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The Mourning After (Horror) (IC)


Possibly a Idiot.
4th of Zarantyr, 998 YK. Late morning.
Southshore, Metrol, Cyre

You crawl out of the Dead Man's land in much the same way you crawled in. Dead silently though a hole in the wall of a back ally building.

If one could akin Metrol to a shining crown, Southshore would have been akin to the crown jewel. Cyrians always had a love for the arts, and Southshore was the premiere entertainment hub for all of Galifar. Galleries, inns, theaters, and restaurants lined the streets. Even religious orders set up shop here, paying the best artists in the continent to set up temples and shrines as gleaming monuments. That luster, like all of Metrol, has been replaced with tarnish.

Of all the districts that are still inhabited, Southshore is by far in the worst condition. The streets suffer from siege weapon inflicted pockmarks, and even here you can see the occasional petrified undead. From your entry point, you can see the ruins of the once prominent Cathedral of the Sovereign Host, the statues inside smashed. Save for the statues of Dol Dorn and Dol Arrah, who have somehow twisted around and impaled each other on their swords.

Still, somehow, there is life on the streets here. A few of the devotees make a pilgrimage to pray and lay offerings just outside the shattered temple. Families, or at least what is left of them, making their way towards the gruel-lines and medical beds in the repurposed Arena. And of course, the conscripts returning from the wall, their thousand yard stares and weary footfalls leading them into various vice houses, so they can

Vesile is the first to speak. “We need to find Wargoyle, and keep Yelisha clear of the Rats.”

GM: Where would you like to begin your search ?

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I plan on living forever. Or die trying.
"We should find cover first, a secure shelter, then we can search for people."
Malix offers
"Do you have anyone here you can trust for at least a little while, Vasile? How about you, Yelisha?"


the magical equivalent to the number zero
For a while now, Maladiel has felt something almost like familiarity with the place they are moving through. Twisted, and not just because it seems like a lifetime ago.

Mal's early years were spent as a dirt poor orphan in Metrol, and even though he never came to this part of town, somehow he recognizes the feeling. Except, of course, he is now a grown man and Metrol is now, well, this shadowy husk of what it once was.

He shivers, looking towards what was once the pinnacle of uptown class; Southshore, artsy, fancy, unreachable.

Now, not so much.

"It's true," he whispers, not truly believing it until now. Then, shaking his head to get out of his ridiculously fancy thoughts, he turns around.

"Never was a place for us poor kids, that," a hint of Cyrian accent creeping into his voice. "The Cathedral may be the safest place around, but be wary, everyone."

He waits for better ideas, and if none are forthcoming, Maladiel will make his way to the ruined cathedral.

Ozzar was a guard...lowly one...and that meant he got to know low-lives of all kinds. Including their hideouts.

In his experience, there were two kinds, one that were known and had known hideouts with terrifying stories (and real guards) to keep the populace away. And those who scurried hidden, unseen, like mice...or sneaky predator, you could never predict where they will appear, when they will strike or where to find them.

He hoped the person they looked was the former, it would make it easier to find. And the Cathedral seemed like just the proper place for that.

Investigation: 1d20+2 = [14]+2 = 16


Lazharis was looking forward to meeting with Wargoyle once more. They rarely agreed on how best to achieve the goals of the Unbroken, but she was a solid leader of her Cell, and devoted to the cause.

"Shelter will come when we find Wargoyle's hideout. They will certainly want to shelter you outsiders. You are proof that things can be changed." Lazharis said. Though he had spoken without emotion, it was the most hopeful his words had been since they had met, "I think I have an idea as to where she can be found."

OOC: Investigation. Check: 1D20+4 = [18]+4 = 22


Xian was unfamiliar with this city having spent most of his life in Eston. They needed to find someone named Wargoyle. They were not likely to be at the former arena getting scraps of food. Were they involved with the local vice businesses? Perhaps. The others suggested the former temple. That seemed as good a place as any other.

"The temple is a good place to start."
Investigation 1d20+3+1d4: 22 [1d20=17] [1d4=2]. Dice Roller • Orokos.com


Possibly a Idiot.
The Cathedral lies shattered.

