The Gray King
- Thread starter Isida Kep'Tukari
- Start date
As you stand about discussing, the badly injured and apparently only unconscious filcher gives a single wheeze. No one had been watching it for several minutes, and as you turn quickly to look, it blinks back into the ether. Now truly left with no evidence additional evidence, except perhaps a bit more new frustration, you can return to camp, still with some caution to avoid any remaining booby traps.
As you enter back into the wagon circle, the Blademark Defenders are watching you with trepidation. You can hear more than one whisper that you must either be very brave or mad to go running into the woods after a group of people that can shoot snake-arrows. Not so surprisingly, no one comes up to you right away.
You're able to meet back up with Valerian, Kurst, and Irthos, who look as if they haven't been idle during your chase.
As you enter back into the wagon circle, the Blademark Defenders are watching you with trepidation. You can hear more than one whisper that you must either be very brave or mad to go running into the woods after a group of people that can shoot snake-arrows. Not so surprisingly, no one comes up to you right away.
You're able to meet back up with Valerian, Kurst, and Irthos, who look as if they haven't been idle during your chase.
OOC: Oops, my bad. Technically you just had it in your grasp, so it couldn't have escaped. You could rip it up if you like. Or try to talk to it.
OOC: Right then, and with a bit of retroactive correction...
Maavnod takes the moment to tear out with his arms, easily rending the unconscious filcher limb from limb. Curiously some parts of it seem to fade into the ether, but one had and the head remain. Like the marauder, there's a crudely stapled incision in the head.
Back at camp, carrying the two heads and one green and white filcher arm, the group finally reconvenes.
Maavnod takes the moment to tear out with his arms, easily rending the unconscious filcher limb from limb. Curiously some parts of it seem to fade into the ether, but one had and the head remain. Like the marauder, there's a crudely stapled incision in the head.
Back at camp, carrying the two heads and one green and white filcher arm, the group finally reconvenes.
EvolutionKB
First Post
Oliver, Human Binder
Oliver swaggers back into the bulk of the party. "We got some of them, but not all. We can't do anything about it though, so lets get going."
Oliver swaggers back into the bulk of the party. "We got some of them, but not all. We can't do anything about it though, so lets get going."
OOC: Swiftly moving on...
~~~~~~~~~~~
Thusly confused and partially vindicated, the party beds down for the evening. Or they would have if a half-panicked caravan master hadn't all but roused them from their beds, demanded to know what in the name of the Host and Dragon Below was going on!
Yatrax intercepts the agitated Master Vorj and takes him off to the side to explain, the vaguest possible terms, that there had been an enemy, clearly a madman, in the woods. Using unusual artifice and illusion, he had attacked with the snake arrows and sent the marauder to cause confusion and disruption.
"A madman, touched by Khyber. No man could have predicted this," she tells him, and eventually, with additional persuasion from the party, Master Vorj accepts this. Since Vorj doesn't know about Roth, and would undoubtedly be extremely upset, to the point of possible violence, to learn that a serial killer in league with aberrations might be tracking the caravan, it seems good to be discrete.
In the morning, you all move out again.
[sblock=Arrgha'n]The slug-like thing starts to wither slowly the next day. You attempt to feed it with water and ground-up dried meat, but that only seems to slow its decline. You have a sneaking suspicion that this thing, like many other symbionts, requires a host to survive. The easiest way to keep it alive would be to let it attach itself to yourself or another. Otherwise you think it will die within a few days. Your throwing scarab chitters slightly when the slug-thing is near, but it is difficult to tell if it is in warning or welcome. [/sblock] [sblock=Valerian and Kurst]I assume Valerian, with his very scholarly background, would be the first to investigate the collected heads, though Kurst's insight would undoubtedly help.
In disecting the heads of the marauder and filcher to determine what was under those odd stapled incisions, you come across some very curious things. Across the tops of both brains is a fine metal mesh, the silvery-green metallic fibers occasionally reinforced with what seems to be spider silk in some places, or minute flexible tubes in others, made of the thin rubber-tree sap that grows in Zilargo. What the mesh's purpose was, neither of you is entirely certain, but it was probably done without either creature's concent.[/sblock]~~~~~~~
You continue your travels across the border into the Eldeen Reaches. Here the land grows green and lush, with tall trees and dense brush bordering one side of the road, and the glitter of Lake Galifar on the other. Only once more are you troubled, by a group of bandits that seem to be comprised of a mix of ex-soldiers of several nations as well as the more common raider thugs. Driven to attack the heavy caravan by desperation and hunger, they tried to circle the last wagon and drag it off.
