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Crimson Menagerie: The Legend Escapes
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<blockquote data-quote="Aristoi" data-source="post: 2675074" data-attributes="member: 32975"><p>The morning began to rise clear and cool, the sun lightening the eastern sky, when the camp was awoken by a crash and a thud as something fell from the sky and landed next to the fire. A bloody stag, seeming to have been pierced with swords and with it’s neck missing a chunk large enough to leave it barely hanging, lay steaming near the fire. </p><p></p><p>“Wh-where d-did th-that come from?” S’lann chattered, staring up into the darkness. </p><p></p><p>Adama, who had learned he could sleep in his armor far more comfortably that he would otherwise, had taken to doing so. He had jumped up and prodded the freshly killed animal with the tip of his sword. “The sky, it appears. And while a great many oddities have occurred, I distrust it when the sky rains meat.” </p><p></p><p>“And well you should,” Elim’s voice floated out of the forest around them even as he appeared at the edge of the clearing as if by magic. “Though you may thank me for that,” he indicated the carcass. He moved over to the carcass and hefted it to the edge of the clearing and hoisted it into a tree. Pulling out a rather large and sharp knife, he began to butcher the carcass rather expertly. It took just a while and pausing, he moved to the fire and set S’lann to gathering more green reeds and Kilmor to fetching green wood from the small bush with the oily leaves. </p><p></p><p>He dug a pit to one side, quite large actually, and transferring some of the fire set to burning the green wood of the bush which made a redolent fragrant smoke. Next, he covered the fire with the woven withies, which forced the smoke out small holes. Taking the second larger basket lines with leaves and more green withies to be tighter with a single smoke hole at the top he piled the meat onto the small basket and covered it with the larger, creating a temporary smoker. </p><p></p><p>“There,” he said as he turned back, “forty-stone smoked venison ready tomorrow, I think. I rubbed it with some wild-salt and some herbs I found so it should taste alright.” He gestured to the river, “I found some fishing gear in my pack, did any of you?” Heads shook no but they started digging in their packs. </p><p></p><p>“I found armor and weapon oils and cloths,” Adama said as he held up the bag with the items in it. </p><p></p><p>“I have a magic book with a lot of pages and an ink-stick,” S’lann held up the leather-bound enruned-book with the ink-stick sleeve sewn onto the binding. “It looks like its only got two-score pages in it but when I flip through it there’s at least twenty-score more.” </p><p></p><p>Kilmor also held up a book, “I have a journal too,” he said, “and it does the same thing.” His book, of course, was twice the size of S’lann’s as was his ink-stick. “But,” he added as he rummaged through the pack, “there’s this little pocket sewn into the side.”</p><p></p><p>“Huh?” Adama asked and leaned over, looking into Kilmor’s pack and then going back to his own. “I do too, now that it’s mentioned.”</p><p></p><p>“Me too!” S’lann called out, like a child at mid-winter. </p><p></p><p>“And I,” Elim’s puzzled tone came as he saw the small bump. With a claw he popped the stitches and pulled out a small amulet with a flickering green gem teardrop hanging on the chain. He held it up to the others as they pulled out their own little gifts. S’lann had a mithral key for what appeared to be an impossibly complex lock while Kilmor had a gold ring with a single rune engraved on it. Adama had a filigreed and etched compass that popped open, had thirteen radial points instead of cardinal points. </p><p></p><p>“This doesn’t look right,” Adama snorted, looking at the compass. </p><p></p><p>“Oh!” S’lann exclaimed, looking at the little device and reading the characters on it. “This is a Blood Compass,” he said enthusiastically. “It’s keyed to you through a drop of your blood,” he shrugged as if to explain that obviously there was an opportunity to have done so. “It homes in on things that are important to you when you ask it and it let’s you know general information about the status of it.” </p><p></p><p>“Interesting,” he muttered and then holding it up said, “Cormyr.” The needle spun around and pointed off to the southwest and tiny rings floated up from the bottom of the compass, creating new layers of runes that spun to line up. “What’s it mean?”</p><p></p><p>“’Under extreme duress’,” S’lann murmured as he deciphered the runes, “war is imminent, betrayal.” He looked up at Adama’s face and added, “’Not good.”</p><p></p><p>“No its not,” he agreed and considered, then said, “’Amruthar’.”