Burningspear
First Post
woohoo, more to read, njamnjam
if only i had some moldy cheese, preferably blue cheese to go with it
if only i had some moldy cheese, preferably blue cheese to go with it
-
NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions
- Thread starter Jon Potter
- Start date
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #393] What Now?
Given the lateness of the night before, dawn seemed to come early to their campsite. But it came slowly with the sky lightening almost imperceptibly as the rays of Orin's Shield touched gold to the vault of heaven far above the treetops. Below the sheltering boughs of the evergreens, it remained dim and still long after the sky above shown azure between the branches.
Ayremac woke and stretched, his wings glowing white in the shade as he wiped sleep from his glittering green eyes. He felt refreshed and comfortable despite the chill in the air, a benefit of his blood that he had always enjoyed growing up in Pellham during winter. The holy warrior drew in a lung full of air through his nose, savoring the fresh smell of wood smoke and pine needles before exhaling the air as a cloud of silvery steam.
Ixin was awake and on watch, huddled miserably beneath a threadbare blanket scrounged up from somewhere (most likely Huzair's Handy Haversack), and Shamalin was already awake and engaged in her morning prayers. Morier was seated against a nearby tree, his body slack but his crimson eyes open. He looked awake, but Ayremac knew he was "trancing" - that peculiar elven reverie that served them as sleep served most mortals. Huzair was soundly asleep quite near the fire and Karak snored sonorously across the pit from the wizard.
He breathed in another draught of cold morning air and looked up at the sky.
Ixin and Shamalin had spent some time that morning quietly engaged in the business of trying to teach the drakeling the language spoken by the folk on this strange, uncivilized world. The fairie-born priestess was a decent teacher, Ixin supposed, displaying plenty of patience while her pupil stumbled over her own tongue. But it was painfully slow going. The sorceress was applying herself fully to the task, but it was difficult and studying was never her strength to begin with. What little of that she had done over the years had been in the area of arcana and magic came naturally to her, so that study had only been to satisfy her own curiosity. Spending hours on end pouring over some ancient tome was almost as distasteful a prospect to her as spending the night outside sleeping on frozen earth.
She watched, desolatory, as Ayremac stood, looked around the campsite and started making his way toward her, feathered pinions arching up from his shoulders. His blood, she knew, ran as did hers with that of some being greater than the humanoids they both resembled. While her own lineage was that of a red dragon, his looked to most likely be some sort of angel or other celestial. He looked... otherworldly.
She followed his approach with her eyes, not moving much in an attempt to keep the cold air outside her blanket. He said something that she didn't understand and waited for some sort of reply. When she shrugged in confusion he repeated the words more slowly and loudly. Surprisingly, that didn't help and he contented himself with gestures instead. He pointed to himself and then to the sky while spreading his wings.
She guessed he was bragging about his fully-functional wings, and she nodded her head. "Yes, yes," she told him in Castillan. "You're very shiny." He nodded and moved off toward the dwarf.
Ixin knew that she could manifest functional wings of her own if she chose. She knew the means to such evolution lay within her. All she would need to do is tap into the power of her draconis fundamentum as she had learned to do beneath her grandmother's wing. It was what made true dragons Dragons and contained all the power necessary for her to grow thicker scales, or stronger wings, or a tail, or any one of a number of other improvements over her current form. All she needed was time and the will to tap that power...
"Karak, sorry to wake you but I tried to explain to Ixin and I don't think she understood," Ayremac said, as he gave the dwarf a shake. Karak snorted sleepily, lifting his eyelids and shaggy head with difficulty.
"Wha..?" he grumbled before clearing his throat and focusing his pale gray eyes on Ayremac's face. "Wha's that now, lad?"
"I did not want to concern the others when they wake and find me gone, but I have to do something," the holy warrior explained, rising to an standing position. "You still have the other Ring of Communication, so let me know if you need me back." He raised his wings.
"Uh... okay. Well, you fly safe now, ya hear," Karak replied before dropping his head back onto the ground and falling back asleep immediately.
Ayremac pointed a hand skyward and, with a single downsweep of his wings, shot up through the trees like an arrow.
In three powerful surges, Ayremac cleared the treeline and found himself higher than he had ever been in his lifetime. He saw that Morier had done a good job of baffling their fire so it lacked the telltale column of smoke which an enemy might use to pinpoint them. The holy warrior took care to memorize the location of their camp so as not to lose his bearing in all the open air. The view was spectacular - dizzying in its effect as he continued his assent. Ayremac could not be sure if the tightness in his chest was due to the altitude or pure euphoria at the realization of his ability. Peals of joyous laughter echoed for miles.
