Aftermath II - Free Agents
Rybaer
First Post
Aftermath Epilogue
With the Shadow and his companion gone, the survivors finally had a moment to check on the fallen. Amblin and Feng were both dead. Amill, against all odds, was clinging to the last shred of life. They forced a couple minor curative potions down his throat just to stabilize him enough to be safely moved.
Nigel and Bommer searched through the chests and boxes in the room and were surprised to actually find a few of Nigel’s stolen possessions – his flaming long sword and magical quiver. The find was a very hollow victory against the losses they had suffered to retrieve the items. Zalman stashed away the two spellbooks that had been sitting out upon the small table.
Feng, who they had known for less than a day, was given a quick and respectful burial in the woods outside Timberline Keep. Rurik and Amblin, along with their possessions, were rounded up. Zalman had been studying the mechanics of magical teleportation for weeks now and finally felt he was ready to give it a try. Knowing that familiarity with the destination improved the chance for success, he teleported everyone to his parent’s shop in New Selmar.
The folks of New Selmar heralded the heroes’ return and mourned their losses. Per Rurik’s wishes, the group made no effort to have him resurrected and refused the offer made by the Church of Moradin at Mt. Goldforge. Most of Rurik’s items, particularly the shield of Moradin and the axe Sleet for their religious significance, were turned over to his uncle and the Church. A small shrine to Moradin was erected in New Selmar in Rurik’s honor.
Amblin’s wishes following his death were less well known. They had a local priest cast Speak with Dead upon him and learned that the monk did indeed wish to return and live out the rest of his life. No priest in New Selmar possessed that kind of magic, however, and the companions willing to ask the dwarves of Mt. Goldforge. Two months later, the Lady Shele was passing back through the region and they convinced her to do the job – for a suitable donation to the Church of Ehlonna.
Sufficiently put off by the dangers of adventuring, most of the group chose to settle down into a more mundane lifestyle. And so…
…Twenty years pass…
Zalman settled down and assumed the mantle of magic instructor. Erling Task remained the official head of the school in New Selmar, the role he’d assumed at Mistress Sangelais’ death, an arrangement that Zalman was content with. He frequently visited Shadykin, both to learn and teach at the burgeoning new Ironwood Academy.
After fifteen years, Erling Task decided that it was time for him to retire from his role as the community’s master wizard…to head south and study more advanced magic at one of the old academies. Zalman took over the position, though it had little impact upon his day to day life. Shadykin had passed away, and now Zalman spent most of his time in quiet study. He entertained a few romantic interests over the years, but his commitment to magic overrode his ability to commit to any woman and he never married.
Nigel’s remarkable skill with the bow became a precious commodity to the Selmarians. He trained dozens in precision archery and the neighboring orc tribes soon learned to respect and then fear the Selmarian forces. Nigel later led a delegation (primarily made up of old adventuring companions) to visit the reclusive elves of Laustriel, where he successfully opened up a limited trade agreement.
Thanks to Zalman’s ability to cast Teleport, Nigel has been able to develop his relationship with the lovely Countess Lohna Goldenoak Graebel of Vineyard Pass. While no wedding plans are in the works just yet, everyone on both ends suspects that it is inevitable. In twenty years of courtship, she still has yet to reveal everything about her past and the tragic loss of her husband. Elves, though, are known to both mourn and court on a much different time scale than humans.
Kisty Goodbread, the long time associate of the companions, surprisingly showed up in New Selmar only a couple weeks after the final encounter with the Shadow. She had taken her leave of the city of Water Break once and for all, hiring on as a guard on Trevor Aberdeen’s first caravan. Within six months, she married Bommer’s brother Jesper Greenly. The two of them opened a popular tavern where Rurik’s mug now sits in a place of honor on the fireplace mantle. Twenty years and four children later (Rurik, Boberil, May, and Annie), Kisty is about to take up a new career…
Bommer, who had finally lived his dream of adventuring, agreed with most of the others that it was really dangerous business. So, he retired into a relatively peaceful life of infiltrating orc camps as a scout and spy. His natural skills, combined with some potent magic items, made him the bane of the orcs for years. Between his intelligence gathering and Nigel’s archery trained squads, the orcs of the region finally gave up and left the Selmarians alone.
Bommer was married for a couple years, but an unfortunate incident ended the union. Bommer, while out on a scouting trip, caught the eye of a dryad. Bommer’s wife was never able to come to terms with his unwitting tryst with the fey and the marriage ended badly. Bommer has since enjoyed the quiet bachelor life – scouting, training, and swapping stories over mugs of ale.
