handforged
First Post
Thanks for the double dose. Although this has already been said many times, you have quite a knack for giving your players some thought-provoking decisions to make. Good job.
~hf
~hf
"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
- Thread starter el-remmen
- Start date
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Expect an update tonight. However, the updates will be coming less frequently between now and Christmas because of the crunch of the final weeks of the grad school semester (I've got two 15 page papers and a sample syllabus to hand in).
However, I hope to make up for it and actually make an effort catch up to the current sessions in the month of January before the Spring semester starts up.
However, I hope to make up for it and actually make an effort catch up to the current sessions in the month of January before the Spring semester starts up.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #16 – “Hezrah’s Maternity Mayhem!” (part 3 of 3)
Ralem, the 1st of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
“Get up! Get up! Everybody up!” Markos and Telémahkos were kicking and shaking the rest of the signers of the Charter of Schiereiland and their hirelings awake. During the first watch, as Markos and Telémahkos were bemoaning their lot being cast with the zealot priests, Tymon had spotted the shadow of a warg creeping away from the grove.
“If it was leaving that meant it got a chance to scout around unseen and unheard,” Markos surmised. “Right now it is likely reporting to its superior and a plan of attack is being made.”
“The moon is bright enough, we shall be able to see them coming,” Bleys said.
“But we won’t know their numbers, and this grove is too small to last long as a place to hide against many,” Timotheus said. “They can come all the way around it and attack from all directions, and we’d have nowhere to retreat to… They can see in the dark, we can’t…We should leave…”
“Can we not create traps and obstacles to funnel them in one direction?” Markos suggested.
”In the dark, and not knowing when they will be arriving?” Timotheus asked with disbelief. “We should go…”
The others agreed, though Victoria of Anhur took no effort to hide her disdain for the party’s frequent withdrawals. They gathered their things and took off at a steady march towards the stream and the skunk cabbage patch, hoping to arrive before the moon set.
It was a long hard march in the gray light of Mind’s Eie, but Falco led them at hurried pace that left Markos and Tymon flagging. They were grateful to hear the faint trickle of the stream and as the last light of moon dissipated they found a cluster of brush to hide in and wait. Markos crawled under a low bush and went to sleep, wanting the rest necessary to get up and prepare his spells when morning came. Crusta crawled in next to him, spooning his body with her own.
It was an anxious night, but no army of goblins ever arrived to test them. As Ra’s Glory rose they set about to march back with frayed nerves. There were still some miles away from the grove when they saw the column of smoke rising way up into the clear morning. The grove had been chopped and burned. It was no longer a fit place to make camp.
“See? They used fire without burning everything down,” Markos said to Falco with annoyance. 1
Falco opened his mouth as if to reply, but just closed it again and shook his head.
“Those damn goblins!” Timotheus swore. “It is our responsibility that they fail the Test of Thutmose.”
“I would be happy to wipe the Flor’Choo off the face of Aquerra,” Bleys said. “Let us deprive those hobgoblins of some troops to use against our homeland.”
“I disagree,” Victoria said. Noticing Bleys was still hurt, she called for Anhur to close the watch-mage’s wounds. “We are wasting time with the goblins here and jeopardizing our chance to warn the north of the hobgoblins’ efforts and this one that the half-breed called ‘the Master.’ Anhur knows I want to prove myself in battle, but preparedness is also part of war.”
“Good point,” Timotheus replied, quickly changing his mind once the thought of home entered it. “I’m glad we came here and all, but maybe we should go back.”
“I think we should go to Schiereiland and tell your father what we have learned here,” Telémahkos agreed.
“And what of the Moor-Tomb?” Bleys asked.
“This seems more pressing than some old trapped tomb,” Telémahkos replied.
The Signers decided that their adventures in and around the King Stones were over. Refilling their skins at the watering hole, they had Falco begin to guide them to the Ray-Ree village. Once there they could decide if they would return to civilization or search for the mysterious Tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville.
Osilem, the 3rd of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
Two days later the Signers were back at the Ray-Ree village. Kermit had found them on their way, disoriented by the unrelenting sun of the Disputed Territories and suffering from heat exhaustion. He greeted the news of their abandoning the King Stones with his usual smirk of contempt. He was on his way back from delivering Tim’s horse to the Ray-Ree. The halfling led them the rest of the way back to the village on Duckhunter.
After meeting with Admentus, the party sharing a meager meal with the tribe. Crusta was introduced to the First Elder and to some of the members of the barbarian group, and as the child of a former member, she was offered a place among them, though if she wanted to practice witchcraft she would have to seek out Rudwilla and get her approval, and live out in the moors. Clearly unsure of herself, the half-orc girl continued to follow Markos around, looking at him expectantly every time he spoke. All during their journey he had made the time to talk to her, shared his food and water, and asked many questions about witchcraft.
They learned that while they were gone two women of the tribe had returned from the gathering of the hordes. 2 There had been three others who had headed back with them, but they did not survive the perilous journey. The women brought news of the city of Majenta burning at the hands of the gathered tribes, one of the high temples of the Red God of the West had been defiled and the tribe shamans summoned their animal totems to fight among themselves and devour captives. The entire Uzon tribe, the bear-warriors of the Isle of Dusk had been slain in a poorly planned assault on a dervish camp. A high priest of the Red God of the West had summoned a ‘black angel’ that could kill with its stare. Lavia, who was one of the women who had returned, was pointed out to them. Her hair was a shock of white, and though she was still a young woman, her face was creased with sorrow. It was but a glimpse of the angel’s face that had done it the other, Tora, had said, for Lavia no longer spoke. They left the Ray-Ray warriors joined with other tribes in building boats to travel even further south and westward and continue their path of war and destruction.
Timotheus hooted his pleasure, and recommended cracking open the cask of Red Gritch Ale 3 the packhorse had been carrying around in celebration. The others agreed.
After dinner, the young nobles gathered in the open hut provided them to discuss their plans.
