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"A tiny idol of a demon carved from green stone."
I think I know where she got that from!!
Protect girl, Hund tells Silas before the mechanical dog bursts out of the alleyway, running as fast as his can to the other cultist, not allowing him to flee. He quickly catches up (movement 14!) and tries to grab the cultist, preventing him from fleeing the scene. With the militia showing up, Hund can turn the cultist in to the local law. Just like he did when he was a mercenary.
Your Letter of Commendation grants you one favor from someone important. You can use the favor now or save it for later. Details for how to use it now will be in this post. This post will also detail what novice paths you may choose from and what traditions are available for you to choose from. We'll also be going over your Downtime event, a new Interesting Thing, and what things you must purchase before we start Chapter 1. Right! Let's get to the good stuff.
The time has come for you to choose your novice path. You can pick from one of the four novice paths from the core book. Please select a path that is fitting to your story in the game. However! There's a bonus: If you choose to use the favor from your Letter of Commendation right now, you may select an appropriate novice path from outside the core book. This letter will grant you training from someone and will introduce a new NPC in the story. Please discuss with me about your choice of a novice path (Spellguard and Adept will be replaced with Spell Striker). Lastly, your Downtime Event (detailed below) may have an impact on which paths you select. Please consider it as you make your decision.
If you choose the Priest Novice path, you may only select the traditions associated with the religion, unless you spend the favor from your Letter of Commendation. This can come in the form of selecting a priest path outside of the core book, or selecting the core priest and simply picking different traditions (this option comes with the possibility of being labeled a heretic amongst the traditional worshippers). Locations:
Personal:
Special:
Over the course of your downtime, you will earn 2d6 copper pennies in addition to anything else you may earn. You may roll for this. Spending Fortune will make both of these rolls a 6. Spending your Letter of Commendation will turn this roll into 2d6 silver shillings. Lifestyle: You must purchase a Lifestyle, found on Page 100 of the core book. Please read the associated text with the lifestyle, as you may be required to make some rolls. Higher lifestyles may also grant you some extra coin! Note that your Downtime Event may grant you a free lifestyle. If you do not or cannot purchase a lifestyle, then you automatically gain the Destitute lifestyle.
The following is something that has happened to you over the course of the next year. You may spend your Letter of Commendation and/or Fortune to improve your downtime category by one and reroll on the table. The categories are in order: You Died, Major Setback, Minor Setback, Work, Minor Windfall, Major Windfall, Strange Event. Andras: Minor Windfall. You escaped nearly certain death. Start the next adventure with Fortune. (Speak to me about this, because I have specific ideas with it tied to your Story Complication) Awful: Minor Windfall. You won some money gambling. Gain 1d6 Gold Crowns. Bertram: You worked! You earned enough to gain the Comfortable Lifestyle. You may purchase a higher lifestyle, deduct the value of this lifestyle from the cost of a higher lifestyle. Erik: Minor Windfall. You obtained a Horse! You may keep it or sell it. Hokey: You worked! You earned only a little and you gain the Poor Lifestyle. You may purchase a higher lifestyle, deduct the value of this lifestyle from the cost of a higher lifestyle. Hydrand: Minor Setback. You suffered significant financial trouble. Lose 1d6 gold crowns. If you cannot afford this, you must sell gear until you make up for the loss. If you cannot make up the full loss, you will be in debt to an NPC. Selling a single enchanted item will completely clear your debt.
Andras: You have... a criminal record OR A skill made from clear crystal (I have ideas about the criminal record if you so choose to select it) Awful: You have... a barrel filled with well-preserved eyeballs OR a pair of heavy goggles Bertram: You have... an erotic book with many of its pages glued together OR a glass globe filled with swirling mist Erik: You have... a vestigial twin OR a glass jar holding a beetle covered in glowing spots (sheds light as a candle) Hokey: You have... a weapon of unknown origins that refuses to draw blood OR a snuffbox filled with snuff Hydrand: You have... the admiration of all your friends except for one OR the true name of a very minor devil
After you have settled on your Novice Path, your Downtime Event, and your Interesting Thing, you must write up a story combining/explaining all this for your character. If you gain a new language or profession, include how you acquired it. What has happened to you during the past year? And lastly, please post all your level up decisions in the Discussion Tab, including any changes to your character's numbers and abilities. When you write up your story, post it in the discussion thread, and then we'll link to it here in the Gameplay thread before the start of the next adventure. Congrats!
On the voyage back to Freeport, Kris spoke with Ven often. She listened to his concerns of her growing ego - his worry that she was believing in her own myth too much. When they got back to Freeport, she decided she needed a reminder of what she was fighting for. A reminder that it isn't about her. It's about people. All people. She left her belongings with her friends and disappeared into the streets of Freeport - into the poorest districts where she helped the local ministries provide spiritual support for the poorest of people. She took little, living off the same scraps as the street urchins did. She even gave away her scroll of Produce Water so that a local minister might create some blessed water for his congregation. It was the least she could do. Liftstyle: Poor.
Kris speaks to Ven in a time which bespeaks kindness, See? Even your noble man thinks I am higher and mightier than he. Even he recognizes the purity of the Naga. You should not defer to one such as him - one willing to sacrifice so readily. Become better. We all can become better. We can be the shining light. She gives him a genuine smile, her eyes full of hope that her friend will strive to be better than his fellow man.
Level 3 Downtime Story, Part 1 of 2 Level 3 Downtime Story, Part 2 of 2:
Kris was scared. She didn’t want to be here.
