Reuben concentrates deeply and pulls a silvery thread from his orb, throwing it like a javelin at the Gold-Scaled draconian.
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Fare thee well, Torgar Earthbreaker. May the smiths of Reorx smile on you.
Alright.
It should be a DC 17. (10+2+5)
Reuben's sharp eyes take in the situation, and then narrow as he focuses on the other spellcasting creature. He draws a complex symbol on his orb and makes a complex geometrical design in the air, shouting, "Jaring sihir, tangkap yang lewat!" A roiling mass of glowing white fibers burst from the ground beneath the gold-scaled creature and begin climbing it, seemingly seeking to cocoon it in a viscous web of light. Other creatures nearby are similarly affected. Reuben grins, and stashes his orb, drawing a dagger, ready to throw it when he can.
Happy Birthday!
Reuben grins, and calls out to Torgar and the others, "See, friends? They feel pain just like any others!" He laughs and tugs his beard.
Sorry I haven't posted as much folks. Last week was pretty busy. I should have more time coming up though. Can't wait to char some draconian hide!
Reuben holds the gleaming orb high above his head and bellows out an incantation, "Anak panah sihir, cari sasaran mu" He points a finger of the other hand at the spellcasting creature. Large, gleaming white bolts of light shoot from his fingers and strike the creature in the chest.
Reuben stares at the city in surprise, then scowls and curses under his breath, "Abyss take them, those foul servants of the Queen!" He wags his finger at the smoke, "And I'll bet my bracers that that Black Robe has something to do with this too." He nods, with a scowl on his face, "I agree with you all, we should head to Xak Tsaroth before anything can impede our progress."
Reuben smiles at this, "Just wait until I can twist the magic to make you unseen to the eye. Then you'll truly be unexpected." He grins and continues plodding along, whistling a catchy tune.
Reuben nods, and adds, "And, as much as I regret having to, I must rendezvous with my fellow wizard." He smiles comfortingly, "Don't worry, I'll do all I can to meet quickly."
Alright, whenever you all are ready to move on, we can. Not pressuring, just saying I'm ready.
Reuben's eyes fall a bit, "I fear it is not to be, Mariel. Our sojourn must continue on a while longer, I expect..."
Reuben nods and says, "Very well, brother mage, I will meet you in Solace, wearing plainer clothes." He puts the orb back in his satchel, and turns to the others, "My contact the Order is sending is...a black robe wizard. He claims that Haven has already been invaded by the Dark Queen's armies, and that Solace is next." He sighs, and tugs at his beard anxiously, "It baffles me why the Conclave would send a dark wizard to meet me, they know of my hatred for them. That's why they sent me on my pilgrimages in the first place, instead of being a cooped-up, stuffy tower wizard." He reaches for his pack, "Nevertheless, I should probably change into something less...conspicuous if we're entering a possibly compromised city. The white robes would draw undue attention, I think." As soon as there's a chance to stop, he changes into traveler's clothes.
Reuben's smile fades upon seeing the black robes, and he answers, rather curtly, "Indeed, what can I help you with, brother mage?" He seems uncomfortable and confused as to why the Conclave would ask a black robe wizard to contact a white robe agent. He seems a bit suspicious.
Reuben holds his head for a moment, and pulls out his focus orb. He gazes into it and opens himself to any contact that might be happening.
Reuben nods in agreement, and follows the centaurs, nodding to them respectfully. "Hopefully I can meet up with the member of my Order stationed in Haven as well. Maybe with our resources combined we can shed some light on this situation."
