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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Secret Scion
- Thread starter Isida Kep'Tukari
- Start date
stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
[SBLOCK=Tondrek & Hxaptos]Tondrek is still dancing his happy dance a bit before hearing the Lumpy One. "Hm. Yes, yes. Bad Angry Orcs make me make them for them all time. Anyone use." He mimics a throw with one hand and a striking motion with the other. "Boom or stink! Boom or stink!" He keeps on happily chanting "Boom or stink!", occasinally changing the cadence or inflection, as he capers down the tower path.[/SBLOCK]
Erekose13
Explorer
[sblock=Tondrek & Hxaptos]"Excellent. Now how many of those 'boom or stinks' do you have?" Hxaptos inquires. He really wishes that he had another person to accompany them down into the depths of Fallen. Bail or Harolk would have done nicely. He decides to keep an eye open for a temporary ally, wondering if a Denieth mercenary would work for the likes of him. Wouldnt that be a gas.[/sblock]
Rystil Arden
First Post
[SBLOCK="Bail's Angels"]"Do not blame yourself, Bail. There was no way you could have known our unusual circumstances. As the honoured ancestors say, 'Just as the courageous man is not the man with no fears but the man willing to face his fear, so is the wise woman not the woman who knows all, but the woman who knows when she can not know."[/SBLOCK]
Bront
The man with the probe
[sblock=Bail's Angels]"Rayni, that's where you can make an quick change. If you're going to quote an ancestor, either use his or her name like a Valenar, or just say 'as the saying goes' or something like that as a Korvairre might." Mel says, offering advice to her friend already.
"But she's right Bail. Don't worry, we'll be fine. But we're still glad you do worry," she says, smiling reasuringly.[/sblock]
"But she's right Bail. Don't worry, we'll be fine. But we're still glad you do worry," she says, smiling reasuringly.[/sblock]
Rystil Arden
First Post
[SBLOCK=Bail's Angels]"Hmm...use a specific name...But I don't know exactly who said that--should I just invent names? What kind of names sound like a Valenar would use them?"[/SBLOCK]
Bront
The man with the probe
[sblock=Bail's Angels]"Well, I'm Valenar, but usually they quote ancient ancestors of Xen'Drik or the earley setlers, like the ancestors they emulate. But there are so many, few know them all, and many more obscure ones make it through generations, so you're probably safe if you make up a few names, though you'd best be able to say a bit about what that elf did."[/sblock]
stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
[SBLOCK=Tondrek & Hxaptos]Tondrek ruffles throug his pack, still muttering "Boom or stink" to himself. After a moment, he holds up two of the green sticks and three of the enscribed rocks. "This many!" He waves them around, the "Boom or stink" chant growing every faster until a final "BOOM/STINK" creshendo startles a passerby.
After the glaring stranger passes, a chagrined Tondrek continues, "But shinys can get more."[/SBLOCK]
After the glaring stranger passes, a chagrined Tondrek continues, "But shinys can get more."[/SBLOCK]
Over the course of the month (Nymm, early summer), there are a half a dozen new plays written (most fairly good, but one, called “The Changeling’s Wig” might have some definite staying power as a rowdy comic venture), a dozen new songs, at least one new cult spouting rhetoric about the dangers of flight against the gods’ will, and one rather shocking piece of news. The city council member for Lower Tavick’s Landing, a prominent human trader called Kilk, was originally reported to be assassinated by The Sharn Inquisitive (the local chronicle), but later reports show him to be still alive, though badly wounded. Apparently someone tried to push him off a bridge after stripping him of protective magics, but a quick thinking-wizard and a conveniently nearby member of House Jorasco were able to save his life. The City Watch is currently looking for the attackers, and have several good leads.