She stood in the center of a circle of Naga priests, all hands raised to the blood moon - the second full moon in a month. The Matron of Freeport knew of Kris’ past and knew that she was the one born of the Cosmic Egg on the Holy Creche. This ceremony was to fully recognize her and officially - at least in the religion of the Naga - anoint her for that status. She would become Exalted in the eyes of her people. This was in preparation for the following ritual, which would see her sacrificed to stop the Lord of Demons. They would stand beneath the stars and the Celestial Realm - considered holy by her people - and anoint her with the power of the Shavra. Only then would she be a sacrifice worthy of stopping the Lord of Demons. Only then. Kris felt something wasn’t right. She had tried to protest, in the early days, but the Matron of Freeport would hear none of it. Kris tried to warn her of the dangers of the people out there. Shrieking eels were coming up from the waters. Ghost ships were appearing. Monsters were coming. Anne the Red was terrorizing ships. Anne the Red! That was someone who needed to be stopped! All of it just reinforced the idea that the Lord of Demons needed to be stopped - for all of it was surely caused by Him. ”That’s not your place, Krislyx, she would be told. You have a higher purpose. You must be sacrificed so that all may be saved. The Lord of Demons is coming. The Dreams have started. This has all been prophesied. You need to prepare your body and soul.” ”But that’s not what I want to do with my life,” Kris protested. ”I don’t want to be sacrificed.” ”Oh, Krislyx. Dear Krislyx. We must all die some day. And most who die do so never knowing what their fate will be, never knowing what impact they will have on the world. You will know. You, above all others, will go to the next life with the knowledge that you saved every last living thing in the world. This is your destiny, my dear. You must embrace it.” ”But.. What about my choice? Don’t I have a decision in all this?” “Don't be selfish, Kris. You need to think of others over yourself. You need to put the needs of all your people - of all the peoples of this world - ahead of your own. We have always taught that the needs of others must come before our own. Did the Holy Matron not teach this to you? Did you not preach it to others during your own sermons?” ”Yes, but something doesn’t feel right with this,” Kris responded. ”Why would you want to put the life of every living creature on Urth in danger? Would you really want to sacrifice everyone else, just so you can go galavanting around the seas? Don’t be a fool,” the Matron scolded. ”Now, go study your texts and perform your ritual prayers. You need to prepare your soul.” Kris did not argue anymore, but still didn’t feel it was right. She just couldn’t articulate it, even in her own head. Something told her that the sacrifice just wasn’t right. But she didn’t know what. Every night she would lay in the room which had been prepared for her. Every night she would look out the window and stare out at the stars and the sea. Her books rested on her lap, but she did not want to read them. Sighing, she looked down - something had caught her eye. The ship’s logbook. The Islander’s log book. She read it. Then she read it again. And again. Every time she read it, anger welled up inside her. How could that woman kill all these people? All over a silly trinket! What was wrong with her? Each new reading brought up new questions and a new surge of emotion. This wasn’t right! But, it wasn’t her place. It wasn’t for her to do. Her place was to be sacrificed. To be Anointed in the Celestial light and Exalted by the power of the Shavra. And so here she was, standing in the middle of a Circle on the night of the Blood Moon, ready to be Exalted in the light of the Celestial realm. The ritual commenced and the Circle of Priests raised their hands to the Celestial Realm, drawing down the power in the Light of the Stars and the Blood Moon. The Light bathed Krislyx and the transformation started. She could feel the power surge up within her. She could feel the anger she held for the injustices of the world. She could feel the anger for that woman in red and what she did to those poor sailors. This anger took physical shape as the magic welled up inside her. She became the Shavra. She was not supposed to. She was supposed to become Exalted by the power of the Shavra, anointed in the holy light. Instead, she exemplified the Shavra herself. She became an Exemplar - a personification of her deity in flesh. ------------- To say the Matron was angry would be an understatement. She was angry the way a match stick compared to the sun. Righteous anger - and all of it directed at Krislyx. But with Kris’ new power, she had gained a pool of confidence as well, and allowed the anger to flow around her and dissipate against the back wall of the room. Once the Matron finally left, Kris started packing up her things. She knew the upcoming sacrifice wasn’t right - she knew it in her bones, but she was unable to articulate why. She packed her clothing and her books and her stone egg censer and - what was that? She looked down at the book in her hands, the holy book she had been given by the Holy Matron before she left the Holy Creche. The locked book. It was not locked. She opened it. She read. She read until well after sunset. ”The Sacrifice is wrong,” Krislyx declared to the Matron of Freeport. ”You don’t know what-” the Matron started, but Kris interjected. ”Shut it, Matron,” she said. ”I’ve got the Holy Book right here. I can read for myself.” The Matron looked astonished. Both at being interrupted - the nerve of this girl! - but also because the Holy Book had been opened. It had never been opened before! Not for a thousand years or more! ”Yes,” Kris said, ”It’s been opened. And I can read for myself. You misinterpreted the text. You all have. For centuries you’ve been preparing to sacrifice the one who was born of the Cosmic Egg, but that’s not what it says to do! You were wrong, Matron!” ”Oh, Krislix,” the Matron started, but Kris spoke over her. ”Right here, look,” Kris said, opening the book to a page she had marked the night before, ”Right here. It reads the one born of the Cosmic Egg is to become one with the Celestial Realm! One with the realm!” The Matron smiled. It was one of those knowing smiles one gives when expressing pity for someone else. ”Yes, Kris, I know what it reads. We have copies of it in the library. One with the Celestial Realm. This means your soul must rise up to the heavens and join them to stop the Lord of Demons.” ”No!” Kris screamed back, and as she did so, light hinted behind her scales.”No! It does not mean that! It means she - I, me, I must become the Shavra and embody her spirit! I must accept the power of the heavens within me! And that is exactly what I have done! I will not stand here and let you kill me!” ”Krislix,’ the Matron started. ”No,” Kris interjected again. ”No. I am leaving. And you will not stop me. I can feel it in my bones. I can feel it in my flesh. I can feel it in my spirit. The Shavra does not want me to be sacrificed. She wants me to embody all that is Good and Holy and Orderly and