Haraiva in Darkness - Greybar's Storyhour (9/15 update)

Greybar

No Trouble at All
pre-script:
I've been meaning to do this for some time, and there is a lot of material and gaming sessions to draw from. I plan to sketch out elements gone before and perhaps go back to update them into proper story hours as time and feedback dictates.

There is now a Haraivan Rogues' Gallery open for those interested.

The Rogues' Gallery will be off-limits for my players. I'll be putting the opposition up there, as well as sidebars that are not for player consumption - primarily to help spur thoughts on how I can make the next plot twists and opposition better.

I hope you enjoy it,
John
 
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Many years ago, before the demons came and drove the humans from the shores, before the Seabreath shook their bodies with fevers and their minds with madness, the children of Hara lived in seven great cities. In Luinlassa, the City of Light, there came together six who would become heroes. As with most heroes, they had no idea what they were getting into. Their adventures began with an unusual theft from Berke's workshop, and led them to things beyond any of their experience. A clash between gods, the freeing of an ancient power, and the rise of a power-hungry priestess who desired nothing less than immortality. Caught between powers beyond their reckoning they were defeated: transformed into six statues with a sweep of power they could not contest.

Arlissa Lassa - Arlissa had a particularly vivid soul-dream as a young girl during the ceremony that took her into the company of the Sunborn. It was of a terrible fallen star, some fallen immortal soul of a Sunborn, that would bring terrible destruction upon the cities of the Haraivans. From this dream, she knew to seek out Malassa HeisaLassa, an Elder Priestess of Lassa who also looked for this dark star. With other members of the so-called Cult of the Watchers, she saw the sigil of this prophetic dream begin. Now her faith and channeling of divine power are called upon to turn back the darkness.

Daphna Lassa - Raised in the crèche of House Lassa, Daphna was quickly recognized for her strength, agility, and will to succeed. Thus, she began the training that would lead her into the cadre of House Lassa. She was taught the skills and arts that are needed to defend the House against the machinations of other Houses. Blessed by the divine touch, she swore to aid and defend Arlissa against the coming doom.

Berke - Berke is a Moonborn, but one who was never overly interested in the manly professions of war, song, and field. Instead, had a great talent as an artisan, and a maker of things. This talent was recognized during the great festival of the Kuriltai, and he became one of the men who are taken into the city to serve House Lassa. But his great work for the coming Kuriltai was a mechanical cat, with a purring heart made from two green-pebbled stones taken as spoils from a lizardman. But when the cat was first wound, and the stones began to purr, something happened that was quite beyond his expectations.

Samus the Lucky - Samus is still a young man, but has served in a major conflict with the Lizardmen of the dark swamps. From this he carries a certain prejudice against the scaly and savage beasts. He has been astounded to discover that they do appear to have some form of speech, if primitive and gutteral compared to the flowing elegance of the Moonborn tongue.

Balius - Balius was born the son of Xanthus, a bard of some small repute among the Moonborn, and still carries his father's lyre. His mother is a matter of some mystery and rumor. While Balius was still a small child, Xanthus set forth to wander beyond the fringes of Haraivan settlements. They lived for a while with the Karranas, until Xanthus' untimely death. Balius was then raised with the Karranas, and has become good friends with Karrinkas, who acts much as an older brother and guardian to him. Balius has a love of language, and has even learned a few words of the Lizardmen's speech. During his adventures, he has even begun to understand some of their ancient writing.

Karrinkas - Karrinkas is the sole Karranas in the group, and he sometimes has trouble understanding their strange ways. Unlike the Sunborn, Karrinkas is quite at home in the uncivilized lands, where his skills and speed are so valuable. Direct in his speech and actions, Karrinkas has always been in the forefront of the dangers of the group.
 
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Tales of a Stone

A hawk cries out as it circles above the encampment. Around the cleared area, archers stand in small clusters, their bows in hand, with the feel of those who are not quite safe. A blue and white pavillion is being raised, an imperious woman calling out orders in crisp sun-tongue. In one corner, two workers struggle to place man-sized statues of stone.