Bail, Mel, Rayni, and Shenystari [sblock]Bail, Mel, Rayni, and Shenystari talk about jobs, elf customs, places to live, and things to do for a few hours, filling their bellies, quenching their thirst, and finally getting a few plans in place. After leaving the tavern, they start hunting for a place to stay for a while. They look high and low, trying to find a place to blend in that would also be close to places for them all to find work. A half-day's searching finds them some decent rooms to rent in the Smoky Towers district. It's a theater district, but it's in Middle Menthis Plateau (just below where Morgrave University is), a solidly middle-class area of town. And with the crowd it attracts, it allows them to be lost in the shuffle. As Mel well knows, the easiest place to hide a red fish is in a school of red fish. Your own eccentricities will pass unnoticed in the general hubbub.
Your address is: 254 Yellow Tower, Smoky Towers District, Middle Menthis Plateau, Menthis, Sharn, Breland.
The place is furnished, and the group can get whatever small necessities or groceries they need (there’s a small kitchen in the place). It’s safe enough, and there are locks on the doors. Your neighbors are mostly students of Morgrave and aspiring thespians and other entertainers.
Bail: [sblock]Bail searches about the area for work as a bodyguard, but he quickly discovers that he’s not able to find a drop of work. All bodyguards he’s seen wear the yellow and green chimera badge of House Deneith, a badge those he asks for work demand he provide. They have a monopoly on that kind of work, and while the occasional band of adventurers don’t pose a threat (they cost too much for the average citizen to hire, nor are they always known to be reliable), a single person performing their chosen duties will bring the substantial weight of the House to bear upon them. No normal citizen would hire a non-Deneith bodyguard openly, as they would find the ranks of the House closed against them should they try to hire a Deneith bodyguard later. And those seeking to hire a non-Deneith bodyguard are shady at best, and hazardous to work for at worst. Most of this Bail learns from the third fellow he attempted to be hired by, an elderly gentleman willing to take time to explain the complicated political situation Bail had inadvertently stumbled upon.
Frustrated but not disheartened, Bail sought other avenues of employment, such as peacekeeping at taverns. He could only find sporadic work at that, mostly for those who had sick peacekeepers. But while inquiring at a bar called the Tooth and Nail in the neighboring Middle Tavick’s Landing, he found a different but entirely suitable job of sorts. The proprietor, a shifter called Boz, was a fanatic about the rough-and-tumble game called Hrazhak. While it was primarily a shifter game, the occasional human with good reflexes, endurance, and strength could make a good showing. Boz suggested that the young strapping human man might find both good competition and cash in some of the local betting hrazhak games. A good judge of strength, in a burst of slightly drunken goodwill, Boz sponsored Bail in his first Hrazhak match.
Hrazhak is played on two teams of seven each, each team having an idol. Points are scored by taking the other idol from the opposing team and putting both idols in your home goal. The field is covered with downed trees, broken masonry, small ponds or streams, and anything else that comes to hand. The idols can be thrown or carried, but there is no limit on contact. Nothing but natural weaponry is allowed, and no magic or psionics are permitted to be used. A druid or adapt often stands by to heal wounded participants, but those that are healed are out of the rest of the game, so few would leave unless they’re direly injured. Needless to say, it’s a bloody, violent, and endlessly exciting sport.
Despite not having the innate powers that allow the shifters to dominate at Hrazhak, Bail had strength, courage, endurance, rage, and over a decade of abuse at the hands of sadistic goblins. While he was clearly not an expert, Bail managed to keep his team very close in his first game, and scored the last point by the skin of his teeth. Much backslapping and ale-drinking ensued, and Bail had the rather curious experience of being part of a cooperative team for the first time in his young life. Trev and Malik were the team’s runners, brothers only a few years apart, and just about Bail’s age. Both had a kind of innocence that Bail had whipped out of him at an early age, though both clearly had several lifetimes’ more experience in wenching than Bail did. Kevik was the team’s climber, and mate to Sharis, the team’s swiftwing. Both were mature beyond their years, and clearly felt a bit paternal towards the others. Zahn was one of the team’s razorclaws, and was great friends with the tiny but powerful Isha, a gorebrute with a disposition as sweet as cider (until someone set off her short temper). Lorn, the other razorclaw, was currently laid up with a broken leg, which is why the team was more than happy to let Bail give it a go.