Amblin, unlike the others, found that he was far too restless to settle down in the community. On top of that, the way his former master Chelis furiously refused to acknowledge Amblin’s existence soon grated on the young monk’s nerves. He wanted to travel and see the great cities in the south. Further, he wanted to follow up on hints that the style and philosophy of his training was called the School of the Springing Sphinx. The master of the Green Snake School told him search in the city of Tet Amir – some 2,000 miles to the southwest on the opposite side of the continent.
Amill, himself a wanderer, also felt that New Selmar lacked that feeling of home. He offered to join Amblin on his journey for a while. Appreciating the safety in numbers, Amblin accepted.
The unlikely pair traveled far and wide, picking up odd jobs and meeting countless people. Eventually, they reached Tet Amir and the home of a supposed master of the School of the Springing Sphinx. Unfortunately, the master was missing. After months of making inquiries, purchasing divinations and following leads, they learned that the master was a prisoner of the Yuan Ti kingdom of Resh, far in the interior of the Desert of Stars. Nearly two years of dangerous work later, Amblin and Amill finally rescued the old master and returned to Tet Amir.
Amblin professed an intense desire to learn more, to fully understand the way of the Springing Sphinx. The master replied that in order for him to teach Amblin anything, Amblin first had to learn how to teach. And with that, they were sent away.
A year later, the pair finally settled in the great city Vin Lidur. Amill used some of his money to open a weapons shop. Amblin took in three orphans as foster children and students. In mimicking Chelis’ teaching methods, Amblin did indeed learn much about how to teach, about himself, and about the philosophy that had been ingrained within him. He also learned that he harbored a deep-seated resentment toward his old master, though for reasons he didn’t fully understand. It was something he meant to ask the old master in Tet Amir if he ever made it back there.
The story does not end here, however...
With the Shadow and his companion gone, the survivors finally had a moment to check on the fallen. Amblin and Feng were both dead. Amill, against all odds, was clinging to the last shred of life. They forced a couple minor curative potions down his throat just to stabilize him enough to be safely moved.
Nigel and Bommer searched through the chests and boxes in the room and were surprised to actually find a few of Nigel’s stolen possessions – his flaming long sword and magical quiver. The find was a very hollow victory against the losses they had suffered to retrieve the items. Zalman stashed away the two spellbooks that had been sitting out upon the small table.
Feng, who they had known for less than a day, was given a quick and respectful burial in the woods outside Timberline Keep. Rurik and Amblin, along with their possessions, were rounded up. Zalman had been studying the mechanics of magical teleportation for weeks now and finally felt he was ready to give it a try. Knowing that familiarity with the destination improved the chance for success, he teleported everyone to his parent’s shop in New Selmar.
The folks of New Selmar heralded the heroes’ return and mourned their losses. Per Rurik’s wishes, the group made no effort to have him resurrected and refused the offer made by the Church of Moradin at Mt. Goldforge. Most of Rurik’s items, particularly the shield of Moradin and the axe Sleet for their religious significance, were turned over to his uncle and the Church. A small shrine to Moradin was erected in New Selmar in Rurik’s honor.
Amblin’s wishes following his death were less well known. They had a local priest cast Speak with Dead upon him and learned that the monk did indeed wish to return and live out the rest of his life. No priest in New Selmar possessed that kind of magic, however, and the companions willing to ask the dwarves of Mt. Goldforge. Two months later, the Lady Shele was passing back through the region and they convinced her to do the job – for a suitable donation to the Church of Ehlonna.
Sufficiently put off by the dangers of adventuring, most of the group chose to settle down into a more mundane lifestyle. And so…
…Twenty years pass…
Zalman settled down and assumed the mantle of magic instructor. Erling Task remained the official head of the school in New Selmar, the role he’d assumed at Mistress Sangelais’ death, an arrangement that Zalman was content with. He frequently visited Shadykin, both to learn and teach at the burgeoning new Ironwood Academy.
After fifteen years, Erling Task decided that it was time for him to retire from his role as the community’s master wizard…to head south and study more advanced magic at one of the old academies. Zalman took over the position, though it had little impact upon his day to day life. Shadykin had passed away, and now Zalman spent most of his time in quiet study. He entertained a few romantic interests over the years, but his commitment to magic overrode his ability to commit to any woman and he never married.
Nigel’s remarkable skill with the bow became a precious commodity to the Selmarians. He trained dozens in precision archery and the neighboring orc tribes soon learned to respect and then fear the Selmarian forces. Nigel later led a delegation (primarily made up of old adventuring companions) to visit the reclusive elves of Laustriel, where he successfully opened up a limited trade agreement.