impart it on the world. And I am going to do so. I am going to start by finding Anne the Red and I am going to stop her injustice. This is my purpose - to fight here, in the physical world against all that is wrong with the world. To be an Example of Goodness to others and to Shine the Light against the Darkness to come. And you will not stop me, Matron.” With those final words, Kris turned to leave. The Matron reached out and grabbed Kris’ shoulder, stopping her. Kris turned, righteous anger flaring in her eyes, and she Spoke the Words. The light behind her scales intensified until Kris was a beacon of shining light, shining as bright as the sun. As Kris embodied the spirit of the Savra, her physical form changed to match. Gold and Silver threads weaved through her clothing to make her look more regal. Crystal earrings formed on her earlobes, reflecting the light and shimmering even in the darkest of places - even her bearing and posture changed from that of a meek girl to a steadfast woman. Magical words enveloped the Matron, locking her in a magical prison. ”You will not stop me, Matron,” Kris said one last time before she left the enclave of the Naga. Equipment Change:
Krislyx Downtime Story, Part 1 of 2: "Krislyx!" the Naga woman called out, "Where have you been?" Kris stood before the Matron of Freeport, head bowed, hands clasped in front of her. Her clothing was ripped and ragged, the tears evidence of her ordeals. "It has been weeks, Krislyx. Weeks! We expected you here over a month ago. Where were you? Answer me girl." "Yes, Matron. I was-" "And don’t you lie to me. I’ll have none of it. You were out partying with humans, weren’t you? Exploring the far islands and consuming alcohol. I know, every young Naga does just as soon as they slip the creche." "No, Matron, I was-" "Why, I remember when your cousin Rygar first arrived in Freeport. He showed up drunker than a pirate’s cabin boy, he did! You heard about him, didn’t you?" "Yes, Matron, but I was-" "And here, just look at you! Clothes torn. Missing your trunk. Missing your lessons and study material. I was expecting letters and books from the Holy Matron! And you have none of it! All you have with you is your carrying bag! You sold it all, didn’t you?" "No, Matron! I was-" "And the locked book? You better not have lost that! That was vital, you hear me, girl?" "Yes, Matron. I was-" "Ugh! I just cannot believe you did this to us, Krislyx. Just what in the world were you thinking? Are you trying to give me a stroke?" "No, Matron. I was-" "Don’t you sass me, girl. I know what you were up to. You were lollygagging about the pirate isles. Taking your sweet time getting here. You’ll be punished for this, I hope you know." "Yes, Matron. But I was-" "I just.. I cannot believe it. You had us all in a tizzy worrying about you! With everything that has been going on! The dreams, Krislyx! The dreams have started! This was in the prophecies! The prophecies, Krislyx! I know you know this. I know the Holy Matron taught you this. Was the Holy Matron such a poor teacher that you did not know this, Krislyx?" "No, Matron, but I was-" "Of course she wasn’t! So why, Krislyx. Please, I must understand. Why did you take your sweet little time getting here. And please don’t tell me you were spending time with those humans. You know they’re no good." "Yes, Matron. I was-" "And your brother! He was searching the docks and the back alley for you for weeks! Weeks, Krislyx! Did you know that?" "No, Matron, but I was-" "He was worried sick about you! Every morning he would head out and inquire about any recent Naga arrivals. And he would stay out until well past dusk awaiting for you. He loves you, you know." "Yes, Matron, but I was-" "Krislyx, we've had ceremonies to perform! Rituals to complete! The next blood moon is almost upon us, and we'll have barely any time to get you ready! Are you proud of yourself for this?" "No, Matron, but I was-" "You need to take this more seriously, Krislyx. You can't be off sailing the isles and adventuring around like you own the whole ocean! You have duties! Responsibilities!" "Yes, Matron, but I was-" "What, Krislyx? What? What possible excuse do you have for your behavior? For your tardiness? You've already missed the Ceremony of the New Moon and the Birth of the Second Moon. What's next? Skipping the Shavra's Blessing?" "No Matron, but I was-" And so it went for the poor girl as she tried to explain just what, exactly, had happened to her over the past few months.
Kris watches back and forth between Chiruut and Ven, uncertain who she wants to stay with. In the end, she decides to stay with Chiruut and Thomas, as that is where the danger lies the most. She should be here to help them as much as she can. What's wrong with you? she yells in a shrill voice. Why are you doing this?! She picks up some debris and throws it at the strange man, hoping to cause a distraction and give Thomas the opening he needs.
Unable to stay quiet, Kris continues to chat idly, What do you suppose those men wanted? Who do you suppose is Anne the Red? That man said she wouldn't help, but do you think he was truthful? Will we ever find a way off this island? On and on she prattled with commentary and question as her own mind raced through thoughts and emotions. Like a coping mechanism against the immense change she was forced to face.
The babe cried. A soft cry in the middle of the night as it awoke Rena from her sleep. The warrior woman and commander of Crossings contingent of the Army of the New God got up from her bed to gather the child and take her to the rocking chair to suckle. The babe was small, with goat-like legs that were gifted to her from her father. Rena looked over to the sleeping figure in the bed. Her lover still slept soundly; she smiled at the figure as she rocked the babe back to sleep. It had been several months since they had survived the night of slaughter - the night Katandramus had tried to end the world. The stress of the night caused her to go into labor - perhaps a little earlier than expected - but with access to healing magic and friends who can wield it, she was able to bear the pain and recover quickly. Even Father Gregory was there to help bless the birth. The figure in the bed moved again, this time stirring awake. "Is everything ok?" asked a quiet feminie voice. "Yes," Rena whispered, "Go back to sleep." Rena smiled. She was happy. Happier than she'd been in a long time. This felt right. A child in her arms and someone to help raise her. Not just any someone, but someone who truly understood her. Someone who had been through the trials of combat and risked death for others. Someone who was willing to sacrifice it all and fight for the world, to fight to make everything better. Someone who completely sacrificed their own self image - just for her. Was she worth it? She didn't know. But the woman sleeping in the bed thought she was. Perhaps that's all that mattered. But whatever Sel's reasoning, the faun had given up everything to be with Rena and to be a mother to the little girl they would raise together.
You cannot escape me, Fobb! Sel yells to the halfling. Sel darts through the combatants to the councilor, again trying to knock him to the ground.
