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Story Hour
Dusk in the land of Fading Stars - Femerus' Story hour (updated 2-20-03)
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<blockquote data-quote="clark411" data-source="post: 695032" data-attributes="member: 4768"><p>Kerim and Damek walked and very nearly stumbled, respectively, into the common room of the tavern. Quickly spotting Lucien, Merileene, and Saryna at one of the tables, Kerim hopped up onto one of the seats, his hand darting up to indicate “one of whatever you think I want you to get me to drink with your incredible mind reading skills” to the nearest passing waitress, who huffed slightly passing this information onto the barmaid who was actually responsible for the group’s table. After a few minutes, a flagon of ale arrived and Kerim was half way through the replay of his conversation with Tobias. Damek, who was somewhat being put on the sidelines of the story by the halfing’s bravado, seemed to care little—instead running through his mind the possibility of this tavern serving tea. By the time Kerim had finished the story, he had also finished his ale, and Merileene was softly laughing at the look on Damek’s face as the only dainty cup in the entire tavern was placed infront of the elf with steaming hot tea in it. Damek mumbled under his breath and softly moved his fingers over his tea—little lines of light flowing softly behind. The prestidigitation went off without a hitch, cooling the tea to tolerable levels. He smiled.</p><p></p><p>Unlike Damek, Lucien seemed to be all business. “So, you walked away with little more than giving his heart a few jabs. I suppose that’s beneficial.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, they were the only types of jabs I could bring myself to give him. Anyways, I doubt we could have taken the Barik Baree by force if we wanted to.”</p><p></p><p>“Indeed. Perhaps we could sneak in there when he is out getting himself as drunk as Damek.” Lucien eyed the elf, who was quite rosy in the cheeks with a rather empty cup before him.</p><p></p><p>“Drunk? From tea?” Saryna began to laugh, drawing a few looks from the rest of the crowd. </p><p></p><p>Damek muttered “You should try it, milady.”</p><p></p><p>Merileene smiled, and then returned to the issue at hand. “Well, I for one do not like the idea of stealing this spear. We don’t know enough to take it by force or stealth. If anything, we should be working to put all the pieces of this curious situation together. Why did Tobias’ father take the spear and what is so important about it that he keeps it? What happened to the other members of the group that helped him get the spear? Maybe they would have some insight.”</p><p></p><p>The rest of the group looked at each other and then back to the usually silent Merileene. “I’m not one to often say this to priests, Meri—but you really should pipe up more often!” Lucien said. Before Merileene could so much as blush and thank him, the rest of the group was up and walking out of the tavern towards the Doctor’s office again—all except for Damek. Merileene slowly helped him up and they followed the others.</p><p></p><p>The doctor welcomed them into his office again and barely had time to offer Lucien a hole in his head to help the evil spirits and bad humors escape when Kerim interjected “The others! What do you know about them?”</p><p></p><p>“What others?” the doctor asked, quite confused.</p><p></p><p>“Those who Tobias’ father Diario traveled with. We need any information you could provide.”</p><p></p><p>Somewhat flustered, the doctor replied “Well, Diario traveled with a four companions. One of them apparently died to an arrow on their final journey into the orcish lands. Sadly the could not recover his body as the orcs chased them. None of them even saw it. Then there was Jerik, the woodsman. He retired to the east, and I believe he lives now in the forest. The other two, one was an elven woman and the other I can hardly remember at all. The elven woman refused all of my treatments as barbarism, I remember that much. The man, I think his name was Davion, Davion Tir. He never seemed to need any of my healing anyway. The others would tell me stories about how nothing bothered him, no combat alarmed him, and how he was always as smooth as a morning pond in quiet weather. Then there was Meiir-- he was quite shifty it seemed; nothing ever got past that boy. He was a goodly fellow though, wouldn't hurt a fly even if he seemed rather terse at times. The only one around here though is Jerik. Davion returned to the city of Shard, the elven woman vanished, and Meiir died on their last adventure.”</p><p></p><p>“Right, right. So Jerik the woodsman lives in the forest to the east.” Kerim said hurriedly.</p><p></p><p>“Yes.” The doctor nodded. With a quick thanks and a handshake or two, the halfling and the others were out the door again. An hour later, they were packing their things despite the dwarf’s grumblings.</p><p></p><p>“We’re leaving half an hour before supper to find some ancient woodsman in Salacero Forest? Tonight’s special is mutton! Kerim talk sense into them!”