The next several weeks had games nearly every third day or so, and Bail found himself a fairly good player. Also he found he attracted attention from one of the many on-lookers, a red-haired buxom half-elf with sparkling green eyes who called herself Melanie Vega. She made a point of draping herself upon him whenever his team won a game, and even planting a kiss on his blushing, sweaty cheek. Trev and Malik always elbowed him and made jokes about him getting “another goal,” whenever they saw her. What that meant exactly, Bail wasn’t sure of…
After nearly a month at Hrazhak, Bail found himself nearly forty-three gold richer than he was before![/sblock]
Mel: [sblock]Mel spends a little bit of each night and morning schooling Rayni in the mannerisms of Khorvaire elves, suggesting alternate curses and oaths, behaviors to avoid, fashions to dress in, and other such things she’s picked up.
As the buxom Melanie Vega, she moves easily amongst the middle and lower wards, hearing about the gossip and whatnot that rules those that live below the salt. Middle Menthis and neighboring Middle Tavick’s Landing are not Dura, but they also are not Central. That is to say, while they may be spared the worst of criminal manipulation, people here are not immune to it. More than one shopkeeper admits paying money to the Boromar clan for protection, assaults by thugs are not uncommon, and there are several people that it’s simple not healthy to inquire about. Most people know and understand that the Boromar clan runs certain gambling halls, and collects a great deal of money and goods that previously belonged to someone else (the Boromar clan is an extended halfling crime family).
However, several attacks by large and powerful creatures, mostly ogres with at least one unverified troll sighting, have been happening on Boromar-owned properties. It’s known that a group of monsters calling themselves Daask are trying to move up from below to take over the enterprises previously owned by other criminal organizations. Needless to say, the Boromar clan takes a dim few of this, but since their organization is very large (no one denies this), it’s hard to protect everything. A discrete call has been put out to people in debt to the Boromar clan, a call to arms. The general feeling is that a very nasty street war may be breaking out in the lower wards within six moons or less.
Aside from that rather disturbing information, Melanie Vega has become a bit of a fixture at the bi-weekly Hrazhak matches; the ones where a newcomer human named Bail is becoming a rapidly rising star. Filling in for an injured player on an all-shifter team, he’s aided them to several victories. Eager to praise the hero of the hour, Melanie Vega doesn’t hesitate to drape herself over him after his matches, planting a kiss on his cheek, and cheering for him during his game. He seems pleased, to be sure, but uncertain of how to act around her.
Melody Rhythm Rumba manages to find several taverns and inns in Smoky Towers and Firelight that are happy to have an entertainer for a night or two. Many already have a musician, but having a trained dancer of any stripe is welcome for the sheer novelty of it. She can get her dinner without having to pay a copper, and oftentimes it’s fairly decent, sometimes even good! The local gossip around the taverns has many speculations about the attempted murder of Councilor Kilk, with wild rumors flying naming everyone from the Boromar clan, the assassins of House Tarkanan, and the mysterious shapechanging Tyrants, to a rogue wizard, an estranged wife, or a fallen angel! The talk from the less-inebriated quarter is murmuring about some angry member of the dragonmarked houses, but that is said very softly, while looking over their shoulders.
Melvin Bogart does the two most obvious things in his search for Melphina Delena. The first is to look around and ask questions himself. The second is to hire an inquisitive to get into records he couldn’t simply because of time constraints. The first route uncovers vague recollections from some local elves, mostly recalling an aristocratic elf by that name that spent a lot of time in Upper Central, where the most powerful people of Sharn tend to gather. However, that was quite a while ago. The second route is done by hiring a middle-aged halfing inquisitive for the not unreasonable price of twelve silver pieces a day, to uncover all she can about Melphina in a week.
At the end of that week, Leyna Thorngage hands you her report:
Rayni: [sblock]Rayni gets instruction from Mel during breakfast and later in the evenings regarding her new persona as a Khorvaire elf. It’s not too difficult to get into the swing of it, but she has to remind herself of it constantly.