One month ago.... Sir, Thomas said. Yes, Thomas? Selgaer replied. I have something for you, sir. Something I was told to give you if you returned from your mission. Well, let's have it, Sel said, holding out a hand towards his servant. Thomas unveiled a delicate box of mohagony, gilded at the edges in vine and leaf patterns. The box was beautifully crafted. Who gave this to you? Sel inquired, on awe of the box. Nightfall, Thomas responded. Sel stopped short. That name brought back memories, and not pleasant ones. What does he want? Sel asked, venom wrapped around the words. He met me in Foundry, Tomas said.... Hey there, old chap, the elf said. Thomas turned, and immediately recognized the prince. He bowed deeply, the perfect depth representing the difference in stature. Not an inch further. Thomas was keenly aware of his position and was proud of such knowledge. His role in life was to ensure his master was properly represent and properly respected, and this meant showing proper respects to others in order to prove the class of his employers. Prince Nightfall, Thomas said in greeting as he bowed. Please, the prince said, Not here. Leave that for the courts. Here, we are but two people in the streets of Foundry. Like the last two Thomas saw the prince, he was dressed in simple yet perfectly tailored clothing. The cloth itself was a rare cut; Thomas recognized the subtle pattern and the quality thread. It took a keen eye and a trained mind to catch it, but no fabric could escape him. What can a humble servant do for you, my Lord? Thomas ask. The faun of yours, the prince responded, he did a fine job. I want you to tell him that. Tell him that he is known by the elven court, and he is respected for his actions. I will ensure that he is assaulted no further by the faerie folk. At least not the elves or hobgoblins under my purview. And, the prince said, give him this. The elf handed over a small box of high quality, made of mahogany wood with gilded Vines and leaves across it. It is what he desires, what he sent you here to collect. Without the associated risks. I will, my lord, Thomas responded respectfully. I do not suspect I will be seeing him again. So give my kind regards, old chap. Thomas bowed again as the prince turned and walked away….. And that is the story of how you were gifted this box, Thomas told Selgaer. Sel opened the box and smiled at what he saw. His smile masked both anticipation and worry. He wasn't sure he wanted to do this, but he was sure he wanted what this would give him. ------------- Today… As usual, Sel was dressed in well tailored and well cut clothing. Thomas had always seem that he was dressed in the latest fashion and that the dress made Selgaer look good. It drew attention away from his flaws while accentuating his physique. It was amazing how much good clothing and styled hair could transform a person - and Thomas had been with him so long he could barely remember the flea ridden, dirt covered lad he used to be when he was captured by the elves. Back when he was human. Still, nothing could dampen his spirits. He had a gift for Rena, and he was on his way to see her now. When he saw her, she was laying down on a sofa, hands on her extended belly. Sel! she called out, I'm glad you're here. This kid of yours is a huge pain and I need someone I can hit. At least, someone I can hit without getting into legal or political repercussions. Sel smiled at the joke and said, I'm happy to see you're well. I've brought something for you. Oh? What is it? she asked. A gift. You'll have to unwrap it to see. For me? Sel smiled. Well, this is turning into quite the surprise! She patted the seat next to her, Come. Sit next to me. I have wine, she enticed. Sel joined Rena on the couch. Sel pulled out the mahogany box he had been gifted from the elven prince. Rena's face was awash with curiosity as she opened it. What is it? she asked. It's a powerful magical trinket. It can turn a person into any ancestry and make them look however they wish. I'm giving it to you so you can decide what the perfect person would look like. When I get back, tell me what she looks like, and I will become her. For you, Rena, because I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I will become anyone for you. That is my gift. Rena smiled. A real genuine smile that was devoid of any sarcasm or jokes. [b]Sel, she started, but she could not finish. She brushed a tear from an eye. Sel, that's the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. After a moment, she cleared her throat and said, I've got something for you, too, Sel. I know you're leaving soon. I have these. She grabbed a box nearby and opened it. Inside were several vials of different shapes and colors. Potions. Use them, use them to help you come back to me.
The Long Mother wails and - with frightening speed - lashes out at Sel ripping him apart. His life fades before his eyes as his soul sinks into the Underworld. But then it stops, hovering just outside of his body. He watched from his disembodied soul the Long Mother standing above his dead body. And then time rewinds. Flesh seals back up as claws pull out of his chest. The Long Mother reverse jumps back to her original location. The sound waves generated from her wail return to her lungs. And his soul re-enters his body. Imedren yells out, "Selgaer, gather your will and guard your ears, the Long Mother will unleash a horrid shriek and is coming for you!" Instantly, Sel follows the instructions and covers his ears as the Long Mother wails, protecting him from her screech. His body tenses as he already knows what is coming next; she leaps at him digging in class at his flesh. But this time, instead of dying, Dramm releases healing magic into the air and restores the wounds. The flesh sews back together and Selgaer stares defiantly into the Long Mother's eye. We do not stand alone, witch. For too long you have pretend upon individuals who weaken without support. But we stand together. This is what it is like for mortals - we fight together and we are strong together. He jabs his spear into her and leaps back, retreating out of her immediate range and preparing a defense. His second chance makes him a little more cautious.
Sel sighs. No. Not your fault. They're fault, he says, pointing to the temporal twins. And you're right, I wasn't thinking beyond bringing the beast down. I'm sorry, Dramm.
Sel was taken aback that Dramm was angry with him. Sure, Urunna he could understand; she was just concerned for him. She didn't trust him like the unfailing trust she gave Imedren despite the danger he is constantly putting everyone in. But Dramm? That he didn't understand. It hurt. And it angered Sel beyond what was normal for the faun. The sorcerer was hitting Sel where he was most insecure - Dramm called for them to run, but Sel's natural skittishness was something he had always worked hard to overcome. And calling for Sel to run in the face of a challenge, calling for Sel to hide in cowardice against something that he actually brought crashing out of the sky! And then criticizing him for it! That was just something else. Sel retorted to the sorcerer. That I put you in? I'm not the one who blasted it with magic as soon as it showed up! I'm not the one who attacked it! It attacked me, and before I could even react Mr. Time Duplicate over there f$~%ing with reality immediately tried to blast it out of the sky! I brought the dragon out of the sky! Me, Dramm! I did that! And you have the audacity to say I'm endanger us all? What are you? Jealous? Pissed that a mere faun could do something you can't? Because I've trained my f+~@ing ass to do things like that, while you're off making pacts with the gods-know-what and it's killing you from the inside. You know what it is, Dramm? You're just a f#+*ing coward. And you lash out at me for doing what you're too afraid to do. Get f#+#ing bent.
Sel darts forward, getting in front of Joy to block the wolves path. Hopefully. This phasing thing seems like it might be a problem. Regardless, he darts forward, fighting every instinct he has that says run. Only his training and Joy's words help him move forward, allowing him to thrust his spear with both hands directly into the face of one of them. After striking he hops back three yards, if there is room and only if he stays in front of Joy.
Don't worry! They prefer human flesh. Most of you will be fine, Sel calls down to the boat. He knocks and arrow and aims at one of them.
