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

The Hundred Seas

Fintain darts forward, his blade sweeping down and closes his eyes at the spray of bright red blood that fills the air. The wolf is struck to the ground, whining desperately. Then, it stops moving except for the harsh sounds of laboured, gurgling breath. The creature moans.

The second wolf, now tracking the edge of the briars nearly 60' distant howls despondently then disappears into the briars.

Nado grimaces at the sound, his scimitar wavering downwards.

(OOC: the second wolf is now out of commission and totally prone. The first one seems to have exited the area.)
 

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The battle is over. You each survey the scene. The ground about the briar tree is churned with blood and footprints. Chaufan's mangled corpse lies facedown, his spear several paces away.

"It seems another of our charges has died Fintain," he mutters softly.

The path from the bridge of bones leads on to the gate. As the beat of the blood rushing through your veins dies down in your heads, the drone of bothersome insects returns. But for the groaning of the wolf, the clearing is relatively peaceful.

(OOC: Vitality Points damage totals:
Bragon: 17 points
Nado: 8 points)
 

--being an excerpt from "The Ascendant's Path"

It is not known, at least with certainty, what became of Ulfghar when he made his way across the World Span. The distant and mysterious lands of the Precursors have a habit of swallowing up travelers and seekers, even legends such as he. Perhaps he still travels there, with the remainder of his companions. Other rumours purport that he never made his way into the east, but rather was buried in a shallow grave in the lands of the Engolthen. Perhaps the most interesting and far-fetched, and thus conversely true story, was that the Ulfghar who returned to Mourandar was a different man altogether. Rumours, stories and half-truths, noble reader, are mixed wholly into the lives of these men.

Clues to the forthright nature of the man lie strewn across the path of his life, though less noticeably in his early years. Ulfghar was born into a well-appointed crafting family in the city of Anhir lo Delyr, in the District of the Harp. His family, a group of Wellethunic bowyers of proficient reputation in the region were said to have come out of the west after the persecution of the Chalbri by Kabar and his minions.

Ulfghar’s father, Kulighar was prominent in the guild council of the city, holding Council Seats on at least three occasions, and while the eldest brother took to running the family affairs, Ulfghar, a proficient if rather ordinary craftsman took a greater interest in the political affairs of his father. Indeed, by the age of twelve it was said his understanding of the nuance and flow of the political machinations of the ancient city-state was exceedingly high.

But like many things in his life, this did not hold Ulfghar’s attention for long and in his travels among the many districts of Delyr, he befriended a hedge mage. This man, who Ulfghar is said to have always remembered affectionately and to have instilled in him a discipline and respect before unseen, would become a valuable friend and mentor in later years.

It is generally held, in scholarly circles that this mage was Lyvan, an exiled Uracarl seeker, though he was called ‘Tak’ by the denizens of his neighbourhood. In any case, he schooled the lad in the arts of the Dissension, and the flair and talent the boy showed in the mystical and mindful arts, more than made up for a lack of prowess in the family’s chief skill. Indeed, Ulfghar in all his travels proved a cunning and thoughtful adversary. When brute force and violence seemed the only recourse, his quick thinking, prowess with the bow and magical skills were to save the day.

In all due time, as children are wont to do, Ulfghar took leave of Delyr intent on making his way in the larger world. Some say that the family, and especially Kulighar were less than pleased with his decision, though as is the Wellethunic way, he was gifted with many departing gifts, not the least of which was a Chalbri crossbow of exquisite craftsmanship, handed down from grandfather, to father and to son…
 


"Maybe if you were a little better with that sword, you wouldn't do so much bleeding" replies Ulfghar.

"It sure is tedious taking care of all the threats we come across AS WELL as taking care of you!" Ulfghar says with a grin.

"You just relax there and I'll fix you up"

(OCC) Ulfghar uses healing hands on Bragon twice (4+6=10)
 

"Let's get moving, the day grows late and I have not the inclination to take my rest in this place," calls out Nado, clasping the wounded warrior's arm and pulling Bragon up from his knees.

Bragon's face twists in pain from the forced healing, his eyes filled with visions of glimmering strands of blue light. The lights fade, and the humid confines of the marsh clearing again come into view. The pain, ever so abruptly fades away.

