Felgarath readies his staff to whack the creature if it gets close.
Search Posts
Felgarath nods his head toward Nester. "I am Felgarath, at your service."
When is starting time? I'm in PDT, and catching a plane at 12 noon for a 2 hour flight (FYI)
Is there a way to post using your PFS character alias?
I'd be interested in submitting a character. Felgarath the Wise Wizard (universalist 1)
-Arcane Temper: +1 on Init and Conc checks
Feats: Spell Focus (evocation), Spell Focus (conjuration), Lightning Reflexes Spells: Mage Armor, Shield, Color Spray Spell book: Alarm, Burning Hands, Color Spray, expeditious Retreat, Hold Portal, Mage Armor, Shield
Interested if not pbp and depending on meeting day/time
I hope everyone has Happy Holidays. Here's the next update. * * * * Malcanthet migrated to Shendilavri. It was draining to manifest her physical form on the material plan for as extended a time as she had and she was grateful to be home. There was something about her recent scheme that unnerved her. She was beginning to wonder whether it was worth the effort in this particular endeavor. She needed to think. The Succubus Queen was not a fan of the Ruler of Hell and it would be politically disadvantageous for her if her rivals learned of her recent alliance with him. It was a dangerous game that she justified as a means to an end. Her activities in The Deceiver’s employ greatly advanced the cause of her Benefactors. Still. She had hoped to gain great influence by winning the Prelate’s soul. Hulrun of Kenabres was a mighty prize; one that would gain her many allies. But due to the cursed woman’s sacrifice, Hulrun’s plan was ruined and her Benefactors, annoyed. This caused a chain of events requiring Hulrun to deal with the Adversary or risk annihilation at the hands of those very Benefactors. It was a deal that forfeited the Prelate’s soul to the Adversary, all but eviscerating any interest Malcanthet originally had in obtaining his soul for herself. But the Benefactors offered so much more than the worth of a corrupt soul of a once holy man. The Apocalypse would release the hordes of the Abyss onto the prime material plane, fully manifested and physically present. The spread of their taint would reach every corner of the world. Golorian would be theirs and Malcanthet would claim the world with her consort ruling its skies. She strode through the gardens of her verdant paradise on the 570th layer of the Abyss, smiling at the blood vines. They were so pungent this time of year. Her country manse was not far in the distance. She would have migrated directly there, but she desired to visit her gardens before going to the manse. She was pleased with herself that she was able to so completely trick the young druidess and the elf into believing that she was the keeper of the heart of the forest. It was not too much trouble to corrupt the moon circle in the center of the forest. Capturing and eviscerating the pixies was a bit more difficult. But she had managed. The mortals will be gone for a while. No doubt they will send someone looking for them. She must be ready. It was time to implement phase two of Hulrun’s plan. Malcanthet strode into the manse, her blood red robe blowing in the breeze, showing her shapely legs which ended in ruby boots with six inch stiletto heels. “Loviel.” Malcanthet purred as she entered the great hall, the klackety-klack of her boots echoed on the marble. The succubus turned at the sound of her name and, seeing who had uttered it, immediately bowed in reverence. “My Queen.” Malcanthet bent slightly and whispered into Loviel’s ear with a kiss. “I need you to do me a tiny favor, my sweet.” “As you wish, My Queen.” Loviel playfully responded. “What would you have me do?” “You will be married…to a Paladin of Iomedae.” Malcanthet said smugly, staring intently into Loviel’s eyes to judge her response. Loviel’s lips parted in surprise. But she recovered quickly. Raising an eyebrow, Loviel replied teasingly. “It will be my pleasure, My Queen. Am I playing the role of virgin? I do so hate white. It washes me out.”
Thanks guys. I wonder if anyone else is following this anymore. Maybe they'll start trickling in as I continue to update it. Here's a long one. * * * * Kyras fell back. It was as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He lost all perception of his surroundings and slipped, unbidden, into reverie. “You will do this task without magic, Apprentice.” Master Dardan was a kind and wise man, though Kyras did not then appreciate it. “But what is the point of having the Art, if we are not going to use it?” Kyras was eager to use his Art whenever he could. While he could perform cantrips and one or two defense and utility spells of the lowest valence, the rush that came with using the Art was ecstasy. He was constantly dismayed that his Master forbade the use of the Art in the interstitial between lessons. And the lessons did not happen with near enough frequency to Kyras’s liking. “Again, I find myself reminding you of the Wizard’s Rules, Apprentice. The Art is infinite. But we are not. One’s ability to channel the Art is directly proportionate to one’s restraint in using it. For power without wisdom leads to dark places.” The old wizard had had apprentices before, but none were so bold and arrogant as Kyras. There was something about the boy that discomfited him; it was a shadow of a threat in a deep corner of his mind. He was conflicted about teaching him the Art for fear of what he might do with it. Golorian’s history was rife with its share of dark wizards. But the boy’s father, Lord Medvyed, was a good man and long time friend. He could hardly turn him down in his hour of need. So, when the Lord came to him and pleaded with him to take his son into apprenticeship, he acquiesced. I will teach him restraint and judicious use of the Art and only those incantations that protect and do no harm. He reasoned. Kyras fetched the broom and began sweeping the porch as the Wizard had directed, his mind calculating how much longer he would have to put up with this treatment before he could learn something useful. Kyras had been in the Wizard’s care for 8 years, ever since he was 8 years old. This is a waste of my talent. Kyras thought bitterly. He knew he was destined for greater things. Later that night, he was picking up in the Wizard’s library. Master Dardan slept, snoring in his favorite overstuffed chair by the fireplace. Kyras scowled at the old man. Look at him. He is but a foolish old man. I am greater than this. Kyras never did see the old Wizard perform a single spell. In all of his time apprenticed to him, the old man exhibited not a hint of mastery of the Art. Though Kyras knew Master Dardan had knowledge of the Art, for the Wizard taught him how to channel the Art into incantations. But still. Kyras wondered whether the man had any real power. Deep in his own thoughts, Kyras was inattentive to the uneven stack of books he was carrying. Unbalanced, the top book fell to the floor with a soft thud, landing open. Something caught Kyras’s eye. It was an entry detailing the history of a great and long dead archmage, Zantarin: ….And so it was that the Archmage Zantarin came upon the First Word of Io, one of the Seven Words of Io, the Words of Power. Kyras’s eyes widened. The Words of Io are rumored to be the primal words of the Art, first uttered to mortals from the Gods themselves. To master the Words of Power is to be the master of the Art. He kept reading. Zantarin’s laboratory was built to test the Word of Power. It would be in northwestern Brevoy that his power would be felt…. Kyras dropped the book, awestruck. Kyras was in northwestern Brevoy. Could it be that the Word of Power is still there? But if Zanarin’s laboratory was in northwestern Brevoy, why have I not heard of it before now? Kyras spent the next few months trying to learn more about the Archmage Zantilan, catching snippets here and there from passages in Master Dardan’s books when the old wizard slept. Soon it would be time one of Master Dardan’s yearly month-long sojourns and Kyras would be left alone to tend the tower. Kyras planned to use that time to go to town and learn of the whereabouts of Zantilan’s laboratory and travel to it to claim the Word of Power. Then, he would be free of Master Dardan and his foolishness. The time came and Kyras went to the library in the nearby town of King’s Gate to investigate the whereabouts of Zantilan’s Laboratory. He found no reference of the laboratory, but he found the locations of three different old ruins on old maps. Desperate for a clue, Kyras decided to investigate these ruins as potential locations of the ancient laboratory. It was at the first of these that Kyras’s life was forever changed. The ruins were thick with moss and covered in vines, nearly indistinguishable from its surroundings. It would have gone completely unnoticed but for Kyras’s knowledge of geography and his ravenous study of local maps of the area in preparation for his journey. As Kyras approached, he saw that all that was left of the ruins appeared to be a few large slabs of stone and a stone staircase leading down into the earth. The opening was barely tall enough for him to crouch through as he descended the stairs into the dank darkness. luminos! The magic flowed though his blood as he spoke the spell his master had taught him. The familiar rush came over him. His hand glowed with a pale yellow light, giving his long silver hair a golden tinge and lighting his surroundings as he descended the eroded, rubble-strewn stairs. As he descended, he found he could eventually stand upright. It was deathly quiet, with the only sound being that of Kyras’s black velvet robes, softly scraping the stone stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, a short hallway opened into a large room, its dimensions shrouded in shadow. Kyras advanced to the doorway to get a better view. His light revealed the sparkly outline of finely ground silver dust on the floor of the chamber and a closed door on its far side. The silver dust formed a circle on the floor inside of which was a five pointed star, a pentagram, also lined in the silver dust. A summoning and containment circle. Kyras deduced. But for what? He decided to risk a little magic. reveille. Kyras spoke the word of revealing, a spell that would illuminate to his sight magical auras in his general vicinity. The young wizard was nearly bowled over by the intensity of his spell’s revelation. Emanating from the silver circle was a power that was so great, that it momentarily blinded him and nearly knocked him to the ground. Stumbling back and reaching for the wall of the hall, he caught himself and quickly spoke a word to dismiss the spell. After a few moments, his sight returned. Whatever the circle was, it was still active, and very potent. He decided to give it a wide berth, lifting the hem of his long robes so as not to disturb the circle, he circumnavigated the room along its round edge to the door on the opposite side. Testing the wooden reinforced door, he found it unlocked and opened it, revealing a library and laboratory beyond. Lifting his hand high, he let the light of his spell fall on the entirety of the room to be sure of its contents. He was drawn to the rows of bookcases along the west wall. Satisfied that he was the only breathing creature in the room, he walked over to the bookcase and began reading the spines of the books. Two books were of particular interest to him. One was a black, leather bound tome that bore a familiar sigil on its spine. The other was a leather journal about half its size, bearing the same sigil. The sigil was that of Zantilan. He removed the books from the shelf and opened the journal. A small flash flared from the page and dissipated. Kyras froze. A creeping sense of dread fell over him. He had read about magical wards wizards often placed on their most precious belongs; wards that burned, wards that paralyzed and even wards that killed. But nothing happened. He waited a few more moments to be sure. Nothing. Then he heard it. It was soft and faint and came from somewhere behind him. But he was sure what it was: a footfall. Kyras whirled around to face the door and the source of the sound. But he saw only wisps of black smoke and a fleeting glimpse of a form. He walked toward the door to investigate when he heard a footfall behind him. He whirled around again to see a robed figure with long white hair, pointed ears and almond eyes. While it was dark in the room but for his weak spell, Kyras could still make out that its skin was jet black. Drow! His mind screamed. The Drow began to gesture with one hand, while its other hand formed a cup at waist level. Kyras’s eyes widened. His master did not teach him how to cast this spell, but he taught him how to know when his enemy was casting it. He had to react quickly. Scutum! Kyras bellowed as a rippling shield of force sprang into being around him, just as the Drow released five glowing energy darts from his hand. Kyras’s shield absorbed the magic missiles, leaving Kyras unharmed. Five missiles! Kyras knew he was no match for the Drow. Kyras reckoned the Drow had access to spells of at least the Fifth Valence. He had to flee if he was to survive. But his fear gripped him and he hesitated. The Drow took full advantage of his hesitation. Detrudo! The Drow released a massive concussive wave of force. Kyras was knocked back through the door onto the floor into the room beyond with the silver circle. He skidded to a halt within the circle, its outer edge broken. Kyras froze, fearing what had been done. His master had taught him about the dangers of breaking a containment circle. If the circle is broken the creature within is no longer contained. It’s times like those, Young Apprentice, that you need to keep your wits about you. Master Dardan’s lessons came unbidden to his mind. Oh, how he wished his Master was here to protect him. He desperately looked around the room, expecting and fearing to see what he had loosed. But he saw nothing. The Drow walked toward him, holding a wand leveled at him. Kyras was already bleeding internally and he could feel that several ribs were broken. His master had not taught him any offensive spells, not that they would be of any use against the Drow wizard. He knew that he would not survive this fight and he began to despair. For all his ambition, he would die on a fool’s errand. He smiled wryly at the bitter pill he had to swallow for his folly. A voice entered his mind. I can save you. All you must do is accept me into you. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and warning bells sounded in his mind. He looked around and saw nothing. His master’s chastening voice repeated over and over in his head, reminding him of the foolishness of dealing with forces before he fully understood them or their consequences. But I will die if I do not try! A less arrogant man might have accepted his fate, but not Kyras. Without wasting a breath, Kyras reached out to the voice. I accept you into me. A black smoke roiled up from the circle, snakelike, slow at first, then as it found purchase in Kyras’s nostrils, it suddenly blew forcefully into his nose. Kyras screamed. As the Drow entered the summoning chamber, words flashed across Kyras’s eyes, burning into his brain. He floated upright and hovered in the air facing the Drow. He spoke the words and manifested great power, hurling balls of fire and bolts of lightning at the Drow, who in turn hurled down terrible curses and magic at Kyras. After only a minute, the Drow lay burned and lifeless. Kyras crawled up the stairs and onto one of the moss covered slabs, wheezing, barely alive. You did well, Kyras. Did I not promise that you would be spared? My gift has given you power and strength, but there was a great cost. No matter. We are together, once again. This time, there will be no escaping me. Kyras lost consciousness, overcome with exhaustion, pain and dread. He was lost for what seemed an eternity. Dreams of magic and of wars, of armies of undying hordes and blasted, barren farms, plagued him. He was feverish. And he was dying. He had no idea how long he lingered in that state. Then, a green glow appeared at the edges of his mind, slowly absorbing his thoughts. The dreams receded. The soothing glow comforted him and his eyes fluttered open for the first time in days. Kneeling above him was Kira, whom he had not seen in years. She smiled warmly. “There, my brother. The Green has brought you back from the brink.” She hugged him. “I thought I had lost you.” “Kira—“ A coughing fit interrupted Kyras. It was painful, wracking his chest in agony. He expectorated blood. “Rest. Your body is broken and –“ She trailed off, concern entering her voice. Kyras immediately sensed that something was wrong. He got his coughing fit under control and looked into Kira’s eyes. She was beautiful. Age had made her more graceful. When he left the manor, she was but eight years old, an awkward child. Now, at sixteen, she was a young woman. “Your skin, Kyras—it is gray and hard, like a snake’s. Your hair, it is stark white and stiff; not silky and silver. And—“ she paused. “Your eyes—your pupils, they—move.” She finished, fear in her voice. “If it wasn’t for our bond, I would have lost you.” Kyra cried into his shoulder, hugging him again. The bond. Kyras mused, body broken, laying on a stone slab in the middle of the wilderness, saved from his foolishness by the only person he ever truly loved. Ever since they were children, Kira and Kyras had an unusual connection. Perhaps something primal was shared between them in their mother’s womb where they developed together as fraternal twins. Perhaps it was something else; some long forgotten, recessive element of Elven magic passed down through the generations by their Elven mother. Whatever its source, it created an empathic bond between them. Kira and Kyras could always sense one another, sense when each other was injured or hurt, even sense each other’s moods. It mattered not how distant they were physically from each other, empathically it was as though they were always in the same room. It was this bond that saved Kyras’s life on this day, a day that he would never forget, the day that changed his life forever; the day that ruined him. It was an eternal bond, a bond that let him know he was not alone in this world, a bond borne of love, a bond that was always with him. Until this moment. * * * * “I said, you have something that does not belong to you, Wizard,” Acacia repeated, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Kyras stared straight ahead at nothing, coming out of his reverie. “She’s gone. I can’t sense her.” Fear gripped his heart. He had never before in his life felt this alone. “I’m sorry?” Acacia said, confused and annoyed by this distraction to his mission. Kyras forced his rational mind to overcome his emotions as his Master had taught him. Fear is the mind killer. I must not fear. To fear is to die. To die is to accept weakness. I am not weak. I am strong in the Art and the Art is strong in me. Kyras repeated the chant he learned to steady his mind and bring reason to bear. Kyras slowly became aware again of his surroundings, of the desk, his bed, the carpet….and the stranger imperiously staring at him. “Who are you?” Kyras asked steadily. He wanted desperately to find Kyra and had no time for this stranger, but something told him that the stranger was dangerous. “I am Acacia, Archdruid of Golorian. I have come to claim what does not belong to you and to decide your fate.” Acacia calmly stated. Despite being Kira’s brother, Kyras did not know much about the druidic organization on Golorian. He knew enough, however, to treat one with the status of “archdruid” carefully. Yet he was shrewd enough not to appear weak. “Decide my fate?” Kyras asked, intrigued at the boldness of this stranger. “What gives you and your brethren the authority to decide my fate, friend?” Kyras’s patience was running out. He had to find Kyra. She needed him, and he would come, just as she came to him in his time of need. Acacia’s voice became intense, but remained calm. “You have unleashed that which must not be manifest in our world. You have disrupted the balance of all things. Many have died. Many more will die. The world will groan and break under the weight of it. You must pay for what you have done.” Words froze on Kyras’s lips for a moment as the Archdruid’s intensity hit him like a stone wall. After a beat Kyras responded, tentatively grabbing for an angle. “If its magic was not meant to be unleashed, then why was it left in the open at Sky Watch for all who entered to read?” Kyras asked. The Archdruid’s lips parted in amazement at the insolence of the wizard. It was then that he really looked at Kyras for the first time. There was something strangely familiar about him, but the Archdruid could not place it. Kyras sensed the Archdruid’s hesitation and pressed the advantage. I must not let them know that it was Kira who unleashed the Chthonic. “You druids profess to maintain nature’s dominance over man, to keep the world in a delicate natural balance. Yet you allow such world shattering power to lay within reach of anyone with access to but a trickle of the Art. Therein lays the true irresponsibility of the druids. You may have your Tome, but you may not have retribution, for such retribution would come in the absence of intent. Would you slay the woodsman who killed a bear for meat and hide to fill his belly and keep him warm in the cold days of the dark Winter?” Kyras pressed. Acacia laughed derisively. “You dare equate your actions to that of a woodsman taking only what he needs to live?” The Archdruid paused. “But you are right. We should not have permitted the Tome to be so poorly defended that it could be stolen and let loose upon the world. In that, I suppose we are as much to blame as are you, young wizard.” Acacia admitted evenly. “I sense no malice in your heart as it pertains to this.” Satisfied that Acacia had not sensed his subterfuge, Kyras walked to his desk and opened its drawer. He removed the musty tome and handed it to Acacia. “What is to come?” He asked. “The druids must find Spring and convince her to return to The First World, where she belongs. In the meantime, we work diligently to maintain the balance between the worlds while the Dweller on the Threshold is absent. A few weeks, at most, it will be until the rift will be healed with the coming of the new season. We will then have several months to locate Spring.” Acacia revealed openly. The Archdruid closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over the cover of the Eldritch Tome. A green glow softly emanated from his hand and was mirrored in his eyes. He looked at Kyras, eyes narrowing slightly. He is not the one who unleashed Spring. “And what if you do not find her?” Kyras asked. Acacia stared intensely at Kyras. “It will be the end of all things.” As he finished the last, his shape shimmered into that of an owl and he flew out the open window into the night sky. Kyras paused for a minute to take in the druid’s words. It will be the end of all things. When he was satisfied that the druid was far off in the distance, Kyras ran to the Castle, practically trampling an awestruck Nakpick, who had been quietly standing in the doorway, watching the entire conversation. “Foolish Kobold! Watch where you are going!” Kyras yelled at the Kobold as he regained his footing and continued running down the hall. * * * * “You must find her, Kyras. Take Akiros with you. I had Kelas follow her into the forest for protection. I can’t imagine that she has been harmed. And you, yourself, state that she did not seem to have been harmed, just…gone.” The Baron commanded worriedly. “I don’t know, Baron.” Kyras replied. “I have never sensed such emptiness. It is as if she’s—“ “Don’t you DARE say it, Kyras! I swear I will smite you where you stand!!” Baerevan roared. Akiros and Kestan exchanged worried looks. Svetlana turned her head away from the Baron in worry and shame. None had seen this side of him. Kyras’s eyes became dangerous. The heat of his anger was palpable. Yet he held himself in check. Exercising control borne of years of practice. “My friend,” Kyras placed his hand on Baerevan’s shoulder and fixed his eyes on the baron’s. “If but one hair on her head is harmed, I will not rest until the one responsible, and his entire line, is obliterated.” Kyras swore darkly. “Forgive me, Kyras. I forget my temper when it comes to Kira. I love her more than anything and would give my life for her. I know you feel the same.” Baerevan apologized. “I will go with you, Laddy.” Akiros announced, hoping to dispel the uncomfortable air in the hall. “Let it be done, then.” The Baron commanded. “You ride within the hour.” * * * *