"You got an invitation." Belgaer was behind his new desk, settling in to Crossings. The faun had has been in Crossings not more than a few weeks. It was a joyous occasion, seeing him arrive. Once Thomas got back to inform Sel of his twin brother's arrival, Sel rode out to the elven doorway to meet him. Naturally it wasn't just Bel who had come, but the entire household. All the adopted children, the servants, the governesses - Sel was beyond joy to see them all again. Bel had sent some folks in advance to acquire a manor large enough to room everyone - it wasn't the most luxurious, but it worked. And it could be improved upon. "An invitation to what? Is the council finally seeing your value?" Sel responded, a lopsided smile on his face. "This isn't a laughing matter, Sel. This is serious. This is the Morning Lord. He's… he's an elf, Sel. You know how dangerous they are. But we can not refuse." Sel turned serious as well, "What does he want." "Heeeee wants nothing, Bel said, drawing out the 'e' on he to emphasize the word. "It's his son, Nightfall. Nightfall wants to speak with you. But you need to be prepared, Sel. Mentally prepared. You say the wrong thing around these people and you could be imprisoned for life. Or worse. Remember what they did last time?" "Yes Bel. For f*%~s sake, I'm the one who got us out of there." "See? That right there. You can't speak like that in the Elven Court. They'd have you castrated. God, why'd they invite you? It should have been me," Bel said. "I don't know, maybe I'm better looking?" Sel retorted. Bel sighed. It was always a point of contention, for Sel looked much more human that his brother. Bel spent more time in the hidden realm than Sel had, and as a consequence his transformation to get went much further. "Enough with the jokes, Sel. This is serious." "Ok, ok. I will. Here, let me see that." Sel took the invitation from his brother and looked over it himself. It was full of fancy curved writing with elaborate loops and golden ink on paper made of leaves. He hadn't a clue what it said - he couldn't read - but it looked like what an invitation to a Lord's house might look like. "Sel, just go there and do what they ask of you. Then come back here. I - we don't want to lose you. Especially not now that we've settled in a new home." A few days later, Sel was waiting to see this elf prince. He had his finest clothing on; Thomas had seen to that. But it was not at a locale he had expected. Yes, it was in a forest, and yes it very beautiful and enchanting. But it was not in the Hidden Realm. It was in the mortal world. "I'm glad you could meet me," a voice called out. Sel turned, expecting to see some pompous ass regaled in finery and surrounded by lackeys, but when the elven prince called out, he was dressed plainly and was alone except for one companion. His clothing was finely cut and tailored to him - Sel had been around Thomas enough to recognize it, but it was clothing meant for practicality. The woman next to him had her bow drawn and aimed at Selgaer. "It's alright, Pistil, we just startled him." It was then that Sel realize his knife was drawn and in his hand. He sheathed it. "I am Nightfall, and this is my companion, Pistil. And I would like to recruit you." Sel was taken aback by the statement, but quickly gathered his tongue, "Me? But I'm just a faun. Why would you want a faun?" The prince answered, "Even in Alfheim we've heard of you, Selgaer. The faun who escaped, killed their captors - and rightfully so, I might add - rescued the children. The faun who rose to prominence in Crossings and fought back demons." "You've been talking to my brother," Sel said. "Well, yes. Admittedly he is where we got most of this information. But still, I verified it. You're capable, Sel. And we could use that. There are threats greater than you may realize, and it's not just to Crossings or Alfheim - it's to all of existence as we know it. I've been crossing the border for years to help fight off undead in the Desolation and to hold the chaos at Bay. I know you resonate with that, Selgaer." Sel didn't let his mental guard down, "Why should I help you? An elf - someone who steals babies from humans and destroys lives?" "We're not all like that, Selgaer," the Prince responded. "Yes. Yes you are. I'm a damned Faun! Your people ripped my brother and I from our parents arms! You raised us to be killers and hunters of men, to repeat the process again and steal more children! And you couldn't we'll leave us alone! You had to follow me. You followed me and my brother, sent your hobgoblin armies, slaughtered an entire city just to get back at us! Who does that?! Who thinks it's ok?" Sel was practically yelling by the time he was done. Anger flashed in Pistil's eyes, and her hand was taught on her bow string, but the Prince stayed her. "You are right to be angry, Selgaer," the Prince said with a calming voice. "You are right not to trust us. Which is why I had us meet here instead of in the formal court. I am not here to right the wrongs my people have done to you and yours. I am here to stave off disaster. I am here to recruit you. There are two upcoming dangers you need to he away of. The first and most pressing is Toothsome Maera. "Toothsome Maera is a hag - not just an old woman, but a literal hag with all the power that comes with it. She has learned of a prophecy predicting the end of world - of all things drowning in blood, consumed by fire, and utterly annihilated by the Shadow in the Void. She dragged a tormented soul up from Hell for questioning, the hag learned that the source of this dread foretelling was the city of Crossings. Your city, Selgaer. She has it in her head that the only way to stop it is to erase Crossings from existence. She's on her way right now to attack your city. "This is the first danger, and the most pressing at the moment. "The second is the Long Mother." Sel held his breath at the second. He had heard that name before. Who had he heard it from? Dramm. That was it. The prince caught the moment of hesitation and used it to his advantage, "I see you've heard of her. Good. It will make this easier." And then Pistil pounced. Sel saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and spun, barely dodging the kick the elven woman aimed at his head. He twisted his body and drew his knife, but her hand was already striking his wrist. The blow knocked the dagger from his grasp. A low sweep knocked Sel to the ground. Pistil grabbed his legs and locked him into a hold. The Prince looked down at him from above, "I am truly sorry, Selgaer. But this knowledge must he passed on, and this is the only way." The prince reached down and placed his palm on Sel's forehead. Sel noticed his palm was tattooed with some sort of red geometric symbols. As soon as the Prince touched Sel, his world collapsed. Images passed through his mind. Sel was barely able to comprehend it all as knowledge flooded his brain. He saw her - the demon, no, Fae - that fed on sickness and suffering. The is a predator that promises feasts and kills with famine. Whatever she might feed inevitably starves in some other way. He saw her feasting upon the suffering of the world. Watching people wither and die. The world withering. He saw Dramm on a pedestal; the Long Mother slowly feeding power into him to fuel his desire for revenge. He saw Dramm dead on the floor, bloodied knife in his own hands. The man had killed himself, and all that flower he built up was flowing out of his body. Sel followed the flow of magic and watched it twist and turn through the air like a river meandering across the plains. It made its way back to the Long Mother, where her own power grew immeasurably. And that's when Sel realized what she was doing - she was feeding Dramm power in hopes to drive him towards insanity and drive him to suicide - only then could she feed upon him, feed on his suffering. Only then could she grow. He watched her as she watched Dramm on that pedestal, her