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Adventures in the Eastern Provinces
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 7588797" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>Once out of their lands, our heroes, according to Moab, have a journey of around 200 miles ahead of them. But the enchanter promises that it will be worth it. He tells them that the Delphinate is a magical place where the arcane arts have been harnessed for the good of society. “Our streets are lit at night,” he claims, “by magic. Everywhere, the influence of the intelligentsia is clear.”</p><p></p><p>The ruling class, he continues, is wizards. In fact, if you aren't a wizard, you can't become a citizen. </p><p></p><p>“What about sorcerers?” asks Karl. </p><p></p><p>Moab sniffs. “Someone who can blindly tap into arcane energies is hardly worthy of the same consideration as someone who spends years of study to learn precise control over those energies. If you give a baby a set of cymbals, it will certainly make noise. But a trained player can create <em>music.</em>”</p><p></p><p>“What about clerics?” asks Shar. </p><p></p><p>Moab sniffs again. “You mean warlocks?” Glancing at her, he adds, “No offense.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>They skirt the Pale Woods, having heard rumors that they are haunted and having no desire to deal with such things unnecessarily. They'd rather have an easy, uneventful journey across the rolling plains, even if they must sometimes fight through grasses taller than Shifty's head. Finally, the desert comes into view. Surrounding it are large stone monuments, spaced a mile apart, forming a visible boundary. Each monument shows a male eladrin wizard, a rogueish looking halfling and a dwarven monk with an inscription reading, “LET THIS BE A GRIM REMINDER OF THE COST OF DEFYING THE SWORD EMPEROR.” </p><p></p><p>“I'm pretty sure that those are three of the Sword Emperor's old companions,” Karl states. “The elf was Baron Lillamere. The halfing was Gerontius, called the Invisible Blade. And the dwarf was the Perfect Master Chakar.”</p><p></p><p>“It's called the Grim Reminder,” says Moab. He gestures to the desert beyond. “The desert is called the Warning. It's the result of magical conflict. The Sword Emperor and his allies unleashed tremendous energies here to quash a rebellion.”</p><p></p><p>As they move into the Warning, they find that the ground is composed of gritty particles larger and rougher than sand. Moab continues to narrate as they travel. “The peculiar material underfoot formed when the former soil melted and was blasted by epic magic. Over the subsequent centuries, dust and other particles blew in on the wind and stabilized the underlayer.” </p><p></p><p>Some hardy succulents and cacti grow in the desiccated ground, but a lot of the desert looks relatively lifeless. Periodically, the party passes the skeletal remains of great war machines or structures.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The desert is not as lifeless as it first appears. Giant yellow scorpions, tail stingers dripping venom, emerge from behind shifting dunes to attack the travelers, seeking an easy meal. Some are the size of goats; the larger specimens are more like the size of an elephant. </p><p></p><p>They find the meal more difficult to obtain than expected, and are soon slain or driven back. The party is somewhat battered, but nobody is badly wounded, and after some tending from Shar, they continue their journey.</p><p></p><p><em>Warlock indeed,</em> she thinks.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Far more dangerous than the scorpions, the desert's self-proclaimed master arrives from the sky. Sparks burst from its claws as it walks toward the group; when if flexes its great wings, the grit around it dances, raising a haze in the air.</p><p></p><p>A dragon. Huge, dark blue, with gleaming intelligent eyes and a large horn on the end of its snout.</p><p></p><p>Kane draws his sword, but Shar restrains him. “That thing looks too big for us to handle,” she murmurs.</p><p></p><p>“Yes!” Shifty proclaims. “Let's parlay!”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The dragon is, fortunately, not hungry. Yet it claims ownership of the desert, and demands tribute to allow the group to walk across its lands. </p><p></p><p>“How did you handle this before?” Karl mutters to Moab. </p><p></p><p>The wizard looks back at him. “I paid it.”</p><p></p><p>Shar, Sepia, and Karl flatter the dragon, and the group unloads a substantial amount of money and residuum as tribute. </p><p></p><p>“Unsatisfactory,” it booms.</p><p></p><p>They add a collection of minor magic items in their collective possession, the kinds of things that are bound for disenchantment and recycling into more residuum. Instead, they become part of the group's offering.