I don't even know if anyone is following this anymore....but I was inspired by one of my players to continue on... * * * * Kira and Kelas traveled purposefully through the Narlmarches. Kira acutely sensed the heart of the forest, as though she and it were one. She had a direction, but no sense of what she would find there. Her awareness was growing. Something inside her was changing. She could feel it. Kira’s skill and Kelas’s knowledge of the primeval forests of old allowed the two to avoid most dangers of the newly-birthed Narlmarches, though they did have one close call. Deep in a discussion of the various properties of the flora of old that had suddenly reappeared in Golorian in recent weeks due to the manifestation of Spring incarnate on their world, Kelas walked unawares within reach of an ancient carnivorous plant. In old Olven, the plant was called Illurian Elthario. In common, it means graceful man-eater. With cat-like reflexes, the plant scooped Kelas up in its spiked, cup-like petals and began secreting a digestive enzyme used to slowly dissolve its food. After recovering from her initial shock, Kyra revealed her nature as a priestess of the Green to the creature, commanding it to let the Elf go free. The creature, recognizing Kyra’s authority, complied. Not soon thereafter, the couple came to the Heart of the Narlmarches. It was a clearing in the center of which was a large circle of giant mushrooms at least one foot in diameter and twice that high. Standing between the circle between Kira and Kelas, facing them was a creature that looked like a small girl. On closer inspection, the creature was in fact a forest gnome. “Ah, you have finally come.” The small creature said in a high voice. “Welcome, Kira, Vessel of Spring.” Kira clearly did not expect the Heart of the Narlmarches to look like this. And she was suspicious. “Who are you?” She asked experimentally. “I am Niani, Forest Gnome, and Keeper of the Sacred Circle.” The creature responded. “I am charged with the protection of the Narlmarches on Golorian.” “How did you know we were coming?” Kira asked, still suspicious. The creature laughed playfully. “I know the intentions of all who enter the Narlmarches. It is my job.” Kira accepted this explanation, for the ancient forest would, of course, have a caretaker. She was quite surprised that its caretaker would be of such diminutive stature, yet with such apparent power. “Something is wrong with the forest.” Kira stated. “I am aware of that, Kira, Priestess of the Green. It is a problem of your own making and one for which I should smite you. Yet, I sense no ill will or bad intention in your heart.” The creature responded seriously. Kira turned red at the memory of her recent folly in letting loose Spring upon Golorian. “I wish to undo the destruction I have wrought.” She responded sheepishly. “I had hoped to find Spring at the Heart of the Narlmarches. Are you not Her?” Again, Niani laughed playfully. “Alas, my sister, I am not Her. She has long since fled this forest, seeking to explore the new world she has found.” Kira, dejected, turned to Kelas and pleaded, “What am I do to?” Kelas thought for a moment and turned to the Forest Gnome. “What is this place?” He asked. “This is the Heart of the Narlmarches. It is the connection to The First World in the Narlmarches. It is the place where the Hierophants dwell, where all of your answers lay.” She responded. “The Hierophants?” Kira asked. “Yes. The know much that is hidden. You seek a way to return Spring to her rightful place. They will know how.” Niani responded. Kira brightened. “We must go to them, Kelas! This is the answer!” Kelas looked skeptical. “I’m not so sure, Kira. I’ve never heard of a connection to The First World from Golorian, except through The Isle of Arenway in the Verudan Forest.” He stole a sidelong glance at Niani. “I’m not sure she can be trusted.” He whispered to Kira. “Don’t be silly, Kelas. I know in my heart that this is the answer! We must go, Kelas. We must!” Kira pleaded with the Elf. Kira was desperate for anything that had a hope of undoing what she had wrought. She was willing to try anything. Resigned at her determination and realizing he could not win this battle, he turned once more to the Forest Gnome. “How do we migrate to The First World from here?” “It is simple.” Niani started, “Stand in the center of the circle of mushrooms and mediate on The Green. The circle acts as an amplification of your meditation. My power will then send you through the portal to the other side, once it resonates with your meditation.” “Are you sure you want to do this, Kira?” Kelas asked one last time. “Yes. Let’s go. This might be our only chance to save Baerevale and Golorian from Spring’s constant presence.” Kira answered determinedly as she lead them into the center of the circle. They began to meditate and a shimmering red veil came down around them as Niani began speaking her incantation. Kelas started at the sound of her voice. It was not the language of Olven or of Ogham or of the sylvan creatures on Golorian. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled in dread. He snapped his head around to look at the Forest Gnome and saw instead a beautiful, yet terrible to behold creature of magnificent beauty. She had raven black hair and was wearing a red robe, open in front, revealing her supple, perfect breasts. Small horns protruded from her temples. Succubus. Kelas’s mind screamed. Kira cried out. “Kelas! Look! The poor creatures!” She sobbed as, shimmering into view around the circle, appeared the forms of pixies, one on top of each mushroom, connected to each other by their entrails, writhing in agony at the rhythm of the chant. Carved into the earth below the couple’s feet was an inverted pentagram. The screams of the pixies added a dreadful chorus to the Succubus’s chant. Kelas tried to draw his bow and found that he could not move. Tears ran down Kira’s cheeks as she, too, found that she was helpless to anything to ease the suffering of the poor creatures. The last thing Kelas saw before a bright red glow enveloped them was the smile of the Succubus Queen as they were whisked away into the gate.
Here's a brief update with a little bit about Kyras, to boot :) * * * * “It should be fairly easy.” The Succubus Queen purred to Hulrun. “Excellent. Then tomorrow, one of your subjects will migrate to Soliel to cause my son’s beloved to miss her wedding.” Hulrun summarized. “Precisely, My Dear.” The Queen responded. “There will be no killings. Kira must not be harmed, only delayed. She reeks of transcendence. I haven’t been able to divine it thoroughly. But I dare not interfere too much.” The Baron mused, putting a finger to his pursed lips. “How exactly does delaying the bride-to-be serve our purposes, My Lord? The succubus asked. Hulrun stared at the Succubus Queen. Malcanthet was The Queen of Succubi. She had succeeded in that position through trickery and guile, as well as political acumen. Beside her unearthly beauty, it was her adroit ability to play others and her high stature both that drew him to her. There was no doubt in Hulrun’s mind that she knew exactly how it served his purposes. She was testing him. He decided to play along until he could discover her game. “Baerevan will be devastated when his bride does not show for the wedding. He will be politically ruined after all of the noble houses of Brevoy and the Aldori Swordlords observe this greatest of embarassments. Moreover, because Kira is of House Medvyed in Issia, and Baerevan is a pawn of the Swordlords of Rostland, the Swordlords may view this act as a declaration by Issia against Rostland that there will be no unity, further fueling them to war. If Brevoy falls into war, it will not be able to aid Mendev should the Queen request aid when we make our move.” Hulrun explained. Malcanthet considered his words and frowned. “Is it enough that Kira merely not show for the wedding? There could be many reasons for her not to show. She could be lost. She could be dead. None of these reasons would have the desired effect.” She argued. “Baerevan is weak. He allows his mind to go to dark places. He will take this as a personal judgment upon him, of his failure as a fiancé and as a man. It will be enough. Besides, should he fall too deeply into despair, our new benefactor will be greatly pleased.” Hulrun smiled. * * * *
Today was a difficult day. The baron had summoned him to the town square to assist him in revealing the true intentions of a rabble-rouser sent to breed chaos in their midst. The baron relied on Kyras to ferret out the truth. It proved more difficult than first thought. In the end, Kyras’s magic proved insufficient to the task. A fact that disappointed and angered Kyras. It was only a small consolation that his intellect proved sufficient to reveal the true lies the rabble-rouser spread. Kyras used his magic to enhance the baron’s mental acquity and then explained to the baron the ways in which logic and rhetoric could be used to belie the rabble-rouser’s claims. Being a man of faith and therefore familiar with circular arguments, the baron proved adroit at discrediting the man. In the end, the crowd turned against the rabble-rouser and he was run out of town. Kyras had suggested to Marcus that he have his men keep an eye on the exiled liar to determine who sent him. Kyras removed his boots to let his cramped feet breathe. As the pain in his feet subsided, his mood lightened a bit. He remembered the day he met Baerevan, and for the first time in life, saw a man incapable of doing evil. It is what drew the wizard to him. It is what caused Kyras to give him his blessing to marry Kira, and thereby to take the most precious thing he had in this world, other than his magic. It was while he was in this state that he suddenly became aware of a presence in the room. “Kyras of Brevoy?” the stranger asked. Kyras was alarmed. He looked at the door to find it closed. The stranger could not have come in that way. He looked at the window. It was open, but he was on the third floor, so it is unlikely he came in the window. “How did you get in here?” Kyras demanded. “That is not of your concern. I am Acacia, Archdruid of Golarian. You have something that does not belong to you.” * * * *
Thanks for the support. Yeah, I didn't get any warning that it was being moved. Here's the next update. * * * * The Baron stared out of one of the windows of the atrium in the castle, one of his favorite places to sit and think. It had been a week since Kira left and his loneliness was turning into worry. He had been busy in that time, which helped to take his mind off of his beloved. He, Akiros, Kyras, Kesten and Jhod travelled to the owlbear’s den and after a challenging battle, were successful in killing the creature and ending the fear that had gripped the populace. The Baron chuckled as he remembered Akiros’s braggadocio, suggesting that they bring back its head as proof that the deed was done, arguing that the people would appreciate such a symbol of victory. He had, of course, acquiesced and so the head of the monstrous creature now hangs above the bar in The Crazy Owlbear, Baerevale’s most infamous drinking establishment. In the owlbear’s den they found evidence suggesting that the poor creature’s mate had been killed by some bandits. More disturbingly, one of the dead bandits had on him a map of the Stolen Lands with two places marked, Baerevale and the owlbear den. It wasn’t all bad, however, for on that same bandit they found a beautiful ring made of hair and in another chamber, they found a surviving baby owlbear cub. Kelas was taken by both the ring and the cub. The ring was made out of the simplest of material, yet woven with expertise and detail that few invest in even the most precious of jewelry. The owlbear cub was just as precious to Kelas. He explained that hunters sometimes raise owlbears to assist them on a hunt. He expressed his desire to the Baron to raise the cub to adulthood and train it to obey commands and serve the barony. The Baron granted Kelas’s request without hesitation, seeing how much it seemed to mean to Kelas. But today the Baron’s thoughts returned to Kira. He had just received a strange visit from the satyr Falchios, whom they had met over a year ago when they were exploring the Narlmarches. At that time, a terrible Scythe Tree had been hunting his beloved, an unearthly beautiful dryad. The brave, but foolish, satyr preemptively hunted the ambulatory Scythe Tree down, knowing his beloved could not escape if the evil tree found them, being tethered as she was to the location of her tree, a large oak. When they found him, he was recovering from his wounds. Both satyr and dryad were relieved and thankful when the Baron told them that it was just a day earlier that they encountered the evil tree and smote it. In thanks and out of respect and friendship, Falchios pledged to keep an eye on the goings on in the forest for any dangers to the Barony and report them to the Baron. Today, Falchios was making good on that promise, and he, of course, had new troubles. Falchios found the Baron in the square. “Tiressia, my beloved, is no more.” Falchios explained, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. What happened?” The Baron asked, genuinely concerned for the satyr. “Her tree grew threefold in size and she merged with it, no longer of flesh and blood, but of leaf and bark.” Falchios explained further, sobbing freely. The Baron embraced the distraught satyr. “Be strong, friend. Iomedae has a plan for all.” “What a cruel thing to say!” Falchios accused as he pulled away from the Baron. “I have never been so chafed in my life. Satyrs were just not designed to mate with trees!” The Baron was now thoroughly confused. “I-I don’t understand,” he said. Just then, a group of young women walked passed them. The satyr’s eyes followed them as they passed. With a twinkle in his eye, he removed a set of reed pipes from his sarong with a sly smile and he asked the Baron, “Do you mind if I stay here for a while?” The Baron was never good at understanding the fey. “Um, yeah. I guess—I mean, you can stay here as long as you like.” The Baron responded. And then, seeing the reed pipes, the Baron’s eyes lit up with an idea, clearly missing the satyr’s intentions. “Do you play?” “Of course! I am the best reed pipe player in all of the Narlmarches.” The satyr responded. “Oh wonderful!” The Baron exclaimed. “Kira and I are getting married in a couple of months. We would love it if you would perform at the reception!” The Baron invited. With a sly expression on his face and twinkle in his eye, the satyr responded, “I would love to!” as he turned and ran after the young women. Odd behavior, the Baron thought now as he sat in his atrium reminiscing on the satyrs’ response, a growing feeling of unease welled up inside him, like he wasn’t quite sure what he had agreed to. But it was nothing he could really put his finger on. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he got up to go outside, when one of Akiros’s men walked into the atrium, announcing a disturbance in the square. Now what. The Baron thought as he followed the guard outside. By the time he got outside, Marcus and Akiros were there, arguing in hushed tones. Akiros’s men had a man in custody. The man was shouting at a gathered crowd. “See this! This is what I have been talking about! They are thwarting the will of the people! They are repressing you and growing rich off of your toil! They don’t care about you!” The man was shouting loudly and struggling to break from the strong grip of Akiros’s men. The Baron walked over to Marcus and Akiros. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, angered. “This man is named Grigori. He has been in Leveton and has recently come here, stirring up trouble, breeding resentment for you and your governors.” Marcus explained in hushed tones. “We should throw him in jail.” Akiros urged. “I disagree, Baron.” Marcus warned. “Why?” The Baron challenged Marcus. “This man has a lot of political good will with the populace. If you throw him in jail, it will seem like an injustice. It will add credence to the accusations he has been making about you.” Marcus explained. “What do you suggest?” The Baron asked. “Try him.” Marcus responded. “He is clearly an agent for some other organization. The things he has been saying have no basis in fact and my men have investigated him. He is not from here. He began this campaign to sully your name immediately upon arriving. But nobody knows from where he came.” The Baron considered Marcus’s proposal carefully. If Grigori’s benefactors could be discovered, it would discredit the rabble-rouser. “Get Kyras.” The Baron, red-faced, directed Akiros, “We are going to settle this here and now.” * * * Kira approached the brook where she had met Falchios and Tiressia nearly a year ago. At least, the place resembled that brook. Her journey into the Narlmarches had been terrifying. Thus far, she had managed to avoid the strange creatures that newly inhabited the forest, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she would be unable to avoid a conflict. By studying the creatures, she noticed that some are generally friendly, while others are vicious hunters. Most, however, were as large as dragons. Some even had scales and horns. “Hello?” She asked after she didn’t see any sign of the satyr or the dryad. A deep grinding voice slowly responded from the canopy. “Hello Kira.” Startled, Kira looked up at the source of the voice. It was a massive oak tree. As she stared at it, it moved! The tree took a few steps closer to the druidess and brought one of its massive branches down toward her. Before she could react, it scooped her up and brought her up to its face, a gnarled vaguely human visage. Kira screamed and covered her face to protect it. She wasn’t in pain. And when nothing happened after a few seconds, Kira tentatively removed her arms from her face and looked at her captor. “Wha-What are you?” Kira asked, amazed. “I am Tiressia. Don’t you recognize me?” The tree slowly asked. Kira’s mouth was agape. “What happened to you?” “That is complicated.” The tree responded in its slow deliberate manner. “I am no longer the creature I once was. I am no longer responsible for the care and growth of this tree. Rather, I am responsible for the care and growth of the Narlmarches. I am a Tree Herder of old.” Kira didn’t know what to say. But the hair on the back of her neck stood up as the gravity of Tiressia’s revelation settled in. Of course, she thought, with the return of the primordial forest came the return of the Tree Herders. “Someone approaches.” Tiressia whispered. * * * Kelas knew something was different in the forest. He had spent most of the past few weeks listening to the forest. The trees spoke to one another. It was like in the days of old, when the Tree Herders walked the lands. The trees were the conduits for their communication. Whispered messages sent from one end of the forest to the other could be heard in the rustling of leaves and scraping of branches. He had been following Kira for a few days and came to the place where they met Tiressia and Falchios. He had heard Kira’s scream and raced toward its sound. It led him here. Kelas thought he saw movement ahead. Drawing his bow and cocking an arrow, he moved more stealthily, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. He was completely caught off guard by the giant branch coming at him. At the last moment, he saw it out of the corner of his eye and leapt out of its way, crouching into a ready position, arrow still cocked. That’s when he heard Kira’s laughter. “Kelas, up here!” Kira laughed. Kelas looked up to see Kira held in a giant branch like the one that swiped at him. “What are you doing, Kira?” Kelas asked. “This is Tiressia,” Kira responded, “as she is now.” Kelas looked at the giant tree holding Kira. He stared for a moment, remembering. “A Tree Herder.” He said, amazed. “What are you doing out here?” Kira asked Kelas. “The Baron sent me after you to make sure you are safe.” He responded. “I didn’t want anyone coming after me, Kelas. I must do this on my own.” Kira replied. Kelas’s face was expressionless. “But since you are here, there would be no sense in sending you back, and you would be safer in my care.” Kira added. “Let us rest here for the night and learn from Tiressia what we can of the changes to the forest.” She finished. They spent the night with the Tree Herder. Tiressia confirmed that the path she was on would lead Kira to the heart of the forest. Kira and Kelas dined on some foraged berries and slept soundly, cradled by Tiressia’s feet. * * * *
You might have noticed in the last post there is a bit of a "she" vs. "it" discrepancy happening where Spring is concerned. This is due in part to the transcendent nature of the Cardinals. While Spring is often depicted as female, attributing base characteristics, such as gender, to a Cardinal is proper only in the literary sense. From the Druidic perspective, such beings have transcended gender. They are both male and female and neither. Nonetheless, those who know the current Cardinal of Spring's origin know that it was once female, before its transcendence. So, even some druids have trouble articulating the proper pronoun usage.