Its once magnificent stained glass windows are blown out, the roof collapsed, 7 of the great statues honoring the Host lie shattered, with the final two twisted into a macabre display of mutual destruction.

There is a sign posted on the gate arch:

By Order of the Crown.
All citizens are hereby noticed that this structure is considered unsafe for occupancy or use, due to magical contamination.

We understand these are trying times, but we urge all Vassals to place their faith in Queen Dannel.

She is watching, She will save us!

The gate is locked, but there are several obvious holes in the fence, which allow you to make your way through. You find the grounds remarkably well kept for a ruin, a sign that some people still show up here. Further evidence are the offerings left at the rubble of the Sovereign statues.

The front of the building is locked, causing you to search round the back. There you find a changeling man, smoking a crudely homemade pitch cigarette, tying slips of paper around coins, and tossing them into what can be described as an open grave. When you approach the man, you notice he wears a domino necklace as he turns to greet you.

“More names for the pile? House Cannith doesn’t let any body ‘go to waste’ nowadays.” He lets out a light monosyllabic laugh. “Forgive me, I am sorry for your loss, but I don’t recognise some of you. Are you changelings as well? You don’t have to keep your masks on here.”

GM: Religion DC 5: The domino is the holy symbol of Olladara, goddess of luck and fortune.
Religion DC 10: Sovereign Host burial rights typically place coins with the deceased, acting as a talisman to distract The Keeper from taking their souls while on the journey to Dolurrh, in cases where the bodies can’t be found, an effigy is used in proxy.


HP: 5/15, AC: 13

Xian was intrigued by the statues. Particularly those of Dol Dorn and Dol Arrah. It was if the statues had come alive and slain each other. Most interesting and frightening at the same time.

Xian watched the man toss coins into the hole. The hole reminds Xian of a grave of sorts. Perhaps not too surprising in the hellhole he found himself in. The man's necklace could be a holy symbol of Olladara. Ironic as there isn't much luck and fortune in this city anymore.

"Changelings? No, just strangers in a strange city."

Did we regain any hit points overnight?


Possibly a Idiot.
GM: It is late morning/early afternoon on the 4th. You haven't rested since you entered the Dead Mans' Land at dawn. You have been pressing on quite hard, which is totally understandable given the hostile nature of the area you were in, and it has been slowly wearing you down (appropriate for a horror game).

Here is a quick recap of your stats:

Yelisha: Speed 30, AC 15, HP ??, Passive Perception: 13
Vesile: Speed 30, AC 14, HP ??, Passive Perception: 13

Lazharis. Speed 30, AC: 14, HP: 15/15, HD 0/2, Passive Perception: 15, HD: 0/2
Maladiel. Speed 30, AC: 12, HP: 13/13, HD 2/2, Passive Perception: 14, Spells: 2/4. FBTG: 1/1. SP 2/2
Malix. Speed 30, AC: 17, HP: 17/17, HD 2/2, Passive Perception: 15, Ki 2/2
Xian. Speed 30, AC: 13, HP: 5/15, HD 2/2, Passive Perception: 13, Spells: 3/3 + D, BI: 2/3 , Bloodied.
Ozzar. Speed 25, AC 16: HP: 19/23, HD 1/2, Passive Perception: 13, , SW: 0/1


the magical equivalent to the number zero
"I'd wear this face all day even if I could change it," Maladiel quips, a smile back on his face although his eyes do not match the sympathy. The half-elf pats the dust from his fine clothing and starts feeling a bit better after a moment.

"I used to think I'd never have enough coins for all those people lost, Father, but I recently discovered some are not gone completely. Still, may the Host look after both lost and found."

With that, he pats his pockets looking for a coin to spare. Then he remembers that his gold was taken sometime before waking up in Metrol-Rediscovered. He shrugs apologetically.

"Can we take a rest here for a few hours?"

OOC: Religion check Maladiel: 1D20+1 = [15]+1 = 16

Maladiel assumes the changeling man is a priest of sorts, so addresses him as such. Not sure if "father" is the proper term, but it feels appropriate.

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