</p><p></p><p>“Hmm,” the dragon rumbles. It measures them with its eyes, inhales their scent. </p><p></p><p>Finally, it announces, “This is a very light tribute. Nonetheless, I will accept it. But should you cross my territory again, you must bring a <em>proper</em> offering, or I will devour you!”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, Your Mightiness!” cries Shifty, cutting Kane off before he can bark back at the dragon. “We would not dare defy you!”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Four days into the Warning, the group's path winds past a leveled sandstone building. Large drifts of sand cover much of it, and both its walls and ceiling have fallen. Huge piles of sandstone blocks are scattered near it. Large cacti, bristling with needles, grow here and there in the area.</p><p></p><p>It seems like a good place to stop for lunch, but this proves to be incorrect. As the group settles in, something huge stirs beneath the sands. It erupts forth, covered in sand, wrapped in tattered bandages, with a cephalopod head and long tentacles wrenching its way free of the sands. </p><p></p><p>“Run!” cries Karl. “I recognize that thing!”</p><p></p><p>The party stands and begins to flee. “What is it?” asks P-69.</p><p></p><p>“It's an ancient war weapon called a crawling apocalypse! We had better hope that it isn't able to move for long...”</p><p></p><p>There is a sudden howl of winds, rushing away from the crawling apocalypse. They are so strong that they knock half of the party prone. </p><p></p><p>The monster rushes forward, its tentacles lashing all around it.</p><p></p><p>Seeing that half of their number can't escape it, Shifty, Sepia, and P-69 stop their flight and turn to face the monster. But as they approach it, apocalyptic terror grips them, and they can feel their life draining as they come closer to it. Those struck by its tentacles also find their life force ebbing, dwindling away moment by moment.</p><p></p><p>On the bright side, Shar immediately finds that it is fairly vulnerable to radiant damage, and her <em>iron to glass</em> prayer shifts the odds in the group's favor. And with both P-69 and Kane standing toe to toe with the monster, the party is finally able to prevail after a long, hard battle.</p><p></p><p>After the fight is won, our panting heroes slump down in the sand. With a groan, Shifty says, “I could barely hurt that thing!” </p><p></p><p>Kane grins. “You should have come closer.”</p><p></p><p>“No thanks!”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The grit underfoot is easier to trudge through than sand would be, but it gives and crumbles underfoot far more than the ground the party is used to. The journey is more taxing and slower than anyone other than Moab (a desert native) could have expected. </p><p></p><p>Though they do find occasional life- mostly lizards and desert insects- most of the time, their only company is each other. They continue to get to know Moab, whose excitement at nearing his home is palpable. He isn't trying to be insulting, but the way he refers to the Delphinate makes it clear that he views it as the last bastion of civilization, and sees their lands as savage and primitive. </p><p></p><p><em>Perhaps he is right,</em> Karl thinks. <em>We'll see soon enough, I guess.</em> </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>As they struggle to get a fire to burn with the limited fuel available that night, they meet a group of strange creatures- insects, but humanoid, and taller than a human. These strange mantis-warriors call themselves thri-kreen. The contact is peaceful, with the insect folk informing the group that a small enclave of elven griffon-riders called the Kree are ahead, at the far edge of the Warning. </p><p></p><p>“Perhaps we can make an alliance with them,” Shifty says.</p><p></p><p>Moab nods. “Or at least get them to ferry us across the Ravaged Belt.”</p><p></p><p>“What's that?”</p><p></p><p>“Another region devastated by magical attack. It's a series of old mountains that is now just malformed rock twisted into jagged spires, deep gulleys and the like. It's full of a variety of monsters. It is best to avoid it if possible, so a ride across would be exactly what we need.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Several days later, the adventurers finally reach the far edge of the Warning, where the Ravaged Belt lies. It is more foreboding than Moab's description could have prepared them for. Many of the twisted peaks look like they were melted by the fury of the magic unleashed upon them. Strange streamers of stone look almost like strands of molten taffy frozen mid-drip. Deep clefts and strange pock marks mar the ground. </p><p></p><p>Fortunately, the Kree elves soon arrive, wheeling overhead on their griffons. After a few moments of observing from above, two of them descend. These prove to be a pair of blue-skinned sisters named Tarr-Kal and Nima-Kal. They inquire as to the party's business, goals, and destination; though polite, they are cool. </p><p></p><p>“We're going back to my homeland,” Moab tells them. “To the Delphinate.”