“If we are going to go to the Moor-Tomb then I think we should send Kermit back with a message to send to my father about the Hobgoblins of the Blue Claw and the breeding experiments,” Timotheus said.
“If the matter is so pressing why do we not just return now?” Laarus of Ra reasoned.
“I’m all for going back,” Timotheus said. “What more can we do here?”
“There is a lot more to be done,” Bleys said. “Aside from the Flor’Choo, there were other caves to explore and I was curious about the Dark Apshai Ziggurat. Not to mention the Moor-Tomb.”
“I think we should go back,” Telémahkos agreed with his cousin.
“I don’t particularly think this hobgoblin issue is pressing, but am more than happy to go back if it means we might get a chance to look into the matter of the Pearls,” Markos said, looking at each person with mock attentiveness. 4
“I would rather face foes with honor than to creep around a trapped tomb,” Victoria of Anhur said. “But I stand with Brother Laarus. As he goes, I go…”
“I still believe that we have much to gain by finding the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville,” Bleys said. “Not the least of which is the amulet touched by Fallon’s mortal form, said to have healing properties. Think of the good that object could do, and as I have said the Church of Isis has given their blessing to have such an item retrieved. Is it not for this kind of thing that we gathered?”
The discussion lasted for quite a while, but as Markos began to nod off, leaning on Crusta, and Dunlevey and Falco returned from wandering the grounds without hiding their frustration with the prolonged debate, there was a vote on the matter, and it was unanimous. 5 The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland would seek out the Moor-Tomb on the following day, and Kermit would be sent back to civilization to send a message by faultless to Pyla. The halfling was not happy about having to go and then return to guide them back, but he was offered extra coin, and he admitted that traveling alone would be safer for him.
“Anyway, I didn’t fancy the idea of waiting outside that tomb for you to come out,” he added. “I figure I should be back in a fortnight… Uh, maybe more like twenty or so days…"
-------------------------------------
Some hours later Timotheus woke up, and noticed Bleys awake, sitting in the doorway contemplating the full moon. The blond warrior crawled over to him and scooted out of the hut, to sit outside and look out for a moment.
“Gotta pee,” he said, and wandered off.
When he returned, getting down to crawl back in among the lump of sleeping adventurers, hirelings and the dog, but then stopped and looked back at the watch-mage.
“I just want you to know,” he said. “That I saw the siege of Marrock, or its results anyway, and I know that hobgoblins burn and kill women and kids, and torture people and take slaves. My kin and my friends are at risk from those monsters, so I plan to be as stubborn as Laarus when the time comes to journey to Pyla and defend it.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Bleys the Aubergine replied in a quiet voice. He never took his eyes from the night sky. Timotheus crawled back in and dropped off to sleep.
Teflem, the 6th of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
Two days before the Signers had left the Ray-Ree village behind; once again, leaving it to the tribe’s generosity to look after their horses. Timotheus gave three throwing axes to the barbarians as a gift. They had been among the things recovered from Hezra’s cave. Crusta was with them, deciding to let Markos decide for her when asked what she preferred doing.
“He’s my boyfriend. He decide,” she said. Markos insisted she come along, and said he planned to teach her to read.
“It was only her environment that made her like she was,” Markos explained to the others. “I mean, how do you think you would have ended up having grown up in a place like that?”
“We would not have grown up in a place like,” Victoria replied. “We are a civilized people…”
Kermit Buckleburr had mounted Duckhunter and taken off north that same morning. Before he left, Timotheus paid the halfling ten extra silver coins, and thanked him for taking the message.
They had reached the Ickle Trik the night before, but decided to camp out before crossing the river since it had been getting dark. In the pre-dawn hours of the third watch, after a long talk concerning the latter’s visions, 6 Bleys and Laarus confronted Falco about his use of magic in the battle against the ghouls when they went to visit Brother Cineas. 7
“It is like when the half-breed woman called on Isis,” Falco explained, when he was not given a chance to withdraw. “I called on the spirits that serve Shu to aid me on that day.”
“Witchcraft,” Laarus said.
“Some call it that,” Falco replied.
“And where did you learn this?” Bleys asked.
“When I was a boy, from my aunt who raised me,” Falco said. “She was the village mid-wife.”
“Like Rudwilla…” Bleys said.
“Yes.”
“Why did you not tell us of this before?” Laarus asked.
“It did not seem important to the job which you hired me to do,” Falco said. “Unlike some, I see calling on the spirits as something that should not be done lightly. My aunt always taught respect and restraint.”
Laarus of Ra did not hide his displeasure, but after a warning against deceiving them, he let the topic lie.
After breakfast and spell preparations, the Signers looked to Markos to get them across the river once they climbed down the steep mossy embankment. The water looked very deep and cold and moved very fast.
“Creáre nautica!” Markos chanted holding aloft a small wooden model of a row boat. A moment later, there was similar rowboat of usable size dredged up on to the narrow banks of the Ickle Trick. It took several trips and expert rowing to deal with the current, but eventually everyone made it across. 8
From there they marched north by north east, keeping the line of the Ickle Trick in view, but staying closer to the treeline to avoid being spotted too easily from its shore. The ground was increasingly swampy, and mosquitoes crawled under their armor and around their necks taking long irritating drinks of their blood. The air was heavy and the heat oppressive, but though it threatened rain, no rain ever came to relieve them. Near mid-day they spotted the silhouettes of the ruined buildings of the town of Moor-Wall, and Falco led them even further east on their northward journey to not be see from there in turn.
“Laarus, what can you tell me about ghouls?” Timotheus asked the priest. “How is it best to fight them?”
“Slashing weapons,” the priest replied. “Piercing weapon may puncture organs, but being undead they do not need their organs. And while breaking bones with a blunt weapon can slow them down, it actually lopping them apart that is most effective.”
Timotheus carried this news to his cousin, and for the first time Telémahkos looked at his magical rapier with disappointment. They quickly convinced Dunlevey to lend the smaller Briareus his longsword.