Being right next to the University district, it’s not hard to do research. Paying a fee of one gold piece a day, she can delve into the secrets of her dream-figure. Feeling certain it has something to do with one of her deathless ancestors, she concentrates on elven history, specifically those with unusual or aberrant dragonmarks. It takes a lot of backtracking and cross-referencing, copious note-taking and re-reading, but in the end she thinks she has found what she’s looking for. And it wasn’t what she wanted at all.
Very few of the powerful deathless have dragonmarks purely for the reason that dragonmarks are a relatively new item in the grand history of things. Even though they have been around for many thousands of years, many of those that have dragonmarks are those that tend of leave Aerenal for mercantile gain. However, there was one mark that did tend to keep its members in Aerenal: the condemned and extinct Mark of Death. Last borne by the House of Vol, the dragonmark was destroyed along with the entire House when it was revealed that scion Erandis d’Vol was a dragon/elf halfbreed. She was bred to be a maker of peace between the elves and dragons, but instead was condemned as an abomination, along with her entire House. The Mark of Death and the House of Vol were considered lost to the ages, right up until the cult called the Blood of Vol surfaced. Despite the similarity in name and theme of death, the elves have generally denounced the cult as a bunch of half-baked fanatics that have taken the name of the destroyed House in an ill-conceived way to connect themselves with an infamous historical tragedy. [/sblock]
Shenystari: [sblock]Shenystari makes her way to the better parts of Middle Menthis, as well as much of Upper Menthis she can get away with. Using her innate talent and charm, she’s able to make some friends with a few of Sharn’s noble youngsters. Opal ir’Daga and Yilane ir’Cuthrodic are part of a very new class of younger nobles, those that can concentrate purely on philosophical pursuits. Since the end of the last war, this class has gained a great deal of strength, particularly for those that wish to leave any vestige of war far behind them. While they know little of practical value, both do have a great deal of theoretical or philosophical knowledge, including psionic powers and the mysterious “duel of the spirits.” It’s an elegant name for what Shenystari easily recognizes as the conflicts of the Dreaming Dark and the kalashtar. Someone in this philosophical community is essentially indoctrinating the most subseptible of these idle rich children with the power represented by the Dreaming Dark. And more than one has mentioned something about “liquors to free the spirit,” some kind of drug that grants visions… or mental probings, that some of their teachers are giving them to aid them in their “enlightenment.”
In the use of her Loom on some of her own visions and meditations upon this disturbing development, she finds the crystal of passion upon Shavarath, the Battleground, and the heart as well as the woman figure upon Xoriat. The crown rests upon Daanvi, the Perfect Order, while the hole and the crystal of sorrow are upon Mabar, the Endless night. The cruel diamond of perfection lies upon Dal Quor. The crystals of love and happiness lead to Irian, the Eternal Day. These show the insight of the cosmos to her: the passions of her friends lead them to madness, while the patience of Dal Quor hope to draw them down into night/death/despair. Using an ordered mind may break the connection, as would using positive emotions and light to counteract the dark.
In between her visits with the jaded youth of Sharn, Shenystari hoped to find work as a business negotiator. Alas, such things take time and the establishment of a reputation. Time and publicity are things she cannot afford at the moment. However, her philosophical friends are more than eager (with the spendthriftiness of old money) to pay her to aid some of their slower colleagues in the more basic principles of mental discipline. [/sblock][/sblock]
Harolk: [sblock]Harolk finds the “Oldest Established Permanent Floating Sword-Fight in Clifftop,” to be very much to his liking. Orange Crush, despite its odd appearance, odor, and vocalizations, is a weapon of no small enchantment. And while Harolk has more than enough confidence (or foolhardy pride) in his own skills no matter the sword, Orange Crush makes his attacks more sure by a measurable amount. However, after he beat his first five opponents with a kind of theatrical flair guaranteed to irk the very devil out of them, he beat them again with his old, unmagical blades, just to prove he could. And got double or nothing on his winnings to boot!
Several girls show up at every fight with the sole purpose of acting as ornaments and companions to the winners (with several equally handsome men showing up for the female victors). Granted they have more hair and cleavage than brains, but they can hold a witty conversation about nothing, and lack no skills at all between the sheets! Scarlet, Pearl, Diamond, and Irrigane come as part of the winnings, truth be told, but even the loss of the gold they wheedle out of their partners for trinkets and dinner are little compared to the prestige of their company.