</p><p></p><p>“Your folk are not known for being especailly welcoming to outsiders,” Tarr-Kal observes.</p><p></p><p>“True, but I am a citizen on a mission.”</p><p></p><p>“Any chance you'd be willing to ferry us across the Ravaged Belt?” Shar asks.</p><p></p><p>“Since your alternative is to deal with the twisted monsters within,” the Kree responds, “we will help you- for a small fee.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Riding on the back of a griffon is exhilirating. The wind buffets Shifty's face, makes his eyes tear up. It's colder than he expected, especially given the heat of the desert. The thrill alone is worth the twenty gold the Kree demanded for each of the party's members, not to mention the fact that they are coming closer to their destination.</p><p></p><p>When the elves deposit the party back on the ground on the far side of the Ravaged Belt, our heroes thank them profusely. Shifty, in particular, can't get over how much <em>fun</em> the ride was.</p><p></p><p>“You've only got about sixty miles to go,” one of the Kree tells them. “Good luck.” And with that, the griffons take the air again, banking away back to the north. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>They keep their distance from the foul smoke that rises from the Basin of Fire and its lava pools. Karl ponders the enormity of the magical destruction unleashed on and around the Warning. <em>Perhaps the golden age of magic had its drawbacks, but I'd still rather that we had access to the kinds of arcane powers that were available during the empire's height.</em> He sighs. <em>Maybe when we reach the Delphinate...</em></p><p></p><p>It takes a few more days of travel, and they finally reach it- a far more humble sight than they had expected. The buildings are largely of white sandstone, and there are few people milling about.</p><p></p><p>“Our leader is called the Delphin,” Moab explains. “He or she is the most powerful wizard in the Delphinate. His or her true identity is unknown- there's a magical artifact that he or she wears to ensure that. But you probably won't meet him or her.” A slight smile traces over his lips. “I will be taking you to meet General Habrael, though- my father.”</p><p></p><p>The first sign that the Delphinate is unusual comes when the group approaches the gate and finds it flanked by two large stone statues. As the party moves toward the entrance, the statues animate. </p><p></p><p>Moab strides forward and holds up a hand. He speaks a series of letters and numbers, and the golems move back into place. He turns and gestures the others forward. “It's okay. They won't attack you now.”</p><p></p><p>“Impressive,” mutters Shar. </p><p></p><p>Once on the streets, it becomes more obvious that this place is unlike any other. </p><p></p><p>First, the people walking along, while largely garbed in desert-appropriate clothing, often carry wands, staves, orbs, or other implements. Some of their clothing is obviously magical, too; one woman hurrying along wears a robe with many eyes sewn in it. These eyes move, watching everything around the woman suspiciously. A gnomish man is surrounded by a cloud of orbiting stones and spheres. A pair of eladrin wear matching glowing tiaras. Some of these people are accompanied by obvious familiars or strange constructs, too. </p><p></p><p>But there are more signs than just the people that this place is replete with magic. Several businesses have animated images dancing out front, advertising their wares. Others glow or change color as the party watches. </p><p></p><p>And there is another thing, which doesn't become apparent for some time, but is present as soon as they enter the city: all the streets run very slightly downhill. Even if one reverses direction, he or she is always walking very slightly downhill, no matter which direction he or she travels. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>General Habrael is a severe-looking older man with a squared off beard and a hawk nose. Upon Moab's arrival with the group, a proud smile walks out onto his face for an instant before hesitating, getting stage fright, and retreating.</p><p></p><p>“Excellent work, Captain,” he says. </p><p></p><p>Moab introduces the party to his father, who offers to give them some time to rest and refresh themselves before they discuss matters or diplomacy. Though he refrains from wrinkling his nose, his meaning is clear: <em>Take a bath, you filthy savages.