</p><p></p><p>The needle swung more to the south and west and the runes spun and realigned, “War imminent, great unrest, great evil,” S’lann read. “And we want to go there?” </p><p></p><p>“They’re independent from Thay,” Adama observed, his brow frowning. “That could be good or bad, depending on how we’re received.” He turned to look at S’lann, “And you’re likely the best one to scout it out.” </p><p></p><p>“Me!?” S’lann replied, shocked. </p><p></p><p>“Well, you are the only one that can change their appearance and blend in.” He shrugged and gestured. </p><p></p><p>“Uh… right,” S’lann replied uncertainly, looking a little dazed. </p><p></p><p>“You’ll do fine,” Adama told him confidently and clapped him on the shoulder. S’lann smiled weakly and nodded, plopping down on his pack to think. </p><p></p><p>“I wonder what this does?” Kilmor said, turning the huge ring over in his hand. It would have been a bracelet on any of them but on him it just fit. “The rune is in draconic, which I read.” He placed the ring on his finger and waited. </p><p></p><p>Nothing happened. </p><p></p><p>He went through the usual tests to see if he had a protection aura or anything obvious. He cast a spell and stared at the ring for a moment. “Transmutation. Hmmm,” he murmured and then spoke the word engraved on the ring.</p><p></p><p>And shrank. </p><p></p><p>Stopping at the same size as the others, he was still massive, though his pack and staff had also shrunk with him, having taken them up before he triggered the rune. “This is interesting,” he paused and took the ring off. </p><p></p><p>Nothing happened. </p><p></p><p>“I am ill-pleased by this,” he rumbled, obviously upset. </p><p></p><p>“It is convenient though,” Elim responded, pointing to the group at large, “Skee’a can carry us all now, I think.” He shrugged and clapped Kilmor on the shoulder, something he’d not been able to do before, “Perhaps like my magic, it will wear away with some time. I cannot see Yolen giving us such things if they were ultimately bad for us.”</p><p></p><p>“Though this might be something of a prank,” S’lann reminded them. “He is, as am I at least partially, of the Fey. I understand how this might be vastly amusing, in his place.” </p><p></p><p>“You’re not helping,” Adama told S’lann as Kilmor’s eyes narrowed, obviously contemplating mayhem on the little halfbreed. Adama casually took position between them, “Easily done Kilmor, the drowling did not mean insult.” </p><p></p><p>“Indeed not!” S’lann called, realizing he’d made a faux pas. </p><p></p><p>“Rest easily,” Kilmor told them with a grim grin, “I would not attack such an unworthy foe. It is hardly a sufficient test of my skills.” </p><p></p><p>“Exactly,” Adama replied, as if in total agreement. He turned slightly and winked at S’lann. Behind Kilmor, Elim made faces at S’lann.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Aristoi, post: 2675074, member: 32975"] The morning began to rise clear and cool, the sun lightening the eastern sky, when the camp was awoken by a crash and a thud as something fell from the sky and landed next to the fire. A bloody stag, seeming to have been pierced with swords and with it’s neck missing a chunk large enough to leave it barely hanging, lay steaming near the fire. “Wh-where d-did th-that come from?” S’lann chattered, staring up into the darkness. Adama, who had learned he could sleep in his armor far more comfortably that he would otherwise, had taken to doing so. He had jumped up and prodded the freshly killed animal with the tip of his sword. “The sky, it appears. And while a great many oddities have occurred, I distrust it when the sky rains meat.” “And well you should,” Elim’s voice floated out of the forest around them even as he appeared at the edge of the clearing as if by magic. “Though you may thank me for that,” he indicated the carcass. He moved over to the carcass and hefted it to the edge of the clearing and hoisted it into a tree. Pulling out a rather large and sharp knife, he began to butcher the carcass rather expertly. It took just a while and pausing, he moved to the fire and set S’lann to gathering more green reeds and Kilmor to fetching green wood from the small bush with the oily leaves. He dug a pit to one side, quite large actually, and transferring some of the fire set to burning the green wood of the bush which made a redolent fragrant smoke. Next, he covered the fire with the woven withies, which forced the smoke out small holes. Taking the second larger basket lines with leaves and more green withies to be tighter with a single smoke hole at the top he piled the meat onto the small basket and covered it with the larger, creating a temporary smoker. “There,” he said as he turned back, “forty-stone smoked venison ready tomorrow, I think. I rubbed it with some wild-salt and some herbs I found so it should taste alright.” He gestured to the river, “I found some fishing gear in my pack, did any of you?” Heads shook no but they started digging in