@Philip and Stebehil, thanks for the kind words and continued support. * * * Zebediah Thammel long since shed that name in favor of his current moniker, Zephyr. At an early age, Zebediah was indoctrinated into the ways of The Old Faith. As an ardent worshipper of the old ways and with a penchant for history and study, he took vows as a Priest of The Old Faith and became initiated into the ranks of the druidic order. The name Zephyr was given to him then, chosen by his superiors to fit his personality and demeanor. Like the Zephyr, Zebediah was always refreshig to experience. His calm approach to things and steady layering of argument, resulting in understanding in others, were hallmarks of his. After several years tending a sacred grove, he was noticed by the Grand Druid when his assistance was instrumental in stopping a plague caused by an enemy of the religion, a blighter. Unlike druids, who take from The Green only that amount of energy they require to fuel their powers and balance that taking with infusions of energy elsewhere, Blighters take power without regard to maintaining that sacred balance. As a result, when Blighters take energy from The Green, they steal the life force of The Green. All of nature recoils in agony as the Blighter kills everything around him to fuel his power. Of course, the effect of this affront is not immediately noticeable, as it takes time for nature to manifest this scar. By then, the Blighter is usually long gone from the area, making them somewhat difficult to locate. Zephyr confronted the powerful Blighter and defeated him with this knowledge of The Green, forever binding his powers and turning the Blighter into a tree from which no life would ever grow. The Grand Druid elevated Zephyr to Archdruid and took him into his personal retinue to travel the world as his eyes and ears. After several decades, the Grand Druid grew old and frail. In the druidic order, he who defeats The Grand Druid, becomes The Grand Druid. It therefore came as no surprise when some of the other Archdruids began to plot against The Grand Druid, recognizing his weakness, in an attempt to usurp his power and position. But through sheer act of political will and by reputation of his mastery of The Green, Zephyr managed to intervene on every occasion, foil every plot and deflect every attempt at a challenge. Zephyr managed to sequester The Grand Druid as he lay dying. In appreciation for his friendship through the decades, The Grand Druid’s last act was to declare Zephyr his replacement. So, with the last of his strength, he placed a dagger in Zephyr’s hand, blade pointing toward The Grand Druid’s chest. Zephyr protested, but the Grand Druid stood firm. “This must be done.” The Grand Druid whispered. Together they plunged the knife into the frail man’s heart. On taking the mantle of Grand Druid, Zephyr was immediately challenged by three Archdruids. Luckily for Zephyr, the Rite of Challenge is governed by ancient rules going back millennia that permit only one Archdruid to challenge the Grand Druid at a time and no Rite of Challenge may take place within two weeks of another Contest. Zephyr prevailed against all three Archdruids. And for their selfish maneuvering while the former Grand Druid was alive, he chose to exercise no mercy. Zephyr fought them to the death and reduced them to ash. Thereafter, Zephyr elevated three of his closest advisors to Archdruid status. Acacia was one such Archdruid. Today, Acacia was summoned to The Isle of Arenway in the heart of the Verudan Forest in Taldor to speak with Zephyr. “Can you feel it?” Zephyr asked as he stared out a stone archway, one of the several standing stones erected on the Isle of Arenway, which connects that place to the entirety of Golarian and to Circle Between. Acacia walked over the Sellen River to the isle, having just transported the thousand or so miles from northern Brevoy via plants, and had not yet announced his presence. “I can. It has been several weeks, though I feel it more oppressively in Brevoy than here. What is it?” “It is Spring. She is manifest in Golarian.” Zephyr responded. “How is that possible? She is securing The Threshold. It’s her time.” Acacia asked, puzzled. Still looking out through the archway, Zephyr continued. “The Heirophants are missing and The Eldritch Tome has been stolen and sent to Golarian. I have sensed its presence in a fledgling barony south of Brevoy.” “Someone used the Tome to summon Spring in Golarian?” Acacia spoke out loud as he pieced it all together. The Grand Druid turned and looked at the Archdruid for the first time. “You must retrieve the Tome. I will send it to The Circle Between and leave it in The Bramble Maiden’s care. It should have been placed there to begin with. It was foolish of our predecessors to keep it in The First World for safekeeping.” Zephyr scowled. “What of Spring? The Threshold?” Acacia asked urgently. “Balance must be restored. With Spring’s absence from The Threshold, the barrier between worlds is breaking down and if balance is not restored, it will break completely.” Zephyr replied. “Luckily there are but a few weeks left until Summer. If this crisis can be delayed that long, we will have nine months to locate Spring and find a way to convince it to return to The First World and take its place as one of the Cardinals, as the remaining Cardinals take their turns at securing The Threshold. Hopefully, Spring’s absence has not been noticed on the other side.” Zephyr explained. Acacia paled. According to lore, Spring was the most mercurial of the Cardinals, and the most unpredictable as well. If the Cardinal liked its new unbound freedom in Golarian, it was unlikely that it would willingly return to its duties. “Already the Narlmarshes bulge with potency. It is there where I first felt the change. Viridescence infuses everything. I have sensed beings that have not been seen on Golarian for millennia. The Bramble Maiden has confirmed their presence. “What of the Hierophants?” Acacia asked. “They are gone.” Zephyr responded.
Sorry for the extended absence. I hope this post makes up for it ;) * * * * The companions emerged from the ruined dwarven outpost and stood upon the rocky promontory, looking out into the surrounding forest. Kelas wept tears of remembrance, as if seeing an old friend after decades passed. The forest was no longer the forest of The Narlmarches. It was the forest of ancient Golorian, from a time before ancient Casmaron swept the length and breadth of this region. It was the forest into which the elves first came when they walked upon the soil of Golorian. Kelas saw specie of flora that he had not seen in a hundred generations. “What the Hells?” Akiros cursed as he nearly backed into Baerevan, distracted by the covering of giant vines now covering the stone watchtower. The leaves of the vines were at least as large as Baerevan’s shield. Kira was pale. The forest had changed. The trees, the air, earth, everything, was more…vibrant. Closing her eyes she could feel the power in the earth and the living things around her. Spring was free in Golorian and her presence was palpable. “Kira, what beautiful flowers.” Baerevan commented. She looked at him and noticed that he was staring at the ground behind her. All along the trail of her path, little wildflowers were growing out of the earth. She took a few steps and turned around. Sure enough, little wildflowers sprouted through soil where her feet had just been. That’s when it all sunk in. She summoned a chthonic being into this world and changed the balance of nature, changed herself, and who knows what else. What did Spring mean “the threshold is no longer guarded?” Kira looked at her green, leathery-looking skin and wept at the loss of her beauty, wept at the havoc she caused and wept at the unknown path that lay ahead of her. * * * The journey back to Baerevale was tedious. Kelas was completely silent and Kira went into and out of a state of depression. Embarrassed and ashamed, she wouldn’t even let Baerevan console her. It began to rain. It wasn’t the seasonal showers that the Narlmarches usually received at this time of year. The rain came in driving sheets and was accompanied by booming peels of thunder and bright flashes of lightning. The rain was relentless and washed away land. The island that housed the village of the lizard folk in the center of the Murque River had disappeared and the homes of the lizard folk had been washed away. There was no sign of the former village’s inhabitants. Kira became further withdrawn. “Perhaps they packed up and went to higher ground.” Akiros offered hopefully in an attempt to mollify Kira. “Yes. They are very resourceful, lizard folk.” Kelas added. But the druidess avoided looking at them and continued walking. A few hours later they came to the banks of Candlemere Lake. Akiros stopped for a moment. “Something’s not right.” He said. Kelas looked around for a minute, puzzled, a sense of unfamiliarity grew in his mind. He climbed a tree to get a better vantage. “Yes.” He called down. “The forest comes all the way to the bank of the lake. It is expanding.” Kelas stated hopping down out of the nearby tree and landing gracefully. Baerevan appeared deep in thought for a moment. “We should see whether Old Beldame needs any assistance.” He said. The old witch’s home was in the grasslands between the forest and the lake. Between the torrential rains and the forest’s growth, it was likely that her home was in danger. The companions traveled north through the former grasslands to Beldame’s hut. It was still there. The old witch was in a foul mood, but seeing Kyras brought what passed for a smile to her face. Relieved that she was unharmed, Baerevan excused the companions, stating that, due to the severity of the rain and the rapid fecundity of the forest, they had urgent business to attend to in Baerevale. That was enough for the old witch, who prized her privacy. She waved the companions off. Kyras could feel her longing stare at his back as he walked off. Shuddering at the distasteful thought of her affections, he continued on. * * * * Baerevale didn’t fare so well, either. But its problems did not stem from the strange weather. Yes, there were some leaky roofs. And some rutted streets needed repair. But the forest was still miles away from the outskirts of town. It was the attack of the rampaging owl bear that was the source of Baerevale's recent plight. While the companions were absent, an enormous, deranged and berserk owl bear tore through the town, wreaking havoc. Kesten had been left in charge in Baerevan’s absence. While he was the General of Soliel, his duties, up to that point, had been somewhat limited. Soliel was a small barony and had never really seen any warfare or territorial disputes. So Kesten devoted his efforts to training those who had some modicum of fighting ability in the art of weaponry. Kesten was particularly proficient with the long sword and so in training the few farmers and hunters who had any interest, he focused on techniques involving the long sword. This suited Baerevan as the long sword was also his weapon of choice and a powerful symbol of Iomedae. When the rampaging owl bear came to town, Kesten was woefully unprepared. Citizens went screaming. Even the majority of his trainees fled. Luckily those two men-at-arms who originally came to the Stolen Lands with Kesten, when Soliel was nothing more than a trading post, stayed on. With a handful of would-be warriors and his faithful men-at-arms, Kesten confronted the enormous, insane owl bear. Kesten had battled an owl bear once before. But he had never seen or heard of an owl bear of the size and girth of the creature rampaging through Baerevale. Sweating under his helmet, he commanded his men to press an attack. The owl bear tore into the soldiers, rending flesh and bone. The creature was such a force of destruction that even its misses were devastating, ripping through buildings, causing them to tumble and fall on the soldiers. By the time Kesten was able to rout the creature, three of his men and one of his men-at-arms lay fatally wounded, one buried under the remains of a house. With Jhod’s help and support, the people cleared away the rubble and the wounded were healed. Only one warrior died. But the physical damage to Baerevale was not the only consequence of this attack. The people lived in fear that the creature would return. And Kesten could do nothing about those fears, while Baerevan was absent, for he had been ordered to protect Baerevale and he could not go looking for the owl bear while he was stuck here. So he did the only thing he could do. He sent scouts out to locate the den of the creature and to watch it from a distance. After a few days, Kesten was faced with another trial. Kelas was correct; the lizard folk were a resourceful lot. When it was clear that their tiny village would not survive the rains, the Lizard King led his people to his only ally in the region, Soliel. Kesten initially thought the lizard folk were invading and met them with all of the trained warriors he could muster on the outskirts of town. They numbered only eight due to the large number of defections experienced after the owl bear attack. To complicate matters, the only people in the kingdom able to communicate with the lizard folk were Akiros, Kyras and Nakpick. Akiros and Kyras were with Baerevan, leaving Nakpick as Kesten’s only option for a diplomatic interpreter. Today, I will die. Kesten thought as he watched the skipping kobold on this way through the soggy field to meet the Lizard King and his warriors. Gripping the hilt of his longsword tightly, he resolved to die an honorable death, if death was his fate this day. Lucky for Kesten, death was not his fate that day. After a few false starts, it became clear that the lizard folk merely needed a temporary home and had come to petition the beneficent Baron Baerevan DuSoliel for shelter until the rainy season subsided. At first, the Lizard King was offended that the Baron did not parlay himself. After it was explained that the Baron was absent and Kesten was his chosen mouthpiece, the King was offended further that the Baron’s mouthpiece chose to communicate with him through his slave, a kobold, and refused to speak with him directly. After that misunderstanding was ironed out, an agreement was reached and the lizard folk were permitted to live on the outskirts of Baerevale, provided they did not eat anyone, especially kobolds. This resulted in a makeshift shanty town just to the west of its southwestern border. When the Baron returned, Kesten was relieved to relinquish control. He informed the Baron of the tragedies that had beset Baerevale, doing his best to put a positive spin on events and focusing on the brave efforts of the populace, despite the contempt he felt for the deserters and general weakness of heart of many of the trainees. A better man might have accepted that youth and inexperience were to blame, but Kesten’s own flaws prevented him from seeing it that way. * * * * The Baron had resolved to set out after the Owlbear. But two things delayed his trip; Kira’s melancholy and new, bizarre happenings in the Barony that only served to feed Kira’s melancholy. Shortly after arriving, the Baron was inundated with cries for assistance from the populace. Doing his best to meet with everyone and address everyone’s needs, he met the young Barony’s problems head on, if not wearily. Leadership was not the Baron’s desire. He had been thrust into this role by default. He had intended to lead a quiet contemplative life of prayer and service to Iomedae, and to one day confront his father, Hulrun of Kenabres, after he had worked out all of his anger issues. For Baerevan knew that it was a thin line between justice and revenge. “My Baron, do you have a moment?” It was one of the farmers who plowed the land between Baerevale City and Leveton to the North. Vargas, the Baron thought his name was. “Yes, Vargas. What can I do for you today?” the Baron responded happily. It was a particularly nice day as the barony was experiencing a break in the otherwise incessant rain. He noticed there were three or four other farmers standing with Vargas, anxiously waiting to speak with the baron. Baerevan recognized each of them as farming different territories around the barony. “We have something to show you.” Vargas responded, pointing to a small grouping of wagons bulging with contents covered by burlap. “Alright then, let’s have a look.” The baron responded walking over to the wagons, accompanied by the farmers. Vargas lifted the burlap off of the first wagon revealing a load full of watermelons. The baron’s eyes bulged. “By Iomedae! Those watermelons must be four feet in diameter each! And it’s only Spring!” the baron exclaimed, astonished. “Yes, I planted the seeds just last month.” Vargas explained. “I don’t understand it. They should not be ripe until the harvest time and even then only a third of that size.” Another farmer revealed the contents of his wagon; carrots, each the size of long sword and as thick around as a loaf of bread. In another wagon was a load full of turnips, each the size of a man’s head. “What could cause this, Baron? Are we bewitched?” Vargas asked. Baerevan paused for a moment and glanced at the other farmers. He could tell the same question was on all of their minds. The baron had to choose his words carefully for this superstitious lot. He clearly did not know what the cause of this rapid growth spurt, but the populace would clearly benefit from this boon in crop output, making it doubtful that the barony was “betwitched” as Vargas had put it. He would have to consult with Kira and Kyras and perhaps the others. “Rejoice in Iomedae’s gift, my friends. Clearly, we are blessed by this unexpected surplus. Spread the word that Iomedae has looked upon what we are creating here in the Greenbelt and approves of our deeds.” The baron responded. The farmers collectively exhaled. Baerevan’s words seemed to ease their present concerns. After some additional exchanges the farmers left, happy and excited at the prospect of having a bumper crop and excess revenue this year. * * * *
“I fear it has something to do with my summoning of Spring. You didn’t hear her. She said, ‘I will never go back.’ I think—I think I did something terrible.” Kira explained. “But Kira, it’s resulted in a boon for the barony. It couldn’t have been all that bad.” The baron tried to console his fiancé. “It didn’t turn out so well for the lizard folk, did it? They are without a home.” Kira argued. “It is only temporarily, My Love, only temporarily.” The baron consoled her. “Still, things are different. I can sense the Narlmarches. It is almost as if the forest is a part of me. There is something very primal about that forest, that wasn’t there before. It—“ “My baron” Akiros entered the atrium, interrupting Kira. Svetlana entered behind Akiros. “Yes, Akiros.” The baron responded, secretly happy for the intrusion and conflicted about that feeling. “Svetlana has news.” Akiros said, gesturing to Svetlana to continue. “Good afternoon, Baerevan.” Svetlana began. “Good afternoon, Counselor. How are things with the populace in our barony?” Baerevan responded, using her formal title. “Well, that’s just it, Baron. I have just returned from an unexpected circuit of the entire barony.” Svetlana began. “Unexpected?” Baerevan asked. “Yes. You see, I was in Leveton when I learned that several of the women there were pregnant. I did some more checking and discovered that every woman in Leveton who was of age, and having relations with a man, was pregnant.” Svetlana paused as if to measure the Baron’s response. The baron had a dumbfounded expression on his face. He looked at Kira, confused, not knowing what to say. “How pregnant?” Kira asked. “Newly, about two weeks, and all are experiencing morning sickness and other signs. I called upon Jhod to confirm the pregnancies.” Svetlana answered. “Even the women who were off-cycle during on the inception date?” Kira asked. “Yes. Everyone.” Svetlana emphasized. “So I convinced Jhod to come with me to the rest of the barony to see whether this phenomenon was limited to Leveton, or was broader than that.” Svetlana continued. “What did you find?” Kira asked. “The entire barony has been affected, even me.” Svetlana smiled. But Baerevan could tell that the Counselor had mixed feelings about the news. “Congratulations!” the baron responded, trying to emphasize the positive. Kira looked at him, then at Svetlana. She knew in her heart that this was yet another consequence of her release of Spring. Feeling helpless to change what she had wrought and feeling guilty for having caused strife for these good people—whether they knew the strife that was to come or not—the look on her face contorted into one of disgust and she ran from the atrium. Baerevan ran after her. “I can’t do this, Baerevan!” She cried into his chest. He was holding her close. She broke free of his embrace. “I can’t do this! I have to get out of here. I have to think!” She was crying freely. Baerevan was confused and a little hurt that Kira had rejected his affection. But he didn’t say anything. Rubbing her green, leathery arms as if to scrub away the changes to her appearance, she continued. “I have to leave. I have to go the forest. I must find Spring and convince her to go back. This—this is not natural!” “Ok, I will go with you. We will get Kyras and Akiros—“ She cut him off. “No! I must do this alone. Besides, you cannot abandon your people in the time of their need. They need a leader now, not a worried fiancé.” Having resolved to this course, she felt a little better. Wiping the tears from her face, she regained a confident pose. Seeing that there was no sense in arguing with her, Baerevan nodded. “Alright, then. When will you go?” “I will leave in the morning.” Kira responded. * * * * The next morning, Kira set out, saying goodbye to Baerevan and her friends and leaving directions to the acolytes that she had attracted to The Green in her short time out here in the Stolen Lands. As she walked out of Baerevale, a trail of flowers, newly blossoming grew in her wake. After she was out of sight, Baerevan turned to Kelas. “Follow her. Keep her safe.” Kelas nodded, and set out after her.
@Hu5tru, sounds like a fun scenario. I am working on an update. I took a break during the holidays. :) BTW, the party utterly annihilated Baron Drelev and his crew. Saturday, they will deal wtih the Avatar of Gyronna ;)
I agree. And, there is even a chance they wouldn't give that honest of a comment. They might just say..."reject"! Are you the underwear guy?
I'm trying to figure out how many armies the PCs can gather and how long it will take. Is it based on their kingdom population? their city population? the number of barracks they have? And then what is their CR? Are we to assume a certain number of persons at a particular level per unit of population? There don't seem to be any explanations in the rules about this. Can someone help?