Looking at the map Bleys had gotten from Malcolm the Bronze 9, Falco led them back to the west, risking getting close to Moor-Wall in hopes that coming in the direction of the overgrown track that led from the bridge might give them a clue of what they were looking for.
‘Follow the Masks’ the map said, and sure enough, a bunch of them spotted the black lacquered mask carved high up on a bald petrified gray tree. The mask was crude, but expressive, and had a rune of a horizontal line with a dot over its center carved on the forehead.
Standing beneath this tree they began to scan around at the same height and sure enough they noted a dark spot on a similar tree some several dozen yards away. Approaching revealed a similar mask, but this one a sad countenance at odd with the smiling (if still frightening) face of the first mask. The rune was a short horizontal line with a dot hanging below it.
“These are similar to the runes of the ancient Mystics,” Laarus said. “They were an expressive people, and much of their language is made up of runes signifying gradations of emotions which are combined in incredibly complex ways. Some say that the language of the ancients was so powerful it had inherent magic-like properties.”
Victoria spotted the next mask from beneath that tree and then spotted yet another one. Each one was about another few dozen yards further than the last one had been, leading them north by northeast. Once the distances between them became so great that they had to fan out and look, Bleys took to tying a bronze-colored sash to the previous mask-carved tree to make sure they did not lose their way in the increasingly dense swamp foliage. The sash was borrowed from Telémahkos.
Dunlevey spotted the next two, and Laarus did his best to translate each mask’s rune. There was happiness and sadness. “That one is… contemplation?” It was clear some guesswork was involved. “And I have no idea what that other one is…”
Markos noted a stone wedged into a hole at the base of one of the sixth marked tree. Telémahkos checked it for traps and then pulled it out. Inside was a stuffed bird, like a small partridge. Its eyes had been torn out, and it was tied with red string.
“Could that be some kind of magic?” Timotheus asked Crusta. “Witchcraft?”
“It could be,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. Telémahkos put it back and covered it with the stone.
The seventh mask was very far from the sixth and took nearly an hour to find. “Avarice? Greed? Something like that,” Laarus said of the rune on it, but more importantly they could see a large clearing just beyond the petrified tree. Some kind of narrow stone structure was sticking up out over the treeline.
“That must be the pointed tower that is the ‘keyhole tower to tomb’,” Bleys said, holding the moor-tomb map aloft. He led his companions in that direction, an uncharacteristic eagerness in his countenance.
End of Session #16
Ralem, the 1st of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
“Get up! Get up! Everybody up!” Markos and Telémahkos were kicking and shaking the rest of the signers of the Charter of Schiereiland and their hirelings awake. During the first watch, as Markos and Telémahkos were bemoaning their lot being cast with the zealot priests, Tymon had spotted the shadow of a warg creeping away from the grove.
“If it was leaving that meant it got a chance to scout around unseen and unheard,” Markos surmised. “Right now it is likely reporting to its superior and a plan of attack is being made.”
“The moon is bright enough, we shall be able to see them coming,” Bleys said.
“But we won’t know their numbers, and this grove is too small to last long as a place to hide against many,” Timotheus said. “They can come all the way around it and attack from all directions, and we’d have nowhere to retreat to… They can see in the dark, we can’t…We should leave…”
“Can we not create traps and obstacles to funnel them in one direction?” Markos suggested.
”In the dark, and not knowing when they will be arriving?” Timotheus asked with disbelief. “We should go…”
The others agreed, though Victoria of Anhur took no effort to hide her disdain for the party’s frequent withdrawals. They gathered their things and took off at a steady march towards the stream and the skunk cabbage patch, hoping to arrive before the moon set.
It was a long hard march in the gray light of Mind’s Eie, but Falco led them at hurried pace that left Markos and Tymon flagging. They were grateful to hear the faint trickle of the stream and as the last light of moon dissipated they found a cluster of brush to hide in and wait. Markos crawled under a low bush and went to sleep, wanting the rest necessary to get up and prepare his spells when morning came. Crusta crawled in next to him, spooning his body with her own.
It was an anxious night, but no army of goblins ever arrived to test them. As Ra’s Glory rose they set about to march back with frayed nerves. There were still some miles away from the grove when they saw the column of smoke rising way up into the clear morning. The grove had been chopped and burned. It was no longer a fit place to make camp.
“See? They used fire without burning everything down,” Markos said to Falco with annoyance. 1
Falco opened his mouth as if to reply, but just closed it again and shook his head.
“Those damn goblins!” Timotheus swore. “It is our responsibility that they fail the Test of Thutmose.”
“I would be happy to wipe the Flor’Choo off the face of Aquerra,” Bleys said. “Let us deprive those hobgoblins of some troops to use against our homeland.”
“I disagree,” Victoria said. Noticing Bleys was still hurt, she called for Anhur to close the watch-mage’s wounds. “We are wasting time with the goblins here and jeopardizing our chance to warn the north of the hobgoblins’ efforts and this one that the half-breed called ‘the Master.’ Anhur knows I want to prove myself in battle, but preparedness is also part of war.”
“Good point,” Timotheus replied, quickly changing his mind once the thought of home entered it. “I’m glad we came here and all, but maybe we should go back.”
“I think we should go to Schiereiland and tell your father what we have learned here,” Telémahkos agreed.
“And what of the Moor-Tomb?” Bleys asked.
“This seems more pressing than some old trapped tomb,” Telémahkos replied.
The Signers decided that their adventures in and around the King Stones were over. Refilling their skins at the watering hole, they had Falco begin to guide them to the Ray-Ree village. Once there they could decide if they would return to civilization or search for the mysterious Tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville.
Osilem, the 3rd of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
Two days later the Signers were back at the Ray-Ree village. Kermit had found them on their way, disoriented by the unrelenting sun of the Disputed Territories and suffering from heat exhaustion. He greeted the news of their abandoning the King Stones with his usual smirk of contempt. He was on his way back from delivering Tim’s horse to the Ray-Ree. The halfling led them the rest of the way back to the village on Duckhunter.
