Caerth shakes his head as he takes in the scene. The first wave of attacks on the village and already so many casualties… The half-orc fears for the very survival of the town.
The thought surprises him. Not long ago he felt unwelcome in so-called civilization, and now the druid feels for the people living and, today, dying in this place he has come to know and, not love but appreciate.
A hoot forces him out of his contemplations as his owl friend Screech silently flies over. Landing on Caerths forearm, the bird has a chunk of rook flesh in his claw, tossing it away with a sense of dramatics.
”Did you fight?” Caerth says surprised, and the owl hoots with an offended tone.
Quinn hurries to get to the Village with the others, but regrets it almost immediately. His eyes narrow to dangerous slits as rage wells up within him.
"These were no warriors, they did not need to die. .. .. .. <edited for Eric's Grandma>" his next words are not to be repeated, they are so full of vile wrath, yes even his grip on Cruel Justice was so great it looked like he wanted to squeeze the metel denser then it already is with his bare hand!
Angus frowns at the scene of destruction, his mood instantly darkening. His eyes speak of silent rage, and a thirst for vengeance.
Angus growls, "Blayden savages!" and that is the only utterance that comes out of Angus' mouth, although his expression speaks volumes more than that. Angus is not a happy Centaur at the moment. His exhaustion is almost completely forgotten, as rage begins to take hold of his thoughts.
Angus' thoughts: ~Abominations! These rooks are not natural creatures! No natural creature revels in misery, no natural creature causes death and destruction on this scale! By Meilikki's golden hair, I will balance the scales myself this day, and they shall PAY for what they have done! This atrocity cannot go unpunished!~
As the minutes pass, and healing potions and wands are made use of, in an attempt to heal the populace, and to prepare the defenders for the next onslaught, Angus gets a wispy look in his eye. The situation is grim, and everyone knows it; this is not an army of men, it is an army of the supernatural, the demonic, an army of chaos and evil. There will be no prisoners taken here, should the dark army be victorious; in that event, every man, woman, child, and elder will be cut into pieces, and literally consumed, at the hands of these cannibalistic cultists. Their thirst is for blood, and the mistress they serve thirsts for even more than that; her thirst is for souls.
Angus kneels, and folds his hands together in prayer, praying in Centaurish, so that Phar may translate: "My forest lady, oh great Meilikki, grant your servant, and these good people around me, the strength and fortitude to see these next hours through. We are flawed and broken, and normally not worthy of special attention or favor, but the danger we face is not of our own doing. This night brings the threat of creatures not of your glorious creation, but instead, creatures from another place, a place of darkness, a place that is unnatural. The denizens of that place he come here, to this place of peace, this place that is yours, my lady, with the sole intent of destroying what you have made. These good, innocent people, being part of your creation, are to be corrupted, destroyed, consumed. These creatures defy you; they revel in the death of all you hold sacred; they defile your creation by corrupting it, using the demonic form of a crow, a creature that you created to prevent the spread of disease by consuming offal and carrion, a creature whose purpose that they have TWISTED, into one of cruelty and wanton destruction. HELP US DEFEAT THESE DEFILERS, GREAT LADY. Give us your abundance; allow our mortal magicks to function better than their intended design, harden our resolve, and strengthen our bodies, so that we may give answer in YOUR NAME against these foul enemies of the light. Give us the insight to fight at the best of our ability, give us the unfailing courage to stand strong, no matter what occurs. Give us your righteous rage, so that we may push forward, even in the face of overwhelming evil. We ask these things in your name, our lady of the forest, our keeper, and our rock. NATTURUNNAR VEGNA."
"For Natures Sake" (where a Christian prayer would normally end with AMEN.)
[thoughts] 'Cruel Justice, this carnage against peaceful people, it is wrong. these acts were done by people who do not desedrve the chance to surrender, do you agree?' [/thoughts]
Caerth shakes his head as he takes in the scene. The first wave of attacks on the village and already so many casualties… The half-orc fears for the very survival of the town.
The thought surprises him. Not long ago he felt unwelcome in so-called civilization, and now the druid feels for the people living and, today, dying in this place he has come to know and, not love but appreciate.
A hoot forces him out of his contemplations as his owl friend Screech silently flies over. Landing on Caerths forearm, the bird has a chunk of rook flesh in his claw, tossing it away with a sense of dramatics.