The Blademark Defenders handle the bandits themselves, but when its clear one of their number is a magician with some kind of vine golem under his control, you become involved. Maavnod has a great deal of fun grappling with something with as many or more arms than him, while Arrgha'n and Oliver deal a great deal of messy, sap-coated death to the dozen miniature vine things that try to extract your entrails from your bodies without your permission. Valerian, Yatrax, and Kurst, use spell, shadow, and curse to prevent the little plant creatures (mandragoras, Valerian recognizes later) from swarming their companions and a couple of over-eager Blademarks. Irthos, high above the melee, spies the magician, and introduces him to his acid sheath with an up-close and personal demonstration he never got a chance to appreciate.
When the few remaining survivors have fled, most of the bandits lie very dead. The vine-golem and its little friends are equally as dead, and their controller twice as much so. While the Blademarks strip the bandits of what weapons, armor, gear, and what pitiful money they actually had, you are welcome to the magician's spoils. The heart of the vine-golem, once cut open, proves to be an emerald the size of a halfling's eye, round, faceted, and flawless, surely worth a great sum.
The mandragora sap has worth as a wound sealer, able to stop heavily bleeding wounds, and Valerian is able to gather a half dozen vials. Finally, in addition to the usual spell components, the magician carried one more thing, a sealed pot of paints and several brushes. It's Kurst, with his background as an artificer, who recognizes the paints as a version of Nolzar's marveous pigments. What this desperate backwoods bandit was doing with such a treasure is entirely uncertain, but your group could certainly make good use of them.
The caravan proceeds mostly unmolested to the center of the deep woods, to Greenheart, the city of druids. Your welcome along the road was mostly cool, but not hostile. As long as you obey the laws of the Wardens of the Wood, no one would be spoken against.
The city of Greenheart is just as lush as the forest around it, and if weren't for the multitude of people and slightly more deliberate paths and roads marked with stones, you could have sworn you were in the middle of the woods. Homes and businesses are built into the massive trees, plants flourish on every surface, and flowers seem to serve as public artwork. Massive toadstools serve as public benches, and fountains are simply natural springs with stones worked around them to define them.
Master Vorj seems delighted to be able to unload the rest of this goods here, and bargains briskly for goods from this city to be loaded for his return trip. Between one bargain and the next he waves you aside.
"All right, this is the end of the line for me. After this you're on your own. You've pulled you own weight and then some, so I can say I was glad enough to have you along. Olladra's luck with your quest," he says brusquely, clearly glad to have discharged his obligation to transport such strange folk as yourself.
It has taken you a month to get to Greenhart, and now you have the rest of the Reaches to work through, and then the terrible Demon Wastes themselves to cross. But for now you are in the last large, friendly city that you may see for some time. What do you want to do?
[sblock=OOC]Just a random encounter there, I didn't see the need to spend a month or two on a combat with no actual plot use. What are peoples needing to get done before you head off on the second part of your quest? Information you want to look around for? Things you want to buy or trade for?[/sblock]
~~~~~~~~~~~
Thusly confused and partially vindicated, the party beds down for the evening. Or they would have if a half-panicked caravan master hadn't all but roused them from their beds, demanded to know what in the name of the Host and Dragon Below was going on!
Yatrax intercepts the agitated Master Vorj and takes him off to the side to explain, the vaguest possible terms, that there had been an enemy, clearly a madman, in the woods. Using unusual artifice and illusion, he had attacked with the snake arrows and sent the marauder to cause confusion and disruption.
"A madman, touched by Khyber. No man could have predicted this," she tells him, and eventually, with additional persuasion from the party, Master Vorj accepts this. Since Vorj doesn't know about Roth, and would undoubtedly be extremely upset, to the point of possible violence, to learn that a serial killer in league with aberrations might be tracking the caravan, it seems good to be discrete.
In the morning, you all move out again.
[sblock=Arrgha'n]The slug-like thing starts to wither slowly the next day. You attempt to feed it with water and ground-up dried meat, but that only seems to slow its decline. You have a sneaking suspicion that this thing, like many other symbionts, requires a host to survive. The easiest way to keep it alive would be to let it attach itself to yourself or another. Otherwise you think it will die within a few days. Your throwing scarab chitters slightly when the slug-thing is near, but it is difficult to tell if it is in warning or welcome. [/sblock] [sblock=Valerian and Kurst]I assume Valerian, with his very scholarly background, would be the first to investigate the collected heads, though Kurst's insight would undoubtedly help.
In disecting the heads of the marauder and filcher to determine what was under those odd stapled incisions, you come across some very curious things. Across the tops of both brains is a fine metal mesh, the silvery-green metallic fibers occasionally reinforced with what seems to be spider silk in some places, or minute flexible tubes in others, made of the thin rubber-tree sap that grows in Zilargo. What the mesh's purpose was, neither of you is entirely certain, but it was probably done without either creature's concent.[/sblock]~~~~~~~
You continue your travels across the border into the Eldeen Reaches. Here the land grows green and lush, with tall trees and dense brush bordering one side of the road, and the glitter of Lake Galifar on the other. Only once more are you troubled, by a group of bandits that seem to be comprised of a mix of ex-soldiers of several nations as well as the more common raider thugs. Driven to attack the heavy caravan by desperation and hunger, they tried to circle the last wagon and drag it off.
