(5.5e PBP) Red Wizards' Gambit (IC) Gr3

[FitzTheRuke]

Quicklinks:
RG Character Thread
OOC Discussion Thread

Red Wizard's Gambit: Introduction.
Location: Immilmar, Rashemen, 1501 DR.

Alone or in groups, several Adventurers recently arrived in the capital city of Rashemen: Immilmar, the seat of power for the nation's Iron Lord. Beyond its political importance as the heart of Rashemen, it was perhaps most famous for its great crafters, whose goods were renowned across the Unapproachable East and the Cold Lands. On a hill overlooking Immilmar was the Lord's citadel, built with the help of the mighty Wychlaran. Around the keep was the heart of Immilmar, comprised of stone buildings that were only found in the country's largest cities.

While the city's sprawl bustled with the stone and iron industry for which the city was famous, it was a charming part of the city that was highlighted by footpaths that wound around hills emerging with saplings. The homes that were built on and around these hills were constructed like those found throughout the rest of Rashemen: wood-and-stone lodges that featured steep-sloped roofs.

The waterfront on the western side of the city overlooked the great Lake Ashane, a cold and misty expanse that was always active with fishers and other boat-faring folk.

While Immilmar and the entire nation of Rashemen were ruled by the Iron Lord, known by Rashemaar as the Huhrong, the true power was held by the Wychlaran. It was by their permission that the great warrior-rulers were able to wield their power.

Merchants and traders from Thesk and the Cold Lands regularly traveled throughout Immilmar, selling wares and goods from their respective homelands. Foreigner traders would usually stay at Blackstone House, the finest inn. While traders and fisherman from nearby Rashemi villages who had come to the city to earn their keep would frequent the Guardian Witch, a cozy local inn.

Trade was overseen by the Carvers' Hall, the guildhouse of the city's skilled artisans. The bustling covered City Market was where anyone could buy local goods or products imported from outlanders. Worship could be found at the House of Bhalla, a longhouse and walled garden dedicated to Bhalla, the Rashemi name for the Earthmother, Chauntea.

Each Adventurer gathered their bearings, their wits, and their allies, with an unknown but exciting future ahead.

GM: Group 3: @Lidgar, @Neurotic, @Steve Gorak, @Voadam Please introduce your characters to the city, and perhaps each-other if you like, and I will speak of their mission next post.

 

[Voadam]

The large Northman breathed deep and smiled turning to his even taller companion. "Smell that? Roast lamb turning on a spit. I was right, if they export so much wool there is going to be lamb on the platter at the port! Halafast, one of the great joys of traveling is trying the local foods. That skate across the lake from Thesk was a breeze but it still left me with a sharp appetite. Now that we have delivered that cargo of timber we can get a proper bite to eat."

Like most times his blue eyes were sharp, taking in their surroundings and generally filled with delight in what he saw. The mix of local Rashemi as befit the capital and the hurly burly of different visitors to the port city on the Golden Way trade route. Far from his homeland, the ruddy-skinned older sailor was used to being an outsider and making himself at home as such.

He turned to the primal giant otter at his side, big as a man and sinuous as a furred serpent the spirit beast was as ever at his side. "And you, watch that tail. We are not making a getaway right now, we don't want another cart overturned. I will see what fish they have on offer as well."

Fresh off their small sailing vessel the Valkur's Fortune, Voadam ran his hand through his brown hair, he looked ready to sample the delights of Immilmar.

 

[Neurotic]

Thick, heavy door to the tavern holding the outside chill out swung slowly inward, small, lithe figure straining with both arms and full body push against it. She slips inside, the door slamming shut behind her, carrying pine-scented wind from outside.

Barely over 5 feet, a slip of a girl...no a woman, dark curls visible under fur cap shakes off the snow and dust of the long travel.

Myra stepped away from the door, tensing as the unaccustomed heat of the tavern hearth blasted her like a physical blow. For over a year, her world has been reduced to the stark, unforgiving isolation of frontier watch-posts; wind-scoured stone, frozen dirt, greased leather, and the stench of damp pine needles and unwashed bodies.

Seeing this many people packed under one roof, hearing loud, boisterous clamor of Rashemi and other voices, scraping of charis and clinking of mugs felt almost overwhelming to her senses.

She pulled back the hood of her heavy fur-lined cloak, rime frost disappearing quickly. Her expression tightened in familiar (to her) distaste of the rustic world. Her high-collared boots were crusted with yellow mud, and the thick, coarse pelts she was forced to wear weighted on her shoulders like lead armor. Beneath the greasy fur, her skin itched for the whisper-thin silk and warm sea breezes of her southern home. She hated every last thread of this barbarian garb. She hated the cold. Most of all, she hated how long she had been forced to pretend she was merely a mud-splattered drifter instead of a true daughter of High Wizards of Halruaa.

Stepping deeper into the room, she unbuttoned her cloak, revealing the worn travelers clothes beneath. As her fingers brushed the silver locket tucked into her tunic, a sudden familiar prickle of heat flared beneath it.

The Spellfire - held in check in the deep silence of icy wastes - stirred under the presence of so much life and warmth, flaring up like an ember under blowing wind. She took slow, meditative breath suppressing the power out of habit, lest some Ethran or sharp-eyed trader catches the whiff of magic.