Thanks to Zalman’s ability to cast Teleport, Nigel has been able to develop his relationship with the lovely Countess Lohna Goldenoak Graebel of Vineyard Pass. While no wedding plans are in the works just yet, everyone on both ends suspects that it is inevitable. In twenty years of courtship, she still has yet to reveal everything about her past and the tragic loss of her husband. Elves, though, are known to both mourn and court on a much different time scale than humans.
Kisty Goodbread, the long time associate of the companions, surprisingly showed up in New Selmar only a couple weeks after the final encounter with the Shadow. She had taken her leave of the city of Water Break once and for all, hiring on as a guard on Trevor Aberdeen’s first caravan. Within six months, she married Bommer’s brother Jesper Greenly. The two of them opened a popular tavern where Rurik’s mug now sits in a place of honor on the fireplace mantle. Twenty years and four children later (Rurik, Boberil, May, and Annie), Kisty is about to take up a new career…
Bommer, who had finally lived his dream of adventuring, agreed with most of the others that it was really dangerous business. So, he retired into a relatively peaceful life of infiltrating orc camps as a scout and spy. His natural skills, combined with some potent magic items, made him the bane of the orcs for years. Between his intelligence gathering and Nigel’s archery trained squads, the orcs of the region finally gave up and left the Selmarians alone.
Bommer was married for a couple years, but an unfortunate incident ended the union. Bommer, while out on a scouting trip, caught the eye of a dryad. Bommer’s wife was never able to come to terms with his unwitting tryst with the fey and the marriage ended badly. Bommer has since enjoyed the quiet bachelor life – scouting, training, and swapping stories over mugs of ale.
Amblin, unlike the others, found that he was far too restless to settle down in the community. On top of that, the way his former master Chelis furiously refused to acknowledge Amblin’s existence soon grated on the young monk’s nerves. He wanted to travel and see the great cities in the south. Further, he wanted to follow up on hints that the style and philosophy of his training was called the School of the Springing Sphinx. The master of the Green Snake School told him search in the city of Tet Amir – some 2,000 miles to the southwest on the opposite side of the continent.
Amill, himself a wanderer, also felt that New Selmar lacked that feeling of home. He offered to join Amblin on his journey for a while. Appreciating the safety in numbers, Amblin accepted.
The unlikely pair traveled far and wide, picking up odd jobs and meeting countless people. Eventually, they reached Tet Amir and the home of a supposed master of the School of the Springing Sphinx. Unfortunately, the master was missing. After months of making inquiries, purchasing divinations and following leads, they learned that the master was a prisoner of the Yuan Ti kingdom of Resh, far in the interior of the Desert of Stars. Nearly two years of dangerous work later, Amblin and Amill finally rescued the old master and returned to Tet Amir.
Amblin professed an intense desire to learn more, to fully understand the way of the Springing Sphinx. The master replied that in order for him to teach Amblin anything, Amblin first had to learn how to teach. And with that, they were sent away.
A year later, the pair finally settled in the great city Vin Lidur. Amill used some of his money to open a weapons shop. Amblin took in three orphans as foster children and students. In mimicking Chelis’ teaching methods, Amblin did indeed learn much about how to teach, about himself, and about the philosophy that had been ingrained within him. He also learned that he harbored a deep-seated resentment toward his old master, though for reasons he didn’t fully understand. It was something he meant to ask the old master in Tet Amir if he ever made it back there.
The story does not end here, however...
Fresh blood
It's good to see that we all managed to survive although it was a bit anticlimactic for the ending. I'm hopeful the next group that takes up the call of adventure is luckier and more resourcefull....Amill out...say, anybody in the market for arms or armor...we have a special today...
It's good to see that we all managed to survive although it was a bit anticlimactic for the ending. I'm hopeful the next group that takes up the call of adventure is luckier and more resourcefull....Amill out...say, anybody in the market for arms or armor...we have a special today...
The Bard's note
The Bard’s Note
So me and George are heading out of Waterbreak and we both decide it’s best to keep moving cuz those goofs in the Church of the Small are lunatics, small-minded one’s (heh) but lunatics nevertheless. So we pass a man and his child on the road and we chat a bit, with me asking where the next nice town is. The man, Daniel and his son Seltzer, are just heading back to their farms just a little ways off and decide to take a break since it’s still a ways off. I entertain the young lad with some sleight of hand and small time magic show which brings us all some genuine mirth. Youngsters always seem to like my “toothpick men” show (I manipulate toothpicks into a pseudo puppet show with my prestidigitation spell). Anyways, they tell me the Free City of Selmar, used to be New Selmar or some such (city state names, city state games). Anyways, I thank them and they point me in the direction of Selmar and George and me continue on our way.
