man. And do you have any idea how we might contact the Azata? Or is that more or less up to us to find a way, wandering up the mountain?" The dragonkin asks a faint grin splitting his muzzle.
|
|
"Good questions, all, and I wish I knew the answers." Rygear looks a little disappointed, perhaps in himself. "It might have been one of those things that killed the Azata, or something else. We do not know what sent it there, nor what it was, exactly. As for Dainoth, it is early to say, but I would speculate that they will keep him locked up, and use him to gain whatever political or strategic advantage they can. I'm pretty certain they could have done it sooner if they had wanted. It is certainly easy enough for them, and within their normal methods, to manufacture evidence against someone. In this game of chess we all play, they have made a bold move, and taken a rook. I assure you I intend to look into ways to free Dainoth, both because we need him and because he's my friend and my uncle."
He takes a sip, then continues, answering Ssilax. "Those are great questions. Don't worry about offending when dealing with such things... It's always possible to ask in a diplomatic way, anyways. Yes, the captain of the first ship, the Lucky Blue, can be trusted to a point, but I'm going to get you a disguise before you are picked up, just to be sure. The story given him is that you are the children of a wealthy Bryn merchant and need to get on that other ship, the Shield of Eoqium, before it leaves for the east. You should just go to your cabin and keep your heads low. The Captain of the Shield is a close friend of Commander Braesen and can be trusted fully, but someone in the crew could conceivably mention where you are dropped off, so you will need to stay inside your cabin."
Commander Braesen nods when his friend is mentioned.
"Regarding the Azata, we know very little. Dainoth once told me of how in the past they had been contacted once, but he gave no details. This is his idea, and he believes it may work. You're a resourceful bunch, and if anyone can figure out how to do that, you lot can. I expect it will take time to find them, more time to talk to them, and yet more time to establish enough trust to be able to ask for their help. So of course time is of the essence, but getting you away from Caern is the first priority, and if you make headway with the Azata, I consider that a bonus."
" Chess pieces, not a game that I enjoy but I understand the statement. I'll do a reading before we leave and see if we might get some insight with the cards, mayhaps we will get lucky again. ". Daxniss says with a sly smile not expecting anything but what she could interpret from the cards.
Daxniss had picked up more trail rations along with some lantern oil as well. Most of the other supplies she didn't need to restock up on as she hadn't gone through.
" If you are correct with the Azata's we might be able to make some contact with them… hopefully. As for disguises I'll help with the more mundane aspect. ". Daxniss smile turns into a full fledged grin, a mischievous gleam enters her eyes.
Grazing on her meal, she muses over what Rygear had said about Dainoth's imprisonment. It felt like they had finally went with some outside thinking with trying to enlist aid from the good aligned beings.
Ssilax felt a little better with the thought that Dainoth trusted them to find the Azata. The old mage had a choice, he could of just told them all to flee and never come back. Plus, the new that Dainoth wouldn't just be slain outright. At least there was a decent chance that he would survive being imprisoned. While Dainoth was indeed ancient, he was tough.
At Daxniss mentioning that she would do a reading, the Theurge grinned a little. The dragonkin was always curious to watch the rogue "Read" her cards. She seemed to go into a meditative trance when shuffling. Not to mention, it was always interesting to see if she catch a glimpse of the future. It was an interesting form of magic to watch occur.
"The disguise that you have lined up for us sounds like a bit of genius. An excellent excuse for us to stay in the cabin," the dragonkin says with a nod of his scaled head. "I've never been on a ship, or a large body of water for that matter. I'll have to pick up some herbs to help with sea sickness I've read about. I'm not a fan of being sick myself." Ssilax says with a faint grin.
"Is Momoridica more..., sane then the Holy Mother?" Ssilax blurts out rather suddenly. The dragonkin looks a touch embarrassed at his question, clearing his throat and taking a sip of wine. "I love her like a Grandmother, but, she scares the scales off me" The dragonkin says with a slight shudder running down his spine.
