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Happy to see his allies again, the farmer stepped next to them, then invoked the power of the earth; he summoned power in a fist, and in a stentorian syllable, crouched to the ground, opening his hand to press palm-first against it. Rumbling could be heard as a tremor traced a path to fell the foe farthest away from them.
Warping beside Thomas, Denenor felt the worst had been avoided. Now to get us all together and out of here! He thought about drawing his bow but then felt better of it; this was not a time to hunt game, but a time to avoid being the hunted.
Keeping the precipitation at its current level of mist, the farmer made after Thomas, meaning to depart from the rabid assailant as quickly as possible.
"Thomas! Keep going ... I'll be right behind you." Denenor had encountered bandits before, but his ability to flicker from place to place proved difficult for them to overcome. That and the fog he conjured to follow made giving them the slip easy. Though these alleys were more confined, he hoped the same principles would apply. A word, a wave, and a brief gust from his body invoked a faint fog throughout the area.
Making haste after Thomas, the elf shunts himself through reality past the assailant, making use of his feet to get around the corner.
Though he marveled at the workings of the shrine which they'd stumbled upon, Denenor kept a respectful distance from instruction to Thomas. He must know that tree is not a true plant ... though fungal spores and the like may adorn it. Still, if the work of the divines was at play here, that energy could supersede any mundane threat. Yet would it abate a supernatural curse? They would soon see... However, soon would need to be delayed as they were held back by a stout rake. How would he know about the tree? "Save your words and go!" The farmer's hand touched Thomas's shoulder, propelling him forward in the plane. He can and probably will flee. This rabid dog needs to sleep while we look for a cure. I'll have to outpace him. "What would you want with some trinket, thief? Food or drink hold more value these days!"
Many good applicants out there. I don't envy having to winnow them down to three!
Good afternoon! I'd be willing to give this a go if you'll have me. Like Daniel above, how characters manifest in their posts varies on the personality and forces surrounding them. It's entirely possible for one to be dark and moody while others are convivial and gaudy. One thing I tend not to go for is the mysterious stranger route though - I find that doesn't usually mesh well with PBP. It will be interesting to see how the new ruleset plays-out. Currently, I'm not seeing it as a clear improvement over Pathfinder in its current incarnation, but playing through those rules is the best way to find out!
Denenor exhaled at the work that went into this architecture. "What a blessing to be in a place that had such care placed with it. Lesser buildings would have crumbled." As he looked around at the moss reclaiming territory, he wondered what sort of hovels people would be living in. Building is tough enough as it is. Without light, it's tents - perhaps huts for the wealthy. Stable shelter would be at a premium.
The incanter poked his head around the shop before opening the door cautiously. "There's nothing but destruction here. Surely there was some part of the world untouched by this catastrophe?" He glanced out the door as if expecting to see a remedy around the corner yet knew the view would yield only disappointment. I can hope anyway. We must have hope. For the lesser in faith of the two, Denenor's curiosity provided a resolve all its own. I must find a solution to this problem. The suffering these people must have endured...
Disappointing though it was for the absence of the tears, the clandestine passageway had piqued Denenor's curiosity. "An odd connection this was. Let's see if we can walk back from the path there? If we take too long, they might worry about us and come looking."
"Those 'tears' weren't fond of water, were they? If so, we're in luck; it seems this was a vein for fluid not so long ago." But we're looking for a needle in a haystack right now. I hope he knows it when he sees it. Denenor crept to the slightly more spacious basin and turns to see how his companion was doing. "Could be worse; this could be muddy or filled with spiders, right?"
The farmer continued to crawl through the dirt. Now I know what it's like to be a mole. "Stay with me, Thomas. We'll need some light to spot anything."
"Thomas, a bit of your lightcalling might be helpful here." Denenor crawled forward, sticking his head around the bend.
Denenor crawls forward slowly with Thomas. "I hope these Tears of the Mother are favorable to cave growth. They would not be trampled then, left in better condition for however they must be used." As he continued, the thought came to his mind this cave would feel not dissimilar to a tomb. Were they unsuccessful in their endeavor and unlucky with the roaming undead, it could well be.