"Why did we have to bring these statues? Let the demons have them, for all I care.", says the voice of young man.

A deeper, older voice responds slowly, "She likes them, I guess. You heard the order same as I."

"Well, I'm glad to be away from the cursed sea, and that's good enough for me."

"Hey, what are you, a bard? Now quit your yapping and help me lift this damned cat-beast."

"Why do some of these have their heads wrapped?"

"Well, you ever seen someone turned to stone?" The older voice softens and becomes quiet as he continues, "I've seen it once. A woman who kept shouting out how the Matriarch had betrayed Hara. The Matriarch had her stripped, chained and cuffed, and then started the stoning at her feet, real slow like. The old woman was defiant about until it got to her ankles. Then she started pleding for mercy. By the time it got to her waist, she was begging for death. After that, she was just wild with pain. I've never seen anyone look like that. All her muscles were standing out like twisted ropes. And the last part was her face. You could hear a whimpering scream with her last breath. If you ever wonder why some of the statues have bags over their heads, that's why. No one wants to see that kind of pain."

There is a brief quiet, and then the young voice begins a bit softer than before, "Why don't these have horrible faces then?"

"These are some of the oldest, I think. The newer they are, the more painful they look. I think she's getting better at it... I think she enjoys it."

A strong female voice suddenly interrupts in precise Sun-tongue, "You there, finish up with those statues and then help with the woodcutters. They may come in the night, and we'll need a palisade and fires."

"Yes, Lady!", both men respond, audibly snapping to attention.

The hawk screeches again as it patrols the sky where dark thunderclouds gather in the afternoon light.

(Edited for readability -john)
 
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Darkness Befalls the Light - Arlissa's Dream

While imprisoned as statues, the heroes had visions or dreams. How or why they aren't entirely sure yet.
---

You are held, in the midst of your prayers, and the sounds of battle are now long past.

Darkness is a heavy blanket drawn over your face, suffocating, warm, and binding. Your mind seems slow, your body a dull and distant ache that refuses to respond. But somewhere in the distance, in the backmost corners of your mind, there is a pin-prick, a glistening spark. The light is warm, familiar, and your soul takes strength from this.

A dull thudding intrudes on your consciousness. Rhythmic, rising then falling, then rising faster still. Then it stops, and in the distance now intrudes voices, mumbled and tossed as they come to you, as if from around a mountain pass. Short clipped speech, with a hint of fear and anxiousness giving it energy. The rhythmic beat begins anew, stronger.

The spark whispers to you with a voice of beauty, "The light shall not be lost, but only hidden in shadow to be rekindled when it is needed."

A coolness intrudes, a creeping shadow. Fear itches at some deep prey-animal root of your mind. Quick, sharp cold pain, and darkness swallows the spark.
Suffocating.
Dark.
Sleep comes like a sap on the back of the neck.
 

The Terror of Luinlassa

You walk through the streets of Luinlassa, the last light of the sun glints along rooftops, but the streets are already buried in shadow. Never could you have dreamed of a scene like this. Some of the houses are burned out, their clay and stone walls blackened. Others have all of their windows and doors barricaded. One has its defenses ripped open, and dried blood cakes the threshold. Something moves deep in the shadows, moving low across the ground.

A shadowy veil passes over your senses...

You find yourself entering the foyer of main House of Llassa. The great doors, of dark iron inlaid with brilliant gold, now lie on the floor amidst the shattered wood of what once must have been a barricade. The lone shield of a Llassan cadre captain lies on the ground, the upper half of its circular sun-form crushed down and back from some mighty blow. The remains of a shattered helm and another shield are dashed into the corner. But no bodies remain here, only blood and destroyed implements of a final defense.

And again you fade...

As you enter the main hall, you see that paintings of the past Matriarchs that once lined the wall now lie in tatters on the floor. At the end of the hall stands a great statue of Llassa, Daughter of Light. Sunborn corpses are piled around Her feet, stripped of their armor and clothes. You recognize some of the members of the Matriarch's personal guard, their powerful bodies now broken and bloodied. The Captain's head has been ripped from her shoulders by some powerful claws, and is impaled on the shattered femur of some unrecognizable sunborn form. Blood and some dark excrement has been splashed upon the pure white stone of Her statue. Some of the gold has been hacked away, and the Chalice of the Undying Flame has been removed from her hand.

