Gauntlet cocks his head curiously and shrugs.
"How can you hear anything here? Everything seems both muffled and too loud at the same time. And the whine? Do you hear the whine? Like a hurt dog...but without stopping. If I was made of flesh it might unnerve me."
Meridian nods briefly, "If we are to find this schema, then into the Mournland we go. Some 30 miles further than the hamlet of Olkhaan."
"If that's the plan, that's the plan. Better than sticking around here and getting caught..."
Dev seems uncharacteristically dour as they split up the goods from the other lost adventurers. He hadn't known any of them long, but he'd enjoyed Xetovia's company, and was disappointed with the way things had turned out.
Zabeth is quiet as they enter the Mournland. The adrenaline of battle has faded, and she recalls the last time she was here - with a group less capable than her current one seems to be.
She swallows hard, and comments - only having half heard the conversation...
“Yes... let’s keep moving.”
Passing into the cloying mist is like entering an alien plane of existence. Light barely reflects through the shifting layers of vapor. Sounds become muffled and distant, even when produced nearby. The place has a narrow, ominous feel to it, and a feeling of isolation and growing dread builds within you as you travel deeper into the mist. The strange sounds still echo louder but yet farther away at the same time. The longer you listen the more sure you are that you cannot identify what they are or if what is making them is a living being.
Frank and Broulnindre have a hard enough time getting the horse into the mist, and don't have enough attention to spare for the strange sounds.
Zabeth mutters an arcane phrase, then begins speaking to the horses.. reassuring them they are safe.. they will be protected by the powerful humanoids riding them.
+4 if i can use inspire competence for that.
Sharon is sitting on passenger seat reading a book seemingly nervous around the new people in the group.
Noting the increased anxiety level of one of the wagon's other passengers, Gauntlet introduces himself.
"Excuse me my Lady? You seem out of sorts. Is it the Mournland around us, or me and my friend's unusual nature? I assure you none of us means you or your group any harm. My designation is Gauntlet."
At this point he points to the sigil on his head that vaguely resembles a 4 fingered hand, then briefly shows the odd copy of the symbol on the palm of his right hand.
"Pretty obvious. Right? I've heard worse. Although EE's name must have an interesting story behind it I am sure."
While Gauntlet can't exactly smile, his tone of voice is steady and as reassuring as it can be, if hollow and metallic sounding.
"May I ask what your name is? I see you study magic. Are you proficient?"
Viorr keeps his horse moving briskly, circling around the outside of their group like a sheepdog, occasionally frowning into the stifling silence. He slows down periodically, letting his mount rest, and tries to strike up conversation with his companions - just polite questions to new companions, freely offering his own story if asked.
Even given the oppressive surroundings, his entire manner is more relaxed on horseback.
Sharon avoids making eye contact looking down,"My name is Sharon....um...I am a Alchemist by trade. I...um...just a bit...um...shy. I am...not even use to these people yet...it takes time. Um....my wife says I am getting better though ...um ...Talia...um...my sister who you met is more outgoing than me... she kind ramblely mumbles.
EE is about to answer about his name, but then he realises he doesn't really know where his name comes from; Hal was calling him like that and it just stuck, or maybe Hal had information about EE that he never shared... who knows. Given the facts, EE opts for ignoring it and letting the shy alchemist speak, since this might be a rare moment, it seems.
Nodding formally, Gauntlet acknowledges the elven woman.
"Greetings Sharon. I worked with many alchemists during my short time during the last war. Quite a useful skill set if I may say so. It's an honor to meet you. I want to officially thank you for helping to rescue me and my friends."
He then gestures toward Pink-Eye with a form of humor in his voice and nudges Sharon with his elbow.
"I promise he doesn't bite...much. Don't worry, I offer him my arm and he just nibbles on my elbow for a while until he feels better. Makes for odd conversations sometimes I have to say."
Sharon almost falls off the wagon from the physical contact. She is nervously fidgeting a empty vial around her neck that the others know is her mutagen vial. She seems even more shy and nervous as if her safety net is gone.