* * * *
The magic that Kira was invoking was ancient and powerful. It took hold of her. No longer looking at the book to follow its text, she stared straight ahead and her mouth moved of its own volition, speaking the worlds of the ritual. The book fell to the floor of the cavern as Kira involuntarily drew a knife from her belt and plunged it into her other hand. Smearing the blood from her wound onto her face, her voice reached a crescendo. Still staring ahead, her arms reached up to the ceiling of the cavern and her fingers spread out with palms up. Hargulka missed Baerevan as the paladin charged him, his giant morning star glancing off of the paladin’s shield. Baerevan’s sword struck true. Twice Baerevan smote the giant troll with his holy sword. But the troll was a hardy foe and Hargulka intended to make Baerevan pay for that injury. The chanting stopped and Kira shuddered and screamed. “No! It’s too much! Baerevan help me!” Baerevan whirled around, taking his attention off of the troll at the sound of Kira’s urgent plea. That was all the hesitation Hargulka needed. With a powerful stroke, he struck down the paladin. The last thing Baerevan saw as he hit the cavern floor was Kira’s face contort in anger and pain. I am Spring, Bringer of Life, Arbiter of Rebirth and Guardian of the Threshold. It was no longer Kira’s voice. The smell of flowers and loam filled the cavern and a breeze blew through it. The voice was feminine and ethereal, but also thick with power and somehow menacing. The entity within Kira smiled and admired Kira’s lithe and supple body before thrusting its arms toward the ceiling, elongating and contorting Kira’s body impossibly. Kira’s skin became brown and hard and branches began growing out of her outstretched arms. Her feet became like roots seeking water, growing into and along the cavern floor. But it wasn’t water these Kira-roots were seeking, it was life. Coming to the bodies of Kira’s slain or unconscious companions, the root-like growths attached to flesh and tried to feed, but there was nothing on which to feed. Then the rootlets found Hargulka. Lunging at the giant troll and wrapping around him, the Kira-roots dragged the massive troll to the cavern floor and attached to his flesh, feeding off of his life force. The troll screamed as his face became sunken and the blood and life were siphoned from his body. Empowered by this new energy, Kira’s transformation was quickened. Leaves and flowers formed from the branches. All that remained of Hargulka was a withered husk. Kira fought for control of her body. Kira had been thrust into a tiny corner of her own mind when Spring overwhelmed and possessed her. But she was still there, struggling to re-assert herself. Sensing all that was happening around her, Kira could feel the awesome presence of Spring. She was elated when feeding on the nutrients within the troll. And she felt the urgent need to grow. It was perhaps this one overriding drive that she felt most; the urge to grow and to procreate. Then she felt the connection. It was a connection to her companions, to the troll, to the cavern floor, to the stone below and to everything her roots and her branches touched. It was euphoric. Yet she had to stifle these urges, these desires, to spread across the land and connect to everything, if she were to have any hope at all of regaining some sense of her own being. Perhaps it was the continued existence of the mortal within Spring and that mortal’s compassion for the lifeless husks laying on the cavern floor, or perhaps it was that mortal’s instincts that were affecting Spring. Maybe it was the fact that Spring was no longer confined to the Otherworld and that was affecting it in some strange way. Whatever it was, it was having a profound effect on Spring. For the first time in eons, Spring began to feel. And it felt sad for the fallen companions. Sacrificing some of the energy that it had taken from the troll, Spring sent life-giving energy through its roots to the fallen companions, restoring their life essence. Sensing this weakness, either due to Spring’s compassion or the momentary loss of life energy required to restore her friends, Kira focused all of her will and, calling on the Green in desperate need, Kira made one last push to assert herself. She shunted Spring out of her body. Immediately, the tree form shriveled and died, leaving Kira, weakened but standing. Her hair had leaves and flowers in it still and her skin was the color and consistency of large, healthy leaves. The companions were beginning to rise, groggily, as though they had been asleep or in a stupor. While no physical manifestation of Spring remained in the cavern, its voice sounded angrily. You do not know what you have done, foolish mortal! I was the Guardian of the Threshold. Now I am free and the Threshold is unguarded. I will never go back! The voice disappeared, leaving only the sound of metal scraping against stone as the companions rose. “What happened?” Akiros asked. Kyras saw the open tome laying on the cavern floor and the desiccated husk of the troll. Then, he looked at Kira. Seeing the scared look in her eyes, he approached his sister and hugged her silently. Kira sobbed uncontrollably in his velvet robes.
Thanks guys. Yes, Hulrun fell right for that one ;) This is somewhat of a cliffhanger: * * * * The companions continued exploring the caverns, starting with the path they had ignored to get to this chamber. Kelas surmised that it lead to the lair of the two-headed troll that surprised them shortly after the battle began. He was correct. The rough tunnel widened into a thirty foot high natural cavern hung with dripping stalactites. Gnawed bones littered the floor, while the northern portion of the room held a collection of severed, humanoid heads arranged around a large circle drawn on the floor with dried blood. This was a dead end. “What was the troll doing here with this circle of blood, Kyras.” The baron asked, kicking over a decaying halfling’s head. The mage, who had been inspecting a curious stalagtite, ambled up to the blood circle and inspected it. “I cannot be sure. It is either the remnants of a ceremonial prayer circle or a summoning circle. But if the latter, it is quite crude.” “Can we go?” Kira asked with her hand over her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.” The group retraced their steps and then explored the tunnels beyond the other exit from the room in which they battled the rock troll and the others. Starting with the tunnel to the left, they traveled a short distance until they could see the cavern beyond. It’s ceiling arched thirty feet overhead. A wagon with its wheels removed sat against the eastern wall, its supplies spilling out in shambles into the cavern. Baerevan recognized the wagon as a supply wagon that had been missing for months on its journey between Soliel and Tazzleford. The Barony’s insignia was still painted on the side of the wagon, though it was faded. Against the northern wall was a crude throne carved from a giant tree stump that sat atop a makeshift dais made of boulders, with a large bearskin spread on the floor before it. Sitting on the throne was a large troll, wearing armor made of animal skins and a bracelet of skulls. Around his neck was an ornate necklace of red beads. Grabbing the enormous darkwood morningstar leaning against his throne, Hargulka sprang up and roared a challenge, taking a readied stance. Akiros charged, yelling profanities at the troll leader while bringing his long sword back for a powerful strike. As Akiros got within ten feet of the massive troll, it swung its massive morningstar into the side of Akiros’s head so hard, the crack of Akiros’s skull could be heard across the chamber. A boom of thunder accompanied the crack as the magical energies stored in the morningstar were released. The raging barbarian’s charge turned into a freefall as his body was forcibly yanked in another direction and sent airborne to crash into the cavern wall. Akiros fell into a heap in the corner of the room, unmoving. Kelas let two arrows go and moved slowly along the wall of the cavern away from the others about fifteen feet to make his way around to Akiros. The first arrow hit its mark, to imperceptible effect. Baerevan shouted, “In the name of The Inheritor, Patron Diety of Justice and Honor, I shall smite thee!” His sword glowed with holy light. The enchantment on his shield had long since worn off. Kyras discharged a bolt of raw magical energy from his staff. It pelted Hargulka, but it did little damage damage. Kira rubbed her hands together hard and fast, causing a spark of electricity to form. She discharged it at the troll. But again, it did almost no damage. The troll roared. “You die now!” grabbing one of the beads on his necklace and snapping it off, he threw it at the companions while speaking a word. The bead became a large raging ball of fire. Kelas saw the danger before it was too late and dodged for cover, avoiding most of the blast. But the others took the full force of the fireball. Kyras’s last thought as he became unconscious was A troll with a fireball. How? Baerevan was severely injured by the blast. Kira managed to avoid its full force, as she was standing slightly behind Baerevan when it went off. But still, she was horribly burned by the flames. Baerevan spoke once more before engaging the troll in melee. “Iomedae will be my shield.” A rippling aura covered the paladin for an instant as The Inheritor’s protection came over him, helping to deflect the troll’s attacks. Kelas fired two more arrows. One arrow hit the troll, doing some minor damage. But the troll’s wounds were already beginning to close. The first arrow he had hit the troll with was already becoming dislodged as the troll’s flesh re-knit, pushing it out. Kira didn’t know what to do. She could channel the Green no more today. Her beloved brother was unconscious or dead. Akiros was surely dead and her betrothed would surely die if forced to face the troll alone in melee. Then she had a thought. The book. The strange book that Kyras brought back from Skywatch with him. But she still wasn’t sure what it was exactly that the rituals in the book were meant to summon. Were they mere concepts, symbols for the Powers the Be? Or were they essences of those Powers, like an aspect of that Power to channel through the summoner? Or where they the Powers themselves? Even though she was unsure, she had to do something. Perhaps she could summon some essence that could protect them. Or better yet, something that could heal and restore all of them. She made a decision. Ignoring that part of her brain that screamed at her not to invoke the primeval magic detailed in the tome and neglecting the passage warning the reader that the summonings are not to be attempted outside of the Otherworld, Kira pulled the book out of her satchel, opened it to the right page and began the summoning ritual: The Ritual to Call Forth Spring. The troll bounded over to the annoying Elf that kept pelting it with arrows that stung as they bit into its flesh. Kelas was just recovering from his dive for cover from the fireball and was scrambling to reload his bow when the troll hit him in the side of his head with its massive morning star. The cavern once again flooded with the sound of thunder at the impact and Kelas’s gray matter adorned the cavern wall as his body fell limp to the cavern floor. The troll turned to the paladin and the druidess. Only two of the companions remained. Dis easy. Hargulka thought as the paladin charged him.
Thanks, Bran. This was a hastily created update. After I posted it, I thought it might be too cryptic in terms of the identities of the dramatis personae. I thought perhaps I should have had one post in between to give the lead up. But I have to keep some things secret from my players, who are unaware of the identity of Hulrun's "Masters". This update might give them some clues, but they still would only be guessing. Of course, at least for now, perhaps their identity is not so important given the intervention of the "stranger." <evil grin> Of course, they know who the "stranger" is, and so should you guys, if you're paying attention :)
This may be my last post until the weekend. I will try to get one in tomorrow, but no promises :) * * * *
His Inquisition ferreted out all the servants who knew of the death of the girl and of Nataeia’s disappearance. He had them brutally murdered. His secret was safe. His masters could be quite fickle if they did not get what they wanted. And they would flay him if they sensed the smallest weakness in him. He had to tread a very fine line and be very discreet. For one false move and the Inquisitors of the Inheritor would catch wind of his duplicity. I’d rather face the righteous fury of a hundred paladins and priests of the whelp goddess than face the anger of the Masters. He thought as he gazed in the opulent gold-trimmed mirror hanging above the enormous stone fireplace in his parlor. His Masters bestowed great gifts upon him for having slain his child, the Chosen One. He admired them in the mirror. They were crude and rough looking, yes. But they carried great power. The iron crown was fashioned to look like black flames wreathing his head, magnified by the reddish-black fire that emanated from it. The scepter was made of iron and draped in chains. A dark red flame was lit at one end, but gave off no heat. The orb was made of pitted and scarred iron. Red sparks flew from it as he held it. “You look magnificent, My Sweet.” The succubus purred in his ear as she caressed his other ear with the tip of her tail. The stunningly beautiful demon smiled and pressed against him, causing her new red silk robe to open, revealing her perfect, round breasts. “We did well, my love.” Hulrun responded. “And the Masters reward us.” He smiled at her slyly. “Do you like what you see, Hulrun?” She gestured to herself. Hulrun’s smile became a look of hunger. She hit him playfully with her fingers. “Not me!” She laughed, “my gift.” She continued, gesturing to her robe. His mistress was already stunningly beautiful. But her robe served to accentuate her beauty. As he stood looking at her, a tear came to his eye. “Your beauty is awesome to behold.” He whispered in awe. She smiled playfully. “And it will become even more when we bathe in the blood of innocents.” The succubus laughed. “Shall we visit the nunnery?” Just then a voice came from the entrance of the parlor. “You failed, Hulrun.” Hulrun turned to see the Rider in the doorway. He bowed deeply, recognizing a messenger of one of the Masters. “I don’t understand, My Lord. I have done as you asked.” “The wench tricked you.” The Rider began. “She stole the grace from the child as you killed it. You did not kill the Vessel. The Vessel still lives. You have failed.” The Rider was expressionless and his tone did not reveal his thoughts. “That’s impossible.” Hulrun blurted, confused. “You have one hour before the Masters come to claim you and your consort.” “They can’t do that!” The succubus arrogantly argued. “I’m a Queen.” The Rider merely started at the succubus. “The Masters care naught for the politics of the Abyss. They are neutral in this. You threw your lot in with this mortal for your own personal gain. Now, you will pay the consequences of failure with him.” The Rider turned to leave and said over his shoulder. “You have one hour.” He left. Hulrun stared and his beautiful mistress. First surprise, then anger flashed across her face. “How could you fail to predict this!” She was screaming and pounding him in the chest. A new voice came from the entryway. “All is not lost.” The tall, thin mustachioed figure said lightly, removing his stretched, skin-tight red leather gloves and draping them over an arm, the hand of which was holding a long black iron rod, topped with a giant ruby. His clothes were exquisitely expensive. And on the sleeves of his robe, an inverted pentagram was meticulously embroidered. The succubus looked at the stranger and hissed, jumping onto the ceiling, gripping it with all fours as her head twisted around backwards to see him. “You!” She hissed in recognition and hatred. “Shhh” He commanded, putting a finger to his lips. The succubus’s lips sealed together and her face looked as though it had no mouth. “Now.” The stranger said, turning to Hulrun, smiling. The door slammed shut behind the stranger and locked, locking Hulrun and the succubus in the chamber with the stranger. “Let’s make a deal.”
Thanks, guys. Here is the next update. * * * *
Drawing on a simple cantrip his former master taught him early in his studies, Kyras cast a simple spell. Stupeficus! The rock troll stopped in its tracks, dazed, giving Kelas and Akiros the time they needed. Kelas moved across the cavern, placing additional distance between him and the enormous troll. He called upon the lore he learned in the wild. He normally used it for hunting stag. As a ranger, he learned that it was sometimes necessary to kill for food, but as an Elf, it chose to cause as little pain as possible to the animal during the kill. It was that skill he called upon now, but for different effect. Focusing his mind, he called upon the hunter’s mercy to make the next shot from his bow strike hard and true. His arrow struck the rock troll’s chest, imbedded deep into its hide, puncturing muscle and breaking bone. His second arrow struck as well, but not as hard and deep. But this was a hardy foe. Baerevan called once again on the power of his Goddess. With righteous fury I shall fell the greatest foe! He spoke as his blade shimmered momentarily, bolstered by the power of his prayer. The troll took two more hits from Baerevan’s sword, falling under the punishment of the paladin’s powerful swings. Turning to the next troll, Baerevan swung again, penetrating deep into its hide. He followed up with a shield bash from his energized shield. The heavily injured troll counterattacked furiously, punching at Baerevan with all of its might. But the paladin brought his shield to bear, blocking its powerful punches and burning the troll’s fists with its fiery power. The other troll attacked again. But it, too, was unable to land a blow on the heavily armored paladin. Then the troll that had thrown Akiros across the cavern moved to attack, slashing at Baerevan’s back, puncturing his armor and tearing the flesh below. Baerevan grunted in pain. The two-headed troll continued to flail around, blinded and unable to find its quarry. Another electrical bolt arced across the cavern and slammed into the troll that had just burned its fists on Baerevan’s shield. Then the thunderhead dissipated. Akiros roared a challenge and slammed his sword into the back of the dazed rock troll. The barbarian brought his sword around for a second powerful swing, slicing it deep. But the enormous rock troll was very tough and his wounds healed extraordinarily fast. Shaking off the effect of Kyras’s spell, the rock troll lunged forward and smashed Kelas with its fist, crushing his left shoulder. The fragile Elf fell to the floor unconscious under the onslaught. Caustius! The mage spoke as he conjured and flung a glowing orb of acid at the rock troll from across the cavern. The orb hit its mark and the cavern was filled with the sound of sizzling flesh. The rock troll grunted in pain. Baerevan was wavering. He had taken a lot of hits and his armor was in poor shape. He was bleeding from several wounds. Yet he persisted. His faith in his goddess was strong and knowing that his friends and his beloved would die if he did not persevere was enough to see him through this trial. Sweat poured down his brow as he brought his sword around again. The paladin’s sword bit deep into the hide of the wounded troll he had been attacking. The troll was critically injured. One more hit from the paladin’s sword would end it. But his second stroke missed, as did his attempt to shield bash his opponent. His fatigue was making him sloppy. He was a moment too slow in bringing his fiery shield around to block the blows of the trolls. And they took full advantage. The first troll punched the paladin hard in the head, denting his helmet severely and momentarily dazing him. The troll missed with its second punch. But the second troll viciously clawed the paladin, drawing more blood. The paladin was in agonizing pain as the troll dug its claws into his already wounded side. The two-headed troll continued swiping empty air, looking for the companions. It was determined not to disappoint its benefactor by allowing this quarry to get away. Perhaps they knew the location of the weapon she so desperate sought. Akiros slammed his blade again and again into the rock troll. His powerful attacks were beginning to have effect. The rock troll turned around as Akiros’s blade stung it deep between its ribs. Swinging its massive fists, it smacked Akiros in the face, cracking his jaw. Its other fist hit him in the gut so hard it knocked the breath out of him. Kira could see that they were in dire straits. Neither Akiros nor Baerevan could survive another onslaught of attacks from these monstrous trolls. And she had mere moments to get to Kelas if she was to have any hope of saving him. Nonetheless, there wasn’t much she could do in this underground space. Her magic was better suited for the outdoors. Yes. She thought as she pulled a small thorn out of her pouch and, holding it in her hand she stared at it and began an incantation. Thorn, prickle, bristle, nettle,
The thorn in Kira’s hand flew at the rock troll and grew during its trajectory to the size of a large pike and pierced the rock troll in the chest, critically wounding it. Kyras pointed his staff at the badly wounded troll attacking Baerevan and discharged a bolt of raw magical energy from its tip. The troll fell, unconscious. Baerevan took the opportunity to focus his attention on the sole remaining troll facing him. His strikes were empowered by his prayer, bolstering the amount of power behind each attack against these larger monsters. In a burst of strength, Baerevan smote his enemy, hitting it twice with his blade, once critically piercing one of the troll’s lungs, and finishing it with a powerful shield bash from his fiery shield. Meanwhile, Akiros was still standing on adrenaline and rage alone. Growling, he lifted his sword high for one last powerful swing at the rock troll. The barbarian's sword came down hard on the rock troll's leg, nearly severing it. It was enough. The rock troll finally fell, unconscious from the loss of blood and the beating it had taken. Exhausted, the barbarian's sword clanged to the floor. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was the feeling of victory. The two-headed troll continued to flail about as Kira ran over to Kelas and sang the last healing song she had the power to perform today. Kelas became conscious once more, his crushed shoulder healed. Baerevan rallied everyone. “Justice shall prevail! In Iomedae’s name I smite thee!” For the second time today, Baerevan’s sword glowed with holy light as he lashed out with his sword, finding purchase in the tough hide of the two-headed troll. He followed up his thrust with a bash of his shield. The two-headed monster took a beating. The troll hesitated as it tried to assess what had been done to it and to determine the location of his assailant. That hesitation was more than Kelas needed. Two arrows from the Elf’s bow embedded themselves in the creature’s hide. One found a vital organ, seriously injuring the monster. Baerevan once again thrust his sword twice into the two-headed troll and bashed him across the head with his energized shield. Empowered by the divine grace of Iomedae, his attacks were potent. The two-headed troll could not withstand such power. Baerevan smote it and it was consumed in holy fire. They burned the bodies. Kira used up the rest of her incantations waking Akiros and trying to invigorate the companions and Baerevan called upon the grace of Iomedae to heal himself and his companions the best he could. But even that had its limits and he had channeled about all of the holy energy he could channel in that fashion today. He would need to rest and pray. But they all remained seriously wounded. “I doubt there are any more of those creatures.” Akiros said, wiping blood from his now properly located chin. “Had there been any more, they would have come at the sound of the battle.” Kelas offered. “Well, if there are any more, I’m afraid I won’t be of much help.” Kyras whispered. “I’m exhausted and cannot channel any more magic today. I will have to rely on the power of my staff.” “I, too, have used all of the power given to me by the Green today.” Kira said. The baron looked thoughtful. “Well, Akiros and Kelas agree that there are no remaining trolls. Let’s finish exploring these caves and be done with this place.” The baron said.
