Wamblee of the Tribe of Peace's page

let me know if you wished to do any errands etc, otherwise Wamblee comes back several candles later.

It is seventeenth candle.

After a long session with Obdurate, Wamblee comes back with a grim look on his face. "The journey to Light will be difficult, my friends. The areas surrounding the city have been draped with Breathless Valley material, which would ensnare any attempts at teleportation. At best, you could get transport yourselves outside these barriers, but the problem remains of how to get through."

"Obdurate says that Dreams could provide a route through these places of death and suffocation, but only a lost friend could help you find your way."

I of course value everything you have done for us. Everything you have done for me. However, your presences are...disruptive by their very nature. I want to honor your sacrifices and your achievements, but I am also wondering where you are going next." A pause. "I could consult Obdurate if you are looking for a direction."

"Good bright, everyone." Wamblee joins you when you've had a chance to enjoy cookies, coffee, and more traditional breakfast foods. He leaves his honorguard by the entrance to your stoneshaped chambers.

After receiving good mornings in turn and a bit of small talk, Wamblee clears his throat. "I happen to be in negotiations with some of the more...sensitive members of the Eastern Tribe these past few days, and...I cannot phrase this delicately, but the idea of mushroom-shaped elens proclaiming that a new living god walks among us would destroy the bridge I am attempting to build between our peoples. The more united the Tribes are, the stronger we stand against Moon and all this chaos."

He looks to Abnaki, then Samen and Gabe, while Qizz is still noisily consuming cookies.

Wamblee asks one final question of Samen for the night. "Brother, is the return of these drakes a good thing? How can we know the consequences actions so...all-encompassing?"

"I understand. I'm afraid we cannot offer a feast, as most will be tending to the injured, but I will find us food to sustain, and rooms to rest."

**

True to his word, Wamblee finds a quiet room near his own stone-shaped chambers, complete with meat, bread, rocks, and mead.

"So you have changed the world...or was it always this way?" Wamblee scratches at this puckered scars on his face, then deliberately sets his hand down, resisting the urge to touch them again.

"Thanks to us, not as bad as they could have been. Thanks to me specifically, Wamblee made it." Abnaki ignores the crack about godhood, or at least seems to. [b]"Ky-La is dead and dusted, most likely for good this time, and Samen got some new spectacles out of it. Gabe's a human now, whatever that means, we unmade another of Moon's great servitors, and the Sun-Lord that lives in the kettle learned a little humility. So what's new with you?"

It takes Wamblee a moment to take in your glib summary of world-changing events. He simply says, "Besides the salamanders, you mean? Well, my son is due to be born in two months. I hope to show him a better world than the one we have at present."

A pause. "What was that about dragons, Samen?"

With victory in hand, Samen scans the crowd, looking for his brother. He breathes an enormous sigh of relief upon seeing him.

"We got back as soon as we could. Our mission was a success, but victory in one place nearly brought defeat in another. The 4th level of the library was more of a creative nexus of reality. While it was necessary, it was incredibly dangerous for Abnaki and I to be there. We could've ascended to godhood. Abnaki at least got some worshippers out of the deal."

Samen winces. "Oh, and I'm pretty sure dragons are no longer extinct. Sorry about that."

"How bad are the casualties here?"

Wamblee climbs unsteadily to his feet. He smiles, though he winces a bit as it pulls on the puckered scars on the left side his face. "Many of the fallen are merely wounded. We would all be dead if it were not for your timely intervention." He bows deeply, somewhat steadier now. "The Tribe of Peace thanks you. I thank you."

Wamblee hugs Samen one last time. "Farewell again, brother. The Tribe of Peace will always be here for you. I pray for a world rid of Moon, and free of malignant gods..." And strangely, he smiles.

"Chapawee tells me she is with child. Obdurate claims to know I will have a son." With his hand on your shoulder, Wamblee laughs deeply, a rare sound from the somber el.