</em> But our heroes don't take offense. After all, General Habrael is correct- with the exceptions of Moab, Karl, and Shifty, who used cantrips to assist their hygiene, the party is a stinky, dirty mess.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>After the others depart to refersh themselves, Moab lingers. Once they are alone, his father states, “I'm proud of you, son.” </p><p></p><p>Moab stands at attention.</p><p></p><p>Habrael proceeds to debrief Moab, listening intently as the enchanter explains his journey north and back, including describing the events at the Garden of Graves and the party's quest to find and stop Quah-Nomag. “That's part of why they came south with me, sir- to see what they can find out about the cult of Tenebrous.”</p><p></p><p>“Interesting. There is some evidence that the Tenebrous cult has been responsible for a few missing people. It would do us good to know more about them, and if they're dangerous, to be rid of them.”</p><p></p><p>He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a packet wrapped in silk. </p><p></p><p>“I have three things for you here,” General Habrael continues, unwrapping the bundle. “First, for successfully establishing diplomatic relations with one of the only bastions of civilization to survive the Six-Fingered Hand, I am promoting you to Major.”</p><p></p><p>From the bundle, he hands Moab his new uniform and rank insignia. Moab doesn't say anything, but he stands just a little straighter and his eyes burn a touch brighter. </p><p></p><p>“Second, there's this.” He hands Moab a book. “This is an <em>agent's journal.</em> I have its mate. What you write in it will also appear in my copy. The effect is one-sided, however; you won't see what appears in my copy, so I can't reply to you.”</p><p></p><p>“Understood, sir!”</p><p></p><p>“Finally, on a more personal note, now that you've proven yourself to me, I have this for you.” General Habrael passes Moab an intricately worked electrum ring. The band is traced with arcane glyphs. The dominant rune is their family mark. “This was crafted by your grandfather Moab, for whom you're named. Use it well.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, sir!”</p><p></p><p>“Now go get some rest,” Moab's father orders. “Tomorrow, you start your search for Tscire Nobi.”</p><p></p><p><strong><em>Next Time:</em></strong> Our heroes begin looking for the hideout of the Cult of Tenebrous!</p><p></p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-size: 12px">MOAB'S RING (Level 15 Rare)</span></strong></p><p><em>This intricately worked ring of electrum is traced with arcane glyphs, but the dominant rune is the family mark of Moab's line. </em></p><p> Lvl 15 --- 25,000 gp</p><p><strong>Property:</strong> You gain a +1 item bonus to all defenses.</p><p><strong>Property:</strong> You reduce the severity of critical hits on you by 1d6. (If the severity is reduced to 0 or below, the critical hit still occurs.)</p><p><strong>Power (Encounter * Healing, Teleportation):</strong> Minor action. You teleport 5 squares and spend a healing surge.</p><p><strong>Power (Daily):</strong> Immediate interrupt. Trigger: You are hit by an attack. Effect: You gain resist all 10 until the end of your next turn.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 7588797, member: 1210"] Once out of their lands, our heroes, according to Moab, have a journey of around 200 miles ahead of them. But the enchanter promises that it will be worth it. He tells them that the Delphinate is a magical place where the arcane arts have been harnessed for the good of society. “Our streets are lit at night,” he claims, “by magic. Everywhere, the influence of the intelligentsia is clear.” The ruling class, he continues, is wizards. In fact, if you aren't a wizard, you can't become a citizen. “What about sorcerers?” asks Karl. Moab sniffs. “Someone who can blindly tap into arcane energies is hardly worthy of the same consideration as someone who spends years of study to learn precise control over those energies. If you give a baby a set of cymbals, it will certainly make noise. But a trained player can create [i]music.