</p><p></p><p>“Sorry Master Dwarf, tonight all we’re eating is trail rations.”</p><p></p><p>“Blast it all!” the Dwarf stomped a foot in a manner nearly childlike. </p><p></p><p></p><p>By nightfall, the party was standing before the gates of Eastwater, a town of modest proportions and extravagant wooden fortifications. Nestled in a misty, forested valley, the people had exactly two things in excess: superstitions, and enough wood to guard themselves against any of them that possibly were real. One of the guards atop the gates ordered them to halt, and then tossed down one of the arrows from his quiver to them. “Pick it up, and hold it against your skin for us to see. Aye, that’s it—put a torch up to it so we can see aye?”</p><p></p><p>Each of them did as told, and the dwarf asked curiously: “Why do they use silver arrow heads?”</p><p></p><p>Lucien smirked a bit “I think these folk fear myths of things that pray upon men in the night. Werewolves perhaps. Quaint.”</p><p></p><p>They were allowed in town, and found their way to the nearest tavern, hoping to ask people where Jerik the woodsman lived. The Tavern itself, called The Grinning Goblin, welcomed them warily. Passing under cloves upon cloves of garlic, and past several posts upon which flasks labled “holy water” were hanging, they sat down at the bar and began the methodical task of pressing the bartender for questions. When they were pleased, they inquired about some ale, dinner, and rooms. The dwarf was content, as a plate of mutton was placed before him.</p><p></p><p>“Fancy the luck!” he smiled broadly beneath his beard.</p><p></p><p>Morning came, and armed with the information they heard the previous night, they were off heading to the south and west several miles into the forest, searching for a small cabin. After several hours of searching, they found the house. Cautiously approaching, they found it quite empty. They searched the small home and found that it had been ravaged by time and perhaps by several forest animals. The door had scratches on it, the windows were glittering shards on the creaking floor boards. </p><p></p><p>Damek paced back and forth across the room considering the possibilities of the woodsman’s whereabouts when he noticed that his pacing was creating an odd rhythm. Creaking, then no creaking, then creaking again. He stopped where the creaking did, and upon close inspection found that there was an well concealed trapdoor. Kerim was able to get it open by sliding two pins along the lines of the door, undoing the latch that locked it. They traveled down the earthen stairs to the cellar, which seemed to be made with little more than a shovel.</p><p></p><p>Before them was an empty bow rack, a cabinet, and a desk. The cabinet was empty, but the desk was not. Within it was a journal, which Lucien began to carefully flip through, his eyes slowing only to turn the pages with care. Saryna, left to her devices, casually looked at the empty bow rack, her slender fingers slowly moving across the wooden holders. At the lowest set of holders however, she felt something—despite not seeing anything, she felt a wooden bow there. Slowly, she picked it up with both hands, amazed that she was grasping something that, to all senses but touch, was not there. She grasped as though she were in combat, and suddenly it appeared before her—a beautiful composite longbow of ancient oak. Beautiful elven runes ran in rivulets down the sides of the bow towards her hands, and as her hand held it those runes felt the elven blood flowing through her fingers. They glowed a fey green.</p><p></p><p>Lucien closed the book. “Well, this is what I have gathered. Jerik the woodsman did indeed live here until a month or two ago when the journal ends. Sadly this tells us little of the party, as it begins little over two years ago, but it does give an indication as to his possible current whereabouts. In his time here, it seems he guarded Eastwater and ventured there monthly. While there, he heard stories of some people being lost in the forest, and then accounts of a dark monster killing animals in the night. Hunting dogs were lost on occasion as well. He found a cave, and his last entry stated that he would, despite his fears, enter it and attempt to do battle with the beast. </p><p></p><p>“If the beast be intelligent, perhaps he is alive. If he killed it, perhaps the trail will continue on from there. If he is dead, well—perhaps he will have on his person something that will help us rid Tobias of his duties.” He finished.</p><p></p><p>“Righto. Sounds like a plan to me.” Kerim nodded, looking around the room. “Hey, where is Saryna?”</p><p></p><p>They all looked around. Saryna, standing in plain sight with the bow, was somewhat perturbed, especially as she was holding a bow that was glowing green. “I’m right here.” She said.</p><p></p><p>They looked at the bow rack.</p><p></p><p>“I didn’t know you had such skills in ventriloquism!” Kerim seemed overjoyed, tip-toe-ing towards the closed cabinet.</p><p></p><p>“I’m not in the cabinet Kerim.”</p><p></p><p>“My, apparently you can see through wood now as well!?” he grinned, trying to move even quieter.