Is'Merith - Campaign Thread

[Matthan]

Daedarai awoke after four hours with his body rested, but his mind still troubled. We nearly lost Shen. We nearly lost everyone. I wasn't prepared enough. I wasn't ready for magic. Bethriele had tried to train him for this. He remembered the weeks of rote repetition of the magical forms and incantations. The spells were seared into his mind, but he never had the strength to conjure up anything more than his little cantrip. He had been content with magic as a toy while others were making it their weapon. A fire smoldered in his belly. No more. If a barking animal can use magic, so can I.

He remembered one spell that his old teacher had tried to drill into him. It summoned and bound a magical helper to the caster. She said that it could help discipline his training. It could teach him to be stronger. Everytime that he had tried to cast the spell back then it had fizzled. He remembered Bethriele screaming at him that he didn't want it enough. I want it now. I can't keep failing my team. I won't.

Jumping out of bed and pulling on his clothes, he walked to the guild fence. He wasn't sure of the exact hour, but he knew the guild always kept a man available for trade and that the fence would have the basics he needed. Nodding to the halfling woman behind the counter, he laid out his list and waited a few moments for her to gather the items. As he counted out the coins, he was mentally reviewing the ritual. Every syllable and finger bend was firmly implanted in his mind. Heading back to the room, he began immediately.

An hour passed before he said the final words, the components in the brazier blazed white hot for a brilliant moment as Daedarai pushed his will towards the bowl. In a flash, the coals were gone and the brazier was cool to the touch. Perched inside the bowl was a black owl. Its head turned to the side in an unnerving manner so that its eyes were vertical over one another. Looking directly at the elf, it spoke in his mind, “My name is Sullo'rhea. How may I serve you, master?” A grin snuck its way onto his face as he responded back in his mind, “I need to be stronger.”

Hours passed as the familiar guided him to further focus and refine his will. Old lessons returned quickly to mind as Daedarai finally found the ability to push the magic to his purposes. With a few gestures and words, an invisible hand carried his waterskin to him through the air as he sat within an illusory pillar of smoke that hid him from view. He would be ready next time.

[SBLOCK=OOC]Training Montage! I'm tweaking the familiar to help explain where his spells are going to be learned from. That's a little lampshading for me to warrant suddenly knowing new spells as I level. They're coming from the magical being from the celestial planes that I bound to me and gave corporeal form for that purpose. Hopefully, that works for everyone.

The shopping trip bought the ingredients for the Find Familiar spell (10 gp worth) and a component pouch (25 gp) for my other spellcasting.[/SBLOCK]

 

[Macv12]

With a gasp, Shen's eyes shoot open, her entire body jolting like a slammed door. Alive? She's alive. But where the hell is this?

She sits up, eyes wheeling across the room. It is a room. Her chest hurts, either from forgetting to breathe or breathing too hard, she's not sure which. Someone rushes over to her, a grizzled halfing, telling her to lay back down.

She does. With her lungs working right again, she's hit with steady, rocking waves of pain from her upper belly, back, and thigh, all complaining heatedly at how she woke them up. Whoever invented waking up should be hanged. It's always a bad sign to her, because it either means a hangover or lots of stitches. And the feeling is awful, like her brain is trapped somewhere else and being slowly yanked back into her head like grease through a straw. How can people stand doing it every day?

But slowly, she remembers. This is some guild place Daedarai found. The desert, the goblins...that weird guy...yeah, that was real. The rest was just a dream. That same stupid nightmare of that day one year ago. At least trancing, she can control those things a little. Unconscious, she's defenseless against whatever her idiot brain wants to ambush her with. She's getting sick and tired of seeing Donut in everything; assaulting her with his last moments, in her sleep, is just unfair.

Well, there's one way to clear her head for now: its not a very big head, so she can just fill it with new stuff until the old stuff gets pushed out. Time for a walk. Standing up isn't so bad, she finds. She's surprised these wounds laid her so low, really; she's almost sure she's had worse and been fine. Must have been that time in the desert, she's losing her touch. The medic lets her out without fuss. Apparently as long as she can stand, she's not his problem anymore.