[/i]” “What about clerics?” asks Shar. Moab sniffs again. “You mean warlocks?” Glancing at her, he adds, “No offense.” *** They skirt the Pale Woods, having heard rumors that they are haunted and having no desire to deal with such things unnecessarily. They'd rather have an easy, uneventful journey across the rolling plains, even if they must sometimes fight through grasses taller than Shifty's head. Finally, the desert comes into view. Surrounding it are large stone monuments, spaced a mile apart, forming a visible boundary. Each monument shows a male eladrin wizard, a rogueish looking halfling and a dwarven monk with an inscription reading, “LET THIS BE A GRIM REMINDER OF THE COST OF DEFYING THE SWORD EMPEROR.” “I'm pretty sure that those are three of the Sword Emperor's old companions,” Karl states. “The elf was Baron Lillamere. The halfing was Gerontius, called the Invisible Blade. And the dwarf was the Perfect Master Chakar.” “It's called the Grim Reminder,” says Moab. He gestures to the desert beyond. “The desert is called the Warning. It's the result of magical conflict. The Sword Emperor and his allies unleashed tremendous energies here to quash a rebellion.” As they move into the Warning, they find that the ground is composed of gritty particles larger and rougher than sand. Moab continues to narrate as they travel. “The peculiar material underfoot formed when the former soil melted and was blasted by epic magic. Over the subsequent centuries, dust and other particles blew in on the wind and stabilized the underlayer.” Some hardy succulents and cacti grow in the desiccated ground, but a lot of the desert looks relatively lifeless. Periodically, the party passes the skeletal remains of great war machines or structures. *** The desert is not as lifeless as it first appears. Giant yellow scorpions, tail stingers dripping venom, emerge from behind shifting dunes to attack the travelers, seeking an easy meal. Some are the size of goats; the larger specimens are more like the size of an elephant. They find the meal more difficult to obtain than expected, and are soon slain or driven back. The party is somewhat battered, but nobody is badly wounded, and after some tending from Shar, they continue their journey. [i]Warlock indeed,[/i] she thinks. *** Far more dangerous than the scorpions, the desert's self-proclaimed master arrives from the sky. Sparks burst from its claws as it walks toward the group; when if flexes its great wings, the grit around it dances, raising a haze in the air. A dragon. Huge, dark blue, with gleaming intelligent eyes and a large horn on the end of its snout. Kane draws his sword, but Shar restrains him. “That thing looks too big for us to handle,” she murmurs. “Yes!” Shifty proclaims. “Let's parlay!” *** The dragon is, fortunately, not hungry. Yet it claims ownership of the desert, and demands tribute to allow the group to walk across its lands. “How did you handle this before?” Karl mutters to Moab. The wizard looks back at him. “I paid it.” Shar, Sepia, and Karl flatter the dragon, and the group unloads a substantial amount of money and residuum as tribute. “Unsatisfactory,” it booms. They add a collection of minor magic items in their collective possession, the kinds of things that are bound for disenchantment and recycling into more residuum. Instead, they become part of the group's offering. “Hmm,” the dragon rumbles. It measures them with its eyes, inhales their scent. Finally, it announces, “This is a very light tribute. Nonetheless, I will accept it. But should you cross my territory again, you must bring a [i]proper[/i] offering, or I will devour you!” “Yes, Your Mightiness!” cries Shifty, cutting Kane off before he can bark back at the dragon. “We would not dare defy you!” *** Four days into the Warning, the group's path winds past a leveled sandstone building. Large drifts of sand cover much of it, and both its walls and ceiling have fallen. Huge piles of sandstone blocks are scattered near it. Large cacti, bristling with needles, grow here and there in the area. It seems like a good place to stop for lunch, but this proves to be incorrect. As the group settles in, something huge stirs beneath the sands. It erupts forth, covered in sand, wrapped in tattered bandages, with a cephalopod head and long tentacles wrenching its way free of the sands. “Run!” cries Karl. “I recognize that thing!” The party stands and begins to flee. “What is it?” asks P-69. “It's an ancient war weapon called a crawling apocalypse! We had better hope that it isn't able to move for long...” There is a sudden howl of winds, rushing away from the crawling apocalypse. They are so strong that they knock half of the party prone. The monster rushes forward, its tentacles lashing all around it. Seeing that half of their number can't escape it, Shifty, Sepia, and P-69 stop their flight and turn to face the monster. But as they approach it, apocalyptic terror grips them, and they can feel their life draining as they come closer to it. Those struck by its tentacles also find their life force ebbing, dwindling away moment by moment. On the bright side, Shar immediately finds that it is fairly vulnerable to radiant damage, and her [i]iron to glass[/i] prayer shifts the odds in the group's favor. And with both P-69 and Kane standing toe to toe with the monster, the party is finally