Wrathe looks calm and comfortable while crawling in his skin at the thought of crossing such a large body of water, with unknown monsters cruising the black and icy depths.
He did not want to survive the depths of the underworld only to be eaten by a f$$#ing shark.
|
|
Rygear smiles at Ssilax's latest question. He shakes his head and says, "I have no idea. I've never met Momordica. But she does live in a temple in the woods on a plateau above a town where she is.... disliked. That tells me she has a certain ... disposition; but also a certain sanity too. The Holy Mother scares me too, by the way."
Daxniss cleans her hands off, along with a clear space on the table, trying to ensure that no crumbs are left. Daxniss starts to reach into her belt pouch where her Harrow card rested. Unwrapping them from the silk cloth that protects the cards from harm.
Daxniss starts to shuffle the Harrow cards falling into the smooth rhythm of the shuffle. Daxniss' breathing slows while she focuses on the way the cards slid around in her hands. Will we reach in the woods is the only thought that seems to reside in her head.
Pushing the thought out of her own mind is a simple one, almost losing the smooth rhythm for a heart beat. Daxniss finally manages to empty all thoughts and starts to to split the deck into 7 different piles.
Upon dealing out the Harrow cards completely, she turns the top card of each split over, one at a time. Daxniss looks down at to see what the cards have revealed.
It is a refreshed and rejuvenated party that meets again, and perhaps that is what blunts the sorrow of another of their membership that had fled the mortal coil.
Wrathe is hopeful as he asks Rygear, "What would it cost for Dorian to breathe anew?"
Ssilax had smiled at Rygear's comment about the Holy Mother. He made the comment of, "She seems to have that effect on people."
Showing a bit more appetite, the young Theurge starts to show his meal a bit more attention. The news that Dainoth would remain a "guest" as he put it, and not be executed settled his stomach a great deal.
As Daxniss begins to shuffle her cards, Ssilax watches with keen interest. Even though there wasn't any tangible effect, it seems like magic is happening. Blinking, the dragonkin has a sudden thought.
Leaning over to Wrathe, Ssilax whispers to his friend.
"Do you see any magic when Daxniss is reading her cards??"
|
|
To Wrathe's question, Rygear says, "The cost is great - several thousand gold. But it is more than that. The priest performing the divine magic must be sure it is the right thing to do. Generally, resurrection is not considered unless the person has unfinished business in life, something his deity would like complete. I don't know if Dorian would pass that criterion. Even then, it must be judged whether the person in question would be better off in the afterlife."
Rygear watches with interest as Daxniss reveals her cards.
Argon is quieter than usual during the meeting and the meal. He's too proud to act the upset teen, so instead he stays silent, mostly. He wonders if they will be passing near the Isle of Alman.
"I took a ship as a youth, to get here. I don't remember much, except that I was sick for a few days, then got better.
The Owl
This is the neutral card of wisdom. It represents the harsh wisdom of the natural order. The owl holds a needle that can bind life together or pick it apart.
The Avalanche
This is the lawful evil card of dexterity. It represents disaster: an unthinking panic and destruction that overruns all.
Daxniss blinks at what the cards revel, letting out a sigh as she feels slightly drained from the brief moment where she thought that something else was guiding her movements for the cards. Shaking her head at the thought of allowing her imagination to get the best of her.
" Well that is an interesting fortune to say the least. It feels like the cards themselves represent most of what we have talked about in this short time. Reveling the Avalanche at the end though, that is not so strange, hmmmmm a moment more to ponder the hidden message. " Daxniss says while rubbing at her head with a finger, running through the meaning of the cards.
Daxniss frowned as something felt slightly off about the cards, she considers drawing an 8th card for a moment but discounts that as foolishness. Each card seemed to hit the key points of all the news that the party had just gotten from Rygear however, this could also tell more of the parties goal as well.
