• NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.

The Gray King

The kobold keeps to itself, perched up high on the wagons, keeping its eyes on the surrounds. When the caravan master discharged them, it quietly glides down next to the others. It looks around a moment, then finds a tall tree to climb as a perch to wait.

"Delay not long. Progenitorsss wisssh us a way from here. Wassstesss wait."

OOC: No shopp'n 'ere.
 

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Oliver, Human Binder

Oliver gives his thanks as to Vorj as well before departing. Oliver swaggers around town, looking for a lady to keep him company. He doesn't seek to spend any more coin than it takes to get a brief bath and a warm meal.
 

Arrgha'n (Half-Daelkyr Kin-Hunter)

With great trepidation and not wanting to lose a valuable tool, Arrgha'n finally relents and decides to attach the symbiont.

He gathers everyone around and says "I am going to attach this new symbiont to see what it does. Everyone watch over me very carefully. If you notice anything odd let me know. If I start acting strange, at least stranger than normal, you have my permission to tackle me or to knock me unconscious as needed. If it is used as for control this will be a concern especially when when our 'Roth' is about"."

Along the way I will spend some time doing some hunting and gathering of various things to save for our trip to the wastelands. I will attempt to dry it out and so on so it will keep for a while.


Arrgha'n nods goodbye to the Master Vorj. While in the city he will spend some time researching any dangers in the area and along our path as well as a possible guide.(Gather Info. +7/+9).
 

Forgefly said:
"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.
You hunt around Greenheart for a person skilled in manufacturing, and begin to notice several odd things about it. There is no public market per se, nor are their any taverns. There are a few public houses, where vittles and drink can be obtained along with a big of floor space to sleep, but as for places purely for the entertainment of strangers, not so much. This is the spiritual heart of the druid sects, and most of the town revolves around them.

However, you are eager to prove your worth, and know that artificers are so wide-spread that somewhere in this town there must be one! It takes you several hours, many awkward questions, two dozen disdainful glances, and seventy-three wrong turns, but you eventually arrive at the home/business of someone named Dog. The place is carved from the living wood of an enormous tree, the windows and doors screened with vines, and with no sign upon the door. But inside the place has many shelves that contain familiar implements of artifice, but almost as many rare potted plants and preserved flora.

An enormous shaggy dog, easily tall enough at the shoulder to reach your waist, leaps up to greet you with a sloppy lick to the face and a few excited barks.

"Small Dog, down!" comes a gruff voice from the back, with a curious accent, or lack of one, that sounds oddly familiar. The dog breaks off his greeting and sits, wagging his tail, his tongue lolling from his mouth. Out of the vined-off back comes an unusual sight, a warforged, but one without any metal components to his body. Indeed, small flowers and vines seem to grow from his wooden "flesh."

"I am Dog, stranger. And since you have gone to great trouble to find me, let us see what is so important to track me down," the warforged says, waving for Kurst to sit at a table in the corner. The shaggy hound goes to flop down under the table, pinning Kurst's feet. Assuming Kurst lets Dog see the meshes and gives him at least a general idea of where they were found, Dog will examine them minutely, even using a magnifying glass, checking handwritten journals, and carefully manipulating them with small tools. After nearly a half hour, he will give his opinion.

"I saw something of this nature only a single time before, and have heard of similar things only one other time from a sole survivor in a brother regiment. When I saw something with similar construction, it was on some twisted thing from Khyber. I believe it was a hobgoblin at one point in time, but somehow it had been warped. It had a sword blade put on right where its arm had been, but it was not just a simple blade. There were things on it, like this mesh, which went from the sword under the skin. And sometimes the sword would pulse with an energy that destroyed everything it touched. It was a hard battle, and we lost five that day. The other time, I was told some goblin-like Khyber creature held a weapon in its hands that let razor disks fly from it, but when the weapon was captured and someone tried to use it, it exploded and killed many. I was told it too had things on it, like the hobgoblin's arm-sword. But it was only a rumor," Dog says, its still, dark eyes distant.