After meeting with Admentus, the party sharing a meager meal with the tribe. Crusta was introduced to the First Elder and to some of the members of the barbarian group, and as the child of a former member, she was offered a place among them, though if she wanted to practice witchcraft she would have to seek out Rudwilla and get her approval, and live out in the moors. Clearly unsure of herself, the half-orc girl continued to follow Markos around, looking at him expectantly every time he spoke. All during their journey he had made the time to talk to her, shared his food and water, and asked many questions about witchcraft.
They learned that while they were gone two women of the tribe had returned from the gathering of the hordes. 2 There had been three others who had headed back with them, but they did not survive the perilous journey. The women brought news of the city of Majenta burning at the hands of the gathered tribes, one of the high temples of the Red God of the West had been defiled and the tribe shamans summoned their animal totems to fight among themselves and devour captives. The entire Uzon tribe, the bear-warriors of the Isle of Dusk had been slain in a poorly planned assault on a dervish camp. A high priest of the Red God of the West had summoned a ‘black angel’ that could kill with its stare. Lavia, who was one of the women who had returned, was pointed out to them. Her hair was a shock of white, and though she was still a young woman, her face was creased with sorrow. It was but a glimpse of the angel’s face that had done it the other, Tora, had said, for Lavia no longer spoke. They left the Ray-Ray warriors joined with other tribes in building boats to travel even further south and westward and continue their path of war and destruction.
Timotheus hooted his pleasure, and recommended cracking open the cask of Red Gritch Ale 3 the packhorse had been carrying around in celebration. The others agreed.
After dinner, the young nobles gathered in the open hut provided them to discuss their plans.
“If we are going to go to the Moor-Tomb then I think we should send Kermit back with a message to send to my father about the Hobgoblins of the Blue Claw and the breeding experiments,” Timotheus said.
“If the matter is so pressing why do we not just return now?” Laarus of Ra reasoned.
“I’m all for going back,” Timotheus said. “What more can we do here?”
“There is a lot more to be done,” Bleys said. “Aside from the Flor’Choo, there were other caves to explore and I was curious about the Dark Apshai Ziggurat. Not to mention the Moor-Tomb.”
“I think we should go back,” Telémahkos agreed with his cousin.
“I don’t particularly think this hobgoblin issue is pressing, but am more than happy to go back if it means we might get a chance to look into the matter of the Pearls,” Markos said, looking at each person with mock attentiveness. 4
“I would rather face foes with honor than to creep around a trapped tomb,” Victoria of Anhur said. “But I stand with Brother Laarus. As he goes, I go…”
“I still believe that we have much to gain by finding the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville,” Bleys said. “Not the least of which is the amulet touched by Fallon’s mortal form, said to have healing properties. Think of the good that object could do, and as I have said the Church of Isis has given their blessing to have such an item retrieved. Is it not for this kind of thing that we gathered?”
The discussion lasted for quite a while, but as Markos began to nod off, leaning on Crusta, and Dunlevey and Falco returned from wandering the grounds without hiding their frustration with the prolonged debate, there was a vote on the matter, and it was unanimous. 5 The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland would seek out the Moor-Tomb on the following day, and Kermit would be sent back to civilization to send a message by faultless to Pyla. The halfling was not happy about having to go and then return to guide them back, but he was offered extra coin, and he admitted that traveling alone would be safer for him.
“Anyway, I didn’t fancy the idea of waiting outside that tomb for you to come out,” he added. “I figure I should be back in a fortnight… Uh, maybe more like twenty or so days…"
-------------------------------------
Some hours later Timotheus woke up, and noticed Bleys awake, sitting in the doorway contemplating the full moon. The blond warrior crawled over to him and scooted out of the hut, to sit outside and look out for a moment.
“Gotta pee,” he said, and wandered off.
When he returned, getting down to crawl back in among the lump of sleeping adventurers, hirelings and the dog, but then stopped and looked back at the watch-mage.
“I just want you to know,” he said. “That I saw the siege of Marrock, or its results anyway, and I know that hobgoblins burn and kill women and kids, and torture people and take slaves. My kin and my friends are at risk from those monsters, so I plan to be as stubborn as Laarus when the time comes to journey to Pyla and defend it.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Bleys the Aubergine replied in a quiet voice. He never took his eyes from the night sky. Timotheus crawled back in and dropped off to sleep.
Teflem, the 6th of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
Two days before the Signers had left the Ray-Ree village behind; once again, leaving it to the tribe’s generosity to look after their horses. Timotheus gave three throwing axes to the barbarians as a gift. They had been among the things recovered from Hezra’s cave. Crusta was with them, deciding to let Markos decide for her when asked what she preferred doing.
“He’s my boyfriend. He decide,” she said. Markos insisted she come along, and said he planned to teach her to read.
“It was only her environment that made her like she was,” Markos explained to the others. “I mean, how do you think you would have ended up having grown up in a place like that?”
“We would not have grown up in a place like,” Victoria replied. “We are a civilized people…”
Kermit Buckleburr had mounted Duckhunter and taken off north that same morning. Before he left, Timotheus paid the halfling ten extra silver coins, and thanked him for taking the message.
They had reached the Ickle Trik the night before, but decided to camp out before crossing the river since it had been getting dark. In the pre-dawn hours of the third watch, after a long talk concerning the latter’s visions, 6 Bleys and Laarus confronted Falco about his use of magic in the battle against the ghouls when they went to visit Brother Cineas. 7
“It is like when the half-breed woman called on Isis,” Falco explained, when he was not given a chance to withdraw. “I called on the spirits that serve Shu to aid me on that day.”
“Witchcraft,” Laarus said.
“Some call it that,” Falco replied.
“And where did you learn this?” Bleys asked.
“When I was a boy, from my aunt who raised me,” Falco said. “She was the village mid-wife.”