Nodding and smiling to the rest of you, Wamblee makes his way back to his Tribe. The chief walks to his Tribe of Peace, and makes preparations for war.

Wamblee blinks in surprise, but recovers his composure quickly. Dead elens, missing elens, returning elens, haunted elens; he has seen much these past weeks and rites.

The very earth applauds your words, griot. It is good to have the strength of your tales with us again."

**

"Samen speaks true. The lenses being built atop the great peak must be destroyed, and the library must be protected. We would like you and the rest of your companions to get into the Branch library within Uluru. Our hope is the forces of Moon have not yet infiltrated the deeper levels."

He pauses, and smiles wryly at Abnaki. "Perhaps you can convince the stone to let you and your friends in, and save yourselves a climb."

It is eleventh candle.

After the feasting, the juggling, the dancing, and the stonesinging are concluded, everyone takes a moment to catch their breath. The smell of rain, sweat, and orean darkbeer perfumes the area, lessened by the wind. The downpour continues outside the pavilion, lending its own voice to the music.

Wamblee walks to the center of the gathering and holds up his hand. "Gratitude is in our hearts for those who risked their lives against the Gems, and now do so again in the name of freeing Uluru and casting down the forces of Moon."

"We offer these small tokens of our esteem. Magician Umik has cast his nets wide, asking the tribes to be generous to you, in hopes that you strike swift and true against our enemies."

With the formal words out of the way, Wamblee comes forward and embraces Samen, not caring if anyone finds it odd to see their chief hugging the pink-skinned "human" transmogrifier.

**

Chests of fine darkwood are laid before all of you. Inside,

I would like all of you to RP opening the chests and seeing what is inside. Describe the cool item(s), what they look like, feel like, etc. Have fun with it!

After Umik is done explaining that Moon's forces are also constructing huge lenses on top of Uluru--a feat of elen engineering never even conceived in Light--Wamblee steps in once more. "We do not know their true purpose; we can only imagine this might be used to focus the light of Moon in some way. Suffice it to say, if Moon wishes it done, we should like to prevent it."

He pauses for a moment to let all the previous discussion soak in. Despite being a cloistered monk for the first twenty years of his life, he is growing into the role of leader and speaker surprisingly well. "There is a need for both of these things to be dealt with - the lenses, and the taking of Uluru's libraries."

"Speaking with my warchiefs, we have agreed on a two pronged attack: a frontal assault on the lenses and the forces arrayed at the base of Uluru, and a more subtle strike on the inside of Uluru."

"If they accept, then one such strike team will include Samen the human, Gabriel the shadow-touched, and the entire myco contingent, including Qizzlvutz and Learningto. The sylphan wizards will make another such team."

**

He pauses one last time. "The Tribe of Peace does not command those outside our tribe, so you must do this of your own will. Do you agree to help us against the forces of Moon again?"

It is tenth candle.

Kallik has disappeared again, after you come in from the rainfall

"Be welcome here, brother. Welcome, Sunlord. Gabriel and shadow, be welcome. Qizzlvutz Myco, welcome here." Wamblee acknowledges all of you in this formal setting. He wears beads and the finest stone-shaped armor, as befits his station. Chapawee is at his side, amber eyes alert. Honorguard surround on all sides.

He makes introductions to his warchief, Hakka, and his magechief, Umik. The senior-most of the ifrit paladins are here, but none of the sylphan wizards. He introduces the chieftains of Tall Oaks, Bittercress, Nettle, Boarslayer, and Wormroot.

Wamblee then motions to Umik, who steps forward.

Wamblee looks on with guarded interest, and even gives a dignified clap or two, but he is more watchful than curious. He thinks back to almost being choked to death by a dust elemental Samen had captured. To Abbygailiwy, that noxious gasbag. To all the other little dangerous experiments his brother loved so well.

Chieftain Wamblee watches, and smiles politely. The safety of the surrounding people is his only concern for now.