Nado strides confidently towards the bone gate, wiping his scimitar in long strokes with a rag.
 

"I agree Nado, we should not linger here any longer than necessary" replies Ulfghar.

"It would be appropriate to give Chaufan a proper burial, but the longer we stay here, the more likely it will be that additional beasts will set upon us."

Ulfghar attempts to recover as many bolts as possible from the remaining wolf before following along behind Nado.
 

"Aye, Chaufan's passing must wait,". says Nado as he approaches the gate."An ill-feeling befalls me with this, perhaps worse than the bridge..."

The gate before which Nado stands is perhaps seven feet tall and 4 feet wide, constructed of clean-picked bones lashed together with leather strips. A row of four skulls lines the top, each grinning maniacally outwards, the lower jaws tied to the upper by more leather strips. Upon each skull's sun-bleached forehead is a single black rune.

(OOC: Ulghar you retrieve 2 of your bolts. How many do you have left? Also, note that the mortally wounded wolf remains breathing.)
 

-An excerpt from The Follies of Kings

The marshes of Narlann roil and bubble with terrible memories, memories that hearken back through countless centuries, even to a time before the Great Dispersal. The history of the Hollow Lands is replete with dire stories spawned from its reaches. Abominations sired from the darkest necromancies, and blood lore, inhabit many of these tales. And there is truth to them…


-Being an excerpt from the Chronicle of Graves, by Ghano

One must take the events purported to have occurred on the voyage down the Janak by Preda’s armsmen with an upraised eyebrow. Surely the tale’s abominations of which Nado regaled the folk in Eastfair were not but the crazed hallucinations of a sun-kissed rogue?

Suffice to say, the four companions drove away the pack of marshwolves and made their way towards the gate of bones. Here it is said that Nado engaged in a test of wits with the animated skulls atop its crest. Had not the wily Hannathri rogue guessed correctly the riddles posed by the gate, they would have been struck blind by the gate’s sorcery. Nado’s role in this event was perhaps exaggerated or perhaps this part of the tale was simply a fabrication. A’Kana Nadolis had a penchant for tall tales…

…Of the foes they vanquished in the rescuing of the two villagers, perhaps the hardest to give credence to is the hag. Certainly in the collected folklore of Narlann, hags play a role. Their depravations and depravities are well known to storytellers. Yet little scholarly evidence exists to support their survival into the present age. Doubtlessly, the hag that the companions defeated in the bogs was but a mad woman, of sorcerous skill, yes, but unnatural origin? Some have layed the later slaughter of the lordling, Leet (son of Rodvolo of Eastfair) and his armsmen on the road to Askarl, at the feet of this same hag. The half-mad ramblings of the sole surviving guard described her terrible wrath and appearance well enough.

By and by, the truth of the matter is hard to establish, but the wonderful dance of chance into which the major players of this tale meet again and again, and often tragically (or justly!) is worthy of the greatest talespinner’s repertoire…
 
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-Taken from the council record as written by Fenes, 2nd Veerat to the court of Rodvolo, King of Eastfair on the 8th year of his lordship, 8th day, First Autumn Mark.

Khuritsa and his hired mercanters were brought before his Highness and the Council of Merchants next. The issue of Lord Visel's conflict with the Lord Orvogan and his Lady-wife Preda was brought to the court's attention.

Lord Khuritsa's mercanters were decidedly arrogant throughout the proceeding and it took much of His Highness's patience and wisdom to not call his armsmen down on the four of them.

The issue of the market squabble was next raised by Prince Leet and the killing of four of the King's armsmen. Lord Khuritsa pointed out that the four men interefered with the vendetta killing of Visel's men and were ordered to do so by the King's son. The witnesses brought forth from the market confirmed this. It was thus determined that a silvergeld would not be stipulated according to the city laws.

After a short deliberation, the King's judgement was thus:

The lord Khuritsa and his men would not pay the silvergeld for the death of the armsmen, but would need return the goods and riches payed by Leet to the Lord Visel, plus 3 hack silver bracelets for the market disturbance.

Thus it was recorded this day, by the King's loyal hand.
 

Into the Woods

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