Thanks for the support :) Here is today's update... * * * * Kelas’s Elven eyesight was vastly superior to that of a human. He saw the rock troll just as Kyras did. From his position against the wall and away from the melee, he carefully aimed and loosed two arrows from his bow. Each found its mark and the giant monster, catching its attention. Kira had not yet seen the rock troll. She summoned another dancing flame in her hand and threw it at one of the pack of trolls attacking Baerevan, while another electrical bolt discharged from Kira’s thunderhead, hitting that same troll. While her attacks were having effect, the troll, like its kin, was powerfully built and able to shrug off considerable injury. But consumed by rage, Akiros was stronger. With all of his might, Akiros struck the wounded troll attacking him an awesome blow, nearly severing its leg at the knee cap. His muscles rippled with the effort of reversing the course of his blade. Putting all of his strength into the powerful upswing, the barbarian drove it up into the troll’s gut, slicing through its groin in the process. The barbarian grunted as he twisted the blade to assure that the mortally wounded troll would not get up anytime soon. Akiros smiled in triumph, sweat pouring down his brow. But his victory was short-lived. The other troll attacking the barbarian hit him with a powerful blow, raking its claws across his face, ripping open his check. The skin of his face flapped and blood spewed from the vicious wound as Akiros howled in pain. Baerevan had just finished his prayer when the three trolls attacked him again. This time he was ready. Lifting his energized shield to ward off their blows, the power of his prayer took effect and fire erupted from the metal, engulfing the entire shield in flames. One of the trolls wasn’t quick enough to see the danger in time to change tactics, burning its fists as it pounded the burning metal. It howled in pain and recoiled from the heat. But the other two managed to avoid the same fate. Moving to flank the wounded paladin, the two trolls attacked simultaneously, hungrily tearing at Baerevan’s armor to get at the soft fleshy bits beneath. The first troll was foiled in its efforts as Baerevan’s armor held. But the second troll latched on with both claws and tore at the metal plating, rending it from the paladin’s waist and thigh and biting the meat of Baerevan’s leg, tearing it from bone. Baerevan screamed in agony and fell to one knee, his lifeblood gushing from the horrible wound. “Baerevan, No!” Kira yelled as she saw her beloved’s state. Just then, a shadow fell over Kyras and Kira. Kyras turned around in time to see a massive two-headed troll bearing down on them. Before he could react, however, the monster grabbed Kira, digging its sharp claws into her flesh as it lifted her up in both arms and bit into her shoulders with both of its massive heads. Kira screamed in pain. The troll began to bring the struggling Kira to one of its mouths for a second bite as Kyras acted. Visius Nullificus! He chanted as he pointed at the two-headed troll. The troll dropped Kira and felt for his eyes, blinded. Kyras grabbed Kira and pulled her out of its reach as the two-headed monster began flailing its arms to catch its fleeing snack. Kelas was re-loading his bow as the rock troll attacked. Its powerful fists pummeled the Elf, forcing him roughly into the wall. Clinging onto consciousness, the bruised Elf tumbled between the giant monster’s legs and managed to let two arrows fly into its back. Sparing a quick glance at the others, he determined that no help was coming any time soon. He knew he had to do something as he saw the rock troll turn around and come at him again. The first arrows he had hit him with fell to the ground, having been pushed out by the troll’s rapid healing process. Just then, Kira called upon the power of the Green to restore the life that was ebbing from her and her companions. Fire, air, earth and water,
The earth and stone of the cavern became vibrant as the wounds of the companions began to slowly heal. Invigorated by Kira’s healing energy and confident from his recent kill, Akiros engaged the last remaining troll, unwounded though it was. Perhaps too confident, he put all of his strength into the power of his thrust. The troll deftly stepped aside as the barbarian blew past him and taking the open opportunity to teach the overconfident barbarian a lesson, the troll punched him squarely in the kidney, causing Akiros to gasp for breath. Following up on that attack, the troll bore down on the gasping barbarian. With his first claw, the beast nearly tore Akiros’s arm off, dislocating his sword arm. With his second claw, the monster dug into the flesh of Akiros’s side and lifted him bodily into the air before flinging him across the room into a wall. The barbarian fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious. Baerevan had to get up. People were dying. And he was not prepared to let his friends die. Iomedae, grant me the grace I need to prevail against this foe! White healing energy poured from his hand into his leg, causing the wound to heal completely. He got up as the troll that bit into his thigh swung at him again, banging its fist painfully against Baerevan’s flaming shield. The other troll that had been flanking him also attacked him as he rose. But that troll was unable to score a hit on the heavily armored paladin. Glancing at Akiros, he knew the barbarian was dying. He had to get to him before it was too late, but he had to get through the trolls attacking him first. And then he saw the rock troll bearing down on Kelas. Renewing his assault on the trolls, Baerevan struck the troll that had been attacking him, opening a gash in that troll’s arm. “Kira!” He called out as he followed that attack with a bash from his burning shield. “Akiros needs you!” He yelled. “Kyras, help Kelas!” He ordered as he unsuccessfully tried to dodge the blows of the trolls. Two of the trolls attacking the baron scored hits; one sliced off his arm guard and dug its nails into the flesh underneath, while the other bit through his shoulder, puncturing his shoulder guard. Blood spurted from Baerevan’s shoulder as he yelled in pain once more. Kira was already moving, having seen the devastating critical wound Akiros suffered. The blood had stopped flowing from her shoulders after she infused the group with healing vigor, but she was still in a lot of pain. Pulling a vial from her satchel as she ran to Akiros, Kira unstoppered it and poured it down his throat. The barbarian’s eyes opened and color returned to his face. His cheek stopped bleeding and began to heal. “Thanks, Lass.” He said. “I thought that was going to be the end of me.” He mussed her hair as he sat up and grabbed his sword to rejoin the combat. “That was our last potion, so try not to get hit.” She said. “Not a very good chance of that.” He smiled smugly as he turned to rejoin the fray, knowing it was very likely that he might not return.
Sorry for the delay. I hosted a formal dinner party for 28 last night and it took all of my free time to get ready for it over the last couple of days. I've got to say, the troll battle was the second most game-changing battle the party has had, to date. That's why I chose to start where I did. Enjoy the first part of this epic battle... * * * *
The crystal at the top of Kyras’s staff glowed brightly, illuminating the otherwise dark passageway. The troll caves reeked of filth. The companions came to a branch in the passageway and decided to take the right passage, which led to a large chamber, perhaps one hundred feet across. At the edges of the shadowy illumination provided by Kyras’s light, Baerevan vaguely made out another entrance at the far end of the chamber. He could see some large forms moving into the room from that direction. “Trolls!” Kelas called out, firing two arrows from his bow and began slinking to the left along the wall of the cavern and away from the group. Six trolls lumbered into the cavern and attacked. The first troll barely noticed as both arrows penetrated its hide. From the cavern’s entrance, Kira called forth the power of the storm. air thicken and with water, churn,
A small thundercloud, charged with electricity formed out of the ambient moisture in the air. A spark of lightning arced across the chamber’s expanse and shocked that same troll. Akiros growled and charged into the fray, his sword cutting across the troll’s chest, causing it to hesitate for a moment. Baerevan put his visor down and moved to assist Akiros, whispering a prayer to Iomedae on the way. His sword flashed with holy power. “Stay here.” He ordered Kyras and Kira. Then the trolls attacked. They surrounded Akiros and Baerevan. Akiros left his flank open as he swung with his sword, allowing one of the trolls to rip open his side. Blood gushed out of his wound as Akiros yelled in pain and rage. Another troll clawed at Akiros’s shoulder. His chainmail armor took the brunt of the force of the attack. The other four trolls attacked Baerevan. Most of their attacks scraped the heavy metal of Baerevan’s armor as the heavily armored paladin positioned himself to attack. But one troll managed to pierce his already damaged breastplate with its massive claws and dig into the flesh beneath. Baerevan grunted in pain. Kyras pelted the first troll with raw magical energy, to maximized affect, empowered by his staff. Kelas stealthily skirted the edge of the room to get a better shot at the trolls and let two arrows fly. They found their mark, killing the first troll, as it was readying to give Akiros another beating. Kira coaxed forth another arc of lightning from her thunderhead that penetrated the shoulder of the second troll, and chanted an incantation calling forth a small ball of fire in her hand. Spirit of fire, now appear,
She flung the flaming ball at the same troll. It hit. The smell of burning hair and flesh filled the air. Akiros plowed his sword deep into the gut of that troll. Troll blood covered his hands and forearms. He pulled the blade out and brought the sword around again to strike a second blow at the troll. While Baerevan drove his longsword into the side of a third troll, getting its attention. Akiros was unable to land the second blow, as the troll was quicker. Rending Akiros with its massive claws, the brutish creature threw the raging barbarian a little off balance, causing his swing to go wide. The troll that Baerevan had been attacking counterattacked with such ferocity that it rended Baerevan’s gorget, nearly causing it to come loose. But the armor held, protecting the paladin from what surely would have been a fatal neck wound. Despite his considerable pain, Baerevan managed to raise his shield arm to ward of the creature’s second blow. The massive claws scraped harmlessly off of the paladin’s steel shield. While another troll found an opening between the plates of his armor, seriously wounding the baron. Covered in blood and realizing he could not withstand much more, Baerevan took a moment to whisper a silent prayer to Iomedae, infusing his shield with holy power. In another instant, his sword glowed anew with holy might. Then Kyras provided him with a moment of respite. Nen tanta mor danta! The wizard spoke loudly as he stared at the fourth troll. The troll’s eyes widened as he met the arcanist’s gaze. Abandoning his quarry, the panicked troll turned and ran back through the far entrance, nearly tripping to put distance between it and the wizard. As the troll fled the chamber, Kyras’s own eyes widened as he saw, standing in the entrance, the largest creature he had ever seen. A rock troll! He thought with alarm. With lightning fast reflexes, the rock troll grabbed the head of the disobedient fleeing troll in both hands and broke its neck. It grinned hungrily as it focused its gaze on the raging barbarian.
* * * *
“Keep dem busy.” Hargulka told Gundrak. “And no tell Nagrundi or Kargadd or da rest.” Hargulka’s cave was the farthest away from the outer ruins. The intruders would have to get through six of his troll guards, Nagrundi and Kargadd, a big and mean rock troll, before getting to him. He would sit back and wait for the intruders to beat down the others before incinerating them with his new gift from Narissa. He fingered the red beads, smiling. Wat dat magic word make bead go boom? The troll scratched his head trying to remember. It hadn’t occurred to the shifty troll that his guards, Nagrundi or Kargadd could kill the intruders, before he had the chance to take them on himself and thereby gain the prestige that he had hoped to gain. But Hargulka wasn’t that smart.
Epic read... cool, amazing game! Thanks Philip. :) I left a little out of that last scene, but one of my players may post the missing bit. It was, after all, told only from Kelas's perspective as a flashback. Naturally, he missed something ;) Wow, this is an epic read... Thanks Shiz! And thanks, Bran. So, as part of the Spring Domain, Kira gets the power to bring a recently slain friend back to life (provided it is on the next round). That was the power she used to bring the Baron back. But something else intervened and gave her a boost ;) Ok, back to the present... * * * * Kelas picked up the scent of the trolls. “Found them.” He reported. It was a day’s travel to a ruined keep on a hilltop from which the trail revealed the trolls had been coming and going. “What is this place?” The baron asked. Kelas studied the architecture and looked out into the expanse of The Narlmarshes to get his bearings. “If I’m not mistaken, this is an ancient guard post that was erected here between the Narlmarshes and the Kamelands, built by dwarves to guard an old trade route.” Kelas explained. “But for the trolls, it should be abandoned.” Kelas added. “See that partially concealed trail.” Kelas pointed. “It leads to a watchtower up there.” Kelas pointed high up the hill side at what appeared to be a natural rock outcropping. “That’s amazing architecture.” Kira noted. “It totally blends in with the surrounding countryside.” “Yes. And the entrance should be at the base of the watchtower. Be careful going up the path. One false step and you will plummet down the sheer cliff face.” Kelas warned. With a little caution, the group made it up the narrow path without incident. Once at the top, they could see the stone walls of the fort. Kelas suddenly gestured for everyone to stay back. He pointed to the door of the fort. It was half open. Visually searching the exterior of the fort, Kelas’s eyes stopped at the top of the watchtower. Drawing his bow and fitting it with a beautifully carved Elven broad arrow, he whispered “Two trolls, posted at the top of the watchtower. He let his arrow fly. Chaos ensued. Kelas’s arrow hit its mark, wounding one of the trolls. It bellowed in pain, getting the other troll’s attention. That troll, in turn, gave a warning shout to get the attention of some associates down below. Kira scooped up three pebbles from the ground in front of her and let them fly at the trolls at the top of the watchtower, singing an incantation as she did. “Pebbles of earth to boulders of stone, I let thee fly to break sinew and bone.” The three pebbles turned into giant boulders in midair as they plummeted toward the anguished trolls. The wounded troll fell as the first two boulders smashed into him. The other troll took the last boulder in the shoulder and howled in pain. Ast Tasarak! Kyras chanted as he pointed his staff at the remaining troll on the watchtower. Three darts of glowing power pulsed from the end of the staff, punching the troll in the chest. Enraged and in pain, the troll picked up the boulder that had just hit him and threw it at the companions gathered outside the fort. It narrowly missed the baron just as he threw his long spear at the troll.
The foul creature grabbed the spear jutting out from his chest for a moment, a look of shock on his face, then fell forward and down the outside of the watchtower wall, dead. “Be ready!” the Baron warned. Just then, three more trolls poured out of the door of the fort. Kelas let two arrows fly at the first troll. The first one hit, barely slowing the hulking brute. The second flew wide. Akiros charged. “This is a fight, I can fight” He growled as his sword punched through the abdomen of the first oncoming troll. Blood spurted everywhere. The troll was immediately on him, raking him with its massive claws. The second troll joined the fray. Akiros was a bloody mess as the third troll rent his exposed back. Kira hesitated, not sure what she could do to help Akiros that wouldn’t catch him in the area of affect and knowing that she would be pulverized if she tried to run up and heal him. “Kyras, do something!” She screamed. Ast Tas—Kyras doubled over in a coughing fit, unable to complete his spell. The baron was a flurry of action. “In the name of Iomedae, Goddess of Justice, I smite thee!” The baron’s sword glowed with holy power as he entered the fray, downing the first troll in one hit. Turning to the second, he sliced through its arm as it was coming around to land a second blow on Akiros. The troll howled in agony as his arm hung useless, still attached, but only by a mere tendon. Kelas let two more arrows fly. They found their mark on the second troll. The troll was weakening. And Akiros landed the killing blow. Wielding his longsword in both hands, Akiros slammed the enchanted blade into the hide of the wounded troll. “Die!” He yelled. It obliged. The final troll, unwounded, viciously rent Akiros’s chest with his claws. Akiros faltered. He had taken several hits from the trolls and lost a lot of blood. Seeing the barbarian falter, Kira determined that she could not wait until the battle was over to try to heal him. She ran up behind Akiros and knelt down to heal him. She had just begun the healing incantation when she felt a sharp pain in her head and a ringing in her ears. Blood poured down into her eyes. The remaining troll clawed open her head. She reeled. Ast Tasarak! Kyras chanted. Three more darts of pulsing power, empowered by his staff, pelted the remaining troll. The baron’s sword punched a hole into its side. It turned its attention on the baron then. Roaring, it came at Baerevan with both of its claws. But the baron’s shield deflected the troll’s enraged onslaught. Kira managed to wipe the blood out of her eyes and, with the troll distracted by the baron, was able to whisper her incantation to heal Akiros. Invigorated, Akiros again charged the troll, who had left his rear open as he engaged the baron. That left just the opening Akiros needed to land the killing blow. Akiros’s sword pierced the troll’s back, severing its spine. It fell, bleeding out on the ground.
“Quickly, gather oil and fire. We must burn the bodies, before they regenerate.” Kelas ordered. “Regenerate?” the baron asked. “Yes. Trolls cannot be killed unless they are burned.” Kelas explained. “I’ll get the one on the watchtower.” Akiros offered as he ran into the fort to climb the stairs to the watchtower. “There will be no need to waste our oil.” Kyras whispered. “Gather the bodies. My magic will burn the life out of them.” After the bodies were gathered, Kyras spoke an incantation. Incendus! A flaming sphere appeared out of nothing and rolled over the collected bodies of the trolls. The air smelled like burnt hair and flesh. It made Kira sick. When the bodies had been sufficiently burned, the group investigated the ruined fort. They made short work of the remaining trolls and their trollhounds in the main structure. In a storeroom, they found several wagonloads full of food and supplies that would be helpful to the barony. But decided it was impractical to take the supplies now and determined that they would send for the supplies at a later time. Eventually, they discovered a hole in one of the walls that led to a series of worked caves. “The troll tracks continue in there.” Kelas pointed. “Then that is where we shall go.” The baron said. “I’m feeling good about this. These trolls don’t seem to be too difficult to deal with.”