"Many people died during the war, and there was not enough time to look into each and every death, particularly not ours. I do not know for certain what these meshes do, but the two times I know of encounters with similar things, much harm has resulted. I say be rid of them and be glad of it. If things were put into a creature's head without consent, then I say they might be used to manipulate the mind, and to me that means whoever did this is at the least cruel and selfish," Dog says finally.
 
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Maavnod simply lurks a bit around Greenheart, mostly hearing things of no consequence to his quest; animal habits, tracking techniques, where certain plants are growing, or the best way to make a healing salve. However, when getting a drink from a fountain he does overhear one thing of interest, from a couple of orcs in the typical green and brown leathers of many of the druids around here.

"...the western seal is starting to weaken. The attacks are getting worse, and it's not just because it's getting toward breeding season. Something's bringing them in," one mutters in an urgent undertone to the other, who looks quite dour and serious. You don't hear any more of the conversation however, as they are clearly heading somewhere at a brisk pace.

~~~~~~~

Irthos, in finding a perch, you notice some interesting patterns to the foot and air traffic around here. With so many druids and rangers in one place, the animal companions around here are very numerous. Eagles, hawks, owls, and other birds fill the skies, often taking some of the better perches. You consider shooing some of them off a good branch when an eagle that's at least twice your size comes down to rest; the branch somehow growing before your eyes to make a solid perch for such a massive avian.

Perhaps it would be best to take one of the less desirable lower branches. Soft the skin of a bird might be, but their beaks are harder than your claws, though less potent than your magical skill. But even a dragon knows when to assert his authority and when to simply go along with his previous desires. Clearly, you wanted one of those lower branches all along.

[sblock=Irthos]Just having a bit of fun; I always considered dragons a little like cats. No matter what they do, they clearly intended to do it all along. Always. However, the collection of the large animal companions makes it clear to Irthos that there are some fairly powerful druids in Greenheart right now.[/sblock]
 

EvolutionKB said:
Oliver gives his thanks as to Vorj as well before departing. Oliver swaggers around town, looking for a lady to keep him company. He doesn't seek to spend any more coin than it takes to get a brief bath and a warm meal.
Yatrax seems mildly annoyed, but mostly amused when Oliver parts company to seek out some entertainment for the evening. It's only a silver in total to get the use of a bathhouse and a fairly decent meal, and then it's off to seek some companionship. While there are a plentitude of shifter women, their coarser features seem rather homely in comparison to the elven and half-elven beauties that populate the town. As a matter of fact, you're fairly certain that you saw more than one with fey blood in them, to judge by their almost supernatural attractiveness. Surely only a nymph could be more lovely than they!

The one nice thing about druids is that some of them are as light about their loves as the forest creatures. Some cleave to only one, like bonded eagles or crows do, but others are free with distributing their favors, as long as everyone is simply interested in a passing physical diversion.

Needless to say, her name is Amarine, and the evening is lovely and lively.
 
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~~~~~

FreeXenon said:
With great trepidation and not wanting to lose a valuable tool, Arrgha'n finally relents and decides to attach the symbiont.

He gathers everyone around and says "I am going to attach this new symbiont to see what it does. Everyone watch over me very carefully. If you notice anything odd let me know. If I start acting strange, at least stranger than normal, you have my permission to tackle me or to knock me unconscious as needed. If it is used as for control this will be a concern especially when our 'Roth' is about"."
[sblock=Arrgha'n]When you attach the slug to your body, it makes a very uncomfortable kind of wriggle, and there's a brief bit of pain as some of your skin seems to part. With a disgusting squirm, it slips itself into your abdomen, leaving behind a small hole in your flesh that heals slowly. You feel a faint weakness as it sucks nourishment from your body, but it doesn't seem to be too draining. While you occasionally feel faintly nauseous, and there's a constant bad taste in the back of your throat, nothing more has yet come of the slug-thing. However, when you sit or bend, sometimes you feel a squirming in your gut, as if it is settling itself anew when you change position. Perhaps this is what a woman might feel when she is with child... but this feeling is considerably less wholesome. Whenever the slug moves to one side or the other, both your throwing scarab and breed leach try to switch sides.

