D&D 5E The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter Three

[Otiroth]

Otiroth: Dragons

Childhood memories were deceptive creatures. Everything so much larger and brighter, painted in pastels and wreathed in the scent of campfires. Small threats grew to great dragons, and large threats withered into faint nightmares.

Otiroth had understood more and more, as the years went on. Memories changing slowly from smoky mysteries into a difficult reality.

He understood how much the other traders had sacrificed and risked to protect them. Why they hid away when the guards in their shining armor passed by. And the men that went into his mother's tent while he played out by the campfires.

But one memory remained; clear, but still somehow mystical. Magical. The first promise of power.

The two travelers had come into camp after trading for the evening was done. A woman with midnight hair and darker eyes, and a hulking, scaled man with an axe at his side.

The man had been covered in green scales! Otiroth had been so excited, that despite being ordered back to his tent, he had peeked through the gaps in the dangling canvas. He had watched. And even with the arrogance of hindsight, much of what he saw was still incomprehensible.

The woman had had curling horns- one of them broken. Her face had been frighteningly pale.

His mother walked out to meet the two. She was a dancer- elegant, gentle, always quick to spoil him, but her eyes when she talked to the two were something different and frightening. "You're here too soon. Leave."

And that, Otiroth still did not understand.

They had not left. Not immediately. The three had sat around the campfire for some time and talked, and Otiroth could not hear them from where he watched. He had thought himself well-concealed, but before the two had left, the woman's eyes had snapped in his direction. She looked right at him for one terrifying moment.

The woman had had black scales. Long claws. The smell of acid overwhelmed the familiar smell of the campfires.

Otiroth had ducked back inside his tent and under the covers.

But...

...he had thought she had wings, as well.

 

[daindarkspring]

Dain - Aftermath

Dain took a hard step backwards as the final creature was slain. He winced slightly at the pain in his chest, but his eyes were alight with the fire of victory. Retrieving his torch once again, he took a look around at his comrades before settling himself into a seated position atop a small boulder that had been dislodged long ago by some intrepid miner. They were all alive, even if some of them were shaken in different ways.

I will live to see her face again! And I swear by her milky skin that some bit of my past has returned! I can feel it in my hands, and in the weight of this sword! Like some small ray of light has pierced the darkness...

Sticking the torch in a cleft of the boulder, he set aside his sword and began inspecting his wounds with a practiced eye. The touch of Suru had mended it for the most part, though some tiny bit of blood remained. He would be fine.
<Medicine check=15>

Annit's approach and words made him look up at her. For a brief moment, he took her in. The smallest of smiles crossed his face and he answered in a quiet voice. "The blood is but little. My jerkin had the worst of it. We shall find what your father seeks, if we trust in our..."

When her eyes alighted upon his sword, he saw the change come over her face. He looked at the blade as well, noting the designs that had so recently been etched there by the Earth itself. By Essithea, perhaps. Grabbing the sword up, he turned it over and then back, giving the nimble thief a good look at it. His own eyes were blazing with interest, their attention on her.

"What do you know of these symbols? What do you know?" His voice was still low, and he leaned towards Annit as he asked the question.

 

[daindarkspring]

Dain - The Mere

There was a place, nestled at the bottom of a craggy mountain, where a timeless spring bubbled up into a wide and deep pool of still dark water. A blanket of algae floated on its surface, moving about as if by its own whim, forever shading half of the pool beneath its impenetrable mantle. Above it, ancient and twisted branches from massive trees reached upwards and and down, forming a labyrinth of living wood.

At the far end of the mere, tucked into the mountain and barely visible, was an entrance to a cave. Overhung with moss and massive ferns, it beckoned only to those who might be searching for a goddess who would call such a place home.

And so it beckoned to Dain.

He stood staring at it from across the pool of water, listening to ravens caw and to frogs croaking. Somewhere above him the sun was still shining, but its rays were nothing more than shadows in this place. Taking a small mushroom from a pouch at his side, he put it between his lips and bit down slowly, taking it in and beginning to chew it purposefully.

Essithea. I depart in the morning on a new purpose. Perhaps to remember. Perhaps to die. Will you show me yet some sliver of providence? Some tiny shred of hope?

Stripping off his jerkin, and then his boots and clothes, he laid them aside along with his sword and stood naked at the edge of the water. His bare feet sunk into dead leaves and rotting wood, the warmth of things dying and giving life rushed over his skin.

The algae on the water seemed to quiver, and a series of ripples spread out from the cave entrance. A raven, massive and menacing, sped down over the water with its wings outspread. Only at the last second did it rise up, narrowly missing Dain's face. He recoiled, his breath coming out in a gasp.

Beneath the water, he thought he saw her. Pale skin. Dark eyes. Drawing him in.

