D&D 5E (2014) Witcher: Mother of Monsters

Talashia retires to her own room, pausing only a moment on seeing Elora ushered into Odvara's chamber. She was a little curious about what Odvara had to say about all this...but the girl wasn't particularly secretive. She had a good mind that all she'd have to do was ask tomorrow at breakfast to hear the same story Elora was hearing now.

And truth be told, she was tired. Casting spells was hard work. Not just because using magic was a physical strain, but because controlling magic to cast a spell was a mental strain as well. The exhaustion of having used all of one's magic on spells was complete, afflicting both body and mind.

Another night and Talashia might have knocked on Odvara's door. Tonight, she just couldn't be arsed to do it. If more drowners came, they'd just have to take care of it without her. She was done.

The sorceress didn't even bother to undress before flopping onto her bed and falling directly to sleep.

Barakor carries the pitcher over towards the fireplace and sits heavily near the sullen bearded man. If the fellow turns his attention towards the dwarf, Barakor will nod and raise the ale with a tired salute of greeting - "Long days and pleasant nights to ya" - before laying his pack in the corner and propping the masterwork warhammer he calls Wulfledda across it. He looks around the room and finds a pointed utensil, then starts cleaning drowner ichor out from under his nails and flicking the crud off the point and into the fire. He drinks. He wipes down his weapon, and drinks a little more. The warmth from the fire soaks into his thick and stony frame. He puts one heavy dwarven hand on his coinpurse and the other on the half of a handaxe, as his head droops closer to the table... closer... closer... then settles into the soft pillow of his beard as Barakor rests.

Ooc: yes please I'm trying to catch up on all my games while battling a migraine. I'll get a replay up tomorrow! Thank for the patience.


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Quickleaf said:

Realizing she's standing in the upstairs hall in her shift, Odvara quickly lets go, ushering Elora inside a bit. Her fingers trail over a sleeve of Elora's dress stained with mud and torn by one of the drowners. "Are you hurt? It sounded like fighting. Talashia? And the witchers? I was so worried."

Even as she speaks, Elora's eyes pick out an unusual pendant made of obsidian and metallic beads draped over the top of Odvara's change of clothes for the morning. She never wore that pendant as far as Elora recalls during their travels over the Blue Mountains together. Catching Elora's eye, Odvara hastily says, "Margarita the sorceress gave it to me. It's to keep the bad dreams at bay."[/SECTION]

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"Yes, yes, we're alright," Elora said quietly, stepping further into the room, "There was some fighting, a strange moon and some creatures attacked the village. But together we are a strong group and we defeated them." Elora ran a ran over her shoulder, "We got a little banged up but everyone is generally fine."

"Odvara..." Elora approached the girl slowly. It was funny to say girl, she was about the same age, actually they had so much in common... Elora's eyes glanced over to the pendant, "Odvara, it's a beautiful pendant. However, as a group, we are not certain we can trust that sorceress, we do not know if she has your best interests at heart. One of us has had dealings with her in the past.

If you wouldn't mind, I would like to take the pendant until morning, when as a group we can look it over before you put it on, just to check and make certain it will not be harmful to you. Our job is to deliver you safely and that is what we plan to do."

Elora took the girl's hand in her own and smiled at her gently. "You know that I am like you. I know it can be scary, and feel out of control, and things can... happen. That is why we must take extra precautions. If you'd like, I will stay with you when you sleep. Perhaps that will help with the bad dreams. If it doesn't, I will be here to comfort you when you wake."

[SECTION](Passive Arcana/Nature 13) Obsidian. A stone for grounding and protection, said to repel nightmares and psychic attacks. It is also a stone for cutting attachments, and manifesting one's true potential. So said the old witches of Elora's homeland. Like the sorceress Margarita herself, the pendant seemed a double-edged token.

"C-creatures?" asks Odvara wide-eyed. Of course she'd heard stories of bruxas and goblins and drowners. Who hadn't? But it was clear the young woman seemed especially frightened, perhaps as a result of never having encountered such monsters in the Aedernian town of Gulet. "My heart is relieved to see you unharmed..." she trails off, realizing Elora is asking for her to turn the pendant over. Reflexively, she grasps it, a tangible sign of something to save her from herself, but Elora's demeanor is soothing, and her magic – and the others' steel – is just as tangible (Passive Persuasion 15). "I...if you think it's best," she murmurs, releasing the clasp on the obsidian pendant and passing it into Elora's hand.