Thanks for the support, Stebehil. Bran, is that a +1 Word of Encouragement? New Wondrous Item perhaps? One challenge I've found is that I have to cut out a lot to keep the story from getting overwhelming, yet keep in the details that are important for things to come. Speaking of which....today's update. Enjoy! * * * * The next day, the forested terrain became hilly. They had been heading in a west, southwest direction, when something about the terrain seemed familiar to Kelas. The ranger climbed a nearby tree and looked into the distance to get his bearings. His gaze found the ruins of the old elven outpost several miles away. He shuddered at the memory of their last visit there. It was a little more than a year ago, shortly after he met the baron. Baerevan had saved his life. In Elven culture, that act spiritually bound Kelas to protect Baerevan until he could return the favor. And so, Kelas traveled with the baron. He had explained to the Elf that he and his companions were chartering the surrounding land and had not yet explored this part of the Greenbelt. Having traveled for many years, Kelas was somewhat familiar with certain areas, but he was himself new to this particular area. After a few days, they came upon the old elven outpost. Kelas did not recognize it, so long ago it was that the elves had abandoned it to nature. But its unique elven architecture was immediately recognizable to the Elf. He marveled at the condition of the ancient keep, its spires unmarred by the ravages of time. Its four guard posts stood like stalwart guardians ringing the central spire that grew out of the earth beneath it, reaching up to the heavens. The entire courtyard was protected by a high wall connecting the four outer watch towers. An archway, normally obstructed by a portcullis provided the only entrance into the keep. The portcullis was up and so the group cautiously entered the archway. Kira was immediately enraptured by the artistic beauty of the stonework seemingly growing out of the earth. She entered first, followed closely by the Baron. Without warning, the portcullis slammed shut, trapping both Kira and Baerevan inside. The baron quickly dropped his spear and shield and tried to raise the portcullis. “Akiros, give me a hand from your side.” He ordered in a strained voice as he tried to raise the iron contraption. Akiros lent his strength to the effort. Kira screamed in agony. The baron whirled around to see three dark blood stains forming on Kira’s dress. “What happened?” The baron asked quickly looking around for a threat as he grabbed his shield and spear. There was nothing there. Kira screamed again as more dark stains formed on her dress. She was losing a lot of blood. “Help me, Baerevan!” Kira pleaded in agony. “There!” Kelas yelled as he pointed and fired an arrow from his bow, missing his target. “Where?” Baerevan asked. “ I don’t see anything!” “A small creature, no larger than a pixie, moving very fast. It’s coming back!” Kelas said. “I see it.” Kira said, fatigue and pain in her voice. Spirit of forest now appear
Kira managed to utter her spell. The roots of the weeds and grass that filled the courtyard began writhing, entangling everything in their path. The creature had to move more slowly to avoid entanglement, giving the companions the opportunity to see and target it. Kira attempted to move away from the writhing mass of greenery and toward the baron but merely slumped down against the wall of the courtyard and passed out. She had lost a lot of blood. If the tiny fey hit her again, she would surely die. The baron threw his spear at the diminutive creature, but the fey was too small and didn’t make a very good target, particularly with the cover provided by the entangling roots and weeds. The spear went wide. Seeing there was nothing he could do from this distance, the baron knelt down next to Kira and laid his hands on her breast, whispering a prayer to Iomedae. Akiros renewed his effort to lift the portcullis to allow himself and the others in. Desperate to save his sister and blocked by the accursed portcullis Kyras drew deeply on his reservoir. At the time, he was learning a spell that could incapacitate the creature, but he had not yet mastered it. He had no choice. If he was to save his sister, he had to try it. Visius Nullificus! He cried out. Something snapped within Kyras. It had happened once before in Castle Baerevale, Kelas was later told. At that time, however, it was known as the Stag Lord’s fort. Before the founding of Baerevale, on the group’s first foray into the Stolen Lands, they came upon the Stag Lord’s fort and fought an enraged, drunken ranger and his band of cutthroats. Kyras could see that the battle was going against them and knew he had to do something or they would all die. Kira was unconscious and bleeding and the baron had just been run through with a pike. Kyras called upon his power and blasted the villains as he went unconscious. When he awoke, the Stag Lord and all of his men were dead. Kyras struggled, but was never able, to recall what had occurred while he was unconscious. There was no sign of foreign assistance. But Akiros was there. And he told everyone that Kyras’s eyes went all black, he stood straight and his voice was strong, as he called down spell upon spell and utterly destroyed the portions of the fort that contained the Stag Lord and his men. Nobody really believed Akiros, especially Kyras. But Kelas witnessed it firsthand now. Kyras shuddered as he cast his spell. His eyes turned black and his voice became deep and hollow, with an ethereal quality. “She is the source of his strength, his will to fight me. And so she must die.” Kyras stated. nero nullificarum saggitus He chanted as he pointed his staff at Kira. A potent blast of raw black energy discharged from the mage’s staff, blasting through the portcullis. Hearing the voice that did not belong to Kyras, the baron whirled around just in time to see the blast coming at Kira. He stood and blocked its path, taking the full force of the impact. The baron fell down, dead, his body still smoking. Kyras passed out. Kelas kicked the mage’s staff out of his hands. Akiros stepped through the hole in the portcullis and ran to Kira, unstoppering a vial as he ran. Crouching down next to her, he fed her the contents of the healing potion. Her eyes fluttered open. “What happened?” She asked. Seeing the pained expression on Akiros’s face, she asked, “What’s wrong?” “Baerevan.” He said, looking a few feet away at the burned and broken body of the baron. Kira got up and looked over, wincing from the pain of her considerable injuries. “No!” She cried as she crawled to Baerevan’s side. She took his hand in his and rocked back and forth, crying. This can’t be happening! She thought. “What did this!” She demanded. “It was Kyras, M’Lady.” Kelas responded. She looked at the unconscious body of her brother, incredulously. “This isn’t right. This is not natural.” She said, anguish and confusion in her voice. Then a thought occurred to her. It was Spring. Could she do it? She had learned the ritual and the time was right. But she had never attempted it before. She had to try. Placing her hands on Baerevan’s breast she chanted: I am a servant of fertile Spring
Kira’s hands glowed with green energy. The air became crisp and the colors of the grass, the earth, the stones and the sky became sharper, more vibrant. Power flowed from the earth, the stones, the sky and all around into Baerevan. Then a faint hum could be heard, as a chorus of voices singing a hymm. Silver veins of power weaved through the green energy and Baerevan’s eyes opened, his wounds healed. Looking up at the sky past Kira’s tear-streaked and smiling face, he thought he saw white feathered wings and a golden halo silhouetted against the sun. He blinked at the brightness of the sun. But when he opened his eyes again, the vision was gone. Perhaps he imagined it. “Oh thank the Green, you are alive!” Kira breathed as she kissed him lovingly. “Your brother.” Baerevan said. “I will kill him, if it is your wish, Baron.” Akiros said as he came into view. “No!” The baron quickly said. “It wasn’t his fault.” “Wasn’t his fault?” Kelas said incredulously. “But My Lord--” The baron didn’t let him finish. “Kelas, do as I say. It is my wish that the mage not be harmed.” The baron ordered as he got up. Kira went over to her brother and roughly woke him. “What happened?” He whispered. Kira screamed in anguish, picked up Kyras’s staff and tried to break it over her knee. Seeing the futility of her effort, she threw it down and grabbed him by his robes. “You nearly killed Baerevan!” She cried, distraught. He grabbed for his staff. Kelas stepped on it. “I don’t think you should have that staff.” He said. “Believe me when I say that it will be much worse if I do not carry the staff.” Kyras whispered as he met the Elf’s gaze. The wizard usually stared at Kelas with disdain. But there was something different, softer in his gaze and in the way he spoke to him. Sensing an unusual note of sincerity in the mage’s voice, Kelas took his foot off of the staff. Kyras picked up the staff hurriedly and sighed in relief. Baerevan walked over to Kyras and reached out his hand to help the mage up. “I vow to do everything I can to rid you of this curse, even if it is the last thing I do.” Kyras took Baerevan’s hand. “What happened to the creature that was attacking?” Akiros asked. “I blinded him.” Kyras responded. “He fled.” “How do you know?” Kelas asked. “Because you are still alive.” The mage responded. Kelas shook his head, clearing it off the memories of that day. He jumped down from the tree and directed his companions south.
Thanks for the comments Philip and Bran :) I remember thinking when I was introducing Nataeia whether anyone, other than my players, would be able to sense the imminent nuclear bomb about to fall on the poor woman. * * * Kira was concerned. She had already, months ago, determined that Hulrun was a depraved egomaniac. But if Baerevan’s nightmare was some sort of portent… It made Kira’s decision to walk the uncertain and near mythical path of the Kingmaker even stronger. The pieces were falling into place: There was Baerevan’s respect for the Green and his incorporation of the Old Faith into his towns. Then there was his devotion to bringing to justice his father, a paranoid man who has without provocation murdered numerous followers and priests of the Old Faith in Mendev. These traits could surely unite the natural world. He was the right candidate for king. Kira remembered a conversation she had months ago with Hazel, the head of her Circle in the Gronzi Forest in Brevoy. The Druidess told her myths of the Archdruids of old working with Iomedean priests to create and power the Wardstones. Hazel explained that according to secret druidic lore the Archdruids continue to work with Iomedean priests to preserve the Wardstones. If this myth is true, Hulrun could be even more dangerous than Baerevan knows. That led her to visit the only living person who walked the path of the Kingmaker. He was a former druid who had failed in his task of making his “chosen one” king within the allotted period. From him she learned that a Kingmaker must crown his or her “chosen one” king or queen within a year and a day of the last anointing in the Green and that results of failure were personally disastrous for the druid who walked the path. He lost his connection to the Green and was cursed to live forever, never aging or dying of natural causes. “Why do you seek to make this Baron king?” He had asked her. “He is a guardian of the natural world here in the Greenbelt.” Kira responded. “You love him.” It was an accusation, more than a question. “Is love for one’s chosen one inconsistent with this path?” Kira asked, perturbed. “Only if you let your love blind you.” He responded. Kira could not imagine the isolation of an existence cut off from the Green. “My love for the Baron grew out of my belief that he is the chosen one. It does not blind me.” Kira responded. She was determined not to fail. “For your sake, I hope so.” The former druid responded. Satisfied with her answer, he explained the rituals and showed her how to perform them. Now it was only a matter of time before she was ready to conduct the first anointing, which would set her, and Baerevan, on the path.
Awhh... you killed Mathis! Sorry Hu! I guess it was his time to die ;) We are currently at the point in the campaign where the Baron Drelev shoe drops. I can't wait, either!@Philip--No problems. I think I also swapped out her summon nature's ally spontaneous castings for the appropriate level of "vigor" spells. We were trying to get Kira away from the animal side of druid.
Thanks for the tip! I'll check it out. :) And now.....an update: * * * The Angel Ariel was disturbed. Grigori Seraphis misinterpreted the intended recipient of the message. It was to go to the Oracle at Nerosyan, not Kenabres. The error had been noted. “Her Holiness is aware of the issue.” The Archangel’s melodious voice echoed in the vaulted chamber of the Choir. A tiny fracture formed in Ariel’s normally impassive alabaster visage. “Be at ease, Ariel. This matter has been taken out of our hands. It is now a matter of free will.” The Archangel sang. “Free will? I don’t understand.” Ariel was confused. “This matter has also come to the attention of The Deceiver.” The Archangel responded. “Have faith. And pray that the mother’s faith is strong enough.” The Archangel added. “Though, we predict that Asmodeus will attempt to influence her decision.” The Archangel paused. “Still, I’m not sure that will be a bad thing…” The Archangel’s voice faded. “Hulrun will try to kill the child.” Ariel argued. “Yes. It is something that neither Iomedae, nor The Horned one desire.” He paused then added, “But their solutions to the conflict are at odds.” * * *
It was time. In her hand, she gripped tightly the only keepsake she had of Baerevan, the platinum medallion given to him by The Crusader Queen Galfrey, Sword of Iomedae, Queen of Mendev, on his taking vows. It was divine ceremony that every new paladin of Iomedae travel to Nerosyan, obtain her blessing and be initiated in the crusade. On that initiation, each new knight is given his first holy symbol, a platinum medallion bearing the downward pointing longsword in front of a sunburst, the symbol of Iomedae. Hulrun ripped it off of Baerevan’s neck when he excommunicated him. But Nataeia was able to retrieve it and secretly kept it all of these years, intent on giving it back to him when she next saw him. A day she hoped would come soon. Intent on informing him of the impending arrival of his sister, several months ago, she had been able to track Baerevan to Brevoy. She wrote him a letter and whispered a prayer to speed it along to Baerevan. She was sweating now. The contractions were coming more regularly. Her beautiful flowing hair, of which she was so proud, was a matted mess and her face contorted in pain. Hulrun arrived. “I can see the head. It’s crowning.” The midwife reported. “Just push a little more my dear.” Hulrun cooed, looking eagerly at the location of the baby’s head. Even when he cooed, he sounded lecherous, Nataeia thought. She was suddenly reminded of the circumstances of her conception of this child. It was not an act of love. They had long since ceased to share a bed. As soon as she showed marital affection to Hulrun, he was on her, like a dog in heat. It was painful. She cried and begged him to be gentle, but her cries merely fed his lust. He thrust into her harder and harder until he got his satisfaction. Then he rolled over and told her to get out. Ashamed and embarrassed that she was made to feel dirty, she gathered her nightclothes, and still crying, fled his bedchamber. She pushed and breathed, giving one last forceful push, as if to banish the memories of that night. Shadows fell across the breadth of the room. The sounds of a baby crying filled the air. “It’s a gi—“ The midwife never finished her sentence. An athame appeared in Hulrun’s hand and, in an instant, the midwife’s life was extinguished. Nataeia screamed. “Noooo!” Hulrun laughed victoriously. A female form coalesced out of the shadows and took its place behind Hulrun, a darkly beautiful woman with small horns, red eyes and a barbed tail. Naked, beautiful and dark, she purred to Hulrun. “Do it now, my dear. Let us bathe in the blood of the Chosen. Our masters demand the sacrifice.” Nataeia’s thoughts raced. This can’t be happening! Her mind screamed. “Hulrun, please, Noo! That’s our daughter!” She cried, pleading to whatever sense of humanity he had in him. He ignored her. A deep voice penetrated her mind. Nataeia, Servant of Iomedae, be brave. Your child must be the Chosen of Iomedae. If you cannot save her, then…Baerevan. The voice whispered. Just then, Nataeia’s attention was drawn to a light glinting from—wait, it was emanating from—the holy symbol in her hand. Hulrun lifted the athame to strike the killing blow to the child. Nataeia was confused and desperate. She knew she had to act quickly. Iomedae, I beseech thee! What grace was to fall unto this child, let it pass to Baerevan. She whispered a prayer, pouring her heart and soul into it. Just then, Hulrun plunged the athame into the child. Blood poured everywhere. Suddenly a white light pulsed from the child into the holy symbol in Nataeia’s hand, banishing the shadows and the she beast from the room. Hulrun, temporarily blinded, ran out of the room, nearly tripping over himself. Nataeia, covered in blood and completely exhausted, managed to ring her bell for her servants. Seeing their mistress covered in blood and the bodies of both the midwife and the newborn, the servants panicked. But Nataeia was clearly in need of help. “Take… me to… Brevoy.” She said, just before collapsing unconscious. * * * * Baerevan woke with a start. He was sweating heavily. Even awake he was shaken by the vividness of the nightmare. It was as though he was there. He could still smell the blood of the child. Was that his sister? Did that really happen? It all seemed so real. Fully awake and shaken to his core, he couldn’t go back to sleep. He relieved Akiros and took watch for the rest of the night.
Sure :) Kira is a combination druid/ranger, but not gestalt. She does not get armor skills, wildshaping, animal companion or thousand faces. She instead gets seasonal and storm domain and favored enemy/terrains like a ranger. She starts with storm, then 5th spring, 10th summer, 15th fall, 20th winter. She gets storm at all times, but the seasonal domains she can access only during the like named season. But her seasonal granted abilities are always with her once she can access the domain. Her call lightning is only usable outdoors, but does 3d8 per bolt if no storm is brewing and 3d12 per bolt if a storm is brewing. We took the storm domain out of Spell Compendium, I think. I also gave her access to new feats: Storm Focus, and Greater Storm Focus, each of which increase her DCs by +2. She is all about the seasons and weather. The natural cycles of The Green.
I would love to write some fiction for Paizo. But I wouldn't know how to let them know and since I'm not a professional writer, I doubt they would have any interest. But this is a passion of mine. Thanks for the support. It's nice to know that people are enjoying what I am writing :) Here is a particularly lengthy update. * * *
Kyras insisted that, other than the Baron’s steed, they not bring horses. Given the peculiar development of the Barony, all of the horses were stabled two days away in Leveton, the wrong direction. Word would have to be sent to Leveton that the Baron needed horses and then the horses would be prepped and sent to Baerevale, a four day proposition, unless someone happened to be on their way to Baerevale with horses when the request went out. It was a horribly inefficient means of handling transport, but until the barony could afford another stable in Baerevale, it would have to suffice. On the way out of town, a messenger approached them on horseback. “Baron, I have a missive from Brevoy for you.” The young page announced. “It apparently arrived in New Stetven several months back and took its time get to you here.” “Thank you, lad.” The baron said, taking the missive. He gave the boy a silver coin. “Take this for your trouble.” “Thank you, Baron.” The boy beamed and galloped away on his horse. The baron read the parchment. A surprised and worried look came over his face. “What is it?” Kira asked. “It’s from my mother. It appears she’s pregnant.” The baron said, looking up from the parchment. “That’s wonderful news!” Kira said, smiling. “Yes.” The baron responded worriedly. “What’s wrong?” Kira asked. “Nothing.” The baron responded, his worried expression disappearing, replaced with an encouraging smile. “You’re right. It’s good news.” Kira could sense something was wrong, but she let it pass. “When is she due?” She asked. “Well, the letter was written nearly nine months ago, so I guess she is due any day now.” He said. They continued walking. “I wonder what took it so long to get to you.” Kira mused after a few minutes. “Yes. The baron responded without paying attention. By that time, he was lost in his own thoughts. The sun was high in the sky, warming the cold ground. The sky was clear and a slight, warm breeze came up from the south. It was good weather in which to travel. “The journey should take anywhere from ten to fourteen days roundtrip,” Kelas advised, “depending on the actual whereabouts of the trolls. But given the natural hunting and breeding grounds of the average troll band, and best as I can tell from the intelligence we have on the location of the raids, the troll den shouldn’t be any farther than seven days from Soliel. And once I am able to locate their trail, I should be able to track them back to their den without a problem, potentially expediting our journey.” “How confident are you that you will be able to track them, Kelas?” The Baron asked. Kelas had no love for trolls. “Trolls are not particularly dainty creatures, Baron. I would see their filth and other signs of their passing without even trying.” Kelas responded with disdain. “I suggest we stop and visit the Lizard Folk on our way. See if any more of their hunting parties have been massacred.” Akiros offered. “Yes. I agree.” The Baron said. “It will give us an opportunity to further smooth over relations. Kira can heal their injured, should the trolls have attacked again, recently.” Once they were on the outskirts of Baerevale City, Kyras called the group to a halt. “Let me speed our journey along.” He whispered. Turak Szimmov Durak. He spoke in a loud voice. It was only when casting spells that he spoke in anything over a whisper, as though the rest of the time he was merely saving his voice. Given his affliction, however, it made sense. He often fell into terrible coughing fits that lasted several seconds. when it happened during his spellcastig, the spell fizzled and Kyras became very angry. But on this occasion, his spell worked. Out of the forest galloped several sleek black horses, one for each of them, except the Baron. He had his own steed. The horses arrived complete with bit and bridle, as though they were merely waiting in the forest for them to arrive and ride them. “Well done, Kyras.” The Baron praised the wizard. Kyras smiled. Or maybe it was a scowl. Everyone mounted their steeds. Only Akiros hesitated, inspecting the steed warily, as though it might bite him. He wasn’t particularly superstitious, but magic made him a little uneasy. He always felt that a hefty sword could solve any problem and magic, well, it was too unpredictable. After a three day journey, they arrived at the Lizard Folk village, passing the Hut of Old Beldame on the way there, giving it a wide berth. The old witch unsettled most of the leaders of Soliel. Only Kyras seemed to take an interest in her. Unfortunately, she, too, took an interest in him. Thinking about her advances on Kyras the first time they met her sent shivers down the Baron’s spine. At least Kyras has never returned those affections. His interest in her was merely academic. Her ability in the arcane arts then exceeded Kyras’s abilities and he wished to learn as much as he could from her. According to Kyras, she could also be useful to the Barony in that she could craft magical arms and armor, a feat that Kyras had not yet perfected. Even so, the Baron merely tolerated her presence in Soliel. She was, after all, a citizen of Soliel and entitled to his protection. The Lizard Folk village was on a little island in the middle of the river. As they approached, they could see the boat that was left there on the near shore from the expedition that brought the peace offering to the Lizard Folk after the unpleasantness with the boy. Derek, one of Akiros’s men, was the only survivor of that expedition. It was one of the Baron’s early mistakes. Only two people in his barony could speak draconic, the language of Lizard Folk, Akiros and Kyras. While Kyras was away, the baron asked Akiros to draft a note in draconic to the Lizard Folk to be sent with baskets of fruits and vegetables and eight men serving the marshal. The note merely read: Please except these as our offering of peace and unity between the Barony of Soliel and your people. Unfortunately, none of the men who traveled to the Lizard Folk village knew draconic. The Lizard Folk, being meat eaters, and even cannibals when meat was scarce, misunderstood the baron’s intentions. It was a bloody massacre. While the men that were sent had some fighting ability, they did not expect an armed conflict with the Lizard Folk, and cut off as they were and surrounded by Lizard Folk, they didn’t stand a chance. Still, Derek was able to get away. When he returned to Soliel, he had the thousand yard stare of someone who had been traumatized beyond imagining. When he was finally able to speak, he recounted how he was able to get away by pretending to be dead. He had been piled with the bodies of his friends while the cook took one friend at a time, starting with his childhood buddy, Mathis, and carefully skinned and deboned them and chopped them up with the vegetables in a boiling stew. Because they were all presumed dead, Derek was unguarded and was able to slink the few feet to the river and swim around the island, grabbing the boat for buoyancy to avoid drowning and float the rest of the way to shore. In a fit of righteous fury, the Baron nearly sent all of his forces to rid Golarian of this tribe of murderers. But reminded of his duties and of his vows, he prayed to Iomedae for guidance. He ultimately decided that it was his fault that his men had been killed and that if he had asked his advisors before acting to make the peace offering in the first place, maybe the flaw in his message would have been revealed and caught and the tragedy avoided. He prayed for forgiveness and offered the widows and children of the fallen soldiers jobs in the castle. All but one childless widow agreed. That widow was so distraught, that she hung herself the next day. Her body was found several days later by a neighbor who went to investigate a strange smell coming from her house. It was Marcus and Kyras who decided that the citizenry and the widows would not be told the truth. The baron agreed to allow them to handle the matter as they saw fit. Seeing the delicate state of the baron, they opted not to reveal that they would be making up a false story about how the men had died. To this day, the baron is unaware that the citizenry does not know the grisly circumstances in which the men died, instead believing that a pack of wild boars killed them all. To assure that the truth was not revealed, Marcus sent Derek to Restov to serve as an ambassador to Rostland for the Barony of Soliel. He, of course, first sought the baron’s approval to do so, making up some reason why it would be beneficial to Soliel to do so. The baron thought it to be an excellent idea, given that Derek most assuredly needed a change of scenery after his ordeal. “Baron, we’re here.” Kira sauntered her horse up to his and placed her hand on his arm, breaking him out of his reverie. “Oh yes.” He said, smiling weakly. “Thank you.” He dismounted. He addressed those assembled. “Make camp. I will go speak to the Chief with Akiros. If they have any wounded, I will send for Kira.” The Baron and Akiros strode off to the embankment, boarded the boat and rowed to the center island. There they disembarked and disappeared beyond the wooden wall of the village. Kira was reading the bark-bound tome when they returned about two hours later. “It’s all clear. There have been no more attacks, but the Lizard Folk believe the troll den to be south and west of here.” The baron reported. Everyone started packing up, getting ready to continue the journey. But Kira remained sitting against an old Oak tree reading the strange tome. “Interesting reading, darling?” Baerevan asked. Kira looked up then. “Wha?” “I said, interesting reading?” The baron repeated. “Oh, yes. Yes, it is. These rituals are really amazing and the detail about the First World in the book is very illuminating. It’s almost as though these rituals can be performed by any druid, but the results of the rituals may be unpredictable. I am still not sure of the purpose of these summoning rituals though.” Kira admitted. “Oh, and happy Equinox.” Kira smiled. That evening when they stopped for a night’s rest, Kira performed a small ritual in honor of Spring. She left the encampment and stated that she would return in the morning. The baron was more than a little nervous about leaving her out in the forest alone all night with trolls roaming about. But Kira was very insistent. She stated that she needed to give respect to The Green, and to Spring in particular, and that since she was not with her Circle, she had to perform the ritual alone. After she left, the baron sent Kelas to keep an eye on her from a distance.