clawed hands surrounding him as if she were to grasp him and squeeze the life out of him herself. But she dared not. Only Dramm's act of suicide in a moment of pure desperation to end it all would give her what she wanted. So she focused on taking everything from him while feeding him more and more unstable power. She had taken his brother. She had taken the goblin. Next up was his lover and then all the rest of his friends. He saw her, staring at Dramm with those eyes, those two burning black holes that stared with pure intensity. And then she looked up at Sel. Her dark raspy voice slithered into his ears, "I see you, Selgaer of Crossings. I seeeee youuuu." And it all went black. He lay there in the grass for some time, head pounding. He watched the clouds move overhead in rapid succession as the sun dove towards the horizon. "Master Selgaer?" a voice called out. Who was that? "Master Selgaer? Are you awake?" Sel groaned. "Thomas? Is that you? What happened?" "The prince has left, sir. He said you'd awake in a few hours. Are you ok, sir?" "My head is killing me. What happened?" "After you fell, sir, they talked for a while. I think they forgot I was here. Nobility is always like that, sir, forgetting us servants are about. So they spoke…" [B]"Is it transferred?" the prince asked. "Did it work?" The two elves stood over Selgaer looking down at the faun. "Yes, your highness. It worked. The Long Mother can no longer see you. She will see him instead." The prince let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank f+&&," he said. "Do you have any idea how terrifying she is?" he prince gave an exaggerated shudder and breathed out, flapping his lips as he did so. "Gah! It was so bothersome constantly being watched by that psycho. So it's gone? It's really gone?" The prince looked down at his hands and smiled. "They're really gone. No more runes. I'm finally free. Haha! Yes! I'm finally free!" He danced about in joy for a moment before stopping and letting out another sigh. Gently nudging Selgaer with the toe of his boot, he said, "God I feel sorry for that poor f*&@." "It had to be done, sire." the woman said. "I know, I know. But that doesn't change the fact that his life is about to get a whole lot more interesting." "It was the best decision, sire. You had to transfer her to someone else, and this faun was in the best position to help combat her. With his connection to the human, they can work together to fight her from the mortal realm while you hunt her down in the hidden realms." "Yes, yes, I know, Pistil. But that still doesn't mean I can't feel sorry for him." The prince shuddered again, Brrrr-r-r-rah! Damn does it feel good to get rid of her. Sorry, ol' chap. Best of luck. "Come, Pistil, let's get back to Alfheim. There's still a lot of preparation to do to eliminate the Long Mother." The prince looked back one last time as they walked away, "God I feel sorry for that poor f%$%."
Neil's eyes glass over as Theo tries to explain magical theory.
Selgaer had made a running thrust at the other thing - he didn't have a name for it yet - killing it and saving TaBog. He quickly turned away, pulling his spear out of the corpse and launched his spear at the last thing.
Galenus smiles at the turn of events. He's happy with how things have turned out, despite the struggles they've been through. I'm glad I could make all this happen, he thinks to himself.
From a safer distance, Galenus quickly prepares another fire bomb and tosses it at the cube who tried to eat him.
I think the condescending remark kind of works well. I'm playing Neil as someone who isn't the brightest bulb in the box, so having him forget or not pay attention to little details like this really highlights that. It's also why I made it to the best idea he could come up with regarding that locked door was for Aterro to be a human battering ram. :)
As the days passed by, Galenus finally got his voice back. A bit later, the hallucinations stopped. After that, he was able to explain what happened to him. And now that he was back to normal, he was confident they would face no issues at Blingdenstone. Even when the twins seemed worried, he waved away their concerns. They'll let us in. After all, I've been able to get you this far, haven't I?
Hello! I am Galenus, and these are my trusty companions! We are here to deliver some goods from Gracklstugh, as well as speak to a master of trade or master of caravans about some pressing matters at hand. Please open and let us in. He smiles back, as if to say, "See? I told you this would work."
I AM IN CONTROL! Anophth screams, his vocal cords burning in defiance. His fists are balled tight, knuckles as white as a sun baked beach. THIS IS MY CITY! MINE! AND YOU WILL NOT HAVE IT! As Anophth screamed, the demon ripped through flesh and sinew, tearing through skulls, ripping out veins. Blood painted the floors, the walls, the ceiling. DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU SHALL NOT HAVE IT! As the demons separated the head of the last cultist, the room became quiet. The only sounds were Anophth's heavy breathing and the sound of rain as the blood dripped back down to the floor.
Explain myself? F+$+ you, Inquisitor. Anophth sneared that last word. I've done nothing but protect this city. I've risked my f@%#ing life, lost my best friend, been turned into a f&@$ing rat, have a good damned demon infest me and whisper dark secrets into my head, and through it all I've f#*~ing sacrificed and protected this f~!@ing city. I've nearly died ten times over for Crossings. And you have the gal to ask me to explain myself? Where the f+~+ were you when I came begging for help from the Martyr? Every good damned priest I've been to has told me the same good damned thing: "Just be a better person." F&%# you! I've got a g*$ d&*ned demon inside of me! And the only people who've even listen a f%@+ing finger yo help me are right here with me now. Where you there? F@~* no! Where the f&@* were you? Where the f&~~ were you when Father Gregory went missing? Huh? Where the f*!+ were you when the Patchwork Man took his eyes and wore his skin? Where the f!&% were you while he laid in the hospital barely alive? He's still there, you know! Suffering. Mind f!*#ing gone. And you're here questioning me? ME?! Where the f$~* were you when the other people went missing? Did you even know? Did you even care? Did you even lift a good damned finger for them? For the downtrodden and the diseased?! For the broken and the damned? No! We did! The f!!&ing six of us, right g~@ d~*ned here. Where the f$~@ were you when the councilman's daughter went missing? Were you laying traps for the Brotherhood, infiltrating their island? Did you eliminate them? No! We did! The f!!$ing six of us right here. Where the f$** were you when some g~$ d~~ned Bloody Bones got loose and slaughtered that farmer? Who f$#*ing took care of that? We did! We diced deep into ancient elven crypts and rid the world of that threat! Where the f!#* were you? WHERE THE F*@@ WERE YOU? Anophth raged at the Inquisitor, and as he screamed, the demon charged forward, claws and teeth extended. It moved with unnatural speed. The demon rushed past Anophth straight for the Inquisitor's throat, but stopped just shy, growling and gnashing its teeth. Anophth stopped screaming. You want to question someone? Anopth asked, his voice still rough, but his tone was normal. Question that. You have until I wake up tomorrow. Better kill it before then, because after that I can't hold it back anymore. And if you want to help me, Anophth said over his shoulder as he walked away, then get this f!*~ing demon out of my head. Later...: Whoooo! Anophth yelled, one hand on a hat, the other on the collar wrapped around the demons neck. Anophth was standing on the demons back as the demon was jumping and bucking about the room. Finally, Anophth lost his grip and flew backwards, landing on his rump. F~*!ing six seconds! Beat that, TaBog! Dramm? You're up next!