The Blademark Defenders handle the bandits themselves, but when its clear one of their number is a magician with some kind of vine golem under his control, you become involved. Maavnod has a great deal of fun grappling with something with as many or more arms than him, while Arrgha'n and Oliver deal a great deal of messy, sap-coated death to the dozen miniature vine things that try to extract your entrails from your bodies without your permission. Valerian, Yatrax, and Kurst, use spell, shadow, and curse to prevent the little plant creatures (mandragoras, Valerian recognizes later) from swarming their companions and a couple of over-eager Blademarks. Irthos, high above the melee, spies the magician, and introduces him to his acid sheath with an up-close and personal demonstration he never got a chance to appreciate.
When the few remaining survivors have fled, most of the bandits lie very dead. The vine-golem and its little friends are equally as dead, and their controller twice as much so. While the Blademarks strip the bandits of what weapons, armor, gear, and what pitiful money they actually had, you are welcome to the magician's spoils. The heart of the vine-golem, once cut open, proves to be an emerald the size of a halfling's eye, round, faceted, and flawless, surely worth a great sum.
The mandragora sap has worth as a wound sealer, able to stop heavily bleeding wounds, and Valerian is able to gather a half dozen vials. Finally, in addition to the usual spell components, the magician carried one more thing, a sealed pot of paints and several brushes. It's Kurst, with his background as an artificer, who recognizes the paints as a version of Nolzar's marveous pigments. What this desperate backwoods bandit was doing with such a treasure is entirely uncertain, but your group could certainly make good use of them.
The caravan proceeds mostly unmolested to the center of the deep woods, to Greenheart, the city of druids. Your welcome along the road was mostly cool, but not hostile. As long as you obey the laws of the Wardens of the Wood, no one would be spoken against.
The city of Greenheart is just as lush as the forest around it, and if weren't for the multitude of people and slightly more deliberate paths and roads marked with stones, you could have sworn you were in the middle of the woods. Homes and businesses are built into the massive trees, plants flourish on every surface, and flowers seem to serve as public artwork. Massive toadstools serve as public benches, and fountains are simply natural springs with stones worked around them to define them.
Master Vorj seems delighted to be able to unload the rest of this goods here, and bargains briskly for goods from this city to be loaded for his return trip. Between one bargain and the next he waves you aside.
"All right, this is the end of the line for me. After this you're on your own. You've pulled you own weight and then some, so I can say I was glad enough to have you along. Olladra's luck with your quest," he says brusquely, clearly glad to have discharged his obligation to transport such strange folk as yourself.
It has taken you a month to get to Greenhart, and now you have the rest of the Reaches to work through, and then the terrible Demon Wastes themselves to cross. But for now you are in the last large, friendly city that you may see for some time. What do you want to do?
[sblock=OOC]Just a random encounter there, I didn't see the need to spend a month or two on a combat with no actual plot use. What are peoples needing to get done before you head off on the second part of your quest? Information you want to look around for? Things you want to buy or trade for?[/sblock]
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Kurst, Human Wlk/Art 2/1
"I would like to get a s-s-second opinion on these devices; I will see if I can find a more skilled artificer," under his breath he adds, "Preferably one that isn't Cannith and won't ask any questions.
With a sigh, and still absentmindedly rubbing at his chest Kurst will begin to make awkward inquiries about a non guild artificer in the Greenheart.
Over the last three weeks of traveling with the caravan, Kurst has slowly gained confidence. In the fight against the unprepared bandits he managed to be useful without damaging or inconveniencing any of the party and he only deafened the one Blademark by accident.
"I would like to get a s-s-second opinion on these devices; I will see if I can find a more skilled artificer," under his breath he adds, "Preferably one that isn't Cannith and won't ask any questions.
With a sigh, and still absentmindedly rubbing at his chest Kurst will begin to make awkward inquiries about a non guild artificer in the Greenheart.
Over the last three weeks of traveling with the caravan, Kurst has slowly gained confidence. In the fight against the unprepared bandits he managed to be useful without damaging or inconveniencing any of the party and he only deafened the one Blademark by accident.
Erekose13
Explorer
"Thank you Master Vorj for relying on us." says Maavnod. He is fairly self-sufficient and is not the best at gathering information. If left to his own devices though he'll move around the small town and listen in on the local gossip. He'd not have the presence of mind to openly ask questions about the subjects he is interested in (chaos, mutation, and demons).