Well, I truly am thankful that I have awesome players who love story as much as kicking a@@! We've been playing together for years, some of us for 14 years now. As a result, we end up collaborating on character design, which gives them a lot of leeway. For example, Baerevan is a gestalt Paladin/Fighter, as a result of his time with the Aldori Swordlords. And Kira is an alternate druid. She starts out with the Spring domain, but every 5 levels she gets another season's domain. And some of her spells are enhanced. And she gets some other perks later in the story. But she can't wildshape. Kyras has an epic staff which is tied to his curse. But he's weak and is prone to failing spells. Kelas has extra knowledge skill points and has lived for over a thousand years. He knows a lot. Look for another update this evening. :)
Thanks, Shiz. The one thing that annoys me is that I cannot go back and edit my typos. I don't always catch them the first time around and I find them very distracting when I re-read what I have written :(
"Breva, what amazing news!" The Oracle exclaimed breathlessly as he exited his trance. "What is it, Seer?" Breva asked excitedly. "It is the Prophet's next born. It is foretold that she will be Iomedae's Champion. I must inform the Prophet. He will be very excited. We are so blessed!" The Oracle responded. Breva's brow furrowed in disapproval. "Shouldn't you inform the Queen first, my Seer?" She asked apprehensively. Breva had heard the rumors circling the Prophet Hulrun, rumors of the strange disappearances and dark figures coming to and from his manse at odd hours. The Oracle waved off her question. "There will be time for that after the celebration. Do not fear, Breva. Have faith!" The Oracle excitedly left the temple to seek out Hulrun and deliver the news personally. * * * "Yes, I am certain of the portent, Master Hulrun." the Oracle explained. "Your next born will be the Chosen of Iomedae. Only she will have the power to turn the demonic tide of the Worldwound and restore balance." "I see." I flash of anger appeared on his face momentarily. Then, the Prophet pursed his lips and raised a finger up to them in thought. "Has word yet been sent to the Queen?" Hulrun asked. The Oracle detected the Prophet's fleeting look and the sinister tone in his voice. It caused him to hesitate in responding. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Could it be that the rumors were true? Surely not. "No, Master Hulrun. I thought you would want to be the first to know." The Oracle responded. "Surely this is good news, yes?" The Prophet smiled. "Yes. This is indeed joyous news." Hulrun said. "My, it's getting late isn't it?" He motioned to one of his guards, stationed nearby. "Please see The Oracle to his final destination this day." "As you command, My Lord." The guard bowed and approached the Oracle to lead him out of the chamber. "Rest easy, Seer. For tomorrow, will be a new beginning for us all." Hulrun said as the guard accompanied the Oracle out into one of the deserted hallways. The Oracle's last thought in this world was about the oddity of the Prophet's parting words. * * * "My agent was very clear, Lord Asmodeus." The hulking Pit Fiend reported. Among other duties, Ur'Jahriel was the general in charge of the Inner Sea region of Golarion for Nessus. Asmodeus bestowed that duty upon him when he elevated him in rank. "It has been confirmed that the Prophet Hulrun's next born will be the Chosen of Iomedae." "You have confirmed the accuracy of this intelligence?" The Lord of Deception asked. "Yes, Liege. My agent confirmed that the girl from Kenabres was present when Iomedae's agent spoke the words to the Oracle. She risked a great deal sneaking away alone and traveling to the capital of Mendev to seek audience with the Queen" Ur'Jahriel reported. It was nothing new to Asmodeus that the Chosen of Iomedae would appear now. Asmodeus had been sensing with caution and disdain the growing strength of the demonic hordes within the Worldwound for several decades. He knew it was a matter of time before Iomedae took a more active role in things. But his calculations had been imprecise. He had expected Baerevan Du'Soliel, first son of Hulrun, to be the Chosen of Iomedae. In his estimation, it would be Baerevan's contempt for Hulrun that would serve as the catalyst for the schism and great war that would unify the lands under his banner and push the demons back behind the barrier. Moreover, he had not expected Nataeia Du'Soliel to bear any more children for the depraved Prophet. Still, the situation was salvageable. "This is what you must do...." Asmodeus began instructing his general. * * * Nataeia sang a hymm to Iomedae as her ladies-in-waiting finished dressing her and brushing her hair. Her voice was melodic, like a songbird in Spring, singing to catch the attention of a lover. And she was. The only true love in her life was Iomedae. She had long since detached herself emotionally from her husband Hulrun, seeing her marriage to the cold, insensitive Prophet as her burden to bear. Sometimes she reminisced about her past with regret, regret that she allowed herself to be lured into the warm embrace of a man, forsaking her vow of chastity as a priestess of Iomedae in the Order of the Ecstatic. But when her mind went to such dark places, she needed only remember that Baerevan was the result of that lustful union, and the light of her love for her only son banished her dark thoughts. She never forgave Hulrun for forcing Baerevan to leave. She never believed Hulrun's story that Baerevan committed heresy by attempting to rescue a heretic in the act of confessing the evils of her sins against Iomedae. If it weren't for the dream in which the angel of Iomedae told her that she would bear Hulrun one last child, a daughter, and that her daughter would be the Chosen of Iomedae, she never would have touched Hulrun, again. But here she was, days away from giving birth. It was as if life had meaning again. She was once again, happy.
Baerevan and Kira watched the sun set over The Narlmarches from a nearby hillock. The air was still a little crisp, but they kept each other warm in eachother's company. "I've given some thought to the guest list for the wedding." The Baron began. "Yes?" Kira asked, almost absentmindedly as she stared at the beauty of the sunset, her head resting on Baerevan's shoulder. "I would like to invite the Issian Lords and the Aldori Swordlords of Rostland." I think it only proper, since you are technically a noble of Issian descent and I have obtained our charter from the Swordlords of Rostland." Baerevan explained. Kira lifted her head and looked at the Baron. "Do you think that's wise?" She asked. "I think it might be a way of relieving tensions in Brevoy. If we acknowledge both provinces as allies, neither will see us as a threat, at least for the time being." Baerevan began. "I've actually been giving this a lot of thought, lately. I think our marriage may actually have a unifying affect on Brevoy." Kira smiled. Baerevan was at times a contradiction. He was a humble man, reluctant at times to lead and often erring on the side of giving the citizenry more of a say in government policy than it should have. On the other hand, he was full of hubris, such as now, thinking that a marriage in this backwater barony would have any impact on provincial relations in the great nation of Brevoy. Still, what did she know about the ways of men and politics. She grinned as she thought to herself, more than little, I was after all raised in the House of one of the great lords of Issia. But Kira was content to let the Baron have his beliefs. It seemed to make him feel like a man that his actions would be influential in the lives of so many. "I agree, Baerevan. Besides, it would be great to see my father." After a pause, she added, "Just have some discretion when you tell Kyras. He will not take it well." Kyras never forgave their father for conceding to the whims of his vain, petulant and status-hungry wife. He would not be pleased to hear that their father might attend the wedding. "I will also invite the Queen of Mendev." Baerevan added. "Seriously?" Kira blurted out, without thinking. Baerevan looked her, a surprised expression on his face. "I mean, it's just that she is so busy running a kingdom and with the Crusade and the Worldwound... Don't you think she would feel that our wedding hundreds of miles away from her immediate concern is more of a burden?" Kira quickly recovered. "I don't actually expect her to come, Kira. I don't expect any of them to come, except the Swordlords, and possibly your father." Baerevan explained. "This is more about keeping up appearances." "How do you mean?" Kira asked, intrigued. "Well, we owe political allegiance to Rostland as it is financially supporting our Barony. The Issian nobles may think it a power play by Rostland to expand its territory to prepare for an invasion into Issia to the north. But if we announce you as a noble of House Medvyed, the Issian nobles may not view Rostland's actions as aggression. It may somewhat diffuse that inevitable tension. After all, at some point, I suspect, our Barony will grow to be large enough to gain the attention of the Issian nobles. When that time comes, I don't want our little fledging nation to be the catalyst for a war in Brevoy." Baerevan explained. "Inviting the Queen is more of a personal message I wish to convey to her. If I am correct about my father, I'm sure the Queen's spies have informed her of his methods. Given Hulrun's popularity and power, however, the Queen cannot likely risk a civil war. There is too much at stake with the Worldwound. But I would like to send her a message that this fledging Iomedean barony is sympathetic to the ruler of Mendev. Her spies will inevitably learn that I have not invited Hulrun, my own father, and have chosen instead to invite the Queen. This will show the Queen where my sympathies lay, should she have need of assistance when the time comes." Baerevan explained. Kira had no idea the baron was so politically savvy. "I'm very impressed." She said. "Well, Marcus did have some input in all of this." Baerevan grinned. Kira nodded. "Ah." She said. "So when will we have the wedding?" Kira asked. "Well, to give everyone time to prepare things for the trip, I was thinking it would be in Erastus. Autumn is a good time of year, just before the harvest." The Baron explained. "It sounds lovely." Kira said, placing her head back on his shoulder. The sun had finished setting. Kira was disappointed that she missed it. * * * *
@Shizvestus, Pansy and Bran. Thanks you guys! I'm glad you are enjoying it. I'm trying just to hit the highlights to keep it interesting. :) * * * It was decided between Kyras and Kira that Kira would retain possession of the strange book that Kyras found in Skywatch. As Kyras reasoned, his capabilities for translating Ogham were very limited, making Kira the obvious choice. By then, the others had filed out of the chamber, leaving only the Baron, Kira and Kyras. "Kira, would you excuse your brother and I for a moment?" The Baron asked. "We have something to discuss." Kira looked at the Baron questioningly. "It is concerning the matter of which we spoke before." The Baron added, answering Kira's questioning gaze. Kira should her head and smiled. "Of course." "Kyras would you walk with me?" The Baron asked the magister. "As you wish, My Lord." Kyras responding, looking at Kira as he and the Baron left the chamber. Kira smiled at her brother encouragingly. Once they were outside of the city, the Baron began. "I understand that relations between the two of you and your father are .... strained." Kyras winced, but kept walking. Baerevan wasn't sure whether it was his words that caused him to wince or the sheer agony of his daily existence. "You can say that." He whispered. "In that case, I will ask you." Baerevan stated. "I wish your blessing to marry your sister." Baerevan revealed. Kyras stopped walking and stared at Baerevan a little longer than was comfortable for the Baron. His thoughts were inscrutible and it was disconcerting that the mage's pupils seemed to move with a life of their own. After a few interminable seconds, Kyras responded. "I have not since my accident met any other man to whom I would give such a blessing." "Good." Baerevan smiled and clapped Kyras on the shoulder. Kyras nearly collapsed from the pressure, but maanaged to hold his composure. * * * * Narissa ran her fingers along the curves of the red beads on the necklace she held in her hands, while she was lost in thought. One of her servants approached, pulling her out of her reverie. "You called, Mistress." The ogre said, as he abased himself before the beautiful Nymph Queen. "Yes, D'tan. I have a delivery for you to make." Narissa smiled, handing over the necklace to D'tan. D'tan took the necklace. "As I am stuck here for the moment, you will migrate to The Narlmarches in Golorian and seek out the troll named, Hargulka. Give him the necklace. Tell him it is a reward for conducting the raids as discussed. Remind him, however, that his band is to avoid the other areas that we discussed. If any harm shall come to the creatures residing in those areas, retribution shall be swift." "As you command, Mistress." The Ogre bowed and disappeared into the surrounding forest. * * * *
@Tashanthara, yes Kobolds are great. You and our magister have an interest in common :) * * * * "Alright everyone! I am calling this meeting to order. It is Toilday, the 1st of Pharastus. Let's begin. Treasury report." The Baron pointed at Oleg and waited for him to shuffle through his papers. "But my lord, not everyone is here." Kelas offered. Eyes glanced around the table. Kelas, Kesten, Akiros, Oleg and Svetlana, Jhod, Marcus, the Baron, Kira and ...Nakpick. "Kyras is missing." The Baron observed. "Where is Kyras? And what is the Kobold doing here?" The Baron asked. "Baron, Kyras is on a procurement errand and Nakpick is serving as magister in his absence." Kira announced, unphased by the absurdity of her statement. Akiros's mouth was agape. "The kobold is ...our magister?" The Baron asked incredulously. "Well, yes, Baron." Kelas spoke up. "He's a perfectly logical substitute. Kobolds are descendents of dragons, dragons are highly magical beings. And Nakpick has shown an affinity for the arcane arts. I believe Kyras is even apprenticing him." All of this was just too much for Akiros, who broke into hearty peals of laughter. "What so funny?" Nakpick squealed, jumping up on the table. The kobold looked ridiculous, wearing a formal tunic and cloak, shiny black boots and an impossibly large wizarding hat. "You no like Kobolds?" He stabbed an accusatory finger at the hulking barbarian. The gesture made the kobold's hat fall down in his face, covering his eyes. "I'm blind! I'm blind! What you do to Nakpick!" The kobold was now screaming and jumping up and down on the table. This only made Akiros laugh harder. The door to the council chamber slammed shut. Akiros stopped laughing. All eyes turned toward the entrance. Even the kobold calmed down, having managed to lift the hat out of his eyes. "What's all this fuss about?" Kyras whispered as he walked toward the council table. His mere presence managed to suck all of the levity out of the room. Nakpick jumped off of the table and ran to Kyras, grabbing onto his robes and hiding behind his leg, whimpering. Akiros turned red in the face, embarrassed. "We are glad you could join us, Kyras. Welcome home." The Baron stood and gestured to the empty seat next to Kira, previously occupied by Nakpick. "We were just about to start this month's meeting and were getting worried about you." The Baron sat. Kyras glowered at Akiros, who lowered his gaze, taking sudden interest in the grain of the table. Kyras sat. "Thank you, Baron." He put a large tome, bound in bark, on the table. "It's good to see you, brother." Kira smiled warmly and rubbed Kyras's arm. "What's this?" She asked, gesturing at the book. "I was hoping you could tell me. I am looking forward to unraveling its mysteries with you." The dour wizard responded in a tone that passed for elation to those who knew Kyras. But to the uninitiated, it sounded more like contempt. Kiras smiled at her brother and nodded. She turned to the Baron. "I believe we are all here now." She said. Nakpick curled up in a ball under Kyras's chair and slept. "Oleg, if you please. Treasury report." The Baron began, again. Oleg's fat greasy fingers were looking for the ledger that contained the status of the debits and credits for the barony. A few oily strands of hair fell down his face in front of his glasses. He smoothed them back across his head in a futile attempt to cover his baldness and looked up from his papers, having found his ledger. "Well, as usual, we're broke." He reported. "And I understand that there's talk of building an academy?? Are you people mad?? You people keep spending money like we have it!" Kyras glowered at Oleg. "Now, now, Oleg. Please don't get so upset. You know it isn't good for your health." Svetlana tried to calm down her husband. It seemed to do the trick. Then she went too far. "It's only money, dear." You could hear a pin drop in the council chamber, like the calm before a tornado. Kelas's eyes bulged. Akiros held his breath. The Baron put his head in his hands. Kesten tensed. "It's only MONEY?? It's only money that puts food in our mouths! It's only money that puts shelter over our heads! It's only money that keeps our guards paid and the bandits from our farms! It's only money that keeps up our roads!" Oleg was red-faced and fuming, pounding the table in front of him. Nakpick woke with a start, banged his head on the underside of Kyras's chair and ran screaming from the chamber, arms flailing wildly above his head. "Enough of this, Oleg. We cannot have you falling into a tirade every time the subject of money is discussed." The Baron chastened the treasurer. "I understand we have money problems. We will deal with them. That is the purpose of these meetings. Now calm yourself." "If I may, My Lord." Kesten interrupted. "It seems we have security issues as well." "Speak." The Baron commanded. "Akiros's men have reported troll sightings to the south and west." The General reported. "Is this true?" The Baron asked Akiros. "Yes, Baron. And Kelas's scouts have confirmed it. I've even personally visited the Lizard Folk to confirm the existence of trolls in the area. Apparently, one of their hunting parties was devastated by a lone troll." Akiros reported. The Baron looked at Kelas, who nodded in agreement. "Well, then. I suppose dealing with the trolls should be the first thing on our agenda." The Baron declared. "And I recommend building nothing this month, unless its a farm and road to get to it." Oleg added. "Done." The Baron responded. "Oleg, consult with Jhod and determine the best location for such a farm." "I know the perfect spot." Jhod added. "Svetlana and I have been traveling the countryside, meeting with our citizenry, and have determined a suitable location for our next expansion." The high priest reported. "It doesn't interfere with the kobolds, does it?" Kyras whispered and coughed. "No, no. You made your wishes quite clear on that subject at the least meeting, Kyras. The kobold caves will not be annexed unless and until you can find a way to allow them to continue their way of life." Jhod responded respectfully. Satisfied, Kyras nodded. "My Lord, on the diplomatic front, we have successfully established an embassy in Restov. Derek, the sole survivor of the peace offering massacre, has successfully made the transition and will be our liaison there." Marcus reported. "Excellent. Thank you, Marcus. I think it best if we personally deal with the troll problem. I don't want to see any of our scouts or soldiers get injured or killed. Enough blood has been spilled on my account over the misunderstanding with the lizard folk." The Baron suggested. "I will go with you, My Lord." Akiros offered. "As will I." Kelas added. Kira looked at her brother. Kyras nodded. "We will go, too." She said. "Great. Kesten, you will be in charge in my absence. Jhod, you and Oleg focus on getting that farm and road built." The Baron rose to conclude the meeting. "This meeting is adjourned." * * * *