"That was Talia...I dont remember much of it...she handles that stuff...if she is around." she gestures at the book on her lap,"This is a book on the Mournlands."
Pink Eye laughs and casts a pretend baleful eye at Gauntlet and says while I may not be as talkative by Balinor, I am not half as ugly and he winks his big left eye with a far too toothy grin
Sharon seem to struggle wanting yo go back to the safety of the written word but stops herself...Go ahead...talk to people. Talia voice urges her on.
"I..my family is into acting but...um..i could not get past my...crippling stage fright...so...um...they set me up with a Alchemist Shop.... she pauses a risks a quick glance up and decides to keep talking..."But i wasn't really good at handling customers...um...that is when I met Lil..."
She stops abruptly wondering how they might react to what she was going to say...sure most people are okay with it...but she has had some very bad reactions...and she doesn't have Talia to deal with those right now.
Aerin kept her eyes on the road and the horses under tight control as the rode. She was mildly amused by the menagerie in the wagon with her, and their chipper conversation with Sharon, but she didn't say anything about it. Sharon needed the practice anyway.
Finally, the groups emerge from the wall of dead-gray mist and enter the Mournland proper. The mist gives way to a desolate, barren landscape. The ground is cracked and broken, and in some places it has fused into jagged glass. Few plants grow in this region, and those that do appear to be twisted and dangerous. As far as the eye can see, is devastation.
Even the hardiest of Last War Veterans in the group are humbled by what must have taken place here that fateful day. It's like nothing you could have imagined.
Day has given way to night, or at least early evening, or the sky here is simply always overcast. Now that you have come through the mists, the sounds within the mists have ceased. It is silent, eerily silent, the kind of silence that greets the forest when a predator moves through. The occasional whine of the wind is the only sound anyone can hear, along with the nervousness of the horses.
Aerin takes a moment to gain her bearings.
Nature doesn’t work here the way it does outside the dead-gray mists. In the Mournland the dead don’t decompose, or necessarily even stop moving. Some force or forces unleashed on the Day of Mourning continue to mutate the land and the things that live (and die) there, creating monstrosities the likes of which have never before been seen on the continent of Khorvaire. Natural healing does not occur in the Mournland, and spells and spell-like effects of the healing subschool do not work. The Druid's spell goodberry operates normally for some odd reason.
Whitehearth was a secret House Cannith facility in Cyre. It was destroyed on the Day of Mourning. It is believed to be located somewhere in the southwestern region of the Mournland, near the ruins of Rose Quarry in Darguun. Assuming that the facility is in anyway intact, there ill likely be Cannith defenses to deal with upon entering, as the House did not leave its secrets for just anyone to uncover.
Frank looks around the blasted heath with awe and concern, eager to break the silence. He rides his horse close to the wagon.
"So... um- Meridian was it? Do you know where we're headed next?
...or anyone?"
Sharon looks at the surrounding area than at the book. Flipping through the pages...and looking at the surroundings. She does this a few minutes before throwing the book away.
Under her breath In frustration,"I think I am going to have Talia visit that 'scholar, explorer , and gentleman'."
Kana takes a moment on her horse, nodding her head to a melody only she can hear, but keeps quiet afterwards.
It doesn't look like she knows anything of importance at the moment.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Viorr quiets as they break through the mist, taking in the utter devastation. HE begins to shake his head slowly as he picks out details.
"I rode against the humans and 'forged of Cyre...I took torch and sword to this place, but... " He seems at a loss for words.
"They were fitting foes, and fine allies, a'times. There was nothing in or of Cyre that deserved this"
His shoulders tense a little, and his right hand drifts behind him, as if he is trying to draw some comfort touching the hilt of the double blade riding across the small of his back.
Dev shuddered as they took in the landscape. This was his first time far outside Sharn, and even though he knew it wasn't all like this... nothing was like this, really...it made him miss his bustling and lively home more than he realized he could.