What is that?! Anophth calls out, firing an arrow at it.
NO! I AM IN CONTROL! Anophth yells out upon seeing the demon.
Casting Compel Demon. Anophth takes damage.
Galenus waves his arms about and shakes his head no, and wants to leave. But if no one else leaves, he'll follow the group to at least ensure they're safe. They need him, after all. No one would have survived this long without Galenus. Really, the only reason anyone has ever been able to compare to him is because he's been cursed almost the entire time they've been together. Such is life. And he'll continue to stay with everyone just to ensure they survive.
Well, I'm fine with that. We e-liminate the true threat and we can let these uns go. But ifn they cause troubles again, I've no issues slapping them down. Much like you can't clear every mouse from the field or every cockroach from the kitchen, I guess.
After a few moments, Galenus calms down from his fit of madness. The screaming, crying, and laughing fade away. He stands up to apologize and give his own opinion, but no words come out when he speaks. He looks puzzled for a moment, and holds one hand up against his throat. He speaks again. And again, no words come out. It's as if the demon lord of rot has rotted away his voice. Even through Stool's spores, he cannot speak. But he can convey his emotions - confusion, concern, anger, wariness. He has reservations about going in further, and desires about leaving. But he's unable to communicate better than that. Flustered, Galenus goes to sit down. He opens his collection of notes and starts pouring through them. He pulls out some vials and tries to fill them, but nothing happens. He tries again and again and again, and still nothing. Anger rises up and he screams out, but no sound comes. He throws his notes down and digs into his backpack, pulling out his violin. Notes ring out as he glides the bow across the strings. It calms him. At least I can make a sound of some sort. This is clearly just blocking my voice, he thinks to himself. He puts his violin away and goes through his notes again. Pulling out some more vials, he spends some times concentrating on them and the vials fill up with a blue liquid.
After he's done, he motions that he's ready to go investigate.
Hey guys. Just wanted to say I'm really enjoying the RP everyone is doing. You guys are all great to game with.
Neil looks at Theo with a confusion painted across his face. What women? I see no women here. Are you speaking of these vermin? he asks, gesturing towards the orcs. These are but a blight upon the face of this land. We do not stop to defend the locusts when they come to eat our crops; why should we defend these insects here before us? But if you must, you must. he says, putting away the warhammer he was on the verge of drawing. I shall not harm you, my elven friend - for you are among the pure that has every right to claim what is rightfully theirs. If you wish to take these creatures under your chain to clean your home or tend your garden or toilet in your fields, you may. Be careful, though - these rats are clever and tend to bite back. Neil speaks without a hint of insult or irony to Theo, for he is genuine in his words. Turning his back to the orcs, he addresses everyone else here, Now! Let us see what these things have stolen from the goodfolk so we may return it to their rightful owner. And perhaps take a small tithing for ourselves! Ha!
Hi guys! It's great to see you both again! Since both of you are dwarves, would you like to have any shared history with my PC? Odak, I see that you have a background in Brewing. So does my character! Perhaps our families knew each other? Maybe they worked together or were rivals? Reading your backstory, though, if we went this route, it's unlikely you'd remember me! Zoltan, I see a hint of you bring a treasure Hunter in your profile. My character is a treasure Hunter extraordinaire! Perhaps they have crossed paths or even went on am adventure together at one point in their past.
I am in control. I am in control. I am in control. I am in control. I am in control. I am in control. I am in control. I am in control. Anophth repeats the phrase like a mantra as he tries to control the demonic power.
I am in control. I AM IN CONTROL! Anophth rushes forward at full speed towards the Fomor.
After they get out of the waters, Galenus takes an inventory of his equipment. Soggy papers, a wet violin that could easily be damaged - he'd have to work on that - a wet spellbook (that might be a problem). His chainmail would get rusted if he didn't do anything about it. But worst of all was the soggy cigars. He stared down at them with a growing depression. His racoons cuddles up in his lap, trying to comfort him. It works. A little bit. After a deep sigh, he looked up at everyone else. Well, we best get to work repairing all our equipment. Anyone got anything that's broken? I can Mend it. Idril; you've got some tricks to help clean things, right? We'll need to get everyone's armor clean and polished to be in good working shape. My own armor is severely damaged, almost to the point of breaking; I hope my own repairs will work. Then oozes were a right hazard for my stuff, not to mention my life! As they travel, Galenus works on trying to repair his violin. Sure, the mend spell fixed the crack from when he slammed against the wall trying to swim up as a giant, and sure, Idril's prestidigitation helped re-wax the bow - but there was just something about the personal touch that made him feel like he was accomplishing something. When they came to a rest, he gave it a try, drawing out slow, sad melodies that echoed down the caves. The effect created a haunting sound that contrasted perfectly to Idril's voice.
Galenus watches Idril free climb down in a mix of amazement and horror. When she reaches the bottom, he says, Alright. Let's set up some rope and get down safely, shall we? We've got plenty of it. I can brew up something that'll help; will take me about twenty minutes.
There's fifteen of us that need to get down. Idril can be our ground crew down below. We've got plenty of rope, so we can tie up a repelling system. Cyrus, can you work on that? It'll likely take you about as much time as my brewing. With the brew, that will cover three people - my two and Cyrus, since he somehow literally sticks to walls - how do you do that, anyways? We'll need someone to carry Stool. That's five people down. Everyone else can take the ropes down, and the last one down can free climb and carry the rope. I can also carve out some handholds, if you think that will help. Glabagool will be our biggest challenge. Anyone have any ideas?
Sounds good! Let me know what direction we want to take this, and I can craft appropriate responses.