Morier jerked back to consciousness, his hand going to the grip of his greatsword even as he got to his feet. A strange cry had reached his ears, even in his reverie, putting his senses on alert for some danger.
"What was that?" he muttered, galvanized.
"HOW SHOULD I KNOW?" Stoneblade thundered in his fist. "YOU INSISTED ON SHEATHING ME!" The eldritch warrior rolled his eyes.
"I wasn't talking to you," he hissed. He looked around the camp, noting Ayremac's absence at once. He saw Ixin was on watch. Huzair was coming awake, disturbed by Stoneblade's booming voice. That was good; the wizard could ask Ixin what had happened to the Holy Warrior.
"Huzair?" Morier said as he padded over to the mage. The dark-skinned man scowled, rubbing his hand over the smooth surface of his head and avoiding the silvery scar that ran across the side of his skull.
"What!?" the mage spat, annoyed. "I was just having a dream about a couple of my favorite girls from The Frothy Wench!"
"Ayremac's gone," the albino replied. "And I heard a cry." That got Huzair's attention. He jumped up.
"Heck, did that feather brain run off and steal my Ring of Invisibility?"
It took Ayremac just a short time to learn how, with the merest twist, he could control his speed and direction. How, holding his arms close he could streamline his body to maximize speed. Or how, by catching the upcurrents, he was able to soar effortlessly. The power was intoxicating.
And yet, in the midst of his triumph, Ayremac did not forget to whom true glory was due. In fact, so moving was the experience with his newfound capabilities, he considered the possibility that flight would become his prayer and devotion to Umba.
After a time, he settled down to the business which had drawn him into the air in the first place and set out to scout around the camp from above.
Looking toward the rising sun he could see nothing but trees marching to the farthest extent of his vision. The view to the south was the same. At the limits of his eyesight to the north he could see a narrow strip of land at the horizon that appeared to mark the boundary of Spiney Wood. Beyond lay Pellham proper. To the west, the direction from which they had been hastening were more trees, but the jagged peaks of the Gray Crags loomed skyward behind them like a snow-capped wall. Lit directly by the golden caress of Orin's Shield, the mountains seemed both close enough to touch and monumentally large enough to support the sky.
Between his current position and the mountains a thin stream of smoke rose up from the trees. He couldn't tell how far away it was, exactly - maybe as little as a mile or two distant or maybe as much as a dozen. The uniformity of the treetops and the strangely-lit face of the mountains made it difficult to determine scale. He shrugged, altering the angle of his wings and turning himself toward the funnel of smoke in one easy motion.
It was on the closer side of his estimate and he'd cleared the distance in a matter of minutes. The smoke came from a campfire, he saw through a gap in the trees. He could see a single figure seated beside the fire, a pale elf dressed in brown and green robes. He circled once and saw the figure below glance up, startled. The elf stood and pointed something at him that looked like an icicle. Rainbows of light glittered around it and then a lightning bolt crackled upward. Ayremac was able to twist aside, narrowly avoiding a direct hit from the stroke. It still clipped his wing, however and although his own innate resistance to electricity saved him from lasting damage, he still felt the current hum along his nerves.
As he turned back toward his own camp the holy warrior spied the dozens of small shapes moving out of the shadows to gather at the elf's feet. Rats!
Lots and lots of rats!
Karak was just settling by the fire to enjoy a warm breakfast, the first in quite some time, when something moving overhead caught his attention. There was a sound like tearing fabric, and the dwarf's eyes opened wide to see a silvery blur plummeting toward him. Shielding his precious meal, Karak scrambled out of the way. The airborn form slowed abruptly, and with a backsurge of his wings Ayremac landed unceremoniously on the ground next to the fire. He looked around sheepishly and admitted, "Need to work on the landing part a bit."
"Aye," Karak agreed with a scowl as the other man got to his feet.
"Wait until you hear what I saw," the Officer of Umba said, his eyes wide with excitement and concern.
Given the lateness of the night before, dawn seemed to come early to their campsite. But it came slowly with the sky lightening almost imperceptibly as the rays of Orin's Shield touched gold to the vault of heaven far above the treetops. Below the sheltering boughs of the evergreens, it remained dim and still long after the sky above shown azure between the branches.
Ayremac woke and stretched, his wings glowing white in the shade as he wiped sleep from his glittering green eyes. He felt refreshed and comfortable despite the chill in the air, a benefit of his blood that he had always enjoyed growing up in Pellham during winter. The holy warrior drew in a lung full of air through his nose, savoring the fresh smell of wood smoke and pine needles before exhaling the air as a cloud of silvery steam.