Reuben awakens with a start, the remnants of a vivid dream slipping away like mist in the morning sun. He sits up slowly, his white robes rustling softly against the forest floor. The air is cool and fresh, filled with the scent of pine and the distant melody of birdsong. He takes a moment to center himself, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, feeling the familiar weight of his spellbook at his side. The Centaurs of Darken Wood are already stirring, their powerful forms moving gracefully among the trees. Reuben watches them with a mixture of awe and curiosity. He has always admired their strength and wisdom, and he feels a deep sense of gratitude for their guidance. As he rises to his feet, Reuben’s mind turns to the task ahead. The journey to Haven is fraught with uncertainty, but he is determined to uncover the mysteries that lay in the heavens. He adjusts his robes and checks his belongings, ensuring that everything is in order. His staff, a finely crafted piece of white ash, is a comforting presence in his hand. Reuben approaches the group, his eyes scanning the faces of his companions. He offers a nod of greeting to each of them, his expression calm and composed. “Good morning,” he says, his voice soft but clear. “I trust you all slept well. The Centaurs are ready to guide us to Haven. Let us make the most of this day.” As they set off, Reuben walks with a measured pace, his staff tapping lightly against the ground. He keeps his senses alert, attuned to the subtle sounds of the forest. The crepuscular rays filtering through the trees cast a dappled light on the path ahead, creating an almost magical atmosphere. Reuben’s thoughts drift to the spells he has prepared for the day. He mentally reviews the incantations and gestures, feeling the familiar tingle of arcane energy at his fingertips. Today, he has chosen spells that will aid in their journey and protect his companions. He feels a sense of anticipation, eager to see how his magic will unfold in the events to come. The rustle of small mammals and the occasional flutter of wings remind him of the delicate balance of nature. He finds solace in the harmony of the forest, drawing strength from its tranquility. The magic of the natural world is a constant source of inspiration for him, and he feels a deep connection to the forces that shape their reality. As they near the edge of the woods, Reuben’s thoughts turn to the meeting with his order. He wonders what revelations await them in Haven, and what role he will play in the unfolding events. He feels a surge of determination, his resolve strengthened by the journey thus far. Turning to his companions, Reuben speaks with quiet conviction. “We are on the cusp of something significant. Let us remain vigilant and support one another. Together, we will uncover the truths that lie ahead.” With that, Reuben continues forward, his heart and mind focused on the path to Haven and the mysteries that await them. He whistles a jovial tune, and hums, seeming in exceptionally good spirits. He looks at the world as if it is all a new and invigorating thing, filled with something to be enjoyed everywhere. He smiles at everyone and everything.
Reuben smiles at the majestic creature, "Thank you, your grace. Do you have any advice for us on our coming journey?" Reuben listens for an answer while drawing his bedroll from his pack. He places it beneath Augier's head and pulls out a sheet of parchment and an inkpen, just in case there's any written information.
Reuben pauses in his meal, and sets his food down, making a soft tap as it is set carefully down on the table. He addresses the Forestmaster. "The Order of Draco? Does the name Galan Dracos mean anything to you?"
Reuben bows to the great creature, "Hail, Forestmaster. Allow us to humble ourselves before thee. I am sent by Archmagus Par Salian, and my companions and I are tasked with furthering the cause of good. We thank you for your offer of food." Reuben brushes his dusty robes and sits down at the grand banquet table, grunting as previously unfelt knots unwind themselves. He nods politely to great creature and picks up a choice piece of lamb, fried in butter and spiced with ground pepper and salt. He tastes it tentatively, then, if it is wholesome, he bites into it slowly, wiping his beard afterwards.
Reuben pauses in the complex ward he's tracing in the air and smiles, "Most likely, friend Kadmos, but we should let Goldmoon speak her mind to them. She is the bearer of the staff, and they seem to be respecting it at least." He then resumes tracing the ward.
Reuben’s eyes narrow as the eerie mist of Darken Wood swirls around them, the ancient trees whispering secrets of ages past. The white stag, their enigmatic guide, pauses, its luminous eyes reflecting a silent warning. Reuben catches a faint glimmer of light in the gloom, and recoils a bit when he sees spirits begin to coalesce out of the mist. Reuben’s heart quickens, but he maintains his composure. He raises his orb, the clear crystal glowing faintly in the dim light. “Steady, everyone,” he says, his voice calm. “These spirits may not be hostile, but we must be prepared for anything.” He begins to chant softly, invoking the protective spells he learned during his rigorous training at the Tower of High Sorcery. The air around them shimmers as a protective barrier forms, a faint glow that offers a semblance of safety against the encroaching apparitions. “We should stay close to the stag,” Reuben suggests. “Its presence is our beacon in this darkness. We must trust in its guidance.” As the ghosts drew nearer, their ethereal forms becoming more distinct, Reuben’s mind races through the lore he had studied. “Remember,” he adds, “these woods are ancient and full of forgotten magic. Respect the spirits, and they may yet reveal their purpose.” He glancs at his companions, offering a reassuring nod. “Together, we will face whatever comes. Trust in your training, and in each other.”
Reuben follows as quickly as he can.
Reuben's eyebrows shoot up, and he remembers Par-Salian's words. "No, Augier, stay your hand! We must not hurt any peaceful creatures near these woods. Those who sanctified the forest might be watching!" Reuben locks eyes with the stag, and he bows low, allowing it to go on its way.
Reuben packs up his belongings, and nods to the others, "Darken Wood is just a few miles farther. Just remember, destroy nothing. Take nothing. It is sacred ground. Only attack in defense, we wish the masters of the forest to pay us favorable attention if any at all." He then takes his staff in his hand and sets out on the path, whistling the traveling song from before.
Reuben pauses, recovering his composure. He then addresses Goldmoon, "Milady, we must move on. The goblins still hunt us, and fouler things lurk in our shadows. I think we should head for Darken Wood now, despite my unease at entering that hallowed place in the early hours of the morning." He takes a deep breath and waits for the adrenaline to wear off. Then he nods to the rest of the group.