”Did you fight?” Caerth says surprised, and the owl hoots with an offended tone.
Caerth does his best to help the villagers while Aureus heads off to help Meridith and Wieland with their families. Phar tries to help as best as he can but he's not a skilled healer.
"The best thing I can do is rest and try to replenish my spells," he says. He looks at the inn but knows him room is likely occupied with a wounded member of the militia. "Is there someplace else I can go to rest and meditate?" He asks Sir Ghal.
"I'm sure Lady Pendour would let you use of the rooms in the manor," the knight replies. "There is also an old shrine to the east along the cliff near Areon's home. It is dedicated to the North Gods, but I'm sure that Siweard would be fine with you using it. He's helping Rosemergy in the inn right now."
Phar nods and heads off towards the shrine. The shrine is overgrown and is surrounded by small groves of trees and low hills covered in scrubland. It is the perfect place to rest and reflect. He's surprised that Caerth never mentioned this place to him and the other or that he never came across it himself during his time in Carnell. Phar sighs. He sits himself under one of the larger trees and enters the reverie.
Caerth is soon frustrated by the lack of his own healing prowess. He isn't able to save any villagers on the verge of death and giving comfort to the dying isn't really his way. He does his best and an old man thanks him after Caerth tries to save his dead wife. The woman is covered in burns and deep claw marks.
Sir Ghal makes note of the burns. "Caused by lightning. The damn rider on the bleak eagle wielded some sort of magical lightning bolt that he threw. It always reappeared in his hand after it did its damage. I've never seen anything like it. It ripped one member of the militia apart."
OOC:
Caerth knows that Siweard is a local adept and the old shrine is dedicated specifically to the nature deities of the North Gods. While Siweard isn't very powerful, he does create potions for the villagers. (He gets most of his divine power from the shrine.) He protects the shrine from anyone who would abuse its powers, although very few in Carnell know what it can do. Siweard is about the same age as Aeron and the two of them get along well. Siweard has two adepts under him but they are neophytes.
Once a week, anyone who rests for one hour in the shrine gains the use of any one of the following 1st-level druid spells (CL 3): endure elements, goodberry, or shillelagh. If a person rests for four hours, they can either gain two of the 1st-level spells or one of the following 3rd-level spells (CL 5): plant growth, protection from energy, or water breathing.
There is no additional benefit for resting longer unless the person resting in the shrine is an cleric, druid, or ranger who worships one of the nature deities of the North Gods: Aegir, Brenna, Casiia, Cronn, the Daghdha, Damh, Draven, Larea, Sanh, or Tok. (Or the North Gods as a whole.)
In such cases, the character can, instead, choose two spells from the following 3rd-level druid spells when resting for one hour (CL equal to ECL): call lightning, cure moderate wounds, daylight, sleet storm, or wind wall. OR, the character can choose two spells from the following 5th-level druid spells when resting for four hours (CL equal to ECL): animal growth, commune with nature, cure critical wounds, tree stride. The character must have an ECL high enough to cast either 3rd- or 5th-level spells as if they were a druid of that level. So, 5th level for the 3rd-level spells and 9th level for the 5th-level spells. These abilities can be gained once per month.
While Caerth knows that the shrine grants extra powers, Aeron always discouraged the half-orc druid from using the shrine unless it was a true emergency. Now is most certainly an emergency.
Quinn starts to pace, not unlike a tiger or lion in a cage. He tried to help someone dying and they died in his arms. He already knew he was no healer, so fate was against him at the start. He fights. He knows fighting and fighters. There are warriors, and there are supporters in an armed conflict and he is a warrior, a combatant. Who could he find? He is not born of the land and there are no gladiatorial fights here to call upon to save the village and manor.
All of those whom he has taught are marshaled, and those who are missing are being sought after. What can he do? Where can he go?? All of his prideful anguish causes him to have a memory for ale, and the thirst for which starts creeping in; Memories of long nights after a hard day's training stream through his mind; things said, things heard, all with the drunken slurring it was heard as.
monks
The word brings a smile to his lips, They were some of the fiercest fighter, as allies or opponents. He watches them in his mind, their organization, their skill with or without weapons.
monks
What was that said that night? Naw, they were yanking his rope. Had to been. He paces mulling over the nagging, itching word that keeps worming into his mind .. .. ..
monks. here.