OOC: The slug-thing gives you 1d2 Con damage every other day, which is basically going to even out to a permanent -1 Con until you rid yourself of it. However, otherwise it is doing you no other harm. You suspect it has some kind of internal purpose, but you aren't certain how to activate it, if it can be activated at all. Perhaps it is activated by an outside condition.[/sblock]

Along the way I will spend some time doing some hunting and gathering of various things to save for our trip to the wastelands. I will attempt to dry it out and so on so it will keep for a while.
When traveling, you can bring down several deer, and the cooks and servants attached to the caravan can help you dry it for traveling food. It will amount to about five week's rations for a single person.

Arrgha'n nods goodbye to the Master Vorj. While in the city he will spend some time researching any dangers in the area and along our path as well as a possible guide.(Gather Info. +7/+9).
In hunting for dangers, you are warned of trickster fey that sometimes haunt pockets of the woods. Many of their tricks are meant to humiliate and to taunt; those mortals that are willing to play their parts are usually sent on their way with only a brief delay, those that are poor sports might be delayed for days or weeks or even years and have their things stolen to boot, those that fight or offer violence are often killed without mercy.

"Fey have odd nature. They are tied to one thing or idea, and to force them to act against it is to insult their very cores. Don't ask a dryad to swim or a neriad to run. Don't take wood from an oakman's tree or try to still a fossagrim. Play by their rules, and they can be courteous hosts. Don't play and they will kill, simple as that," one woman will tell you, the violet color of her eyes and green streaks in her hair telling you that she has a hint of that fey blood in her; many do here.

Other warnings are those that any woodsman knows, wild animals or stranger beasts, wild hermits or rogue druids that see anything non-natural as a scourge to be scoured from the face of the world, occasional places where worlds touch and the rules can change at the boundary; any Eberron woodsman knows of these things at least. There probably would not be bandit troupes here; no caravans to rob, and druids and rangers rarely have the gold and pretties desired by thieves. It is clear, it is the natural world that will be your enemy here, rather than your fellow man.

You are exceedingly careful to keep your aberrant nature to yourself in this place. A place of intense natural beauty and those that worship it, you know some would find your very presence to be an affront, if not a blasphemy.

As for finding a guide, Yatrax will remind you that she's been this way before. And while there's no one way through the woods, particularly if you have to detour to avoid something, all you have to do it head northwest and you'll hit the foothills of the Shadowcrags Mountains soon enough. Once there, she can help get you through the Labyrinth and into the Demon Marches proper.
 

Isida Kep'Tukari said:
"...the western seal is starting to weaken. The attacks are getting worse, and it's not just because it's getting toward breeding season. Something's bringing them in," one mutters in an urgent undertone to the other, who looks quite dour and serious.

Maavnod will keep this one to himself, perhaps Irthos knows what the orcs meant. He wanders a bit, but feels the pressure of being different and just wants to escape. He finds a quite site on the outskirts of the town to sit and meditate on bottling the chaos within and focus on his totem. He'll regroup with the rest later, though he doesn't make a secret of where he is going should they seek him out.
 

Arrgha'n (Half-Daelkyr Kin-Hunter)

Arrgha'n is relieved when he is finally done with his information gathering and they make for leaving. When he is with the group again he shakes his head in relief of being out of druidic scrutiny and says "This is not going to be an easy trip. Fey and rogue druids may be abound in our path, not to mention the inevitable antagonism from our "Roth"."




[OOC: Character stats changed to reflect the little wriggler]
 

Oliver, Human Binder

Oliver seems not to care about the looks he gets from Yatrax, as he does his wandering. After a hot bath and meal, he gives a long look around the bar, only to find a lovely half-elf that seems just right. A few kind words and tales of their dangerous quest later, and before long they were enjoying themselves in a different manner. Oliver then awakes and collects his clothes, watching the dozing form of the half-elf in the bed only half covered by the sheets. He approaches her, only to see her lazily open her eyes. He strokes her cheek, "I'll see you when I get back Amarine," he says with a smile, before kissing her on her forehead and departing.

Oliver greets the morning sun with squinting eyes and finds a suitable place to summon and bind to Paimon. After the ritual is complete he returns to the group finding his place with Yatrax. With an innocent grin he asks, "How was your evening my lovely?"
 

Into the Woods

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