Wamblee greets you near the standing tables, freshly bandaged and washed. "It feels good to be home, brother." He smiles as he sees Chapawee tending to the other guests as the informal feast gets going.

He companionably puts a hand on Samen's shoulder. "What does your human body eat, brother? I doubt it is rocks. We have cooked meat for the ifrits, and some bowls of fruits and nuts for the sylphs among our ranks."

Gabriel is satisfied with the fire-roasted deer meat. Amusingly, so are the salamanders.

Qizzlvutz and Learningto are completely fine with rocks, to everyone's mild surprise

Samen, you find that you are an omnivore - anything, including the fish and kelp diet of the undines, could probably sustain you. But not rocks. You are not sure if there is a particular food that humans thrive upon, or if it simply another place where humans occupy some null middle ground.

Wamblee walks with a spring in his step, uncharacteristic of his normal stoicism. The reason for this becomes clear as he laughs aloud at the sight of an oread ele with marigolds blossoming in her hair. The ele runs toward Wamblee and jumps into his arms. Wamblee twirls her in a moment of pure joy, then sets her down.

Catching his breath, Wamblee nods to Samen, Gabe, and Abnaki and says, "You all remember Chapawee." Gesturing to the myco and the phantom, he continues, "Sweetsap, these are Qizzlvutz and her...companion, Kallik. I did not have a chance to introduce you before we left on our errand."

**

Holding hands with Chapawee, Wamblee guides you to cool, dark tunnels in the hillside. Samen struggles to see in the darkness the others take for granted.

Inside, you are taken to a healer named Wichahpi, a brisk matron who does not seem interested in names, only injuries. The walls are covered with good-luck and well-wishing charms, ranging from oread feather charms to undan dreamcatchers. Beneath all this hedge magic is a well-organized array of unguents and tinctures, smelling vaguely of menthol and disinfectants.

she will tend Gabriel first, who has obvious blisters on his skin. Anyone else? Speak up if you want healing

Wamblee offers a supporting arm to Gabriel, taking care not to touch any exposed or blistering skin. "Come my friend. We have healers aplenty in the Tribe of Peace, and I am certain someone can treat your injuries, and your pain."

Fort save: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Wamblee, despite his injuries, looks pleased. His arms are crossed, and he breathes deep and slow. For some reason he is four feet deep in a hole in the rock, as if he just hurtled out of the sky.

"I am home, Chapawee. I promised you I would come home alive."

Wamblee spends one last round stabilizing the ground around you, as well as the damage to the walls where the chains previously stood.

and Wamblee is at 24 - 5 = 19 HP after the one round of fire damage from the Sunlord, long ago.

full round action for advantage, still trying to heal these cracks

wisdom check, advantage: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
wisdom check, advantage: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

Wamblee breathes. Despite the danger all about him, he breathes. Like Obdurate told him. Slowly.

He takes a half-step to the left, and suddenly everything aligns. He understands where the cracks and damage came from, and reads the pain of the yellow crystals in the vibrations under his feet.

With a deep humming, Wamblee changes the song, changes the shaking and the ripping and tearing. The fissures quiet down, and stop moving. Some of the cracks even heal before your very eyes.

"There." No more danger from below their feet.

Wamblee's normally placid expression turns to fear as the floating palace begins to crack. He has great pride in his heritage, but he doubts that even a Student of Stone would survive a mile-high drop into the barren fields of the deadening feylands.

Turning his attention away from the golems, Wamblee instead focuses on the problem of the cracks and fissures. He breathes in, slowly.

creative license here. I'm using one of his oread "stomp" abilities for the day to heal the difficult terrain, rather than cause it. If a player asked to do this, I would ask for something simple to "earn" the small ability for the round.

wisdom check, DC 10: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

ok then!

But the ringing of the damaged crystal penetrates his ears for a moment, throwing him off balance. He struggles to find his center.