“Like Rudwilla…” Bleys said.
“Yes.”
“Why did you not tell us of this before?” Laarus asked.
“It did not seem important to the job which you hired me to do,” Falco said. “Unlike some, I see calling on the spirits as something that should not be done lightly. My aunt always taught respect and restraint.”
Laarus of Ra did not hide his displeasure, but after a warning against deceiving them, he let the topic lie.
After breakfast and spell preparations, the Signers looked to Markos to get them across the river once they climbed down the steep mossy embankment. The water looked very deep and cold and moved very fast.
“Creáre nautica!” Markos chanted holding aloft a small wooden model of a row boat. A moment later, there was similar rowboat of usable size dredged up on to the narrow banks of the Ickle Trick. It took several trips and expert rowing to deal with the current, but eventually everyone made it across. 8
From there they marched north by north east, keeping the line of the Ickle Trick in view, but staying closer to the treeline to avoid being spotted too easily from its shore. The ground was increasingly swampy, and mosquitoes crawled under their armor and around their necks taking long irritating drinks of their blood. The air was heavy and the heat oppressive, but though it threatened rain, no rain ever came to relieve them. Near mid-day they spotted the silhouettes of the ruined buildings of the town of Moor-Wall, and Falco led them even further east on their northward journey to not be see from there in turn.
“Laarus, what can you tell me about ghouls?” Timotheus asked the priest. “How is it best to fight them?”
“Slashing weapons,” the priest replied. “Piercing weapon may puncture organs, but being undead they do not need their organs. And while breaking bones with a blunt weapon can slow them down, it actually lopping them apart that is most effective.”
Timotheus carried this news to his cousin, and for the first time Telémahkos looked at his magical rapier with disappointment. They quickly convinced Dunlevey to lend the smaller Briareus his longsword.
Looking at the map Bleys had gotten from Malcolm the Bronze 9, Falco led them back to the west, risking getting close to Moor-Wall in hopes that coming in the direction of the overgrown track that led from the bridge might give them a clue of what they were looking for.
‘Follow the Masks’ the map said, and sure enough, a bunch of them spotted the black lacquered mask carved high up on a bald petrified gray tree. The mask was crude, but expressive, and had a rune of a horizontal line with a dot over its center carved on the forehead.
Standing beneath this tree they began to scan around at the same height and sure enough they noted a dark spot on a similar tree some several dozen yards away. Approaching revealed a similar mask, but this one a sad countenance at odd with the smiling (if still frightening) face of the first mask. The rune was a short horizontal line with a dot hanging below it.
“These are similar to the runes of the ancient Mystics,” Laarus said. “They were an expressive people, and much of their language is made up of runes signifying gradations of emotions which are combined in incredibly complex ways. Some say that the language of the ancients was so powerful it had inherent magic-like properties.”
Victoria spotted the next mask from beneath that tree and then spotted yet another one. Each one was about another few dozen yards further than the last one had been, leading them north by northeast. Once the distances between them became so great that they had to fan out and look, Bleys took to tying a bronze-colored sash to the previous mask-carved tree to make sure they did not lose their way in the increasingly dense swamp foliage. The sash was borrowed from Telémahkos.
Dunlevey spotted the next two, and Laarus did his best to translate each mask’s rune. There was happiness and sadness. “That one is… contemplation?” It was clear some guesswork was involved. “And I have no idea what that other one is…”
Markos noted a stone wedged into a hole at the base of one of the sixth marked tree. Telémahkos checked it for traps and then pulled it out. Inside was a stuffed bird, like a small partridge. Its eyes had been torn out, and it was tied with red string.
“Could that be some kind of magic?” Timotheus asked Crusta. “Witchcraft?”
“It could be,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. Telémahkos put it back and covered it with the stone.
The seventh mask was very far from the sixth and took nearly an hour to find. “Avarice? Greed? Something like that,” Laarus said of the rune on it, but more importantly they could see a large clearing just beyond the petrified tree. Some kind of narrow stone structure was sticking up out over the treeline.
“That must be the pointed tower that is the ‘keyhole tower to tomb’,” Bleys said, holding the moor-tomb map aloft. He led his companions in that direction, an uncharacteristic eagerness in his countenance.
End of Session #16
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el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
----------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
1 Upon first arriving in the area of the King Stones, Falco warned the party that the dry conditions meant they had to be wary of starting a forest fire. (See Session #12)
2 The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland learned that the warriors of the Ray-Ree had gone to the Council of the Chieftains to decide what to do about Rube incursions in their lands, and the taking of their children for dervish camps. The decision was immediate attack. In the Ray-Ree culture (and in that of several of the barbarian tribes of the Spice & Thread Islands), women accompany their men to battle, taking care of their meals and weapons, and being responsible for bringing their bodies back to the tribe for burial should they fall.
3 This was part of the booty the party gathered from the looting of Kraken’s Cove.
4 Markos is referring of course to the black pearl of Harliss’ tale and from the notes on the map that once belonged to Vanthus Vanderboren.
5 I have no memory of how this notoriously contentious group reached a consensus at all. Perhaps it was only possible by means of some alien technology that then proceeded to wipe our memory of it, because when I surveyed the players about how the discussion had reached that point, none could give me any details. And yet, I know it did happen, because it was in the notes and the party did end up going there. Anyway, it is not as if anyone in the group claimed that it wasn’t a consensus, we just don’t know how it happened.
6 This conversation was handled later via the messageboards, and can be read as InterSession #16.1
7 The party visited Brother Cineas in Session #12.
8 This spell is conjure boat
9 See InterSession #8.5 for more information.
Notes:
1 Upon first arriving in the area of the King Stones, Falco warned the party that the dry conditions meant they had to be wary of starting a forest fire. (See Session #12)
2 The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland learned that the warriors of the Ray-Ree had gone to the Council of the Chieftains to decide what to do about Rube incursions in their lands, and the taking of their children for dervish camps. The decision was immediate attack. In the Ray-Ree culture (and in that of several of the barbarian tribes of the Spice & Thread Islands), women accompany their men to battle, taking care of their meals and weapons, and being responsible for bringing their bodies back to the tribe for burial should they fall.