@Shizvestus, Thanks! * * * The Lord of Hell strode purposefully through his garden. Ordinarily, he liked to stop and smell the Stench Vine. It gave off a particularly sweet carrion-like smell this time of year. He had spent millennia procuring the right species of plants and pruning and manicuring them until his garden was a masterful representation of Hell itself. To the initiated, it was a hedge maze that could navigate one anywhere in Hell should he take the correct path. To the unwary, it was torture, anguish and death. But today, he was too distracted. Schemes within schemes within schemes swirled in his dark mind until he extracted from the maelstrom the perfect sequence of events necessary to bring his plans to fruition. It was what would be to a mortal, an exhaustingly tedius burden, if not unhinging in its own right. Asmodeus passed an unfortunate Dretch chewing contentedly on a bloated Blood Vine, completely unaware of the giant fly trap slowly and silently moving into position behind it to catch a morning snack. Asmodeus smiled. The Dretch's screams of agony would be heard for hours before its tortured body finally succombed to the digestive juices of the fly trap. Ahead, Ur'Jahriel, one of the most accomplished generals in his own personal force here on Nessus, waited near Asmodeus's favorite Witch Tree. "My Lord." Ur'Jahriel bowed deeply as the Lord of Hell approached. Asmodeus waived a hand dismissively. "Be at ease, General." Ur'Jahriel straightened and stood at ease as commanded. "I have a very delicate mission for you. You will serve as my representative. I need you to migrate to The House At The Edge of Time in The First World. Seek out Narissa and inform her that her services concerning the Heirophants have fulfilled her end of our bargain and that the barrier between worlds will be weakened within the year, as promised." Asmodeus directed. "As you wish, My Lord." Ur'Jahriel bowed. "That is all." Asmodeus turned and began to walk away. Then he stopped. "Oh, one more thing." Asmodeus said over his shoulder. "You are to warn Narissa that should anything happen to Baerevan Du'Soliel, her soul will be forfeit." * * * "Come back, Kira!" The Baron yelled after the fleeting fey-like beauty. Kira was playfully running through the field just outside of Baerevale after sneaking a kiss on the Baron's cheek and pushing him away, unbalancing the strapping lad. The Baron caught up to Kira and grabbed her arm. She squealed. "Gotchya." He said smiling, as he pulled her in. "Now it is my turn to steal a kiss." He breathed heavily and kissed her deeply. She laughed and pulled away. "Isn't it a beautiful day, Baerevan?" she said as she looked around and gestured to the scene around her. It was near the beginning of Spring, Kira's favorite time of year. The collective tension of the birds and animals preparing for the mating season was palpable. It invigorated the young druidess. "Yes, Kira. And more beautiful for your sharing it with me." The Baron smiled. He was smitten. The sword of her beauty sliced through him and the contents of his heart bled on his sleeve. He was undeniably hers. And she knew this. "Oh Baerevan, you are so sweet." She smiled and took his hand. They walked together through the field. "Kira, you know my feelings for you. You mean more to me than any woman I have ever known. I want to be with you forever. Will you marry me?" The Baron stopped walking and got down on one knee. "Kira. Will you be my bride?" He looked deeply into her eyes as he proposed. She disengaged her hand. "I-- I don't know what to say." Kira paused. "Say yes!" Baerevan breathed. "Baerevan, this is serious. Can you even do this?" She asked. "What do you mean?" He asked, confused. "Your vows. Don't you have to be chaste or something?" She asked. "No. For the love of Iomedae, no. My vows do not prevent this union. If anything, family is encouraged." Baerevan explained. Kira still had reservations. "Baerevan, I love you. And I cannot say that I do not want this. It's just that, I'm concerned." "What is there to be concerned about? All of our friends know about our feelings toward one another. It's the natural evolution of our relationship." Baerevan didn't know what was causing Kira's concern. She had made her affections known to him. Even her brooding brother seemed to approve of their relationship. "Oh Baerevan. There is so much you do not know about me." Kira was conflicted. "And you, about me." Baerevan returned. "That's what marriage is about, getting to know eachother." "Do you even know who my father is?" Kira asked "Your father is dead, just like your mother, right?" Baerevan responded. "No, Baerevan. My father is Lord Medvyed of Brevoy." Kira revealed. "He never publically acknowledged Kyras and me. Kyras thinks that it was to salvage his relationship with his wife that he ultimately sent us away. Kyras believes that she felt that the right of her offspring to succeed Lord Medvyed as lord of the House on his passing would be threatened if we were acknowledged." Baerevan was stunned. He had no idea that Kira and Kyras were the rightful heirs to House Medvyed. It complicated things. House Medvyed is in Issia, the northern province of Brevoy. The Baron's charter was issued from Rostland, the southern province of Brevoy. And with House Surtova on the throne, the stability of the nation is weak. If it was revealed that Kira is a Medvyed, would the Swordlords of Rostland view his marriage to Kira as a play by Issia for power, gathering forces on its southern border to wage a two front war on Rostland? He shook his head. Such things have no relevance where matters of the heart were concerned. "This changes nothing." Baerevan said. "There is also the matter of my Order and your faith." Kira added. "What do those have to do with our decision to get married?" Baerevan was exasperated. Kira was known to be indecisive and flighty, but this is something he knew they both desperatedly wanted. He would be patient and hear her out. "Well, I have made it known to my Order that I intend to establish you as a ..... a favored friend of this region. You have shown a great deal of restraint in your building of this kingdom, minimizing its impact on the natural world. You even have a temple to Erastil in Baerevale and will be establishing some standing stones in the center of the city in homage to The Green. If my Order learns of our true feelings for each other, it might lessen my credibility, and thereby my support among my Order, when the time comes to establish you as such." Kira explained, choosing not to reveal her true intentions to make him king of the region. She continued. "Moreover, as one of your advisors, it is my task to advise you on how to grow this barony into a kingdom. My interests lay with The Green, which interests may be incompatible with the tenets of Iomedae. Yet, as your wife, my advice may hold greater sway than that of your other advisors. Would this not affect your standing with Iomedae?" Kira asked. "My dear." Baerevan began, taking Kira's hand in his. "Is this the best you can come up with?" He smiled lovingly. "First, I don't know what all of this business is of establishing me as a favored friend of this region in your Order. But if it requires some deeds to prove my worthiness, will not such deeds speak for themselves? What possible impact could your feelings for me have that would not be overwhelmed by my deeds? Kira had not thought of it in that manner before. Of course his deeds would speak volumes about his worthiness to be king. "Second, nothing in my studies suggests that the tenets of The Green are incompatible with the teachings of Iomedae. In fact, The Eleven Miraculous Acts are entirely consistent with preserving the natural world. Besides, Iomedae and The Green have a common interest in protecting the world from the horrors of The Worldwound." Baerevan continued. "So that should mean something." Kira smiled. Baerevan was so cute when he was using logic. "She pulled him close. "Ok, Baron. I don't see any demons running amok in Soliel." She jested. "But if you fall from grace by taking my advice, don't blame me." She kissed him. "Yes." She whispered. * * *
Thanks for the positive feedback and interest! Does anyone know how to move a thread to the right forum? Or does it matter that this thread continues here? I don't want to anger the Paizo gods :) I'm not sure where to start the tale of what went on before. Everything seemed to go to hell in a handbasket (and I mean that literally) just before the group set off to see about the disappearances at Varnhold. But .... No. Hmmm ...before that.... * * * * Kyras has a passion for knowledge and ancient lore. Before the academy was built, during breaks in his duties as magister, he often went abroad to obtain books for his library, which he later lent to Soliel's academy. On one such foray, he went to Skywatch in Brevoy. There he found several interesting tomes on astonomy and flora and fauna of Brevoy. While there something unusual caught his attnetion. An unusual tome laid open on a table. It was thick and bound in bark of some sort. It's pages were made of leaves and the runes on the leaves were some sort of alchemical substance. It was entirely written in Ogham, the language of druids. Calling upon the abilities of his staff, he began translating the ancient runic language and quickly realized that the tome contained powerful rituals to summon conceptual beings, beings that some call cthonics. These beings are beyond the heirarchy of mortality and gods. All were representations of the natural world; seasons such as Spring, Summer or Winter, or natural events such as Eclipse, Storm or Blizzard. Seeing nobody around, he purloined the book and brought it back to Soliel, intent on consulting Kira about the book. Watching Kyras leave the Skywatch library from her hidden perch on top of one of the stacks, Loviel smiled and migrated to Nessus to report to her master. "My Lord," the succubus began as she abased herself before the Master of Hell. "The Heirophants have been deceived and silenced, the Eldritch Tome has been placed and the bait taken, just as you commanded." "Phase one is complete, my dear Loviel." The Lord of Deception purred. "Now what?" the succubus asked, raising her head a bit, but still not making eye contact. Asmodeus cocked an eyebrow, both mildly annoyed and amused at the audacity and curiosity of the Succubus, and decided to let it pass. "Now we wait, my dear. We wait." * * * *
I don't know if this is the right place to post this (and my apologies if I have put anyone out), but I find myself in an interesting situation. You see, my games tend to be "heroes saving the world" kind of campaigns, and, well, I wanted a change. So I had been planning on running a garden variety kingdom building campaign when I saw the Kingmaker AP. Being the extremely busy professional that I am, I thought to myself, "self, this is awesome...kingdom building campaign that requires little extra effort...just add dice!" So, I announced the new game and my players were extremely happy. That was several months ago. We are now at the beginning of Book 4. And...Well, this campaign doesn't even resemble kingmaker anymore. You see, I like to give my players a lot of leeway to make their own story and they have taken liberties....oh, have they taken liberties. We have gone so far afield that we are now in a "heroes saving the world" game. I'm wondering how I'm going to get the game back on track. And, quite frankly, I'm wondering whether I want to get it back on track because the game has been so amazing and so different from anything I've run before that I don't know if I want it to end. So, the story is primarily about a paladin of Iodomae who has taken on more than he can lance. As the title says, he is juggling many things, many things that at many times can be, and are, incompatible. The story has evolved around this paladin, who is the duke of the kingmaker kingdom. He named it Soliel. Let me see if I can fill you in on the background of the players a little bit, so you can get an idea of the cast of characters: Kelas, a male elf from Kyonin who is very old (he looks like a young man). In my game, elves don't age or die from old age. They disappear when their time is up and go to the elven home land. He is a ranger and plays the role of the kingdom's warden. Marcus, a human male, rogue. He is the son of a tailor from New Stetven with a seedy past. Marcus's father was a rogue/assassin on the DL who was favored by the nobles of New Stetven and was later double-crossed by House Sartova and murdered. Marcus fled to the southern lands and met up with the group to become its spymaster. Kira and Kyras. Fraternal half-elven twins. Bastard children of Lord Medvyed. After their elven mother died when they were four years old, the elves didn't want them in their community, prejudiced against them and their tainted blood. One day, they were "dropped off" at Lord Medvyed's estate and, much to the chagrin of Lady Medvyed (who had mothered two younger children for Lord Medvyed), they were raised by Lord Medvyed, who never acknowledged them as his "children". Instead, Lord Medvyed publicly referred to them as his cousins, though he always had a fondness for them. Kira is a druid with an affinity for the seasons. Spring is her favorite and she maintains the Spring Domain initially. She is lighthearted and carefree, much like a child. Kyras is a wizard. He was sent away from Lord Medvyed's estate when he was ten years old and apprenticed to a kindly old wizard who taught him the ways of wizardry. Kyras always had an affinity for power and grew to hate his father and stepmother for refusing to acknowledge he and his sister. Brother and sister have an empathic link. Kyras is the kingdom's magister and Kira is its Duchess. Baerevan DuSoliel, son of Hulrun, Prophet of Iomedae of Mendev in Kenebres. Baerevan is a devoted paladin of Iomedae who fled his homeland shortly after he took vows upon learning that the Prophet Hulrun was not all that he seemed. Convinced that his father was evil he confronted Hulrun in the midst of committing torture on a poor druidess, just as he was about to add sodomy to his crimes. Hulrun threatened Baerevan and knowing that he could do nothing to stop his father, he fled, vowing to return to enact justice on his depraved father. He took up residence in Restov, which has a small temple to Iomedae. Kira was convinced by her order in the Gronzi Forest to answer the call out of Restov for settlers in the Stolen Lands in order to establish another circle there. Just as she was about to leave, she felt a gut-wrenching pain and had a vision of Kyras in pain. Fearing for his life, she set out to find it and amazingly learned that she instintively knew where to go. She found him, body beaten and twisted into something hideous and unconscious just outside of an old ruined tower. His robes were torn and the skin underneath was burned and blasted. Several of his ribs were broken. His hair had turned from golden blonde to stark white, his skin was gray, he was gaunt and his pupils had constantly moving motes in them. His voice was barely above a whisper and he coughed when he tried to speak (I know, it sounds very similar to Raistlin). With a few melodic words, Kira did her best to heal his physical injuries, but the strange transformations to his hair, eyes, skin and voice did not change. I will not tell the tale of what he had suffered at this point in the story. But I may be convinced to reveal it should you be interested. After nursing Kyras to health, Kira took Kyras to the Gronzi Forest. On the way, they met Baerevan, who had been out traveling the country of Brevoy. The story of their meeting is also quite facsinating, but it too is a story for another time. The paladin was, however, immediately stricken with Kira's beauty and guileless charm. Together they traveled first to the Gronzi Forest and then to Restov, where they met Marcus and agreed to form a company to explore the Stolen Lands. With Baerevan reluctantly leadnig this group of adventurers, they eventually established a small Barony that has grown into a Duchy. Duke Baerevan and Duchess Kira DuSoliel rule the Duchy of Soliel from Baerevale City. That's the cast of PCs. There are also some NPCs who have joined the group. Kesten has stayed on as the General and Akiros has stayed on is its Marshall. Oleg is the duchy's treasurer and Svetlana is its caregiver. But that's how things essentially started. Things now are .... complicated. For this post, I will leave you an email I received from Duke Baerevan DuSoliel's player that I received this week: I'm bored here at work. Next to nothing to do at the moment, so I thought I'd shoot off some of my thoughts on where Baerevan is with quite a few things... Elf Queen: He's anxious about the audience with her. He knows he messed up royally (pun intended) by giving Asmodeus the power to appear in Arborea and he's sure that's reached her attention. If it hasn't, he's pretty sure Kelas will let her know about it. Baerevan is preparing himself for that, whether it's brought up or not. He'll be honest. Say it was an unforgivable mistake and even a crime and he'll be spending the rest of his life trying to rectify it. His hope, of course, is that he'll win the Queen's trust enough to eventually form a full alliance with Kyonin. But that, I'm sure, will take some time and further diplomacy. Pitax: He's got that city-state in his crosshairs. The Avatar of Gyronna? Abigail? The assassinations? The attack on Tazzelford. I mean, come on! A full invasion may be out of the question at the moment, but at some point, it may just come have to come to that. He's done with constantly being on the defensive and responding to aggression. He's beginning to feel it's time to go on the offensive when it comes to Pitax. Openly declare war with the city state and
Kira: It's tricky. And it's painful. His first concern is that she's finally free and (given the circumstances) happy. She's been used as a plaything by so many cruel, callous and indifferent epic level, all powerful entities (both mortal and divine) that he wants to help her enact justice and even vengeance on those who have wronged her. And that may include some of that ass-hat Grand Druid who (quite wrongfully) accused me of caring nothing for the Green and called Kira arrogant, while at the same time arrogantly counseling that my Contract with Asmodeus was cool by him. Rather arrogant of himself, one might say. If all of Kira's memories remain, then he needs to get everything she knows about Asmodeus and even his father, if she was privy to any of that. He needs to know what Asmodeus wants, what his father is after by allying himself with the Prince of Hell and, if any exist, discern a weakness or flaw or shortcoming in his plans. Though I'm (as a player) beginning to think he doesn't have any real "plans" short of simply enjoying the sport of trying to corrupt a favored soul of Iomedae. But back to Kira. After all they've both been through, it's safe to say the relationship needs to... evolve. Obviously the half-fiend children need both a father and a mother. They need that kind of stability. The Duchy, too, needs both the Duke and the Duchess for its stability, but as for the actual marriage, that's hard to say whether it can or should survive all this. Their relationship should become, for lack of a better word, more business-like. There's work to be done. Romance and affection contributed to much of their woes. It proved to be too potent a distraction and bait for enemies. If they remain married, simply to keep things stable, then perhaps she and the children move to the castle of Tazzelford. It's still part of the Duchy. It's in the middle of the woods, which brings Kira closer to the natural world that she so loves and she can still serve as co-ruler from that post. Baerevan could visit her from time to time for counsel, guidance and other help with managing the Duchy. Plus he would want to visit the children (as much as possible) to raise them as paladins, or at least as LG followers of Iomedae as well as respecters of the Green. If Shawn is still following the Kingmaker class path, then this arrangement can fit nicely into that. Baerevan needs to make his frequent sojourns into the forest for his exclusive and mysterious meetings with this mystic of the Green. (Very Merlin/Arthur) But the relationship should most likely become, well, chaste. They still love each other, they just know that can't be lovers anymore. But all this should be sussed out in RP. Again, this is just where Baerevan's thoughts are at the moment. Thought thoughts and feelings can always change. If Kira's agreeable to this arrangement, then Baerevan will begin the process of turning himself over completely, body and soul, to Iomedae. Kyras: He wants to double his efforts to rid Kyras of Geb and (more immediately) get him a new leg. (Even though Kyras seems quite content floating around everywhere now.) Baerevan knows he's been neglecting Kyras's plight and that needs to change. If anything, Geb needs to be extracted and dealt with before we even think about marching on Mendev to take out my father. I can't have a wizard prone to failing spells and possibly falling prey to Geb's influence in the middle of a battle royale with a ton of demon and demon-worshippers. So, there's that practical aspect to this as well. But he made Kyras a promise and he means to make good on it. Kelas: Perhaps Baerevan's greatest failure. He doesn't know how he'll do it, but he needs to fix what's been broken in Kelas. Yes, much of this is fueled by guilt, but rightfully so. It was Baerevan's doing that brought all this about, so it's his duty to correct it. But he first needs to know the nature of Kelas's plight. It seems he's a bit soulless. He can't hear trees anymore? That's quite disconcerting. Or is that he can't bring himself to "hear trees" anymore because it's all too painful? Baerevan's determined to find out the whole truth about what's going on with Kelas and then fix it. It's really killing Baerevan to see Kelas this way and he knows no good will come from ignoring it. Akiros: We have to bring him back. Simply put, we need him! The Brothels: They are to be immediately shut down. Soliel will not subsidize, nor will it profit from carnality. They shall be re-opened at Taverns. The women can stay on as barmaids, but there is to be no prostitution. If it comes to light that they are still operating as brothels, they will all be arrested and the establishments shut down. These brothels were opened by edict from a Devil. If anyone wants to debate the Duke on that point, they're more than welcome to,
The Duchy: A test of patience. He so wants it to be a kingdom NOW! He wants those 1,000 men. He wants to march of Mendev today and rid the world of his father, but he knows he needs to just keep going slow. Gradually build out. Going too fast will be suicide. So much going on and so much to juggle. What was the name of that small Barony that attacked Tazzelford? That seems to be ripe for absorption into Soliel. There was unfinished business there, right? Some other unsavories still in power we need to deal with? Forgive my horrible memory. I know it's a big (probably first) priority after we finish up with the Elven Queen. The Kobolds and the Silver Mine: First off, cleanse the place out of the bubonic plague. Secondly, get citizens of Soliel to take over the mining operations. Sad to say, but we still need the silver. I also want to explore those caves. We need to find if even a single Kobold egg survived. They all need to be rescued and brought back to
The Lizard Men: I also want to try and rebuild what's left of their community. Whether we let them loose to seek out or build a new tribe on their own or we seek out other tribes to come to Soliel and help the survivors reclaim what they've lost. Again, something good needs to come out of Devil Kira's fun-with-hellfire-and-blighting. I don't even know if anyone finds this interesting or has any interest in learning about what lead us to where we are. But if you do, let me know and I'll post more. Until then, Peace. |