*Follow me. Find me. Know me.* The voice made him shake.

He took a step forward, and then another, descending into the black water. Symbols and sigils seemed to come alive on the surface, sparkling and glinting as they spun and twirled. Again, he saw her pale body, beneath the surface, her hair like flowing onyx as it was carried this way and then that way by the current, always just hiding what he longed to see.

Soon he was up to his neck, and then the water trickled into his mouth. With a mighty stroke, he gave himself to the water and to Essithea, gliding half-submerged towards the cave entrance.

Towards her.

His head sunk beneath the water, and he saw nothing but her eyes. When his lungs began to burn, he somehow breached the surface and gasped for air. He had reached the other side. The cave was before him. He collapsed out of the water, amid the ferns and the moss, laying there on his back with chest heaving for air.

She was above him now, her hair trailing across his body as it dangled down from around a face that was so beautiful in its life and in its death that he could utter no words. Her eyes. Her lips.

She slid away from him, despite his protests, and slowly began to descend into the cave, her perfect pale feet barely touching the slick rocks. Turning her head, she addressed him a final time.

*Will you bleed for me?*

Dain awoke with a start some time later. He was lying near his pile of clothes, shaking with cold and dampness. He could not bear to look at the cave entrance as he slowly got dressed and made his way back towards Kalair.

 

[Jeovanna]

Jeovanna- Pleasantries

Gnolls.

From the back balcony of her family's home, day or night, Jeovanna could see the tribe. They had hewn away an acreage of trees and built burrows and dens on the resulting mud. Colorful banners drifted in the wind, though she had never seen one of these banners last much longer than a fortnight. Bonfires were frequently raised, blazing even during the heat of summer.

Traders took the long route to avoid passing by their land.

Her parents talked about them over dinner, their disdain heavy in their voices.

"They fight constantly. Even this tribe. I'd hate to think what the really wild ones do," her mother sniffed.

Jeovanna sat at the far end of the table, jabbing at a piece of meat with her knife. She had heard that gnolls raided and pillaged and generally were too uncivilized even for the cosmopolitan citizens of the big city to accept. Yet these gnolls generally kept to themselves.

Some nights, their laughter and shrieking carried on the winds, though. Most nights.

They were filthy, fierce and most importantly, their every moment was steeped in reality.

That was why she snuck out most nights, to join them about their bonfires, to experience their reality for her own.

They accepted her. In truth, they may simply not have cared... but that in itself was acceptance. They'd scuffle and snarl at each other, snap and bite, and if she offended one of them, she had best be prepared to scuffle and fight as well. Talon marks and bite wounds would be carefully concealed under draping clothes before morning rose on another day of life under the roof of her father.

Again, and again, and again.

Tonight's festivities were even grander. The bonfire bigger, all of the tribe dancing or brawling or feasting. They coated their fur in red powder that made their dancing even more ferocious. Her skin, too.

It was a blur of fire and pure, distilled madness.

For that night; she was a member of the pack, and laughed along with them.

 

[Jeovanna]

Jeovanna: Aftermath

Jeovanna had to admit- the priest's healing was amazing. It released tension she'd been holding uselessly in her chest.

She would have to remember that. The slightest scrape, and she was off. No, she would not remember it. She would need to keep it under control.

The half-orc wandered away. She wondered; was what they said about half-orcs true? Hm. Hard to say, with him wearing so much armor.

The barbarian stayed quiet while the others mingled, but that was not to say she wasn't participating. No, she had a keen eye on everyone. This was her pack now, and while they may not have had a spiraling dancing about the flames to solidify it... they had time yet.

So long as they did not die down here.

 

[Metea]

Metea: Aftermath

Mm.

Metea licked her lips, then glanced back towards the others. "Do you all smell that? Smells like... more magic. And old corpses, maybe! But not much with meat, I think."

To be fair, she spent a lot of time down in the catacombs. That was to say, she didn't spend much time around freshly dead bodies- that was more a cleric thing, last rites and all. In retrospect, maybe this wasn't a 'to be fair' moment? They were both kind of questionable, and the fact that she recognized it didn't make it any better...

Metea licked her lips again, then waved one hand at the cavern floor. A faint, flickering image appeared- hardly visible- a hand!

It'd skitter across the ground. Then hop up and pinch Otiroth's bum.

Metea turned back to watch the cavern.

<Spellcasting: Cantrip. Mage Hand>

 

[Otiroth]

Otiroth: Aftermath

Otiroth's blood still boiled, but if he focused, he could bring a bit of cooling refreshment to it all... still, none of it was uncomfortable. In truth, he felt incredible.

He remained watching the way they had come, using Dancing Lights to keep things relatively well lit. If something came at them, they'd have at least a little bit to react to it.