Zabeth eyes Viorr as he speaks, and realizes how little she knows about her companions. Now back here in the Mournlands, her desire to survive supplants her earlier yearning for adventure.
Riding alongside the wagon, she turns to Gauntlet...
"I believe, if we stay the course, we are indeed heading toward Whitehearth. Shouldn't be long now"
Nodding, Gauntlet agrees and waves at the surroundings.
"Excellent! I really can't tell myself. I know Sharn. This place...is a mystery to me personally. The Brelish military never prepared me or trained me to do much but kill things, and my creators were only fascinated or disgusted at my oddness. In the end neither were really interested in my abilities, but how fast they could ship me off to the front lines."
Pink Eye passes into the battlefield and looks upon the wastes and shakes his head at such loss and destruction. what we do upon each other is... terrible
Gauntlet again nods at Pink-Eye's assessment, checking his heavy crossbow for damage or wear.
"I'm no philosopher or priest like you Pink-Eye, but I can't disagree. Although it is still all speculation what caused the Mournland to appear. It may have had nothing to do with the war at all for all we know, although I doubt that is the case just like you say."
Then louder, Gauntlet calls out.
"All we have are stories to go on and each other to count on. I think it goes without saying to think we should keep an eye out for anything odd that could be a potential problem. Note each others cuts and scratches too. If we encounter something, let me and EE check it out first if we can. We can at least repair ourselves if needed here, and my frame especially is durable enough to resist a decent amount of damage even in its current state."
He then points at Pink-Eye, and speaks lower too.
"That means you too my friend. I don't want to lose you over a mad rush into danger. We have to play it smarter here. If I fall you can always throw me in the wagon and repair me later. If you fall, I worry even your gods cannot heal you while here in this place."
Aerin gave Madam Zabeth a nod of agreement and was about to speak when the mists cleared enough to reveal the hellscape they were headed into.
She looked sad, disgusted, horrified, and lost all at once, then pulled her scarf up over her face, tying it tight to ward off the miasma.
"Keep your eyes peeled for scavengers, looters, and undead." she cautioned before setting the horses forward again.
Sharon's response is odd...she looks more curious than horrified. She at times where it is slow going collects samples...dirt...rubble...any surviving plant life or insects. It is odd as no one has ever seen her this bold before. She carefully labels each specimen jars and makes notes in a journal.
Though her mood was much improved since getting off the horse earlier, Meridian is now rather stunned. She looks about wide-eyed, her pupils dilated.
Seeming to not hear Frank's question for a moment, her head snaps around and she nods in jerky agreement with Madam Skoata. Pointing straight ahead of the wagon, "Yes, Whitehearth should be some miles ahead directly ahead of us."
The grey overcast sky is unrelenting and saps the happiness or perhaps infuses sorrow into the companions as the wagon and the horses continue to press the pace towards Whitehearth with no breaks.
After several miles you come across the ruins of a siege engine used in the Last War. Its shattered form is scattered over a small patch of land, and the bodies of a handful of Brelish soldiers lie among the broken pieces.
Gauntlet inspects the ruined engine and bodies. He then turns to the others.
"I know it does not mean much in a place like this, but can we bury these men? They will never rot, but they can hopefully rest in peace somehow. Pink-Eye? I would be honored if you say a few words once I'm done to help soothe their soul's journeys?"
He then attempts to dig several graves tirelessly and as quickly as possible.
"Any chance they're less likely to start walking around if they're buried all good and proper like?" Dev muttered back from the horses, where he kept a safe distance from the dead. This place unnerved him more even than he thought it would have, and he'd never missed the city more than he did now.
Sharon does not say anything but takes out some vials in preparation...
Meridian hops down from the wagon. Stories of corpses getting up to walk in the Mournland has her on edge as she eyes the dead uneasily. Not of much use in digging, she stands near where Gauntlet digs ready to help with a stone or to guard him from suddenly awakening dead.