The farmer's focus on more basic plants left him oblivious to the nature of this "Tears of the Mother". Not so much the case with other plants though, so he made a mental note of the father's information. Mushrooms at least would make it through. He gazed about. I bet this place had many more feet and speech than it does now. Unfortunately, his hypothesis's rebuttal would likely come in the form of undead if the impending despair was to be believed. "I will gather some seedlings and bulbs on our journey, life encapsulated. We can begin some crops anew with a luxormancer." Maybe you, Thomas.
Hope. The incanter approached the roses, harrowed as they were by the circumstances, and ran his fingers along their stems. "Life finds a way." He smiled, considered the value in spirits the roses might have if this went on. The last of their kind. Denenor wanted to nurture them. I can water them, and Thomas can make the light... But they could not stay here. Taking them would not work. And we have pressing matters, morale aside... He set to work looking for anything else resisting the pull of death in the place - particularly with small roots as to be moveable. "Father, this must have been well-kept before. Are there other gardens such as these nearby? There may be bulbs and seeds yet vital to be grown."
Haessen proved to be of comfort to Denenor. A stranger in this land, the wizened elder's descriptions put some of his curiosity to rest. His spirits sank, however, with the desolate nature of their travel. This plague must cover the whole region if not the world. Denenor liked to verify tales that seemed tall on his own, and this one seemed true as a taproot. Passing the decrepit field of wheat, he shook his head in despair. I and Thomas may be able to nurture some food if light and water work in this world yet, but what about the thousands of others? There was sure to be starvation aplenty. The dwarves would be better-off than most races at least, relying less on the surface sun. Instead of him being the teacher, maybe his new job would be to learn some of their skills and pass them to surface-walkers. What an odd twist of fate. His thoughts distracted him from a figure on the road. Thomas and Marcusic already had been roused to action, however...
Denenor gave the gate a tug, checking its condition. "I can send us through the gap, one by one. We needn't unlock it, and the additional sturdiness might prove useful."
This man knows his city well - as one should, I suppose, living in it for a long while. "You must come with us, Father! You will not be safe back at the temple."
Peering out the window, Denenor was shocked to see the undead numbers. We will be overrun. However, his sharp mind did not yield precision to fear so easily. He relayed his observation. "More risen people than I can count, but just people. At least we won't have to contend with bears. Maddok is enough bear for us, I think." Shaken, but not broken, he speaks to Thomas as they make way for departure. "I know not where they came from, but if bones are enough for the things to return and haunt us, we might find skeletons in abundance in any spot suitable for burial. This park may have been such a place once." While he didn't mean to dissuade the priest from his objective, he did want them to be prepared for the potential danger. "What will you do in the meantime, Father?"
Speaking to Haessen, Denenor had an idea. "Try to focus on that wall there," he said, pointing. "Yes, right there. Imagine yourself standing." Touching the man's wrist, he invoked the power of magical movement, snapping the clergyman to the spot instantly. While it was unnecessary for him to visualized the placement, it certainly helped with keeping one less addled and better balanced on arrival. ******* Thomas is letting his emotions get the best of him. "Let's see where they are and how they're moving. We won't stop what we can't see." Agreed.
Giving the clergyman a cautious look, Denenor had to ask: "What do you mean 'The dead are coming'? There are more? How many?" He ventured to the window to take a peek for himself. Didn't seem to be a worry for our friends we put down though. What ticket do they have to get themselves out of this?
Given Thomas's reaction to the victim past his healing power, Denenor could only guess a heartwrenching nerve was struck. Though he was more distant from his family - and many people, for that matter - such a situation would have sent him into a rather destitute state. "Let me see if I can't help you out of there. After some water, that is." He fussed with his waterskin to bring it to the man's mouth, giving him two large gulps and a long breath in between before making him more mobile than sessile. "What were those intruders looking for? Do you know?" As much as he wanted to offer some consolation to Thomas, there was naught in his mind he could do. It also was not a safe place to reflect in.