Myra swept her gaze across the tavern's iron chandeliers and roaring hearth. She didn't want trouble. She just needed a dry bench, cup of mulled wine that didn't taste like pine resin, and a moment to think. She knew, as her discontent grew, the fire within will be harder to control and keep buried for much longer.

But for now, warm food and good wine, she splurged a bit to get imported one, suit and heavy from her homeland. And hearty meal to go with it.

Her letter of recall burned under her furs, but after year in the wild, she allowed herself a bit of indulgence.

Spoiler: Image

 

[Lidgar]

Halafast tore his gaze from the sea at the sound of Voadam’s voice.

“I could eat a horse!” bellowed the Northman with gusto and spittle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he sniffed at the docks. “Some roast lamb and bread will do us good after all the miserable hard biscuit. And I’m sure we’ll find some fresh fare for you too my friend,” he added with a glance to the giant otter.

The voyage, while long, had also been eye-opening. Halafast continued to be amazed by the sheer diversity of folk he encountered. Strange ways, stranger foods, and he was relishing it all. Voadam had proven to be a valuable guide, sharing with Halafast what he knew about the many merchant cities they visited.

At the same time, deep down, something continued to gnaw at him. A growing threat the animal spirits warned him about. And while he had not seen a sign of what that threat could be, he also knew that every new port was an opportunity - a chance to face that shadow, whatever it may be.

“Come! Let us find the source of this enchanting smell! Perhaps we’ll find a table for my bag of bones as well!” he said while jumping onto the gangplank.

 

[Steve Gorak]

The warmth of the Guardian Witch drew Aster inside, Maximilian fluttering from his shoulder to perch upon his head. The young-looking boy brushed the travel dust from his worn coat, his grey eyes surveying the crowded tavern with quiet curiosity. He had come to Immilmar with a purpose: rumours suggested that some of the senior Wychlaran might possess knowledge of Asteroth, the Forgotten Flame, and perhaps answers to the question that had haunted him for years. How could a god who once existed have been so thoroughly forgotten?

His journey to the city had already required a little discretion. As his boat approached the docks, Aster had sent Asteroth into a pocket dimension. A tiny sphinx familiar was unusual, perhaps, but explainable; a floating spark of divine power was rather harder to pass off as an ordinary travelling companion. Besides, his manifestation was hard to miss.

The smell of roast lamb reminded him that even the pursuit of forgotten gods required a full stomach. He noticed a woman in heavy furs, her discomfort with her surroundings difficult to miss. More intriguing, however, was the faint magical warmth that seemed to cling to her. Maximilian tilted his head, his ancient eyes narrowing slightly.

“Something interesting, perhaps?” Aster murmured to his familiar, before approaching the woman with a polite, almost disarmingly innocent smile.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind if I joined you? You look like someone who has travelled a very long way.” The small human seemed to be significantly more confident than his appearance led to believe. He pulled a chair, sat, and started to pet his winged cat that jumped on the table. "This is my friend Maximilan". The cat, not waiting a second, bowed respectfully and said in perfect common, "it is a pleasure to meet you my lady"!

 

[Neurotic]

Myra looked up quickly, jumpy response of someone waiting to be discovered by pursuers. She noticed the man approaching her only gave the name of his tresym. What a weird place to find a human, and young one at that, with the elven cat.

Her eyes narrow "And you are?"
She looks at Maximilian and does a double take, it wasn't a tresym...this was a celestial creature.
"Nice to meet you, Maximilian, I am Myra." she nods seriously "Does your pet needs feeding?" It is not clear to which one she's talking since she's still looking at the familiar.

OOC: I'll assume that anyone with Arcana would know possible familiars and how to recognize them

 

[Steve Gorak]

"Well met Myra, I am Aster." After a short pause, he adds, in a matter of fact tone "and Maximilian is a friend and companion, not really a pet. And by any chance, would you know anything about Asteroth, the Forgotten Flame? I am searching for information about this ancient god, and am hoping the Wychlaran could perhaps help."

 

[FitzTheRuke]

Whether on the street, passing through the markets, or in the common rooms of either of the Inns, it became quickly clear to the Adventurers that they had arrived just in time for a local event: A dedication ceremony to a new town well, and it's spirit-guardian statue. Made by local master-crafters out of rare marble, it would this day be revealed and presented to the people by one of the Wychlaran, the mighty order of masked Witches which held the real power in Rashemen. They both advised and appointed the Iron Lord, and more importantly, led the spiritual practices of the people.

 

[Neurotic]

"Well met Myra, I am Aster." After a short pause, he adds, in a matter of fact tone "and Maximilian is a friend and companion, not really a pet. And by any chance, would you know anything about Asteroth, the Forgotten Flame? I am searching for information about this ancient god, and am hoping the Wychlaran could perhaps help."

"I know what he is, ch...Aster. That was supposed to be joking, refering to you as a pet, because you introduced him before yourself."
Myra sighs
"I must be rusty, it didn't go over obviously. Sit. Eat. What brings you so far north of civilization?"

 

[Voadam]

“Come! Let us find the source of this enchanting smell! Perhaps we’ll find a table for my bag of bones as well!” he said while jumping onto the gangplank.

Voadam grinned as he walked along seeing the preparations for the local ceremony. "Ah that is good timing, festivals are a time of fortune as they say in Norland! We might even see them call on their spirits. That might be of interest later, but first things first. It was just a short walk down the gold road from Thesk but some roast always does a body good. The Guardian Witch it is!"