3 This was part of the booty the party gathered from the looting of Kraken’s Cove.
4 Markos is referring of course to the black pearl of Harliss’ tale and from the notes on the map that once belonged to Vanthus Vanderboren.
5 I have no memory of how this notoriously contentious group reached a consensus at all. Perhaps it was only possible by means of some alien technology that then proceeded to wipe our memory of it, because when I surveyed the players about how the discussion had reached that point, none could give me any details. And yet, I know it did happen, because it was in the notes and the party did end up going there. Anyway, it is not as if anyone in the group claimed that it wasn’t a consensus, we just don’t know how it happened.
6 This conversation was handled later via the messageboards, and can be read as InterSession #16.1
7 The party visited Brother Cineas in Session #12.
8 This spell is conjure boat
9 See InterSession #8.5 for more information.
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Ciaran
First Post
As I recall, the deadlock wasn't broken until after Kermit stated that he'd be safer traveling on his own rather than with the group. At that point, Timotheus (who really wanted the warning about hobgoblin activity to get through) switched his vote to staying on in the Disputed Territories while Kermit got the message to Thricia, and Telemakhos reluctantly followed suit.el-remmen said:
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
InterSession #16.1 – “In the Dark Hours Before Dawn”
Teflem, the 6th of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
"May I speak with you?" the priest of Ra requested of the academy wizard. It was the coldest hour before sunrise, and the watch-mage and the priest were on watch together. "Do you know who the Pillars might be? As it would relate to a watch-mage?"
The rest of the Signers of Charter of Schiereiland were asleep, except for their scout, Falco, who was off seeking small game birds among the reeds beside the Ickle Trik. Bleys the Aubergine risked throwing another small log on the fire as he mused. It crackled, sending sparks into the darkness. "Hmmmm, Pillars… I know the Pillars of Ra, if that is what you mean, but I do not know how they may relate to a watch-mage specifically. Why do you ask? Is this important now?"
"Not now, but soon" The priest paused, quietly pondering. “I am familiar with the Pillars of Ra, as well, but a watch-mage would not be one of them. And it'd be unlikely such an involvement would put them at odds with the law. So you know of no other group known as the Pillars?"
Bleys mulled the question once again, looking at the glowing outline of Laarus’ pale face in the fire light, perhaps considering the source of the question as much as the questions itself. "I believe there are the White Pillars in the City of Sorcery, but that is not a group, it is a location. Perhaps this is what you seek? All of this is very curious though. Does it stem from another of your visions?"
"Yes. Another insight into what will be, but has yet to come. Part of it concerns a colleague of yours. I do not feel the White Pillars would have to do with it. No man can be one of those." Laarus paused in consideration only briefly when a sudden realization lit up his dull green eyes. "Unless there is a group associated with them…"
"Hmm, I need more detail to be of aid,” Bleys sat beside the priest of Ra, and cleared his throat softly. “As I understand it, you are telling me that you have seen some watch-mage in league with a group using ‘Pillars’ as a moniker or part there-of, and they are in conflict with Thrician law. Is this correct? Perhaps it would be best if you told me all you saw…"
"No, that is not what I'm telling you,” Laarus stood. He pulled his cloak closer around him against the chill, and then kneeled beside the fire, warming his hands. He did not look back at Bleys when he spoke, but deep into the fire. “And that is not what I saw. One should be mindful of leaping to conclusions. It can lead you astray. Especially when concerning these visions."
Bleys cocked an eyebrow. "Do not vex Laarus, for I am not drawing any conclusions. Quite the contrary. I wish not to presume anything, which is exactly why I ask you for clarification. For certainly making any rash judgment could lead to one’s demise, I know you agree…"
Laarus did not turn from the fire. "I shall not tell you all I've seen now, but I can tell you the piece that concerns what I have asked about.” He closed his eyes. "We're in our suite in Sluetelot. Most of us… You enter the suite reading a letter and say: 'More bad news. Oroleniel has been imprisoned. They say he did it because he is one of the Pillars.'"
There was a long silence broken only by the crackling fire and the first chirpings of birds who could see the sun before even the pious eyes of priest of Ra could. Finally, Bleys spoke, "Perhaps we should think on this differently. More specifically, less concerning Oroleniel, whom unfortunately I know scant little about, and more to do with you. And why you have these visions."
Laarus stood and turned looking deep into his companion's eyes. "It is difficult, I know. My thoughts would pull in a hundred directions when these were new to me. But Ra has helped restore order to my mind. These visions cannot be overthought or underthought. If they are, you risk not seeing the truth. I've still to find the perfect balance. Even after all these years." Placing a hand on Bleys' shoulder, Laarus continued, "Put your mind at ease. Your comments have already helped me see where information might be found." Bleys looked to the hand, unaccustomed to physical displays of familiarity, but looked at Laarus again as the priest brought his hands back together, intertwining his fingers. "Speak with Telémakhos. He may know something of the Pillars. He's quite knowledgeable about organizations throughout Thricia."
"As of yet, I am unable to ease what weighs on my mind. And I am glad the topic has been broached,” Bleys replied. “When we were at the Vanderboren Manse, you told me that you believed that these visions were not bestowed upon you by Ra. This thought ails me. If not Ra, then from whom? And why? How are you certain that your patron does not confer them? I know you say that they always come true, but nonetheless they make me uneasy, unknowing of their intent and derivation. You are one of Ra's most faithful servants. If someone else can meddle in your mind, how can you trust all that you see? And certainly you must be aware that it makes it harder for others to trust you."
"I know they aren't sent by Ra, because I know from where they flow. They do not come from another person, being, or entity. They do not come from anything with its own motivations, goals, or desires, I assure you, as I did Telémakhos." The priest took a step back away from Bleys. "And they have all come to pass. Except for those a few months back. Distrust their veracity, if you wish, I can understand it difficult to see without proof, but me? The worth of my trust is being questioned?"