able to prevail after a long, hard battle. After the fight is won, our panting heroes slump down in the sand. With a groan, Shifty says, “I could barely hurt that thing!” Kane grins. “You should have come closer.” “No thanks!” *** The grit underfoot is easier to trudge through than sand would be, but it gives and crumbles underfoot far more than the ground the party is used to. The journey is more taxing and slower than anyone other than Moab (a desert native) could have expected. Though they do find occasional life- mostly lizards and desert insects- most of the time, their only company is each other. They continue to get to know Moab, whose excitement at nearing his home is palpable. He isn't trying to be insulting, but the way he refers to the Delphinate makes it clear that he views it as the last bastion of civilization, and sees their lands as savage and primitive. [i]Perhaps he is right,[/i] Karl thinks. [i]We'll see soon enough, I guess.[/i] *** As they struggle to get a fire to burn with the limited fuel available that night, they meet a group of strange creatures- insects, but humanoid, and taller than a human. These strange mantis-warriors call themselves thri-kreen. The contact is peaceful, with the insect folk informing the group that a small enclave of elven griffon-riders called the Kree are ahead, at the far edge of the Warning. “Perhaps we can make an alliance with them,” Shifty says. Moab nods. “Or at least get them to ferry us across the Ravaged Belt.” “What's that?” “Another region devastated by magical attack. It's a series of old mountains that is now just malformed rock twisted into jagged spires, deep gulleys and the like. It's full of a variety of monsters. It is best to avoid it if possible, so a ride across would be exactly what we need.” *** Several days later, the adventurers finally reach the far edge of the Warning, where the Ravaged Belt lies. It is more foreboding than Moab's description could have prepared them for. Many of the twisted peaks look like they were melted by the fury of the magic unleashed upon them. Strange streamers of stone look almost like strands of molten taffy frozen mid-drip. Deep clefts and strange pock marks mar the ground. Fortunately, the Kree elves soon arrive, wheeling overhead on their griffons. After a few moments of observing from above, two of them descend. These prove to be a pair of blue-skinned sisters named Tarr-Kal and Nima-Kal. They inquire as to the party's business, goals, and destination; though polite, they are cool. “We're going back to my homeland,” Moab tells them. “To the Delphinate.” “Your folk are not known for being especailly welcoming to outsiders,” Tarr-Kal observes. “True, but I am a citizen on a mission.” “Any chance you'd be willing to ferry us across the Ravaged Belt?” Shar asks. “Since your alternative is to deal with the twisted monsters within,” the Kree responds, “we will help you- for a small fee.” *** Riding on the back of a griffon is exhilirating. The wind buffets Shifty's face, makes his eyes tear up. It's colder than he expected, especially given the heat of the desert. The thrill alone is worth the twenty gold the Kree demanded for each of the party's members, not to mention the fact that they are coming closer to their destination. When the elves deposit the party back on the ground on the far side of the Ravaged Belt, our heroes thank them profusely. Shifty, in particular, can't get over how much [i]fun[/i] the ride was. “You've only got about sixty miles to go,” one of the Kree tells them. “Good luck.” And with that, the griffons take the air again, banking away back to the north. *** They keep their distance from the foul smoke that rises from the Basin of Fire and its lava pools. Karl ponders the enormity of the magical destruction unleashed on and around the Warning. [i]Perhaps the golden age of magic had its drawbacks, but I'd still rather that we had access to the kinds of arcane powers that were available during the empire's height.[/i] He sighs. [i]Maybe when we reach the Delphinate...[/i] It takes a few more days of travel, and they finally reach it- a far more humble sight than they had expected. The buildings are largely of white sandstone, and there are few people milling about. “Our leader is called the Delphin,” Moab explains. “He or she is the most powerful wizard in the Delphinate. His or her true identity is unknown- there's a magical artifact that he or she wears to ensure that. But you probably won't meet him or her.” A slight smile traces over his lips. “I will be taking you to meet General Habrael, though- my father.” The first sign that the Delphinate is unusual comes when the group approaches the gate and finds it flanked by two large stone statues. As the party moves toward the entrance, the