...

Now upon stairs, dimly lit and very familiar. A door hangs on a lower hinge, a tremendous blow of a great mace or similar weapon having smashed through its latches. The light from the room beyond flickers, a though by a single flame. You step in to see Malassa HiesaLassa's private study. It was here that you first met her, and that she told you that she knew your soul-dream. Here that she invited you after your combat practice, to cool your blood, relax your swordarm, and enlighten your mind. Across one of her comfortable chairs is sprawled a strange beast. Human-like, but with green skin and rough scales, and a crest running from crown the upper back. Long talons have torn at the chair, apparently in death convulsions, for there is a hole burned through its torso from front to back. Another strange beast, more like a red-skinned hound, lies a few feet further. Then the body of a moon-born warrior, a bow just beyond his fallen hand. His skin seems dyed in riotous twists of green, red, and black. Around him the floorboards are burnt and broken.
And just beyond the warrior's body sits Malassa, collapsed in her favorite white painted leather chair. Her robes are torn with great tracks of bestial claws, through to blood-covered skin. Her right hand holds a golden wand, wound with fine gold and silver wire. Her fingers are slack, and the wand has almost slipped to the floor. Her left hand is clenched around an arrow that has pierced her just above the right collarbone. The golden links of her necklace shine through the still wet blood.

The wand tumbles to the ground, and Malassa's body twitches. Her eyelids open, and her gaze rolls about the room, but does not seem to focus. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and in a pain-filled voice she speaks:
"I always throught that you two, young as you are, would be able to shine through this. I am sorry that I had no more time before you could arrive. Her light brings me visions, and we have secret allies. Listen while I have strength, lest my message not make it through its long journey."

Her body jumps suddenly, and blood trickles from the corner of her mouth. Then she begins to chant, at first in slow quiet whispers,

"Many are the ways in which evil is quenched,
But many are the wardings that power can raise,
Paths I have begged for, hints to the way,
Yet I know many listen to what I can say:"


"She shall rule for three hundred years,
And then she will rule for three thousand more,
If she is not faced anew by those who are old,
Reborn by sacrifice of one of the lost,"


Her eyes roll down again and her body heaves, and she coughs more blood upon her robes, now more red than white. You feel her focus her eyes on you for a moment, and you almost see recognition on her face. Then pain visibly wracks her, and her voice is broken as she spits blood, saying:

"From the water shall be called the oldest stones,
From the earth shall be raised the oldest bones,
Dark paths and those of light,
Similar journeys, different destinations,"


"From the fire can be claimed the fallen blade,
From the air can be heard the secret of no words,
Secrets from deep waters,
Speaks the mother of the lost ... "


There is a gurgling sound from her throat, and her body tumbles out of the chair. You reflexively try to leap to her, and your point of view shifts slightly, as if you started to move and then halted. The wand bounces and drops into a blackened gap in the floor. She lifts her head, and you can just barely make our her voice...

"Seek the souls of those she doomed,
Those drowned in stone and drowned in sea,
...."


Her voice trails off, and her body is still.
 

Cool prophecy. I like. How'd the PCs respond?

On a meta note, I find it really hard to read those entries that don't have fully blank lines between paragraphs. I don't know what it is about these boards, but it makes a big difference for me.

Anyways, more!
 

Hey Piratecat, you're right those are harder to read. Edit forthcoming and I'll watch for that. Note to myself when cut'n'pasting into the posting.

That prophecy is one that the players are taking as their great over-arcing mission. As such, they've figured out the bulk of it. I'll need to make some "Academic" posts such as Seasong's story hour to fill in general readership. I'll hoping I'll get good questions from it as well.

John
 


Aha! The players begin to arrive. Wonderful.
Shucks, now that you've made a Karrinkas account it makes it harder to kill ya off.

Well, in that case it is only appropriate to post one of Karrinkas's dreams. Karrinkas is a Karranas, and has a somewhat different outlook on things than the hoo-mans. One other slight complication is that he is not literate in the languages of the Haraivans.