At the shop, the bell jangles as the door opens, and Anophth steps in. Filthy. Blood dried all over him. His clothes torn and ragged. His face smeared with grime. He looks around at the products and the shape of the shop. He adjusts an item on the shelf; the minor adjustment retail managers do to make themselves feel like their job is justified. A mother stares in horror at the wreck of a goblin in the shop; his image only serving to justify her opinions that Goblins are filfthy vermin who do not belong in the city. Her child cries at the sight of him. Uruuna comes out at the sound of the crying and sees him. Excuse me, sir, but I think it's best you - oh! Mr. Anophth! What happened to you?! Please, come in the back room. She ushers Anophth out of sight of the customers. Nutmeg, be a dear and help Mr. Anophth get cleaned up, will you? Right away, Mrs. Uruuna! the boy calls from the other room, getting a wet washrag. As he rounds the corner, he comes to a dead stop. *Something* about Mr. Anophth made him uneasy. He didn't know what. He'd never had this feeling before. But there was something off. The boy swallowed down his fear and took a step forward. Uhh... Here you go, Mr. Anophth. Thank you, son. Anophth says. For some reason, the words dig into Nutmeg's primal fear section of his brain. He drops the washrag before it reaches Anophth's hands. Something wrong? Anophth asks with concern, but to the boy only hears malice. He runs.
After Anophth left Dramm at the bar, he walked the streets thinking about his old friend that caused his condition. His mind drifted to revenge and hatred as the demon flesh inside him warped his perception of reality. Plans started to formulate in his mind; where would Cack be hiding? What would he do when he saw his old friend? Why had his friend abandoned him to his fate. What did he have to say for himself? Without realizing it, Anophth found his way back to his old home - the Crossings Landfill and the mines the goblins carved out of the mountains of refuse. He asked around for Cack and found that his old friend was still around; although he kept away from most others. Rumors started up around the goblin - rumors of dangers and curses. It took a few weeks, but eventually Anophth found Cack. Hey old friend. A-a-anophth! What are you doing here? Cack responded with honest surprise. I've been looking for you. Why? Y-you shouldn't be here. Cack said, his voice skipping with worry. Haven't you heard there's a dangerous beast here? It's not safe. You should return home. Oh, I've heard. I know what you are, Cack. What do you mean? I'm not anything! Cack lied. DON'T YOU LIE TO ME! DON'T YOU F@#%ING LIE! The screams came out like the scratching of hellfire as the corruption inside Anophth fueled the rage. I'm not! I-I-I swear, Anophth! But Cack's lies proved feeble. YOU DID THIS TO ME! YOU! I know what the Fairy Queen did you you! I was there, Cack. I WAS F*&+ING THERE! I SAW IT ALL! Anophth roared. No.. I... Cack stammered. A tear crawled out of his eye and wormed it's way down the goblin's face. Genuine concern for his old friend clouded his thoughts. I'm sorry, Anophth. I never meant for this to happen. More tears followed. YOU HAVE RUINED ME, CACK! Anophth sreamed. The tip of his cane cracked against the side of Cack's head, and Anophth didn't even seem to notice. YOU HAVE DESTROYED MY LIFE! Crack. RUINED MY BUSINESS! Crack. KILLED MY CHANCES OF GROWING OUT OF THIS HELLHOLE! Crack. LOST MY ONLY CHANCE AT REDEMPTION! Crack. I CAN'T FACE MY FRIENDS! Crack. I CAN'T FACE A F!&*ING MIRROR! Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Anophth stopped. As the demonic rage died down, he finally looked at his friend. Blood was coating the cavern, covering Anophth and painting the walls like linear pointillist art. As realization dawned, a small fragment of Anophth's mind snapped. He collapsed to the ground and laid there. He cried. He cried himself to sleep. He cried for Cack, for himself, for Candice, for Father Gregory, for everyone. When he awoke, he had a new purpose. He would cleanse this city of all cultists, of all Skinchangers, of all demons. He would do as Father Gregory wanted him to do and use his powers for Good. What Anophth didn't realize is that this is not what Father Gregory wanted. This was
Voting is done by Ranked Choice. Ranked choice means the first to get the popular vote that is also over 50% wins. Lowest candidate gets dropped, and whoever voted for them has their next choice counted to the remaining. Continue until one candidate wins. This system guarantees the winner will have been voted on by at least 50% of the voting population. Round 1: Dreen 2, Rena 1, Edgerton 2, Randolphus 0
Round 2: Dreen 2, Rena 1, Edgerton 2
Round 3: Dreen 2, Edgerton 3.
For a minute there I was worried you might be little Murder Hobo-y. For Neil? That's a distinct possibility. As a player, naw - I'm not a murder-hobo player. You can ask Brother Aterro about that. We've been in at least three games together, all of which were heavy RP. In our games together, I've played a failed academic who was more interesting in magic than most anything else and was a bit timid in battle, a thief who had an anti-authority thing (which paired very well with Atlas' PC, who was very authoritarian - we got in to a lot of in-character arguments!), and a pious paladin that was the moral ground for the group (which paired with a cleric Atlas was playing; they supported each other quite well). If Neil ends up being a murder-hobo, it will be because the story and roleplay lead him to become one. :) I mean, hell, he practically had the "hobo" part already!
Hahahahaha! I love it!
With the remaining 50 gold from our rewards, I'll purchase a Violin and a case of cigars.
While continuing to dodge, Galenus strategically backs away, Is that all you got? Bring it, elf boy! Galenus moves towards the Dretch, hoping to put it between himself and Gallindrin, leading Gallindrin to accidentally attach the Dretch when he tries to attack Galenus.
Daphiel - 1st Level Warrior
Age. 22
Catch Your Breath. You can use an action or a triggered action on your turn to heal damage equal to your healing rate. Once you use this talent, you cannot use it again until after you complete a rest. Weapon Training. When attacking with a weapon, you make the attack roll with 1 boon. Weapons. Rapier. 1d6+2 Damage.
Jexen: Perfect!
Here are his stats: Strength 9
Defense 13
Age: 0
He grabs a few books from his makers desk before leaving, those subjects being the Folklore of the Old Faith, Medicine, and Nature. He's been studying them since he left, and they have awoken pockets of knowledge within him.
Rest of the stuff?
Hey Stool, come here for a minute, would ya? Galenus requests. He leans down low to whisper to Stool, Hit us with some of those spores. I bet this fool can't keep his mind shut and will tell us everything.
Most day! G$! d&*ned phone.
You're free to write things happening on the train - at the very least to help keep the game alive.
Sköllji, that was a fantastic post. Gain some Fortune!
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