Before she even gets going, she's distracted by a tiny sound, not quite loud enough to hear, but familiar nonetheless. It changes as she moves around the city: low and thrumming near the ground, whispering near the water, sighing when she stands in the wind atop some building, and chittering near throngs of people. It's a sound she hasn't heard in at least a year. She'd figured this city and the whole desert just lacked it, but maybe she's finally attuning to the place or something. It's a sound she learned from forest elves, and they called it "nature breathing." It's faint, but there. Different, though. Like murmuring through a wall. Must be the city.

She's having trouble concentrating on the city; she loses her way through the streets more than once before backtracking to something she recognizes. Might not be the best time to be wandering around. Maybe the others will be ready to head to a bar or something by the time she gets back.

[sblock]Running long, so cutting it off for now. Let's figure out what cool junk we found, drink to life, and check in on our new friend.[/sblock]

 

[The Grassy Gnoll]

Alejandro woke up. His eyes still closed, the last thing he remembered was a snarling goblin face inches away from his, a splash of blood, and a sensation of movement, feet running on sand, and the sound of laughter - maniacal laughter - and the feel of the cloth bag in his hands that he picked up from the goblin mage.

Slowly, the events pieced themselves back together in his mind. He groaned. The laughter, that hideous laughter. That was his own. He rolled over in bed...

With a start he opened his eyes, sitting bolt upright. Archibald, who as usual had been asleep in his shirt pocket, leaped away onto the sconce on the wall that served as a bedside table.

Looking around, the gnome saw he was in his small berth on board the Guild ship. His quarterstaff was propped up against the end of the pillar that supported one end of his ship's hammock. Too late, he remembered his bed wasn't his usual pallet of cushions under the hollow tree in the Undercity.

[sblock=Sea legs] Dex check: _: 1D20+2 = [7]+2 = 9
[/sblock]

With an undignified tangle of hammock under, over and finally under again, he fell with a thump onto the floor of his room.

Looking up towards the ceiling, he saw the daylight filtering through the round porthole in the wall, and heard the muffled sounds of the docks below. With a worried squeak, Archibald scurried down the post and across to him.

[sblock=Mousese] Al? what the hell was that? Did you hit your head? Are you OK? Is there cheese? Should I find a healer? Did you say cheese?[/sblock]

The gnome laughed and took his companion in his palm, nuzzling his fur.

He remembered Shen picking him up and throwing him at the wizard goblin. A grin broke out on his face as he recalled his cricket stroke, swiftly followed by a familiar dull ache settling on his heart as he recalled his parents once again. And Nora!

He sat up.

The Red Death!

The anger returned to his eyes as he found himself finding a deeper level within himself, a place where the rage at the injustice of his orphaning, the death of his parents, the plight of the Underdark citizens, the pain he felt when he should have been decapitated by that goblin in the tunnel. How he should have died at the hands of the brigand on the bridge. He realised that his rage was a tool he could use to protect himself, to protect his companions, Archie, even that nutjob of a poisoner. But even as he felt his mastery of his rage settle, he knew that beneath it lay a far greater rage, a frenzy he knew somehow instinctively he could call upon to make his foes suffer.

But first, Nora.

Or breakfast.

As he stood up, he realised he was clutching something in his hand. Looking down, he saw the bag that he swiped from the wizard. A half formed memory surfaced of him telling the half orc guild member who tried to help him into bed that it was "my loot and to get your murdering bloody hands off it or so help me I'll collect your balls and hang them on my club".

He sighed.

Another friend made then.

As he shook open the bag he felt his wounds had healed and with his newfound awareness of his anger, he felt somehow stronger, tougher.

He opened the bag to have a quick peek inside, Archibald running up to his shoulder and looking in, too.

[sblock=Mousese] Is it the cheese you were telling me about?[/sblock]

 

[Trogdor1992]

Waking up, Isaac realised they must have gotten away from the goblins. Hoping his associates were safe and that the mission was successful, he heads out of his bed to look for one of his companions, assuming they must be somewhere nearby.

 

[Matthan]

With a wave, Daedarai dismissed Sullo'rhea to rest in its home. Time is getting away from me. Mina will be expecting us soon to continue our etiquette training. Of course, there is also the matter of dividing the spoils of our trip.

He muttered and waved over himself to magically freshen up and headed to meet his partners.