Ixin was awake and on watch, huddled miserably beneath a threadbare blanket scrounged up from somewhere (most likely Huzair's Handy Haversack), and Shamalin was already awake and engaged in her morning prayers. Morier was seated against a nearby tree, his body slack but his crimson eyes open. He looked awake, but Ayremac knew he was "trancing" - that peculiar elven reverie that served them as sleep served most mortals. Huzair was soundly asleep quite near the fire and Karak snored sonorously across the pit from the wizard.
He breathed in another draught of cold morning air and looked up at the sky.
Ixin and Shamalin had spent some time that morning quietly engaged in the business of trying to teach the drakeling the language spoken by the folk on this strange, uncivilized world. The fairie-born priestess was a decent teacher, Ixin supposed, displaying plenty of patience while her pupil stumbled over her own tongue. But it was painfully slow going. The sorceress was applying herself fully to the task, but it was difficult and studying was never her strength to begin with. What little of that she had done over the years had been in the area of arcana and magic came naturally to her, so that study had only been to satisfy her own curiosity. Spending hours on end pouring over some ancient tome was almost as distasteful a prospect to her as spending the night outside sleeping on frozen earth.
She watched, desolatory, as Ayremac stood, looked around the campsite and started making his way toward her, feathered pinions arching up from his shoulders. His blood, she knew, ran as did hers with that of some being greater than the humanoids they both resembled. While her own lineage was that of a red dragon, his looked to most likely be some sort of angel or other celestial. He looked... otherworldly.
She followed his approach with her eyes, not moving much in an attempt to keep the cold air outside her blanket. He said something that she didn't understand and waited for some sort of reply. When she shrugged in confusion he repeated the words more slowly and loudly. Surprisingly, that didn't help and he contented himself with gestures instead. He pointed to himself and then to the sky while spreading his wings.
She guessed he was bragging about his fully-functional wings, and she nodded her head. "Yes, yes," she told him in Castillan. "You're very shiny." He nodded and moved off toward the dwarf.
Ixin knew that she could manifest functional wings of her own if she chose. She knew the means to such evolution lay within her. All she would need to do is tap into the power of her draconis fundamentum as she had learned to do beneath her grandmother's wing. It was what made true dragons Dragons and contained all the power necessary for her to grow thicker scales, or stronger wings, or a tail, or any one of a number of other improvements over her current form. All she needed was time and the will to tap that power...
"Karak, sorry to wake you but I tried to explain to Ixin and I don't think she understood," Ayremac said, as he gave the dwarf a shake. Karak snorted sleepily, lifting his eyelids and shaggy head with difficulty.
"Wha..?" he grumbled before clearing his throat and focusing his pale gray eyes on Ayremac's face. "Wha's that now, lad?"
"I did not want to concern the others when they wake and find me gone, but I have to do something," the holy warrior explained, rising to an standing position. "You still have the other Ring of Communication, so let me know if you need me back." He raised his wings.
"Uh... okay. Well, you fly safe now, ya hear," Karak replied before dropping his head back onto the ground and falling back asleep immediately.
Ayremac pointed a hand skyward and, with a single downsweep of his wings, shot up through the trees like an arrow.
In three powerful surges, Ayremac cleared the treeline and found himself higher than he had ever been in his lifetime. He saw that Morier had done a good job of baffling their fire so it lacked the telltale column of smoke which an enemy might use to pinpoint them. The holy warrior took care to memorize the location of their camp so as not to lose his bearing in all the open air. The view was spectacular - dizzying in its effect as he continued his assent. Ayremac could not be sure if the tightness in his chest was due to the altitude or pure euphoria at the realization of his ability. Peals of joyous laughter echoed for miles.
Morier jerked back to consciousness, his hand going to the grip of his greatsword even as he got to his feet. A strange cry had reached his ears, even in his reverie, putting his senses on alert for some danger.
"What was that?" he muttered, galvanized.
"HOW SHOULD I KNOW?" Stoneblade thundered in his fist. "YOU INSISTED ON SHEATHING ME!" The eldritch warrior rolled his eyes.
"I wasn't talking to you," he hissed. He looked around the camp, noting Ayremac's absence at once. He saw Ixin was on watch. Huzair was coming awake, disturbed by Stoneblade's booming voice. That was good; the wizard could ask Ixin what had happened to the Holy Warrior.
"Huzair?" Morier said as he padded over to the mage. The dark-skinned man scowled, rubbing his hand over the smooth surface of his head and avoiding the silvery scar that ran across the side of his skull.
"What!?" the mage spat, annoyed. "I was just having a dream about a couple of my favorite girls from The Frothy Wench!"
"Ayremac's gone," the albino replied. "And I heard a cry." That got Huzair's attention. He jumped up.
"Heck, did that feather brain run off and steal my Ring of Invisibility?"