Walking forward, Denenor lay his eyes upon the bound souls in the room. "Like rabid dogs. What purpose could they have with them?!" Doubtful as he was their malady had anything to do with the artifact their foes seemed to be searching for, Denenor had no urge to get close to the victims. He was no master of curative powers, nor did he possess the herbs to provide aid at the time. The man in the white robes seemed well-enough of mind to be helpful if he could speak. "How long have you been here?" he spoke, realizing afterward the response might be difficult for the man to utter.
Relaying his observation of a door's soft shutting sound, Denenor inquired of the priest: "Are there any hidden chambers in these temples? An ambush would be deadly." He then saw Thomas reading a letter and gave him pause until he finished. It was not until they explored further he learned his concern may indeed have been overzealous.
Fast and dangerous, the fight ended as swiftly as it had begun. Yet there was an impending sense of urgency upon the half-breed. "Quickly - we must halt them from theft of this temple's treasure!" Denenor made his way to the top of the stairs, setting his keen ears to listen.
The incanter took a good look around the chamber, searching for signs the brutes had been looking for a particular type of item. Books out of place, smashed bottles ... there must be a clue! It was rather odd to be looking about while a wrestling match took place feet away, but such was the demand of time.
Elven:
"Thomas, the pair must be looking for something within. You'd know what to look for. Take my hand, and I'll send you past that scrape to check."
While not under direct observance of this place's sanctity as Thomas might be, Denenor had a respect for the symbolism - doubly so with one of the clergy present. Some foul utterance with this interloper didn't bode well either on this holy ground. Given those circumstances and their superior numbers, the farmer dropped his forceful winds and precipitation a notch, hopefully letting the muscled among them get in position. "What could the others be looking for, Thoams?!" Denenor was hopeful the priest might know what artifacts may possibly lie within that would draw their attention.
Invisible to fight or invisible to flee? We shall soon find-out!
"This is our cover!" Denenor's defense lay not in sword or shield but in manipulating the elements to his advantage. Rarely had he the need to scare-off some highwaymen, but with the world in the state it was, perhaps he'd be using his talents for more than crop procurement now. The vanishing act of the two hostile people frightened him though; he was not brave, not one who'd been in many skirmishes. To this end, he sought to keep it that way, exerting himself to push whatever foes they had - visible or not - away.
The air was at Maddok's back, and it did seem prudent to take Marcusic up on cover of some sort. He moved a few steps to take the wounded warrior out of the gale's zenith. "Let us join your friend at the church, Thomas! I will move the eye with us!"
Not built for fighting, Denenor did his best to lower the chances another arrow might find purchase with Thomas. He exerted his focus on his cousin of half blood's protection through the wind and rain; the skies might have been dark already, but they grew thicker. A crackle of lightning darted from the sky to a point in the West, but electrocution was not the farmer's intent. Rather, the stronger gusts and heartier rainfall would provide difficulty to anyone not within arm's reach. To that effect, the ether-eking Denenor took a nudge toward Maddok, attempting to shelter him from problems should the severity need to be greater.
With a spin and liberal wave of his arms, the foreign farmer spoke three words. A gust pushing outward could be felt by his neighbors, but soon it was a sustained breeze pushing South. Mist began to form in the air to accompany the breeze . Through it all though, an eye of calm in the folds of the local weather grew into view, halting but a few feet from Denenor.
In Elvish, he spoke to Thomas as not to reveal his plans to the enemies. "A storm will brew, but calm will remain near me!"
Perhaps I'm missing it: Where is the map for this encounter? I'm curious how far Denenor & friends are away from this foe and how much terrain lies around him.