</p><p></p><p>Realizing her situation, armed with a bow that apparently was making her invisible, Saryna could do little but grin at the possibilities. This could make me a tidy sum, she thought.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="clark411, post: 695032, member: 4768"] Kerim and Damek walked and very nearly stumbled, respectively, into the common room of the tavern. Quickly spotting Lucien, Merileene, and Saryna at one of the tables, Kerim hopped up onto one of the seats, his hand darting up to indicate “one of whatever you think I want you to get me to drink with your incredible mind reading skills” to the nearest passing waitress, who huffed slightly passing this information onto the barmaid who was actually responsible for the group’s table. After a few minutes, a flagon of ale arrived and Kerim was half way through the replay of his conversation with Tobias. Damek, who was somewhat being put on the sidelines of the story by the halfing’s bravado, seemed to care little—instead running through his mind the possibility of this tavern serving tea. By the time Kerim had finished the story, he had also finished his ale, and Merileene was softly laughing at the look on Damek’s face as the only dainty cup in the entire tavern was placed infront of the elf with steaming hot tea in it. Damek mumbled under his breath and softly moved his fingers over his tea—little lines of light flowing softly behind. The prestidigitation went off without a hitch, cooling the tea to tolerable levels. He smiled. Unlike Damek, Lucien seemed to be all business. “So, you walked away with little more than giving his heart a few jabs. I suppose that’s beneficial.” “Well, they were the only types of jabs I could bring myself to give him. Anyways, I doubt we could have taken the Barik Baree by force if we wanted to.” “Indeed. Perhaps we could sneak in there when he is out getting himself as drunk as Damek.” Lucien eyed the elf, who was quite rosy in the cheeks with a rather empty cup before him. “Drunk? From tea?” Saryna began to laugh, drawing a few looks from the rest of the crowd. Damek muttered “You should try it, milady.” Merileene smiled, and then returned to the issue at hand. “Well, I for one do not like the idea of stealing this spear. We don’t know enough to take it by force or stealth. If anything, we should be working to put all the pieces of this curious situation together. Why did Tobias’ father take the spear and what is so important about it that he keeps it? What happened to the other members of the group that helped him get the spear? Maybe they would have some insight.” The rest of the group looked at each other and then back to the usually silent Merileene. “I’m not one to often say this to priests, Meri—but you really should pipe up more often!” Lucien said. Before Merileene could so much as blush and thank him, the rest of the group was up and walking out of the tavern towards the Doctor’s office again—all except for Damek. Merileene slowly helped him up and they followed the others. The doctor welcomed them into his office again and barely had time to offer Lucien a hole in his head to help the evil spirits and bad humors escape when Kerim interjected “The others! What do you know about them?” “What others?” the doctor asked, quite confused. “Those who Tobias’ father Diario traveled with. We need any information you could provide.” Somewhat flustered, the doctor replied “Well, Diario traveled with a four companions. One of them apparently died to an arrow on their final journey into the orcish lands. Sadly the could not recover his body as the orcs chased them. None of them even saw it. Then there was Jerik, the woodsman. He retired to the east, and I believe he lives now in the forest. The other two, one was an elven woman and the other I can hardly remember at all. The elven woman refused all of my treatments as barbarism, I remember that much. The man, I think his name was Davion, Davion Tir. He never seemed to need any of my healing anyway. The others would tell me stories about how nothing bothered him, no combat alarmed him, and how he was always as smooth as a morning pond in quiet weather. Then there was Meiir-- he was quite shifty it seemed; nothing ever got past that boy. He was a goodly fellow though, wouldn't hurt a fly even if he seemed rather terse at times. The only one around here though is Jerik. Davion returned to the city of Shard, the elven woman vanished, and Meiir died on their last adventure.” “Right, right. So Jerik the woodsman lives in the forest to the east.” Kerim said hurriedly. “Yes.” The doctor nodded. With a quick thanks and a handshake or two, the halfling and the others were out the door again. An hour later, they were packing their things despite the dwarf’s grumblings. “We’re leaving half an hour before supper to find some ancient woodsman in Salacero Forest? Tonight’s special is mutton! Kerim talk sense into them!” “Sorry Master Dwarf, tonight all we’re eating is trail rations.” “Blast it all!” the Dwarf stomped a foot in a manner nearly childlike. By nightfall, the