Well, I suppose since you are reading this, maybe some introduction is in order. My name is Aria (my chosen elf name) Kiirson Windsong, as vocalized in the common tongue. George, my companion is a female capuchin monkey, my friend and my familiar. I am a bard by profession (note by Joe: not the standard 3ed bard but one using the alternative bard rules found in Eldritch Might II by Monte Cook). I also have a level of mage that I took on because of Father but that’s another story maybe we’ll get to some other time. Anyway, George and I have been traveling on the road a while and this new town sounded interesting since I had left the port city of Waterbreak just a few days back. It was late summer and I knew it would take about a month to get there, times for me to talk to others on the way and find out about any happenings that might be taking place. Over the next month or so, no serious misadventures occurred although there was the one orc tried to con me and who I ended up taking out man to man, I didn’t even waste any spells in the process (stupid orcs, think all it takes is a great deal of strength and they can just walk over anybody. Well, I can tell you, there is one less orc thinking that way now…)
When George and me get into Selmar, apparently some local hubbub is taking place, with some sort of elections taking place between one of the local heroes and some hardcore politico. I had a day or so before the election took place so I figured I’d run and get some votes for the hero, who actually turned out to be a heroine named Kisty something or other. I just colored her with that working class hero bit and convinced a few people she was their “man”. Turned out she won even with me mucking things up, course nobody’ll ever know, I’m not saying anything. Found out where the local bar was where all the celebrating was taking place and went over to see what might turn up. Talking to people on the way seems she was in with a bunch that had opened up some trade routes and helped the city grow a bit. So it seems as maybe I helped the right bunch into political spoils. Course there was the usual winner’s mumbo jumbo about doing the right thing and thanking everyone for their faith and support. One of the hero’s near Kisty was an elf named Nigel who spent the night making patterns in the ceiling with his arrows (he did seem to have a pretty good knack for it). Another was a local wizard by the name of Zalman, who ran the local mage academy, (Although the student I talked to thought he was an arrogant, pretentious bastard; he wouldn’t take me up on my offer to be the go-between to help explore his feelings with the white-haired one, heh). Another old codger I talked to said he was surprised to see a monk by the name of Amblin there. People hereabouts were convinced for lo so many years that he had gone the way of legend into history. The woman he was schmoozing with apparently had suffered some ill will due to her claims of having been with Amblin before giving birth to a child she claimed was his. Of course, people were convinced she was just trying to do some gold digging and salvaging of her reputation. The story I was hearing is that apparently she had been telling the truth all along. Too bad humans spend so much time tearing each other down; elves would never let a situation go on that long ‘specially when magic can get the job done; by Larethian, elves fall all over themselves just to cast a spell even when there’s no purpose to it. There was also this big thug of a warrior that carried a bit of mystery about him; I couldn’t get much on him. His name was Amill and he apparently possessed mental talents that enhanced his combat prowess and stuff but like I said, nobody talked much about him although he was obviously with this group.
I started hearing a raucous dwarf in the back complaining about a dwarf named Rurik that had also belonged to this bunch. By the envious tone in his voice, I gathered that apparently Rurik had been a key element in getting trade opened up and rescuing some? Dwarves? from some ruin named Kladish, it didn’t make much sense as there was some talk about Minotaurs that didn’t jibe with what I knew about dwarves and Minotaurs. Apparently Rurik had perished while exploring some cavern or something, (once again I had trouble with the dwarf’s speech as he kept mixing in dwarven words with his speech. (I’ve been working on getting that language down but I still need some more time with it, Didn't help that the dwarf was consuming vast quantities of ale, beer and whatever else showed up in front of him). Anyway, this drunk dwarf(he would probably say not), who went by the name of Uber, kept lambasting Rurik without mercy, “Rurik this, Rurik that, please, that POS bastard, half the clan could’ve done a better job and done it without dying. How does he get made a hero when a faithful son of the clan like me gets no recognition and I’m twice the dwarf Rurik was.” I have to admit he was right, twice the dwarf indeed. There was also a fellow by the name of Bommer that was with this group, but he was quiet and kept to himself, in a roguish sort of way.
Anyways, even with all the carrying on and celebration; apparently there were some other troubles picking up near my present locale. And for me that’s where this story really starts for me…
The Bard’s Note
So me and George are heading out of Waterbreak and we both decide it’s best to keep moving cuz those goofs in the Church of the Small are lunatics, small-minded one’s (heh) but lunatics nevertheless. So we pass a man and his child on the road and we chat a bit, with me asking where the next nice town is. The man, Daniel and his son Seltzer, are just heading back to their farms just a little ways off and decide to take a break since it’s still a ways off. I entertain the young lad with some sleight of hand and small time magic show which brings us all some genuine mirth. Youngsters always seem to like my “toothpick men” show (I manipulate toothpicks into a pseudo puppet show with my prestidigitation spell). Anyways, they tell me the Free City of Selmar, used to be New Selmar or some such (city state names, city state games). Anyways, I thank them and they point me in the direction of Selmar and George and me continue on our way.