Where would they be found? Who would know?? How far away would they be?? No, It couldn't be. If any would know any thing, the scribe would know. It couldn't hurt. .. .. .. .. ..
monks. find them.
He seeks out the Lady Pendour and seeks audience with her for permission to address his quarry for the elusive monastery, Hoping he is using proper decorum in Her Ladyship's presence.
Quinn hurries to get to the Village with the others, but regrets it almost immediately. His eyes narrow to dangerous slits as rage wells up within him.
"These were no warriors, they did not need to die. .. .. .. <edited for Eric's Grandma>" his next words are not to be repeated, they are so full of vile wrath, yes even his grip on Cruel Justice was so great it looked like he wanted to squeeze the metal denser then it already is with his bare hand!
Quinn helps where he can and his return to the village bolsters the young members of the militia. They have come to see him as a mentor and he is disheartened to learn that several of them died fighting off the rooks and cultist riding the bleak eagle.
When he, Angus, and Maur arrive, Phar is already resting at an old shrine just outside the village, near Aeron's home along the cliff. Caerth seems refreshed by the time the trio arrives.
Xander is taken into custody by Sir Ghal. he is treated slightly better than the two cultists were treated. Hmm, but is Aries really a cultist or is he truly one of these Soldiers of Iron. He asks Sir Ghal if the knight has ever heard of them.
"No, never heard of them, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if the Stonnish have such spies in the Strandlands. The Kingdom of Stonn has been around a long time and has a tradition of seeking out and destroying chaos in all its forms. We will find out later if he's telling the truth or not."
Quinn remembers the drunken rumor about the monastery of monks and asks Sir Ghal about it.
"Who told you that?" He says surprised. He shakes his head. "No, there is no..." He pauses. "I don't know. There has never been any evidence of such a place near Carnell. Why would they stay hidden from us?" he sighs. "No, it's more important to rally around who is left here and try to find Sir Gareth. He might be out of practice, but he's still one of our best."
He notes the look on Quinn's face. "If you really must try to figure out if these monks exist or not, I suggest you go talk to Lady Pendour's scribe. He's a catfolk and quite the brain." He looks at several of the militia members who are hovering around Quinn. "If you leave the village, it could really be bad for their morale," the knight whispers. "They respect you a lot."
Angus frowns at the scene of destruction, his mood instantly darkening. His eyes speak of silent rage, and a thirst for vengeance.
Angus growls, "Blayden savages!" and that is the only utterance that comes out of Angus' mouth, although his expression speaks volumes more than that. Angus is not a happy Centaur at the moment. His exhaustion is almost completely forgotten, as rage begins to take hold of his thoughts.
Angus' thoughts: ~Abominations! These rooks are not natural creatures! No natural creature revels in misery, no natural creature causes death and destruction on this scale! By Meilikki's golden hair, I will balance the scales myself this day, and they shall PAY for what they have done! This atrocity cannot go unpunished!~
Angus finds some solace helping the villagers as best as he can. He manages to save one villager on the verge of death. It turns out the man is a good friend of Timmins.
"I thank you," the old fighter says once Wilbur is out of danger and resting comfortably at the inn. He pats Wilbur on the arm and heads off to help the militia look for Sir Gareth.
He notes the look on Quinn's face. "If you really must try to figure out if these monks exist or not, I suggest you go talk to Lady Pendour's scribe. He's a catfolk and quite the brain." He looks at several of the militia members who are hovering around Quinn. "If you leave the village, it could really be bad for their morale," the knight whispers. "They respect you a lot."
He turns to his warrior trainees, "We fight an overwhelming foe who will usee all means to not only defeat us, not only kill every one - warrior or not, old or child - but they may even let loose the undying hords to consume the fallen. I am NOT willing to allow them victory. Today they shall be defeated!!" He draws and lifts Cruel justice high into the air for emphasis, " We need more allies and I seek them. I shall be returned with them or not, make no mistake - I shall return!
Sir Ghal, as commander of this host, I pledge my blood, My sweat, and my tears. When it looks to be bleak, look for my, for that is when the Fates will bring me back"
He sheaths the weapon and hustles off for the manor.