their packs. “I found armor and weapon oils and cloths,” Adama said as he held up the bag with the items in it. “I have a magic book with a lot of pages and an ink-stick,” S’lann held up the leather-bound enruned-book with the ink-stick sleeve sewn onto the binding. “It looks like its only got two-score pages in it but when I flip through it there’s at least twenty-score more.” Kilmor also held up a book, “I have a journal too,” he said, “and it does the same thing.” His book, of course, was twice the size of S’lann’s as was his ink-stick. “But,” he added as he rummaged through the pack, “there’s this little pocket sewn into the side.” “Huh?” Adama asked and leaned over, looking into Kilmor’s pack and then going back to his own. “I do too, now that it’s mentioned.” “Me too!” S’lann called out, like a child at mid-winter. “And I,” Elim’s puzzled tone came as he saw the small bump. With a claw he popped the stitches and pulled out a small amulet with a flickering green gem teardrop hanging on the chain. He held it up to the others as they pulled out their own little gifts. S’lann had a mithral key for what appeared to be an impossibly complex lock while Kilmor had a gold ring with a single rune engraved on it. Adama had a filigreed and etched compass that popped open, had thirteen radial points instead of cardinal points. “This doesn’t look right,” Adama snorted, looking at the compass. “Oh!” S’lann exclaimed, looking at the little device and reading the characters on it. “This is a Blood Compass,” he said enthusiastically. “It’s keyed to you through a drop of your blood,” he shrugged as if to explain that obviously there was an opportunity to have done so. “It homes in on things that are important to you when you ask it and it let’s you know general information about the status of it.” “Interesting,” he muttered and then holding it up said, “Cormyr.” The needle spun around and pointed off to the southwest and tiny rings floated up from the bottom of the compass, creating new layers of runes that spun to line up. “What’s it mean?” “’Under extreme duress’,” S’lann murmured as he deciphered the runes, “war is imminent, betrayal.” He looked up at Adama’s face and added, “’Not good.” “No its not,” he agreed and considered, then said, “’Amruthar’.” The needle swung more to the south and west and the runes spun and realigned, “War imminent, great unrest, great evil,” S’lann read. “And we want to go there?” “They’re independent from Thay,” Adama observed, his brow frowning. “That could be good or bad, depending on how we’re received.” He turned to look at S’lann, “And you’re likely the best one to scout it out.” “Me!?” S’lann replied, shocked. “Well, you are the only one that can change their appearance and blend in.” He shrugged and gestured. “Uh… right,” S’lann replied uncertainly, looking a little dazed. “You’ll do fine,” Adama told him confidently and clapped him on the shoulder. S’lann smiled weakly and nodded, plopping down on his pack to think. “I wonder what this does?” Kilmor said, turning the huge ring over in his hand. It would have been a bracelet on any of them but on him it just fit. “The rune is in draconic, which I read.” He placed the ring on his finger and waited. Nothing happened. He went through the usual tests to see if he had a protection aura or anything obvious. He cast a spell and stared at the ring for a moment. “Transmutation. Hmmm,” he murmured and then spoke the word engraved on the ring. And shrank. Stopping at the same size as the others, he was still massive, though his pack and staff had also shrunk with him, having taken them up before he triggered the rune. “This is interesting,” he paused and took the ring off. Nothing happened. “I am ill-pleased by this,” he rumbled, obviously upset. “It is convenient though,” Elim responded, pointing to the group at large, “Skee’a can carry us all now, I think.” He shrugged and clapped Kilmor on the shoulder, something he’d not been able to do before, “Perhaps like my magic, it will wear away with some time. I cannot see Yolen giving us such things if they were ultimately bad for us.” “Though this might be something of a prank,” S’lann reminded them. “He is, as am I at least partially, of the Fey. I understand how this might be vastly amusing, in his place.” “You’re not helping,” Adama told S’lann as Kilmor’s eyes narrowed, obviously contemplating mayhem on the little halfbreed. Adama casually took position between them, “Easily done Kilmor, the drowling did not mean insult.” “Indeed not!” S’lann called, realizing he’d made a faux pas. “Rest easily,” Kilmor told them with a grim grin, “I would not attack such an unworthy foe. It is hardly a sufficient test of my skills.” “Exactly,” Adama replied, as if in total agreement. He turned slightly and winked at S’lann. Behind Kilmor, Elim made faces at S’lann. [/QUOTE]
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