"Is it normal for the cards to tell of the past? I thought they would only portend the future..." asks Argon.
" The cards tell past, present, and the future. The first message I get is the past, only on rare events the cards will only revel the future. These 7 cards represent our past, the next 7 will be our present. ". Daxniss says absently
"There are 'magics' beyond the capabilities of my senses." Wrathe pays close attention to everything that Daxniss is doing with the cards, asking questions here and there to try to understand it fully.
"Rygear, would you be able and willing to commune with Dorian's spirit, hopefully to do so when we are present, to learn if it is what he would wish?"
Such answers would help all of them with closure, whether that be to be reunified, or understand their wishes. He had attempted the same thing with Lilith after her passing, as he was ever protective of the very small group he cared for.
Such thoughts made him think of Phia and The Huntress, which he would likely never see again, but he quickly pushes those thoughts aside.
In the hope of offering some levity he adds with a smirk, "In case it ever comes up, I always have unfinished business in this life, which is something all deities across the cosmos wish me to complete."
Taking a sip of his wine, Ssilax waits for the next 7 cards and Rygear's answer.
|
|
Rygear smiles at Wrathe and says, "Yes, of course I would be willing. But I cannot do it today, and I have to leave tomorrow morning. I would suggest you all compose a last wishes statement and get each other to memorize them. You'll have time aboard ship."
Day turns to night, and you eat dinner with Me'lar in the guest dining room. She's concerned for her future, but you reassure her of the wisdom and caring of Nelina. Rygear plans to escort her to the city, along with a troop of guards.
It is a full night's sleep you get, the first in what seems like ages, even though it's been but a few days. Morning is dark in the sub-basement, and Rygear wakes you so that you can all say goodbye. It is a short goodbye, as he does not tarry. Me'lar seems reluctant but resolved. She has put her life and future into the hands of strangers, and though it seems obvious she will be better off than in her home, uncertainty of life in the city is as much a concern for her as it is for everyone else.
The day passes slowly. You were moving so quickly before that waiting now seems painful, especially in a place where you must be hidden, with no books to peruse and little else to do.
You are summoned, for the ship has been spotted. As you gather on the wall of the keep in the flat and muted light of an overcast dusk, you see a small ship approach - very small. It cannot come to shore as there is nowhere for it to moor, so it drops anchor a few hundred feet off. You wonder if it is the right ship, but soon enough you see Rygear himself being lowered in a rowboat. He bravely takes up the oars and pulls the boat toward shore. No shark bites the boat in twain, and no tentacles rise from beneath the waves, and he makes it to shore, rubbing his arms. You are brought down by the Commander to meet Rygear, and pull him in. He gets out of the small craft and pulls it to a safe spot, saying he would like to talk to you before you go.
He brings you up to the rocky shore, holding a sack, and when it is dry he says, "I managed to get some stuff done in Caern. No word on Dainoth, unfortunately. I spoke to Storm. She was shocked to learn that her friend, the Lillend, had been killed. She felt guilty about it, since she had asked her to watch for you and protect you, though she was glad that her dying spell may have saved you from whatever trap was on the path back there. I asked about the Azata of Doldrom, but she did not know much - only that they live in the clouds above the big mountain, and that they are very difficult to find and negotiate with. You have a tough task, and it just might not work, but I still think it's worth trying."
"Oh, Me'lar is safely with Nelina. The two seemed to hit it off. Nelina has a way with teenagers, I suppose... I also picked up a few things."
He reaches into the sack and pulls out a small bunch (5) of arrows tied together with a leather cord, and hands them to Argon. Wrathe can see they have a mild magical aura. "Use them well, to save lives." Next he pulls out two small vials of liquid and hands them to Daxniss. "To enhance your abilities." Finally, he pulls out a scroll case and says, "These might have caused problems, were they found by the wrong person. Some are clerical in nature and some arcane. For the two of you to fight over, Daxniss and Wrathe. It's all I could come up with in such a short time."