Bleys was unphased by Laarus sudden shift in demeanor, and replied flatly. "No. I trust you. Do not conflate my words and my position. See it from our point of view. You are a priest of Ra - king of the gods. You tell us that you experience visions. You tell us that they involve the foresight of our demise, and that they always come to bear. And you tell us that they are not warnings sent by Ra. What would you think? If I am to accept wholly what you tell me, and I do, for I have no reason not to then what must I assume? Some other very powerful force is at work. It is hard to blindly trust those visions as altruistic, despite your best intentions. The very action you take in an attempt to save one of us may indeed ironically doom one or all of us. Do you disagree?”
“I am aware of that possibility,” Laarus replied, briefly and solemnly.
Bleys continued, "You have admitted that the visions are but mere bits of information, windows upon a scene that is but a blink in time. Telémakhos may yet be destined for immolation. He may return to Quillton some day. Both he and the city remain, and there is no way for us to determine whether or not your vision related to our trip to the Vanderboren manse last month or some other journey next year." The watch-mage only paused slightly, plodding on in his flat tone. "But between those who are ostensibly friends should you not trust in us? Why is it so hard for us to collaborate fully in delving further into this mystery? Surely there must be some reason that you chose to come to me with the information that you have, and I am grateful for that. Allow me to help you further if you will, but hobbled with half-truths and hunches, I will be hard-pressed."
“I don't believe the visions are altruistic, and though what they show is sinister, the visions themselves are neutral. They only show what will be. But, I will use what I see, what I know, to bring light in place of that coming darkness, if I can… That is my choice. That is my duty." Laarus paused for a moment, silently separating the change in subject. "And, I chose to come to you because I felt you might shine some light on the truth I've been shown. You could not. But, you've shown me another possible source. Until I learn more, I have nothing else to say on the matter. What I've told you is my only glimpse of the truth. It seems the rest of my vision has nothing to do with it. And revealing that will only serve to burden you and vex you. That is why I've said nothing of it. Not because of any lack of trust. All we can do now is search out the truth and not let hunches cloud our judgment." There was another long pause. "But I can say no more about the source of my visions. I have told you all I am able without betraying the trust of others."
"Very well then, I respect your wishes,” Bleys said, letting go of the subject with dispassionate ease. “As I learn additional information I may be able to offer further insight. And in the meantime I will think on this more, perhaps with time I may recall something I was unable to immediately."
Bleys focused on Laarus, holding his attention with his eyes as to emphasize the gravity of his words. "But if I may, a word of caution, Laarus. Do not martyr yourself for us. Such weight can wear heavily upon a mind. We are all grown men who willingly signed our charter, which means we are all bound to work together for weal or woe, do not betray the support you have available to you."
"I do not intend to martyr myself for anyone, and neither will I turn my back on them or betray them. When I felt Telémakhos could enlighten what I knew, I sought his support. When I felt you could, I requested yours. I understand the weight of what I carry. It is my burden. And I do not wish to cause another to bear its full load."
Bleys nodded. "Good, so then we are in agreement. When you have something further for me I will be anxious to lend what aid I may."
"I'm happy to hear I have your support," Laarus Raymer replied with a rare smile. They heard Falco return to camp and Bleys was reminded of something else he wanted to discuss with Laarus concerning Falco’s mysterious spellcasting.
End of InterSession #16.1
Teflem, the 6th of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
"May I speak with you?" the priest of Ra requested of the academy wizard. It was the coldest hour before sunrise, and the watch-mage and the priest were on watch together. "Do you know who the Pillars might be? As it would relate to a watch-mage?"
The rest of the Signers of Charter of Schiereiland were asleep, except for their scout, Falco, who was off seeking small game birds among the reeds beside the Ickle Trik. Bleys the Aubergine risked throwing another small log on the fire as he mused. It crackled, sending sparks into the darkness. "Hmmmm, Pillars… I know the Pillars of Ra, if that is what you mean, but I do not know how they may relate to a watch-mage specifically. Why do you ask? Is this important now?"
"Not now, but soon" The priest paused, quietly pondering. “I am familiar with the Pillars of Ra, as well, but a watch-mage would not be one of them. And it'd be unlikely such an involvement would put them at odds with the law. So you know of no other group known as the Pillars?"
Bleys mulled the question once again, looking at the glowing outline of Laarus’ pale face in the fire light, perhaps considering the source of the question as much as the questions itself. "I believe there are the White Pillars in the City of Sorcery, but that is not a group, it is a location. Perhaps this is what you seek? All of this is very curious though. Does it stem from another of your visions?"
"Yes. Another insight into what will be, but has yet to come. Part of it concerns a colleague of yours. I do not feel the White Pillars would have to do with it. No man can be one of those." Laarus paused in consideration only briefly when a sudden realization lit up his dull green eyes. "Unless there is a group associated with them…"
"Hmm, I need more detail to be of aid,” Bleys sat beside the priest of Ra, and cleared his throat softly. “As I understand it, you are telling me that you have seen some watch-mage in league with a group using ‘Pillars’ as a moniker or part there-of, and they are in conflict with Thrician law. Is this correct? Perhaps it would be best if you told me all you saw…"
"No, that is not what I'm telling you,” Laarus stood. He pulled his cloak closer around him against the chill, and then kneeled beside the fire, warming his hands. He did not look back at Bleys when he spoke, but deep into the fire. “And that is not what I saw. One should be mindful of leaping to conclusions. It can lead you astray. Especially when concerning these visions."
Bleys cocked an eyebrow. "Do not vex Laarus, for I am not drawing any conclusions. Quite the contrary. I wish not to presume anything, which is exactly why I ask you for clarification. For certainly making any rash judgment could lead to one’s demise, I know you agree…"
Laarus did not turn from the fire. "I shall not tell you all I've seen now, but I can tell you the piece that concerns what I have asked about.” He closed his eyes. "We're in our suite in Sluetelot. Most of us… You enter the suite reading a letter and say: 'More bad news. Oroleniel has been imprisoned. They say he did it because he is one of the Pillars.'"