statues animate. Moab strides forward and holds up a hand. He speaks a series of letters and numbers, and the golems move back into place. He turns and gestures the others forward. “It's okay. They won't attack you now.” “Impressive,” mutters Shar. Once on the streets, it becomes more obvious that this place is unlike any other. First, the people walking along, while largely garbed in desert-appropriate clothing, often carry wands, staves, orbs, or other implements. Some of their clothing is obviously magical, too; one woman hurrying along wears a robe with many eyes sewn in it. These eyes move, watching everything around the woman suspiciously. A gnomish man is surrounded by a cloud of orbiting stones and spheres. A pair of eladrin wear matching glowing tiaras. Some of these people are accompanied by obvious familiars or strange constructs, too. But there are more signs than just the people that this place is replete with magic. Several businesses have animated images dancing out front, advertising their wares. Others glow or change color as the party watches. And there is another thing, which doesn't become apparent for some time, but is present as soon as they enter the city: all the streets run very slightly downhill. Even if one reverses direction, he or she is always walking very slightly downhill, no matter which direction he or she travels. *** General Habrael is a severe-looking older man with a squared off beard and a hawk nose. Upon Moab's arrival with the group, a proud smile walks out onto his face for an instant before hesitating, getting stage fright, and retreating. “Excellent work, Captain,” he says. Moab introduces the party to his father, who offers to give them some time to rest and refresh themselves before they discuss matters or diplomacy. Though he refrains from wrinkling his nose, his meaning is clear: [i]Take a bath, you filthy savages.[/i] But our heroes don't take offense. After all, General Habrael is correct- with the exceptions of Moab, Karl, and Shifty, who used cantrips to assist their hygiene, the party is a stinky, dirty mess. *** After the others depart to refersh themselves, Moab lingers. Once they are alone, his father states, “I'm proud of you, son.” Moab stands at attention. Habrael proceeds to debrief Moab, listening intently as the enchanter explains his journey north and back, including describing the events at the Garden of Graves and the party's quest to find and stop Quah-Nomag. “That's part of why they came south with me, sir- to see what they can find out about the cult of Tenebrous.” “Interesting. There is some evidence that the Tenebrous cult has been responsible for a few missing people. It would do us good to know more about them, and if they're dangerous, to be rid of them.” He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a packet wrapped in silk. “I have three things for you here,” General Habrael continues, unwrapping the bundle. “First, for successfully establishing diplomatic relations with one of the only bastions of civilization to survive the Six-Fingered Hand, I am promoting you to Major.” From the bundle, he hands Moab his new uniform and rank insignia. Moab doesn't say anything, but he stands just a little straighter and his eyes burn a touch brighter. “Second, there's this.” He hands Moab a book. “This is an [i]agent's journal.[/i] I have its mate. What you write in it will also appear in my copy. The effect is one-sided, however; you won't see what appears in my copy, so I can't reply to you.” “Understood, sir!” “Finally, on a more personal note, now that you've proven yourself to me, I have this for you.” General Habrael passes Moab an intricately worked electrum ring. The band is traced with arcane glyphs. The dominant rune is their family mark. “This was crafted by your grandfather Moab, for whom you're named. Use it well.” “Yes, sir!” “Now go get some rest,” Moab's father orders. “Tomorrow, you start your search for Tscire Nobi.” [b][i]Next Time:[/i][/b] Our heroes begin looking for the hideout of the Cult of Tenebrous! [b][size=3]MOAB'S RING (Level 15 Rare)[/size][/b] [i]This intricately worked ring of electrum is traced with arcane glyphs, but the dominant rune is the family mark of Moab's line. [/i] Lvl 15 --- 25,000 gp [b]Property:[/b] You gain a +1 item bonus to all defenses. [b]Property:[/b] You reduce the severity of critical hits on you by 1d6. (If the severity is reduced to 0 or below, the critical hit still occurs.) [b]Power (Encounter * Healing, Teleportation):[/b] Minor action. You teleport 5 squares and spend a healing surge. [b]Power (Daily):[/b] Immediate interrupt. Trigger: You are hit by an attack. Effect: You gain resist all 10 until the end of your next turn. [/QUOTE]
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