"How much further do these caverns go?" Otiroth mused- he didn't expect anyone would actually have the answer. "We may encounter whatever is animating skeletons yet. And i-iyt!"

Otiroth turned. He caught Metea's sly look, attempting to act all innocent!

The sorcerer grinned. The woman was tenacious. She bloomed with magic like a rose. Otiroth snapped his fingers, and a few tinny little music notes drifted through the air, as if played on a gnomish music box that simply wasn't there- the song was a familiar one to both of them, having been something that some bards had been playing when they'd first officially 'met.'

But, he had watch to get to... otherwise, they might've had more fun...

...odd, how being down in a cramped, terrifying dungeon let them be themselves!

<Spellcasting- cantrip- prestidigitation>

 

[97mg]

Annit: Aftermath

“Know?”

Annit took her eyes off the sword and saw that Dain had a strange, almost pleading expression upon his face.

“Wait,” she replied. “Let me see again.”

She dared to reach out a finger and lightly touch a section of black decorative steel near the blade’s hilt. Here, interwoven patterns in the folding of an object unknown, added to a blacksmith’s iron, converged in a loop. Within the center lay a vague outline. It could have looked like anything really, but to Annit the image was clear.

---

One summer early in her youth, Annit and her Father took leave from Kalair and the protection of it's fields to make a long journey by foot. The southern fringe of Cilat. Much of the travel was a quiet and contemplative time. They traveled light, cept for a heavy burden of grief. It was dark news they were to bring Venna, her dear old grandmother. News that a mother had outlived a daughter. Word that he who was to be Annit’s younger brother had been born still, mother joining him in the heavens not long after.

“Come,” her father had said kindly many days later, as they made their way back home. “Your grandmother said we must go this way.” It was certainly a detour. Home lay to the west upon a gravel road, however she quietly left the path with him, inching into a bushland which thickened with every step. They were heading towards the sea. Brambles clawed at their ankles. Irritating seedpods clung to their boots and the hem of her dress, but Annit knew better than to complain. She was too engrossed in loss to care. Finally they came to a track, nothing more than a line of dirt in truth, and after hours of plodding forth into nightfall, finally stopped to hear the sounds of rushing water somewhere ahead.

---

“A sparrow,” Annit whispered. “This is carved in the root of a tree at the summit of Sparrow Falls.”

She hesitated then, almost choking on something.

“It is a place... people of my family go, an old tradition. If… if unable to visit a loved ones true resting place, someone of kin goes there to lay a twist of your hair upon the water. It is said that their goodbye, thanks and respect then travels by river to the sea, and out to the afterlife in the waters beyond.”

 

[Carthum One-Tusk]

Carthum One-Tusk: aftermath

The chattering of the others faded into the background as Carthum knelt and let his soul reach out to his god.

Suru's priesthood taught that there was truly no wrong way to show deference; only greed or vanity would anger their god. Suru had seen some priests go into the great chapel and spend only a few moments staring up at the Light Everlasting before heading on. Carthum, though, had found great succor in simply being able to kneel and open himself to his truth. It might have taken longer, but it was time well-spent.

It as a rest for both body and soul.

Suru's guidance came through to him like a burning candle, perhaps no greater than before, but he felt it all the more keenly here, in the dark. Suru's magic could be used not only to provide succor, but also to provide guidance and protection- to light up even the unseen.

And Suru's fury could turn the hideous undead from their path.

Yes. I understand. Praise Suru!

 

[daindarkspring]

Dain - Aftermath

Dain listened as Annit spoke, gauging her eyes and her expression for something she might be hiding or twisting. <Insight=6>

A sparrow? Is this what she actually sees, or what she wishes to see? She is a thief by trade, but does her penchant for stealing go beyond trinkets? I think she could steal a man's heart, that is for certain...she is a beauty. Even now, in this light, her collarbones are smooth as porcelain, her...damn it, man...you're staring!

"A sparrow?" He regained some composure he might have lost, finding her eyes again. "Or perhaps you see what you wish to see?" Then he grunted out a small laugh. "Or perhaps we are kin, you and I? Twins separated at birth that the immortals deign to reunite so that we may seek out and bury some ancient hero who was our progenitor, a great king whose bones lie unconsecrated upon some foreign soil while his soul wanders, lamenting its pitiful end." Pulling back his sword, he gave it a quick wipe against an edge of the boulder before sheathing it.

His sarcasm was brief and then it vanished. It was borne of his own personal frustration, nothing more. He envied Annit her memories, unsettling as they seemed to be. He nodded in thanks to her. "I thank you for your insight, Annit. If I live long enough to try, I will find this tree you speak of and seek my goddess there so that she may grant me sight and knowledge. And if, by fate or chance, I can aid some quest of yours, I shall do so."