Okay,
Reuben moves ten feet to his left and throws a dagger at the goblin leader.
(8 if it's a critical)
Reuben launches another glowing projectile at the goblins, his eyes aglow with reflected emerald light as he finishes the incantation and pronounces (minor) torment upon one of the invaders.
Reuben mutters, "Cair Lingkaran" He reaches into thin air, plucking a dripping, viscous glowing green ball from the threads of magic surrounding his outstretched hands. He throws this ball at one of the nearest goblins, grinning as the acidic projectile sprays in a painful burst upon impact.
Reuben hangs back and prepares to cast an acid splash at a goblin as soon as he can.
Torgar rolls to his feet grabbing his great sword from where it lay next to him. "I'm tired of runnin'," the rager says. "Where?" he asks Reuben. Reuben points toward the goblins. "I agree, the time for running is over. It's time we prove our blades true and forged of a tempered metal!" He grins and draws his dagger.
Reuben’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the goblin bands skulking in the distance, their crude weapons glinting ominously in the moonlight. His ears pick up the faint, guttural chatter of the goblins, a discordant symphony of malice. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, acrid tang of goblin sweat. His muscles tense, ready to spring into action. With a swift, practiced motion, he kicks dirt and sand over the campfire, snuffing out its light and plunging the camp into darkness. The sudden absence of light makes the stars above seem to burn even brighter, casting a cold, indifferent gaze upon the scene below.
Moving with the silence of a shadow, Reuben circles the camp, his steps as light as a whisper on the wind. His keen eyes scan the surroundings, ever wary of the dangers lurking on the roads. The ground beneath his feet is uneven, a treacherous mix of mud and tangled roots that threaten to betray his presence with every step. He gently shakes each of his companions awake, his touch firm yet careful, mindful of their need for rest. As they stir, he leans in close, his voice barely more than a breath. “Goblins,” he murmurs, his tone laced with urgency. “Search parties. We must move, and quickly.” The urgency in his voice is mirrored in the quickening of his heartbeat, a steady drumbeat of impending danger.
Before Reuben hits his pillow, Kadmos wants to know "What if the map leads us to an ambush. Are there any points along the route they shared that would be a choke point, where we would be hampered in our movement? The story of the scaly folk has my nerves on edge." As the night deepens and the campfire crackles softly, Reuben sits cross-legged on the ground. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on his tanned skin and black beard. His companions, Goldmoon, Riverwind, Torgar, Kadmos, Mariel, Orlin, and Augier, were scattered around the camp, each lost in their own thoughts or tasks. During his watch, Reuben takes a moment to rememorize his spells, his fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air as he whisperes arcane words. The familiar ritual brings a sense of calm and focus, allowing him to push aside the lingering doubts and fears that haunt him. Once he feels the magic settle within him, he turns his attention to the map the seekers have given him. The parchment is worn and creased, evidence of its many travels with the wandering mage. Reuben’s keen eyes scan the markings, searching for any clue that might help solve Kadmos’ question. His mind drifts back to his years as a traveling wizard, recalling the countless paths he walked and the secrets he uncovered. Finally, he looks up and addresses the minotaur, his voice steady and thoughtful. “In my wanderings, I traveled through Darken Wood only twice. Both times were in pursuit of renegade wizards who had fled there. The first was a young sorceress named Lyra, who had delved too deeply into forbidden necromancy. The second was an older red-robed mage, Thalor, who had mistakenly killed am innocent man in cold-blood after the murder of his wife.” Reuben pauses, his gaze distant as he remembers the twisted forms of the undead he had encountered. “Unfortunately, I found them too late on both occasions. Lyra had been transformed into a banshee, her wails echoing through the trees, while Thalor had become a wraith, his ghostly form haunting the crude shelter he dragged himself to before he succumbed to the turning.” He sighs, the weight of his experiences evident in his voice. “Darken Wood is full of dense vegetation and sharp turns in the trails that can easily obscure vision. The trees grow so closely together that their branches intertwine, creating a canopy that blocks out the sun even at midday. Thick underbrush and creeping vines make the paths treacherous, and the air is heavy with the scent of decay.” A faraway look enters his eyes, and the fire seems to flicker along with his words, adding a sorcerous cast to his appearance. "There is a legend about Darken Wood, and the creatures that plague it so. In the ancient days of Krynn, before the Cataclysm, there was a powerful wizard named Zalthar. He was a master of dark magic, feared and respected by all who knew his name. Zalthar’s ambition knew no bounds, and he sought to unlock the secrets of immortality. Zalthar’s quest led him to the heart of Darken Wood, where he discovered an ancient tome hidden within the roots of a massive, gnarled tree. The tome contained forbidden