party was standing before the gates of Eastwater, a town of modest proportions and extravagant wooden fortifications. Nestled in a misty, forested valley, the people had exactly two things in excess: superstitions, and enough wood to guard themselves against any of them that possibly were real. One of the guards atop the gates ordered them to halt, and then tossed down one of the arrows from his quiver to them. “Pick it up, and hold it against your skin for us to see. Aye, that’s it—put a torch up to it so we can see aye?” Each of them did as told, and the dwarf asked curiously: “Why do they use silver arrow heads?” Lucien smirked a bit “I think these folk fear myths of things that pray upon men in the night. Werewolves perhaps. Quaint.” They were allowed in town, and found their way to the nearest tavern, hoping to ask people where Jerik the woodsman lived. The Tavern itself, called The Grinning Goblin, welcomed them warily. Passing under cloves upon cloves of garlic, and past several posts upon which flasks labled “holy water” were hanging, they sat down at the bar and began the methodical task of pressing the bartender for questions. When they were pleased, they inquired about some ale, dinner, and rooms. The dwarf was content, as a plate of mutton was placed before him. “Fancy the luck!” he smiled broadly beneath his beard. Morning came, and armed with the information they heard the previous night, they were off heading to the south and west several miles into the forest, searching for a small cabin. After several hours of searching, they found the house. Cautiously approaching, they found it quite empty. They searched the small home and found that it had been ravaged by time and perhaps by several forest animals. The door had scratches on it, the windows were glittering shards on the creaking floor boards. Damek paced back and forth across the room considering the possibilities of the woodsman’s whereabouts when he noticed that his pacing was creating an odd rhythm. Creaking, then no creaking, then creaking again. He stopped where the creaking did, and upon close inspection found that there was an well concealed trapdoor. Kerim was able to get it open by sliding two pins along the lines of the door, undoing the latch that locked it. They traveled down the earthen stairs to the cellar, which seemed to be made with little more than a shovel. Before them was an empty bow rack, a cabinet, and a desk. The cabinet was empty, but the desk was not. Within it was a journal, which Lucien began to carefully flip through, his eyes slowing only to turn the pages with care. Saryna, left to her devices, casually looked at the empty bow rack, her slender fingers slowly moving across the wooden holders. At the lowest set of holders however, she felt something—despite not seeing anything, she felt a wooden bow there. Slowly, she picked it up with both hands, amazed that she was grasping something that, to all senses but touch, was not there. She grasped as though she were in combat, and suddenly it appeared before her—a beautiful composite longbow of ancient oak. Beautiful elven runes ran in rivulets down the sides of the bow towards her hands, and as her hand held it those runes felt the elven blood flowing through her fingers. They glowed a fey green. Lucien closed the book. “Well, this is what I have gathered. Jerik the woodsman did indeed live here until a month or two ago when the journal ends. Sadly this tells us little of the party, as it begins little over two years ago, but it does give an indication as to his possible current whereabouts. In his time here, it seems he guarded Eastwater and ventured there monthly. While there, he heard stories of some people being lost in the forest, and then accounts of a dark monster killing animals in the night. Hunting dogs were lost on occasion as well. He found a cave, and his last entry stated that he would, despite his fears, enter it and attempt to do battle with the beast. “If the beast be intelligent, perhaps he is alive. If he killed it, perhaps the trail will continue on from there. If he is dead, well—perhaps he will have on his person something that will help us rid Tobias of his duties.” He finished. “Righto. Sounds like a plan to me.” Kerim nodded, looking around the room. “Hey, where is Saryna?” They all looked around. Saryna, standing in plain sight with the bow, was somewhat perturbed, especially as she was holding a bow that was glowing green. “I’m right here.” She said. They looked at the bow rack. “I didn’t know you had such skills in ventriloquism!” Kerim seemed overjoyed, tip-toe-ing towards the closed cabinet. “I’m not in the cabinet Kerim.” “My, apparently you can see through wood now as well!?” he grinned, trying to move even quieter. Realizing her situation, armed with a bow that apparently was making her invisible, Saryna could do little but grin at the possibilities. This could make me a tidy sum, she thought. [/QUOTE]
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Dusk in the land of Fading Stars - Femerus' Story hour (updated 2-20-03)
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