There was a long silence broken only by the crackling fire and the first chirpings of birds who could see the sun before even the pious eyes of priest of Ra could. Finally, Bleys spoke, "Perhaps we should think on this differently. More specifically, less concerning Oroleniel, whom unfortunately I know scant little about, and more to do with you. And why you have these visions."
Laarus stood and turned looking deep into his companion's eyes. "It is difficult, I know. My thoughts would pull in a hundred directions when these were new to me. But Ra has helped restore order to my mind. These visions cannot be overthought or underthought. If they are, you risk not seeing the truth. I've still to find the perfect balance. Even after all these years." Placing a hand on Bleys' shoulder, Laarus continued, "Put your mind at ease. Your comments have already helped me see where information might be found." Bleys looked to the hand, unaccustomed to physical displays of familiarity, but looked at Laarus again as the priest brought his hands back together, intertwining his fingers. "Speak with Telémakhos. He may know something of the Pillars. He's quite knowledgeable about organizations throughout Thricia."
"As of yet, I am unable to ease what weighs on my mind. And I am glad the topic has been broached,” Bleys replied. “When we were at the Vanderboren Manse, you told me that you believed that these visions were not bestowed upon you by Ra. This thought ails me. If not Ra, then from whom? And why? How are you certain that your patron does not confer them? I know you say that they always come true, but nonetheless they make me uneasy, unknowing of their intent and derivation. You are one of Ra's most faithful servants. If someone else can meddle in your mind, how can you trust all that you see? And certainly you must be aware that it makes it harder for others to trust you."
"I know they aren't sent by Ra, because I know from where they flow. They do not come from another person, being, or entity. They do not come from anything with its own motivations, goals, or desires, I assure you, as I did Telémakhos." The priest took a step back away from Bleys. "And they have all come to pass. Except for those a few months back. Distrust their veracity, if you wish, I can understand it difficult to see without proof, but me? The worth of my trust is being questioned?"
Bleys was unphased by Laarus sudden shift in demeanor, and replied flatly. "No. I trust you. Do not conflate my words and my position. See it from our point of view. You are a priest of Ra - king of the gods. You tell us that you experience visions. You tell us that they involve the foresight of our demise, and that they always come to bear. And you tell us that they are not warnings sent by Ra. What would you think? If I am to accept wholly what you tell me, and I do, for I have no reason not to then what must I assume? Some other very powerful force is at work. It is hard to blindly trust those visions as altruistic, despite your best intentions. The very action you take in an attempt to save one of us may indeed ironically doom one or all of us. Do you disagree?”
“I am aware of that possibility,” Laarus replied, briefly and solemnly.
Bleys continued, "You have admitted that the visions are but mere bits of information, windows upon a scene that is but a blink in time. Telémakhos may yet be destined for immolation. He may return to Quillton some day. Both he and the city remain, and there is no way for us to determine whether or not your vision related to our trip to the Vanderboren manse last month or some other journey next year." The watch-mage only paused slightly, plodding on in his flat tone. "But between those who are ostensibly friends should you not trust in us? Why is it so hard for us to collaborate fully in delving further into this mystery? Surely there must be some reason that you chose to come to me with the information that you have, and I am grateful for that. Allow me to help you further if you will, but hobbled with half-truths and hunches, I will be hard-pressed."
“I don't believe the visions are altruistic, and though what they show is sinister, the visions themselves are neutral. They only show what will be. But, I will use what I see, what I know, to bring light in place of that coming darkness, if I can… That is my choice. That is my duty." Laarus paused for a moment, silently separating the change in subject. "And, I chose to come to you because I felt you might shine some light on the truth I've been shown. You could not. But, you've shown me another possible source. Until I learn more, I have nothing else to say on the matter. What I've told you is my only glimpse of the truth. It seems the rest of my vision has nothing to do with it. And revealing that will only serve to burden you and vex you. That is why I've said nothing of it. Not because of any lack of trust. All we can do now is search out the truth and not let hunches cloud our judgment." There was another long pause. "But I can say no more about the source of my visions. I have told you all I am able without betraying the trust of others."
"Very well then, I respect your wishes,” Bleys said, letting go of the subject with dispassionate ease. “As I learn additional information I may be able to offer further insight. And in the meantime I will think on this more, perhaps with time I may recall something I was unable to immediately."
Bleys focused on Laarus, holding his attention with his eyes as to emphasize the gravity of his words. "But if I may, a word of caution, Laarus. Do not martyr yourself for us. Such weight can wear heavily upon a mind. We are all grown men who willingly signed our charter, which means we are all bound to work together for weal or woe, do not betray the support you have available to you."
"I do not intend to martyr myself for anyone, and neither will I turn my back on them or betray them. When I felt Telémakhos could enlighten what I knew, I sought his support. When I felt you could, I requested yours. I understand the weight of what I carry. It is my burden. And I do not wish to cause another to bear its full load."
Bleys nodded. "Good, so then we are in agreement. When you have something further for me I will be anxious to lend what aid I may."
"I'm happy to hear I have your support," Laarus Raymer replied with a rare smile. They heard Falco return to camp and Bleys was reminded of something else he wanted to discuss with Laarus concerning Falco’s mysterious spellcasting.
End of InterSession #16.1
handforged
First Post
Great little bit of dialog there! Thanks for the update.
~hf
~hf
Gold Roger
First Post
Wew, finally had the time to read up on your storyhour. Great as always.
I remember reading info on the Nine in you older campaigns. This could get real interesting.
I remember reading info on the Nine in you older campaigns. This could get real interesting.
darkhall-nestor
Explorer
Every thing all right
You haven’t had an update in a few weeks
You haven’t had an update in a few weeks
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