Well, I suppose since you are reading this, maybe some introduction is in order. My name is Aria (my chosen elf name) Kiirson Windsong, as vocalized in the common tongue. George, my companion is a female capuchin monkey, my friend and my familiar. I am a bard by profession (note by Joe: not the standard 3ed bard but one using the alternative bard rules found in Eldritch Might II by Monte Cook). I also have a level of mage that I took on because of Father but that’s another story maybe we’ll get to some other time. Anyway, George and I have been traveling on the road a while and this new town sounded interesting since I had left the port city of Waterbreak just a few days back. It was late summer and I knew it would take about a month to get there, times for me to talk to others on the way and find out about any happenings that might be taking place. Over the next month or so, no serious misadventures occurred although there was the one orc tried to con me and who I ended up taking out man to man, I didn’t even waste any spells in the process (stupid orcs, think all it takes is a great deal of strength and they can just walk over anybody. Well, I can tell you, there is one less orc thinking that way now…)
When George and me get into Selmar, apparently some local hubbub is taking place, with some sort of elections taking place between one of the local heroes and some hardcore politico. I had a day or so before the election took place so I figured I’d run and get some votes for the hero, who actually turned out to be a heroine named Kisty something or other. I just colored her with that working class hero bit and convinced a few people she was their “man”. Turned out she won even with me mucking things up, course nobody’ll ever know, I’m not saying anything. Found out where the local bar was where all the celebrating was taking place and went over to see what might turn up. Talking to people on the way seems she was in with a bunch that had opened up some trade routes and helped the city grow a bit. So it seems as maybe I helped the right bunch into political spoils. Course there was the usual winner’s mumbo jumbo about doing the right thing and thanking everyone for their faith and support. One of the hero’s near Kisty was an elf named Nigel who spent the night making patterns in the ceiling with his arrows (he did seem to have a pretty good knack for it). Another was a local wizard by the name of Zalman, who ran the local mage academy, (Although the student I talked to thought he was an arrogant, pretentious bastard; he wouldn’t take me up on my offer to be the go-between to help explore his feelings with the white-haired one, heh). Another old codger I talked to said he was surprised to see a monk by the name of Amblin there. People hereabouts were convinced for lo so many years that he had gone the way of legend into history. The woman he was schmoozing with apparently had suffered some ill will due to her claims of having been with Amblin before giving birth to a child she claimed was his. Of course, people were convinced she was just trying to do some gold digging and salvaging of her reputation. The story I was hearing is that apparently she had been telling the truth all along. Too bad humans spend so much time tearing each other down; elves would never let a situation go on that long ‘specially when magic can get the job done; by Larethian, elves fall all over themselves just to cast a spell even when there’s no purpose to it. There was also this big thug of a warrior that carried a bit of mystery about him; I couldn’t get much on him. His name was Amill and he apparently possessed mental talents that enhanced his combat prowess and stuff but like I said, nobody talked much about him although he was obviously with this group.
I started hearing a raucous dwarf in the back complaining about a dwarf named Rurik that had also belonged to this bunch. By the envious tone in his voice, I gathered that apparently Rurik had been a key element in getting trade opened up and rescuing some? Dwarves? from some ruin named Kladish, it didn’t make much sense as there was some talk about Minotaurs that didn’t jibe with what I knew about dwarves and Minotaurs. Apparently Rurik had perished while exploring some cavern or something, (once again I had trouble with the dwarf’s speech as he kept mixing in dwarven words with his speech. (I’ve been working on getting that language down but I still need some more time with it, Didn't help that the dwarf was consuming vast quantities of ale, beer and whatever else showed up in front of him). Anyway, this drunk dwarf(he would probably say not), who went by the name of Uber, kept lambasting Rurik without mercy, “Rurik this, Rurik that, please, that POS bastard, half the clan could’ve done a better job and done it without dying. How does he get made a hero when a faithful son of the clan like me gets no recognition and I’m twice the dwarf Rurik was.” I have to admit he was right, twice the dwarf indeed. There was also a fellow by the name of Bommer that was with this group, but he was quiet and kept to himself, in a roguish sort of way.
Anyways, even with all the carrying on and celebration; apparently there were some other troubles picking up near my present locale. And for me that’s where this story really starts for me…
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