spells and rituals, promising eternal life but at a terrible cost. Consumed by his desire, Zalthar performed the rituals, calling upon the darkest forces of magic. As the final incantation left his lips, the ground trembled, and the skies darkened. Zalthar felt a surge of power unlike anything he had ever known. But with this power came a curse. His body began to wither, his skin turning ashen and his hair falling out in clumps. He had achieved immortality, but at the price of his humanity. Zalthar’s curse extended beyond his physical form. His presence brought death and decay to the land around him. Plants withered, animals fled, and the very air grew thick with the stench of rot. The once vibrant Darken Wood became a place of fear and despair. Desperate to reverse the curse, Zalthar sought the aid of the Forestmaster, the great unicorn who protected the wood. The Forestmaster, seeing the corruption Zalthar had brought, refused to help him. In his rage, Zalthar unleashed his dark magic upon the forest, summoning undead creatures to do his bidding. The Forestmaster and her allies, the centaurs and satyrs, fought valiantly against Zalthar’s forces. The battle raged for days, but in the end, the Forestmaster’s purity and the strength of her followers prevailed. Zalthar was defeated, but his curse could not be undone. The Forestmaster, in her wisdom, bound Zalthar’s spirit to the ancient tome, sealing it within the gnarled tree where it was found. She decreed that the tree would stand as a warning to all who sought forbidden knowledge and power. To this day, it is said that Zalthar’s spirit lingers in Darken Wood, whispering promises of power to those who dare to listen." Reuben’s voice grows more somber as he continues. “It’s a place where danger lurks behind every shadow. We will have to rely heavily on Orlin’s guidance to navigate through it. With any luck, we will make it through in one piece and avoid attracting the attention of the undead.” He looks around at his companions, his expression serious. “Let’s hope the spirits of Darken Wood are merciful and allow us passage without too much trouble.”
Reuben tries to keep a firm watch, but gets a bit distracted while rememorizing.
"By your command. I will travel with haste, and make for Lemuel’s mageware shop." Reuben removes the orb from the flames and they immediately return to their normal color. He then addresses the rest of the party. "We can travel through Darken Wood on the condition that we burn nothing and do not harm the forest, it is sacred. Let us make haste to get to Haven, I have a rendezvous to keep with a member of my order." He then settles in to rest before his watch. During his watch, he'll study his spellbook and rememorize.
"As you wish, Archmagus. Have you any wishes to be carried out in this region?"
"It is an artifact of great power. It is a staff of blue crystal, imbued with healing powers. I surmise it belongs to the old goddess Mishakal. We travel to Haven, and thence to Xak Tsaroth to deliver this staff. The way is treacherous though, and we have encountered curious creatures. Hooded men clad in seeker robes with brass scales. They gave us a map with a path through Darken Wood marked."
"I did not, but Solinari and Lunitari wane and Nuitari waxes. Darkness is gathering in Ansalon. If war is to be had, we must fortify the Towers, before they fall. The Black Robes must surely have a hand in this, we must be wary of our magical kin."
She shakes her head at the gully's comment. No, the stars are gone. The constellations known as the Valiant Warrior and the Queen of Darkness are gone from the heavens. Reuben scratches at his beard and ponders this. Finally, he grunts, and says, "I must consult my Order." He pulls a handful of grey powder from a pouch and throws it into the fire, droning, "Perak Bilak!" He holds his orb above the now-white flames, seemingly impervious to the heat, and gazes into the depths of the crystal. A silvery image appears in the crystal of a white-robed mage. Reuben addresses the apparition. "Greetings from Magus Lupul. What does the order know of the disappearance of Paladine and Takhisis from the heavens?"
Reuben shares the information with everyone else.
Reuben responds, "The seekers' hands, all covered in scales of brass, worried me because of the legend of Magius, or rather, its villain. Galan Dracos was his name, a powerful renegade wizard who killed Magius and served the old goddess Takhisis, the Dark Mother.
Reuben then studies said parchment.
Reuben grabs a bowl of stew, apologizes for his rash actions, and reads the parchment, thinking about the legend of Magius.
I didn't have the fire elemental attack, but I had it keep the strangers back. I do have an explanation for his overreaction, but it's not terribly important if we want to move on. I agree though, the fire elemental thing was a choice, and I hold to it, I'm not going to backpedal.
Reuben puts it into a fold of his robe, tersely thanking them. "Many thanks for your cooperation, but I still must agree with my compatriots that you leave immediately." He is going to glance at the paper, searching for any information that might tell him what is going on here. The reptilian appearance of the scaled hands reminds Reuben of part of the Legend of Magius, but he is too busy at the moment to remember exact details. He raises an eyebrow inquisitively for a moment, but quickly sets his attention back on the strangers.
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