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she almost seems mouse-like as her body tenses at the squeaking the old bedposts make. "Margarita doesn't mean to harm me, does she? She...seems very polite." Though Elora couldn't put her finger on it, something troubled her about Margarita as well, but she'd learned to not say anything at all if he couldn't say something nice. And to a young peasant of Gulet, Margarita must have seemed the most worldly creature in the world.

"Yes, I- I think I'd like that," she answers quietly, yawning. "Thank you, Elora, for everything."[/SECTION]

Wounds are bound, secrets shared, ale is finished, and the firewood has burned out. There's only one thing a sensible traveler does under these circumstances. To bed. Bit by bit, the unseasonal red harvest moon relinquishes its grasp over the village and sleep, in times, comes.



The smells of baking loaves and porridge waft through the floorboards as dawn rises on Lower Posada. Villagers are abuzz with news as they go about their morning labors, passing rumors of a Lodge of Sorceresses forming in their very village, of Scioa'tael ready to reap their vengeance, of the red moon conjuring monsters that only a Witcher's blade can kill. There are many rumors, each based on a half-truth rolled down a snowy hill like a gathering avalanche.

Henriette, the innkeeper, angrily brushes out her mats on the front doorstep after the ordeal last night left the lower floor of the Sojourn Plough dirty. Her bumbling husband Guilhelm presents a stack of clay bowls alongside the pot of porridge, his shaking stubby fingers placing a spoon in each. A simple farmer's breakfast: hard-boiled eggs, pickles, porridge, and fresh sourdough stuffed with curds and escarole.

Odvara comes down presently, quietly joining your party at the table. She looks like she had a restless night.

[section]The sorceress staying at the inn, the prestigious Margarita Laux-Antille, frowns at what is served for breakfast. Though seated apart, closer to the fireplace, she nods politely in greeting as you make yourselves comfortable. Sipping tea from a gold-engraved cup that surely she brought with her, Margarita frowns slightly upon noticing that Odvara is not wearing the necklace she gave the young woman last night.

"When you're ready, I have a proposition for you," she says demurely, catching the eye of the Witchers Fergus and Kynee.[/section]

[section]Henriette eyes your party sourly, not caring one bit for the mixing of races. Old habits die hard. Suddenly spotting a young boy making off with one of her stuffed loaves cooling on the windowsill, she brandishes her broom like a greatsword. "You there, young scamp, get back here! Thomwald, farmer's son, I've seen your face! I'll tell your father and he'll have your hide! Ungrateful little..."
[/section]

Quickleaf said:

"Yes, I- I think I'd like that," she answers quietly, yawning. "Thank you, Elora, for everything."[/SECTION]

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Elora nodded. "No thanks necessary my friend, I am happy to do it. Give me one moment and I will be right back." She gave the girl a smile, a reassuring pat on her shoulder then excused herself.

She hurried downstairs to the others. Finding Fergus there she placed the necklace discreetly in his large hand. "Courtesy of our friend the sorceress. Our charge didn't exactly want to give it up, if you follow. These stones bring out your true potential... figure it out. I will stay with the girl tonight."

Elora ran back up the stairs and returned to Odvara's room, where she knocked and let herself in. She barred the door, checked the windows, threw off her dress and curled up in bed with the Source.

"It's been a long day," she said yawning herself. That blast of magic she let off to set off the blood moon had tired her out completely, "Perhaps tomorrow we can chat more," she said hopefully, before passing out.

Tamaran happily wolfs down the food infront of him while keeping an eye on Margarita, he found it hard to trust those in positions of power they often abused it. All the while he was musing about the bold claims he made lastnight.... how was he going to fins his quarry.

"Goodness, both of them at once?" inquired Talashia with a chortle as she joined the table. A night's rest had reinvigorated her, and she was well and truly ready for some activity this day.

"Getting greedy, Margarita? Why not include the rest of us?" She smirked. "We might surprise you."