I'll say he at least has +1 AC for being cautious this round, but overall an ineffective turn

Wamblee sprints forward and lands an ineffective clunking blow to one of the large golems. He hopes, at least, to distract the thing before it punches Abnaki from behind.

wamblee, reflex save vs prismatic: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Student of Stone he may be, Wamblee is nonetheless light on his feet as he jukes and duves between scintillating rays. He tires of the violence and chaos, and thinks of his tent at home, with warm embers and a welcoming wife.

Not tonight. But soon, Chapawee.

He stays alert for any threats coming from the other two hallways.

Let me know how much healing you give Wamblee. At most I say you have three rounds you can spend on healing and still capitalize on the chaos about the happen from the snakes

"Thank you, Abnaki. A griot whose very words can pull an el back from dying." he gives a small bow to you, "is a powerful ally indeed.".

Wamblee stands up, ready to battle once more. A student of Stone does not worry about the weight of a burden; it simply needs to be carried.

In the midst of the crushing magicks displayed by the salamanders of Igniscoeli, it is easy to miss, but Wamblee is down. He is breathing and alive, but he fended off several more attacks as the last precious seconds of the summoning were completed.

Through his sensitive feet, Wamblee 'hears' more of the disgusting fey creatures pounding their way down the corridor. His allies cannot take another full assault from this fresh wave.

A Student of Stone stands where he needs to stand. Taking a deep stance, Wamblee readies himself. He raises his right leg, and brings it down with shattering force, rending huge, sharp holes in the floor.

(map updated)

Now there is only one way through, and the way is through Stone.

"I do not suppose any of you have access to healing magic?". Rather than panicking or dodging recklessly, a student of stone digs deep. Wamblee settles into a wide-legged crouch as his skin thickens around his wounds.

Wamblee will use 2 Ki points (5/7 remain) to increase his AC to 21, and make his DR 2 higher.

Wamblee addresses the giants. "Brothers in strength; remain here. Count to ten, slowly, and then use all that great strength upon this structure. Let the Gems know fear, for a change. Honor and glory!"

With that said, he walks into the false sun, guarding his allies' back.

Wamblee and two other giants spend their round pulling the prince and the storyteller away from the cliff and the sheer drop.

map updated, prince and Abnaki are no longer hanging / in danger

Abnaki, you have your full actions of Round 4 -- the giants did all the heavy lifting, so you did not have to spend any actions yet.

The sons of the matron giantess act as Wamblee's honor guard; after saluting Abnaki with a fist over their hearts, the second-eldest son carries Wamblee on his shoulders as he is catapulted into the air. The eldest giant-son waits for his griot king to ascend.

"I will join you, Abnaki. Some of the giants may die in the attempt, but we will not toss them away like rotten food. The gates of the Gems shall shudder at our approach."

Wamblee stands by you in companionable silence while you cast your spells. After a time, he says, "What drives you these days, Samen? I think of protecting Chapawee and I find all the courage I need, but why do you keep throwing yourself into these messes?"

will save DC 30: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26

Wamblee stands against the rush of voices for a moment, but is knocked prone. Flat on his back, he looks up at the blue Sky. Serenely, he waits for his body to recover from the psychic blow.

Wamblee blinks at the chaotic scene, but looks to others for a speech. How to address such whimsical and dangerous creatures is beyond the monk.

As a chieftain that has recently been in many military talks, Wamblee could also be an advisor during this excursion.

As he stands by your side, Wamblee quips, "Brother, your magic is giving me a headache." More somberly, he adds, "Will it hold those monsters?"

"Would not that be a perfect question to ask these...dreams? spirits? that you intend to summon? Could we ask them what is wrong, and seek guidance?"

Wamblee looks down at the little creature. It was easy to overlook, so small and childlike...yet it was this small one who brought us here.

"Yes, this is certainly the home plane of Great Forest, and also the Fey. Thank you for your help. Kissel? Is that your name?"

"You are certain your dreams won't come alive in this place?" Wamblee arches an eyebrow as a small cloud of dandelion puffs blow past in the breeze, singing and humming in tiny Fey voices.