---
You dream that you are silently stalking forward, low and on all fours between the brush. The early summer sun has begun to set as you creep along the line of the hill. You have passed a few outer scouts who generally are more concerned with gossip than holding a good perimeter. Their attention seems turned to the city beyond the hill, before which is a huge host of humans. Never have you seen such a number in one place. The Claw Lake Tribe could be repeated a double-handful times over before it matched this host in number. They seem to intend to do something you've never heard the humans to do: to actually attack and breach the walls of a City. But their warriors do not seem to relish this though. Unlike any other gathering of human warriors, they do not boast and sing as the sun falls, but instead sit together quietly in their camps.

The sun casts its rays redly across the field, and campfires begin to dot between the tents. A steady clanging catches your attention, and you creep toward vantage point to see a big pavillion of black and silver. A man in a long dark robe slips between the guards and into the tent, and they seem to take no notice of him. The clanging continues for a while, and there is a great shout of man that carries power and pain.

In that instant, there is the booming sound of thunder, rolling across the fields, and the fading sunlight begins to dim faster. You look to the sky and see a great dark thundercloud sweeping in from the north, with lightning dancing across its surface. Then you hear a collective gasp from the encampment, and you see many of the humans look to the south. From the sea is a sight that makes fur bristle. A cloud, a mass, a fog of shifting, glowing greens and blacks and reds rises from the south winds. The line where the two great forces meet is seething with brilliant explosions of dark color and brilliant bolts of lightning. They push and receed from each other, then meet again.

There is a terrible crackling, and you look up again to see a dagger of flourescent green stabbing deep into the heart of the thundercloud. Lightning begins to spray haphazardly across the thundercloud, and then begins to reach down for the ground. With a sudden stroke, a bolt slams into one of the large tents, and the horrified screams of men wild with pain. You can see a strange rain fall, only from the strange cloud, and only on the army encampment. The men seem to be trying to get out of the rain, which seems to almost glow in colors itself.

You look up again to see the thundercloud shattered in a burst of red and green light. Against this light you can just make out the figure of a human-like figure, falling from the cloud. As you squint, you see a sudden form race in from the north. It looks like a man on the back of some great beast which strides through the air as if along land (1). The rider stretches forth his hands, and snatches the falling man from the air, swinging him to lie limp across the back of his steed. The rider and beast then turn back north again, pacing the wind.

With a roar of sound, bolts of color chase after the rider and the axe-warrior. The bolts explode into the fleeing figures but cannot drop them. But from the senseless hand of the fallen man, you see something fall. It drops out of your sight behind trees, and suddenly the very earth beneath you leaps, and you clutch at the ground with all your claws.

The strange rain, and cloud, seem to begin to fade away. You down up to see the black and silver tent collapse. In it, you see the dark-robed man. He is kneeling over a man on a pallet, and then rises with a flash of metal in his hand. Then he gathers his robes around him and disappears into the mob of humans.

Then, beyond the encampment you hear a crashing sound, and from the shore you see men coming towards the camp. But you immediately recognize them as not normal humans, but the blue-skinned men (2) that you saw so long ago, after you first came to the human city of Luinlassa with Balius. They are naked, and each seems to carry long white spears. They move slowly, methodically, and silently, with no calls to battle, horns or banners. There seems to be a continuous line of them from the sea, marching a dozen men across. Some part of you knows there will be a terrible massacre, and your consciousness fades away.
---
(1) There are no horses in the Haraivan area, though they have been known to ride on the tops of oxen. Bulls, sacred to Tangri Moonfather, are even used as steeds by some holy warriors.
(2) Servants of Aquella Firstborn, best described as undead of the drowned and damned.
 
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Yay! Another Story Hour to read! ^.^ Your Iron DM entries so impressed me, Greybar, that as soon as I read that you've started your own SH, I rushed over to read it, and what an excellent read it's been so far! (Mmmm, nothing like starting a campaign off with severed heads and impalement.
.. =^_^=..)

Looking forward to reading more! ^_^
 
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