The sun and moons are gone. Though it was but the arcanists words which were spoken to him, they cut into Denenor like a knife. Changes this large went beyond mere distance. They could cut into places beyond their spot on the plane; the forces involved were surely potent enough not to constrain themselves simply to their field of existence. Maybe in the realm of the ether, things are changed. Damaged. Thomas should know Teysura would be worried about this, but what if she was indisposed herself? That wound of worry spread, but it left the farmer with little choice. "Yes, Thomas. I will join you in visiting the temples. It's not as if my vocation is needed anymore anyway." Though despairing from the news, the majestic trip on the griffons buoyed Denenor's spirits. While the wind was harsh for some, he found it invigorating and was a touch disappointed when their passage was over. It was moments after they set foot on the ground they were accused of being looters though. And to think this tree would now die-out regardless... "He speaks the truth. We want loot no more than this darkness."
"It seems the Sacred Mother's light would be useful right about now; this darkness - how far does it spread?" While Denenor kept himself occupied with the informational questions, he did not voice his extrapolations right now. Indisposed can't mean dead, or they'd be in a panic. Unconscious? Sapped of his powers? His thoughts quickly turned away from Baerwynnd with Thomas's call to arms. He felt it was a bit rushed, though he understood the pull of the moment with the severity of the circumstances. However, it was the other pair he sought advice from. "Marcusic, Maddok - I am no warrior, and I'm guessing Thomas isn't either. How long do you think a simple person would last out there?" They were veterans of more than a scrape or two; their experiences would give the best assessment. In a way, Denenor did feel like his presence here was somewhat warranted. He'd been sent to see to the land, and now he was, albeit in a rather warped sense of the phrase. He was not the healer Thomas claimed to be, nor was he the adept combatant as the others, yet if the sun was indeed gone, he imagined a chill future awaited them without special tending. That tending was something he could provide. Not forgetting his manners, the incanted dug into his bag and produced three loaves of bread for Arrington. Not downsized for gnomes, they were plenty. "As promised. I have not any meat with me, but the bread is good, and you have seen to our horses. Even with the harsh news, it is better to know the hardship than to face it blind."
"Being active is one thing, but reactive is another. If Kiravor is responsible for these acts, it would seem others who are opposed to him are late in their resistance - or unknowing of what's happening altogether." He did not want to dwell on anything overly-negative, so he changed the subject. "I presume you can use that some potency displayed earlier to mend the living too? A talented healer indeed; they were right to grant your passage." *******
Their trip to the hazard was becoming much more real with the degree of meeting his subordinate. However, Denenor felt humbled. It wasn't a feeling he had often with people - not out of arrogance, but simply lack of deep interaction. He swallowed. I'd best make a good impression. Yet how? He had little to offer, and he was naught but a tag-along in this expedition. "Denenor here. I have no messages for the Hazard and am but a farmer travelling with this group of more capable folk." He dug through a pack and fished-out a loaf of bread. "I have food to offer should you extend your offer of shelter from this ... endless night." The trepidation in Denenor's voice was clear with the last two words.
Normally, Denenor would be taking-in the new sights, sounds, and smells. Now? After retching twice on the way to this forsaken spire, he'd adopted a sullen outlook. If Teysura can push back against the dead, then there are forces from beyond that can pull us into despair. He queried the cleric. "Thomas, you are a potent priest, that much is clear. Are there any reasons you can think of where a divine - surely not Teysura - would seek to curse us with these undead?" The question to motive itself was more basic. The more troubling implication was ability. They managed to do it on such a scale...
Sidenote: IRL, I'll also be doing a pseudo-playtest of the spheres systems. A friend of mine is doing a campaign and will be using them. He has a small fetish for the Byzantine empire, and the campaign is largely themed around it. Besides us being sacked by the not-Ottomans, I might be able to glean some sort of deeper understanding of this systems workings - which I'll be happy to pass along.
Using the same technique that brought him to the roof in the first place, the visiting elf caused an eddy at his location and his desired one - the ground - to transport himself magically. He tentatively stepped toward the corpse, tears forming in his eyes. "What did he do to deserve this? What did any of them do?!"
Clearly not a seasoned combatant as those in the professions surrounding it, Denenor was more moved by the scene of death than most.