Unexpectedly, Wamblee steps through last, as the portal closes behind you. He breathes deeply, and sighs.

"That is refreshing. We shall do good here."

Wamblee has a look of beatific joy on his face - the heavy lines of pain ease around his eyes, and he looks a decade younger. "Ah. Obdurate is ready to rest awhile. And so am I." The tall oread lies down like a child, curling up next to Obdurate. The chamber feels...peaceful. Full of peace.

"The most that could be discerned by my wise els is simply this: tha plane that Obdurate is connected to has a grave imbalance. They could tell me no more."

Hakka follows, beckoning several watchful warriors to flank Wamblee's every side. You are given space to talk, but there are always guards following behind their chieftain.

Wamblee walks without comment for a few quiet minutes, not going away from the encampments, but around them. You all come upon a mound in the grass. An opening in the mound shows you a gentle descent downward, a simple dirt tunnel.

"He had to be rolled here," Wamblee says absently. It is only a short trip down, with a sharp corner at the end, and before any of you get a chance to ask his meaning, you see it -

Obdurate.

No longer a geode to be held in the hand, Obdurate has grown rough and huge, resembled a craggy doublesize boulder made from a patchwork of different stones.

Entering the chamber (which is mostly taken up by Obdurate), you all feel a faint pressure on your forehead and temples, like an etheral wind chilling you with the ghost of pain. You have a feeling you would develop a headache if you spent too long here.

Stoic as ever, brow creased only in slight annoyance, Wamblee says, "Perhaps tomorrow morning would be a better time to continue this. A rest will clear our minds. I have my own thoughts to share as well." He knocks twice on the stone table, knuckles rapping against the rough granite, signaling an end to the council.

Walking away from the table he says, "Samen, Abnaki, I would appreciate you attending to my friend now. Please follow me."

you would be welcome too Gabe, as an extra pair of eyes. Wamblee is just concentrating on the two new "magicians" who might be able to help him.

Wamblee seems weary, distant. "This is my brother, and his guests. My guests. Treat them with respect, Hakka." He rests his elbows upon the standing table, and massages his head with his thumbs, trying to soothe a headache.

As Chapawee departs, Wamblee's smiles falters. Putting up a strong facade for his lover has left his lingering headache even worse, but he hides this from all but his brother. While this new Samen's eyes are strangely weak, the sharp mind behind them sees Wamblee's winces of pain.

Addressing Abnaki, he says, "I hate to interrupt, griot, but you seemed to be using healing magic just a few moments ago. After we speak to my counselors, would you join Samen and I? I have a...friend who needs healing, but of what kind of healing I know not. I am looking for help."

With most of the group engaged in conversation, no one notices the lithe ele warrior who suddenly pounces upon Wamblee, laughing. She wraps her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. "You're dead, Chieftain. Pay more attenion to footsteps that don't belong."

A real smile lifts Wamblee's expression. "Chapawee." He gently removes her from his neck and shoulders, placing the tall ele beside him. "Thank you for bringing my attention back to the present." His hand twines in hers. The retinue of guards and warriors make no comment, their attention fixed on their surroundings.

"Your timing is fortunate, love. Could you tell Umik we are coming? I would have the counsel of my magician if were are to make decisions this day."

After Samen completes the small spell, Wamblee clears his throat politely. "I do not think it would do to alarm anyone with more strangeness, brother. Can your rituals wait for more privacy? I am still forging alliances with skittish tribes." There is no rebuke in his voice, just simple caution leavened with weariness.

Wamblee has been listening, saying little. "Are you an elen of the mind, brother? Is that what a 'human' is?"

Wamblee smile a bit more. "Always on to the next project. Hmm. The plan, for now, is to introduce you to my counselors, and hear their wisdom. It is nearly evening, and we may need to rest before we make any final decision. Come brother, it is good to have you by my side."

And more to himself, "Perhaps you can cure Obdurate of his pain."