He waits for you all to clamber into the boat, and then says, "One more thing - this is not the Lucky Blue, as you may have noticed. For your safety we've changed the plan. This small ship - the Message Bottle, will be taking you the whole way, and there's no need for disguises, because the crew are all pirates and scoundrels. Don't let them walk all over you. You'll have to work, helping do whatever the Captain asks of you, as they are short a few crew. But you'll be more comfortable, and won't have to hide belowdecks. So this is it. Good luck, and may the gods shine on your path." He waits for questions, and then pushes you out into the cold salty water.
Number 10;The fiend l. Evil
Number 11: the juggler c. Good of dexterity
Number 12: the teamster. Netural card of Constitution
Number 13: The Hidden truth. L.good of intelligence.
Number 14: the queen mother. L. N of intelligence
Future cards 15-21
Number 15: The carnival
Number 16: the marriage
Number 17: The twin
Number 18: The Liar
Number 19: The vision
Number 20: The crows
Number 21: The dance
" Well this is a tricky reading, it seems that we will have an interesting travel ahead of us. The present tells us that we will need to stand strong against the trouble that is on the way, along with I guess our own strength or power will grow with us. Perhaps we shall meet with someone who will aid u. " Daxniss looks at Rygear and smiles
" We have a goal that is going to drive us on wards, as it seems that our own destinies are tied together with others, as an evil seems to be poisoning the masses leading them to slavery and death. The road ahead will give us clarity of ideals or purpose. "
" The future is I think in flux, we shall have to beware a false hope or 'ware misleading goals of others. Perhaps if we are able to enlist the Azata's aid we shall find a greater unionity or a shared goal. This goal will require the first steps or adding to the Framework that Dainoth might have started, death will dog our path. Knowledge will be found but there might be price that seems too high. " Daxniss finishes with a shrug
" Mama had the 'sight' better then I ever will, as did grandmama, they could call out the reading by using the cards in a way I never learned. All mothers teach their daughters how to call out to the 'Harrow' to see what lies ahead of a person or persons and change or affect the future. " Daxniss says with a sheepish smile, covering up the old pain in her heart with mirth.
Daxniss was bored that morning, as she didn't have anyway to create some mischief nor, did she want to. Daxniss settled on practicing on locating her thieves tools by feel alone, along with counting out the coins she had found along with Dorian's gems. Trying to give everyone an even amount, and as there was going to be little good in swindling her friends.
Wrathe takes his time going over all the items that show up as magic to his eyes.
It is an elven Wrathe that makes his way to the ship, figuring it to be a disguise he can hold throughout their sea journey.
Some spells they knew, some were beyond his abilities, but he is thankful all the same.
After the reading had been finished, Ssilax sits back in his chair, taking a drink of his wine. He falls silent as he mulls over what the events of the meeting and with the added bonus of the reading afterwards. There was quite a bit quite a bit to digest. Later in the shared quarters, Ssilax spends some time going through as his gear and rearranging it. Seeing Me'lar looking nervous, Ssilax reassures her, telling her that he thinks that she will thrive in Caern.
The following morning, the young Theurge heads over to the quartermaster once more. He had asked if there was anyway that he could modify a backpack for Dog. Greeted by the human, Ssilax returns the greeting, Dog adds a friendly bark. The dragonkin is handed a pair of satchels with several leather straps tied to them.
Looking down at Dog, Ssilax kneels down and puts the pack to his familiar. Dog sits there patiently as the pair of satchels are tied around his torso. Dog wags his tail, and Wuffs as the dragonkin stands back up. As he stands up, Dog turns and sniffs the satchels curiously. Sneezing, Dog looks up, his tongue hanging out. Ssilax reaches down and scratches the familiar's ears. Turning back to the quartermaster, he thanks the man handing him a few gold for his troubles. He does go and pick up some dried herbs to help with sea sickness.