Though Thomas called upon the power of light to strike down the undead, Denenor used the power of the atmosphere to do so. He elf hopped nimbly across the roof to catch sight of the wight. He spun about, a stream of air circling about himself before jetting away from him in all directions; the air carried with it an energizing and purifying feeling.
The undead were on different sides of the party, and Denenor feared their touch might be corrupting. At least from the wight. How to stop them?.. From his vantage point, he had a better view. Two of the risen were near the gruff protector, but a barrier of some sort seemed to hold one at bay. Okay, the one near me must go then. Unfortunately, the elf was ill-equipped to dispatch the ghoul himself. Needing an alternate solution, he called on the energy he knew lay in the world around him - even with the state of the sky, mysterious as it was. "May the soil strike you low!" He shouted, shaking his left hand back and forth. As if on cue, the earth in the alley began to tremble - and the zombie on it.
You have Denenor mostly correct. He sees this life as a necessary interval before his time in the forever after, so he has a more aloof, if somewhat diminished perception of events. This catastrophe is monumental enough to shake that, however. His upbringing was mostly sheltered from martial strife and personal malice, so his journeys will necessessitate a lot of maturing for him. He views his companions as people more weathered and streetwise than himself, and his curiosity about their experiences will cause him to learn from them. Thomas and Denenor may spar over what constitutes appropriate effort toward "good" behavior in this life and which actions are commendable in the eyes of the divines. With Maddok and Marcusic, he does not understand what would drive people to an occupation so alien to him and stay in it for so long (though he doesn't know Marcusic's history). As stated previously, I believe it would be a shame for misunderstandings and against-the-grain diction to put a damper on this story.
We all have points in time that stretch us thin. Just let people around you know that so they can contextualize mistakes or oversights when they inevitably occur. That way, Thomas might not suddenly feel god's will involves shanking you. He knows better though, having already seen the divine form. On a somewhat sidebar though, those grind early/hard things are pick-and-choose. You'd probably be able to do just one a lot easier and have time to enjoy your sister's spawn afterward!
During their time preceding the assault, a sadness crept into Denenor's outlook, overcoming the revulsion after a spell. Was this an attack? Surely all these people had not wronged their murderers... It occurred to him one more attached to society such as Thomas might have a deeper understanding of what political malice - if any - could have been at work here. The bickering of the trio he'd joined added just a touch of levity to make the journey from sinking into utter despair altogether. At least some of us have the glow of life left.
Though that glow was given a pale hue at the artist's recognition.
Unlike the mercenaries, being a farmer, Denenor was not accustomed to traveling with weapons out. He spent some seconds hefting his bow from his back, though he did not notch an arrow. He'd only ever used it to hunt, and he knew these things - while their spirits had been extinguished - had once been people with lives all their own. Whoever did this needs to be made to answer for it! That anger did not let him slip into a blind rage but instead steeled his resolve. "Careful!" He grabbed the Thomas's shoulder. "I can call a passage through the ether to place you on the roof of the inn. Can you take advantage of that?"
Not willing to chance his escape with a bad-mannered reply, Denenor nodded positively in reply to the quick-tempered dwarf. And it looks like you'll be rid of me anyway. Upon going through the gate, however, the elf had second thoughts.
The macabre scene surrounding them was something out of a horror manuscript. Yet as disturbing as the death and despair around them was, the sight above them held his eyes as he held his nose. The sky ... what happened? Day was gone, and it was as if someone was playing a hide-and-seek game with the celestial bodies. Were it not for the overpowering stench and steep loss of profits the greedy guardians were sure to observe in the days to come, Denenor would have thought this a ruse. The priest may have been saying his prayers, but his head was secured tightly enough to make a sound suggestion. "Yes, let's get help with haste. If nothing else, the Hazard should at least know what the problem is; that's his specialty." While his speech may have sounded haughty, that was not Denenor's intent; rather, he was too transfixed by the changes around him to spend time making the diction warmer. |