[SBLOCK=OOC]Come on loot![/SBLOCK]

 

[Sezarious]

[sblock=LOOT!]
-1022gp
-432sp
-151cp
-a 50gp ruby
-a silver beaded necklace worth 20gp
-2 non-magical gold rings each worth 40gp

On the goblin mage:

-2 potions of healing
-a homemade arcane focus made from a human skull containing 2 50gp rubies in the eye sockets
-1 wand - looks too ornate to be goblin made - requires attunement - When attuning, take 1d4 bleeding damage, which enters the wand, turning it blood red. casting spells with the wand drawn allows you t channel the spell through the wand, doing so gives you +1 to your spells' DC. Doing so drains the wand, dis-attuning it.[/sblock]

The soft feel of silken sheets below her remind Mina that everything was just a nightmare. She was home safe. Her parents were still alive and everything was well in the world. Her brother began calling to her "Miiinaaa, waake up Mina! Let's go out and play!" His voice sounded urgent and strained. "MINA!" He yelled more loudly. As she opened her eyes and rolled over in bed, she saw her brother with his back to her, standing there, looking down.

"What's wrong brother?" A 9 year old Mina asked him as she arose from her bed. "YOU ARE", he said as she moved towards him. She paused, hurt a little by his words. He began to laugh "YOU AAAAREE. You couldn't save them! YOU COULDN'T SAVE THEM", both in fear and anger she gripped him on the shoulder and spun him around! In horror, she found that where his face once was, was the face of a sand goblin instead!

With an evil grin her brother smiled "I tasted their blood, and it was delicious..... YOU'RE NEXT!", his jaw opened, swallowing Minas vision with its last syllable and suddenly Mina woke up, her heart pounding and straining in her chest as she gasped for oxygen.... It was all a dream.

With that, she made her way out of her room to find the rest of her companions, who had just gathered together in a dining room in the ship. On the table were platters of sausages, eggs and bacon along with clear cold water chilled by Daedarai. They were laughing happily about their luck from the night before, the loot sitting in a nice pile scattered between plates.

 

[The Grassy Gnoll]

[sblock=OOC LOOT] Alejandro is not fussed about any of the new loot other than getting his share of the coin/jewels. Healing potions should go into common pot?[/sblock]

[sblock=Alejandro's Diary] On your friendly neighbourhood bloodthirsty spittle-flecked lawn ornament's schedule are:
1. Get someone to look at mounting that shield spike onto his own shield.
2. Get down to the Undercity and find Nora, who took him in as an orphan. He fears she was the one the half elf was talking about having caught this Red Death. He is intrigued by "I couldn't do it" and what "it" means. Also, he fears an epidemic.
3. He still wants to investigate this mystery of no Druids in Is'Merith, and is happy to pose as Baron Alibi von Pseudognome or whatever to help infiltrate and lure the baddies in.
4. If there is a chance to smash half Orc heads in, he's cool with that, but he is really really worried about this Red Death malarkey.[/sblock]

 

[Trogdor1992]

[sblock=OOC] aside from my share of the coin and jewels I'm really only interested in the shortsword and maybe some armor.
[/sblock]

 

[Macv12]

It's a good thing Shen came back for breakfast. This is much better than hiding in some bar, and she feels out of her funk already. Though she has a hard time keeping up with the conversation, as the ubiquitous breathing fills every silent moment and keeps distracting her.

When Mina comes in, it will be serious time. There's a lot to deal with and not a lot of people to deal with it. Guild life is interesting, she'll give it that. It must take a lot to keep a handle on all the little things. She lets everyone take care of their morning greetings, small talk, splitting of the night's haul, all of that. It's even harder to pay attention when she's not talking. The sound is different. She can't tell how, but she can't stop noticing it. She concentrates on it, listening to nothing else, letting it grow louder in her head, trying to pick apart each note...

Like an overfilled bag bursting open - except the bag is her head - the sound crescendos and breaks in a deep hum. Shen feels herself dissolve, echoing out of the ship, down the streets, across the sands, through the air, and deep into the ground, feeling every stone, breeze, and breath for just an instant.
[sblock]Alright, let's Primeval Awareness! Will add more after I know the result, in particular, letting everyone know what I'm thinking about the goblins. This will just give me a yes/no on which of the following are within 6 miles (or 1 mile, if "urban" doesn't count as "desert" strictly): aberrations, celestials, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, and undead. Don't know where, how many, or what kind.[/sblock]

 

[Sezarious]

[sblock=OOC-Shen]Within a 6 mile radius, Shen gets a 'ping' for everything. This MAY be overwhelming for her after such a tough night...[/sblock]