Waiting for the rest of day to pass was pretty close to torture for the young dragonkin. He had packed and repacked his gear at least five times. Waiting around with nothing to so was clearly not one of Ssilax's strong points. The Theurge had looked over the scrolls with Wrathe. When they had the time and ink components, the two would be spending a far amount of time penning scrolls into spellbooks.
Nodding in greeting when Rygear hits the shore, Ssilax listens to what he has to say. The dragonkin wasn't wild with the changes of plans, nor the news of the crew of the new ship. Remaining silent, knowing that complaining wouldn't serve any purpose. Plus, it would be incredibly ungrateful considering everything that Rygear was doing for them.
Getting into the small boat, he frowns behind his cowl. His boots where already getting wet. A small sigh escapes the dragonkin as he looks up and over at Rygear.
"Tell Storm that...." Ssilax pauses and looks out over the waves. "Tell her to stay safe and alive and that I'll see her again. No matter what." The dragonkin says firmly.
Like Ssilax, Argon had spent a little time in the store room, trying to improve his backpack. His issue was that he wanted to be able to drop it off his back quickly, in case of a battle or other reason to move quickly. If he could set up something on a single point on his chest which, when pressed or squeezed or pulled out (yes, a pull-pin!) the two shoulder straps would be freed and the backpack would drop...
He spent some time on it, then realized he will have more time on the ship. He just needed some raw materials - clasps, buckles, pins - and some basic tools. He asked the quartermaster if there were any old tools he could have, and the quartermaster had given him just a set of pliers. Argon thanked him, and realized the ship, especially the large one, might have some tools; but he didn't know if he'd be able to borrow them.
Between his crowbar and the new pliers he figured he'd be able to manage some simple tasks.
Meeting Rygear again, he is glad that Me'lar is safe and sound, and he thanks the older man for the arrows.
When time is afforded them, he asks the others where they stand, "Dorian? Lilith?"
Wrathe felt that the least they owed their fallen friends, as they would any of the others in the same situation, a communion to discern if there was more to do in this life that would warrant a life's debt for the funds.
In a world with a hatred of arcane magics he would be all but defenceless among pirates and worse, so his stance is to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Figuring the best way to do so would be to continue to present himself as an elven scholar, which wasn't hard, since that was the clothing that he wore.
His curiosity gets the better of him, his eyes wide as he takes in everything from beneath his cowl, trying to hide what a rube he is in terms of sea travel.
|
|
Argon rows the boat out to the ship. It is a small ship, maybe sixty feet in length, and old, though in good repair. As you approach, about a half-dozen people seem to be waiting for you while a few others run around attending to the ship. Three of them are women.
"Ahoy!" says a middle aged man wearing a bandanna. "Come right up, right here, and we'll hook you up!" Two of the crew are holding thick ropes with hooks on the end, ready to lower down to you.
"Are ye sailors? You don't look much like sailors... No matter, you will be soon, ha ha!"
As you reach the ship, the crew are several feet above you, and they start lowering the hooks so you can hook up the rowboat. Once that's done, a very narrow rope ladder comes down so you can climb on up. As you're climbing, the man says, "I'm Captain Jaq Farmer, and this here ship is the Lickety Split. She ain't sunk, not even once! She'll take us where you're all going."
After you all climb aboard, increasing the crew by fifty percent, Captain Jaq, a clean shaven man in his forties, introduces the crew:
- His first mate and wife, Barbary, somewhat younger than him but not too young
- Davie, a scruffy looking older man
- The sisters, Iminy, tall and thin, thirties
- and Aliny, shorter, stouter, and also in her thirties
- Goran, a half-orc who looks very strong, who is pulling up the anchor on a simple spindle. The captain notes "Goran don't speak, so don't ask him"
- Nim, a young man of about your age, who's helping Goran
- Otter, a pre-pubescent boy (maybe 12) who's up in the crow's nest watching for whatever he's supposed to be watching for, but mostly just watching you.