It took Ayremac just a short time to learn how, with the merest twist, he could control his speed and direction. How, holding his arms close he could streamline his body to maximize speed. Or how, by catching the upcurrents, he was able to soar effortlessly. The power was intoxicating.
And yet, in the midst of his triumph, Ayremac did not forget to whom true glory was due. In fact, so moving was the experience with his newfound capabilities, he considered the possibility that flight would become his prayer and devotion to Umba.
After a time, he settled down to the business which had drawn him into the air in the first place and set out to scout around the camp from above.
Looking toward the rising sun he could see nothing but trees marching to the farthest extent of his vision. The view to the south was the same. At the limits of his eyesight to the north he could see a narrow strip of land at the horizon that appeared to mark the boundary of Spiney Wood. Beyond lay Pellham proper. To the west, the direction from which they had been hastening were more trees, but the jagged peaks of the Gray Crags loomed skyward behind them like a snow-capped wall. Lit directly by the golden caress of Orin's Shield, the mountains seemed both close enough to touch and monumentally large enough to support the sky.
Between his current position and the mountains a thin stream of smoke rose up from the trees. He couldn't tell how far away it was, exactly - maybe as little as a mile or two distant or maybe as much as a dozen. The uniformity of the treetops and the strangely-lit face of the mountains made it difficult to determine scale. He shrugged, altering the angle of his wings and turning himself toward the funnel of smoke in one easy motion.
It was on the closer side of his estimate and he'd cleared the distance in a matter of minutes. The smoke came from a campfire, he saw through a gap in the trees. He could see a single figure seated beside the fire, a pale elf dressed in brown and green robes. He circled once and saw the figure below glance up, startled. The elf stood and pointed something at him that looked like an icicle. Rainbows of light glittered around it and then a lightning bolt crackled upward. Ayremac was able to twist aside, narrowly avoiding a direct hit from the stroke. It still clipped his wing, however and although his own innate resistance to electricity saved him from lasting damage, he still felt the current hum along his nerves.
As he turned back toward his own camp the holy warrior spied the dozens of small shapes moving out of the shadows to gather at the elf's feet. Rats!
Lots and lots of rats!
Karak was just settling by the fire to enjoy a warm breakfast, the first in quite some time, when something moving overhead caught his attention. There was a sound like tearing fabric, and the dwarf's eyes opened wide to see a silvery blur plummeting toward him. Shielding his precious meal, Karak scrambled out of the way. The airborn form slowed abruptly, and with a backsurge of his wings Ayremac landed unceremoniously on the ground next to the fire. He looked around sheepishly and admitted, "Need to work on the landing part a bit."
"Aye," Karak agreed with a scowl as the other man got to his feet.
"Wait until you hear what I saw," the Officer of Umba said, his eyes wide with excitement and concern.
Burningspear
First Post
nice episode on scouting camp and self reflecting on newfound flying abilities... 
Jon Potter
First Post
And like I mentioned to the players, if this were a series of novels this would mark the start of Book Four.
For those of you following along at home:
Book One ended with the collapse of the temple outside Barnacus.
Book Two ended with the completion of the Grove of Renewal.
Book Three ended with the retrieval of the four Elemental Keys.
For those of you following along at home:
Book One ended with the collapse of the temple outside Barnacus.
Book Two ended with the completion of the Grove of Renewal.
Book Three ended with the retrieval of the four Elemental Keys.
Blarkon Dragonslayer
First Post
Beautiful post. Absolutely awesome.
I look forward to seeing what happens next.
I look forward to seeing what happens next.
Jon Potter
First Post
Blarkon Dragonslayer said:
I just wish folks would say that kind of stuff when I do the writing.
Just kidding. Portions of that post and the post before were ghost-written by Shamalin's player.
But not the parts you thought were awesome, I'm sure.
Well, to say there's a lot of unexpected stuff coming soon is an understatement.
Blarkon Dragonslayer
First Post
Jon, I liked your writing long before these last couple of posts. I look forward to reading each installment of this story hour, even on those occasions when I don't comment on them.
Now, of course, I will go even more insane then is my usual state waiting for the next installment.
Now, of course, I will go even more insane then is my usual state waiting for the next installment.
Burningspear
First Post
Blarkon Dragonslayer said:Jon, I liked your writing long before these last couple of posts. I look forward to reading each installment of this story hour, even on those occasions when I don't comment on them.
Now, of course, I will go even more insane then is my usual state waiting for the next installment.
Here yea, Here yea, thump, thump, thump on the table, agreeing here completely with you on the matter...
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
So what was Ayremac's odd motivation for "needing" to scout the surrounding area?
Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:
He has wings.
That's the full extent of it, I think. And really, who could blame him? He manifested his wings in a dungeon; what a bummer!
Similar Threads
