The Mourning After (Horror) (IC)

[Neurotic]

Malix observes the man and after he leaves asks quietly
"He is disturbed by something. Vesile, how much do you trust him? Besides having magebred animal over there, something about us is does not sit well with him."

He took the time from introductions to check inside the backpack he grabbed and after the man left he offers it to Xian.
"I believe this one is yours. Distribute weapons to those that have none. We may have to fight again."

Nature: 1D20 = [19] = 19
Passive insight is 15

 

[Hades#2]

Xian

Xian chose his words carefully. He had to be careful not to reveal their activities at the ranch.


"Last I knew it was the 2nd of Zarantyr, 998 YK. I arrived in Gatherhold on the 1st. I came out here to pay my respects to my cousin. She was lost, presumed dead, on the Day of Mourning. I woke up with the others in that prison camp."

 

[Neurotic]

OOC: Second what and what year we don't know how long they expect us to be out

 

[MetaVoid]

Ozzar takes some time to equip himself properly. With a pick in hand, shield on his arm and two axes, he feels much better

 

[Leatherhead]

"You were in Gatherhold, two days ago?" Shock creeps across Vesile's face. "How? The entire rest of the world blew up four years ago!"

The man walks back in with a dubious looking dish that could generously be called some kind of gruel, and place settings. "It seems, our beloved Queen Dannel ir'Wynarn, has been keeping a secret from the people." He observes with a sarcastic tone.

GM: History DC 5: Queen Dannel ir'Wynarn was the last living monarch of Cyre. Presumed killed by the Mourning. Her son, Prince Oargev ir'Wynarn is the defacto leader of the Cyran refugees, and has set up a city in western Breland called New Cyre.

He pours the slop into some bowls. "Yes, I know how it looks. But I assure you this Ragout was designed by your House Ghallandra friends, and is quite... edible. The rations here are quite thin you see." The man swallows a spoonful of the substance, a standard show of hospitality when the food is questionable, and sits down. "Where are my manners? I am Len Paddite, you have met Vesile and Lazharis." Len gestures to the companions you have made today, then takes a sip of the water, and continues. "The messenger pigeon, as you have noticed, is a necessity for communication nowadays. I raised her myself, from before this never-ending siege we are currently stuck in. House Sivis might not be able to monitor all forms of magical communications yet, but you never know which sending stones they are eavesdropping on."

GM: The pigeon is now gone. Insight DC 10: The man doesn't seem to wish you harm, and the food does not appear to be poisoned. Though calling it food is a stretch.

"It would be safe to assume the Queen wants you all gone. Given you were in that camp, and the scandalous information you posses. Lazharis, Vesile, would you care to give them a brief history lesson over dinner?"

 

[JustinCase]

Maladiel frowns.

"No, Cyre blew up! You mean to tell me we're inside the Mournlands somehow?"

Carefully he picks up a spoon and tastes the food. In any other case he would have declined, but his stomach is suddenly growling.

OOC: History: 1D20+1 = [11]+1 = 12 Insight: 1D20+4 = [12]+4 = 16

 

[Neurotic]

"Easy now. Why is it surprising they think the world disappeared? After all, we think Cyre was destroyed. And don't assume your queen knows more, you would have heard about slaves appearing out of thin air at some point, right? The question is, can we return? And can we reconnect you to the world?" Malix intervenes

 

[FitzTheRuke]

"If I have this straight," said Lazharis, in a tone that sounded like he didn't care either way, in spite this being to him, the most interesting thing that had happened in some time, "We are from different halves of the world; both of which think that the other was destroyed."

OOC: I'm not sure I'm up on the lore well enough to give much local history.

 

[Hades#2]

Xian contemplated the new information. If they were somehow inside the Mournland, formerly Cyre, how was that possible? Magic?

"Essentially you are telling us that we are in Cyre? We believe that Cyre was destroyed and you believe the rest of the world was destroyed. I wonder if there is some sort of magical barrier that prevents those inside Cyre from seeing the outside reality and, conversely, those outside are unable to see or detect what is really inside. Quite interesting. Based on this new information, I must conclude that my cousin may get live. Although that is not our primary concern. How long were the others help prisoner and how many others have gone missing?"

 

[Leatherhead]

Vesile takes out a stiff drink, and pours herself a shot.

"For the past four years, we have been trapped in this city, and in this siege." She says as she downs her drink. "Trapped under a dome of grey mist, one that not even the sun can pierce. Every night the Karnathi Necromancers send wave after wave of the undead against us. Every day, the Queen sends her minions out to gather resources and people to put on the wall. At first, it was just soldiers and Forged, but soon their numbers started dwindling."

"The Queen tasked the Dragonmarked houses to make up the difference, and they did, by kidnapping the people and twisting them in inhumane experiments. House Vadalis infects people with lycanthropy, or mutates them into other monsters. House Cannith has been chopping people up, and splicing them with the dead Forged found out on the battlefields. Not even the gods know what goes into this slop!" She points at the gruel.

"We tried to get out so many times." The words choke her and her eyes become wet "So many people lost, and nobody outside would answer any messages..."

"Rumors about the rest of the world being dead started around the end of the first year." The man solemnly continues for for the Hobgoblin. "After three years, more people believed them to be truer than not."

"We are members of the Unbroken. We oppose Queen Dannel, because we believe she has gone mad with grief over her dead country." He elaborates. "Many have. I couldn't tell you the number of days I spent at the bottom of a bottle because of it. Unfortunately, the Queen isn't taking a day off to grieve. She is still in power, and has become as big a threat as the Karnathi outside."

"Your arrival might just be the wildcard we need to start turning things around." There is a hint of hope, and a bit of pleading in that last sentence.