Despite his skill, Harolk can’t win them all, and one lady he finds himself crossing blades with at least twice a week. Sometimes he wins, sometimes she wins, but Querzana Lightningblade is always a pleasure to fight. Lean and elegant as a grayhound, with white-blonde hair and a brilliant smile, Querzana’s violet eyes always seem to gleam extra bright when she fights Harolk. She fights with rapier and dagger, but moves like lightning on the water, sweeping her white silk cloak around to obscure her movements. Despite your mutual friendly battles and post-fight conversations over wine, she has yet to even walk to you home, let alone accept an invitation inside…[/sblock]
Hxaptos and Tondrek: [sblock]The two of you can hire a House Deneith bodyguard initially for the standard price of one gold a day. However, when he hears where you’re going, he flatly refuses, stating his House policy forbids him from throwing his life away. Knowing the rich and monopolizing won’t take your gold, Hxaptos quickly finds the poor and desperate. But not too desperate, a knife in the back won’t do either of you a lick of good. For the exorbitant price of three gold each, two knife-wielding knaves, one a halfling named Harven, the other a half-elf called Felis, will accompany you both into Fallen.
Descending down the tower is no more nerve-wracking than before, despite your lack of numbers. Perhaps the Disastrous Duo might earn their fee after all. The stench of burned garbage and scorched flesh reaches your nostrils well before you reach the bottom of the tower. Remembering what happened last time you carried an open flame down here, Hxaptos uses an everburning torch he “liberated” from a careless passing adventurer to light their way. It’s the same way he got gold to hire his bodyguards too…
Descending down and down and down, past the vault, through another corridor, and down towards where the gleam of metal shines, Hxaptos leads the party without failing. Nothing moves in the garbage heap or corridors, not a single demented raver laugh or scream, not a muck-crawler’s squeak, nothing.
Hxaptos sets his erstwhile guards outside the small metal room at the very bottom of the tower, and even leaves Tondrek behind in his hurry. That sets the tune for nearly every day this month, a trek down to Fallen, liberating wealth on his way, a period of every day spent in the small metal room for Hxaptos, while Tondrek gathers a king’s ransom in useful junk.
Hxaptos: [sblock]Your first experiment with the screaming in the metal room did not go exactly as you planned. Luckily, your hopes were not set too high, as the directions of chaos were far from clear and unambiguous. You howled into the dark, pounded upon the walls with both fists and mace, read from your triangular book (which glowed in the dark, not to your surprise really), and screamed again. It seemed you needed a strange combination of screaming and sustaining a series of notes, and it took you almost two weeks to find the right keys. But finally, finally, one day you howled your chorus of cacophony into the metallic darkness, and a wash of violet light stabbed through your eyes.
Opening them, you could see before you a rent in the air of the room, leading to a place where vines criss-crossed the air, where gravity no longer applied, where you hauled yourself along the plants to seek out the others creatures, things with no limbs or two many, where magic twisted and turned and ate itself, turning into violet and blue lightshows. You found you could not keep it open for long, for it depended on how long you could sustain a scream. But a glimpse of true madness in that violet light urged you on. When the violet light would appear in the following days, your Voice (the lump) would begin to scream as well, allowing it to stay open longer, giving you longer and longer looks at the wonders before you.
The day when it seemed you were ready to cross over, the Voice spoke to you, the first time it had done so in three weeks. Beware! The Dragon Below has not yet given you such blessings as to allow you to return here should you cross over. You have had a glimpse and sound of glorious madness, enough to give you insight into the sounds of sight and minds of lesser men. You see before you one of the gateways to a gateway to a portal to a place of Xoriat, but you’re not ready yet. You have proven yourself tenacious and worthy, but you do not yet have the power to return if you go. And how is one to learn enlightenment stuck in a gateway?[/sblock]
Tondrek: [sblock]Blissfully unaware of the danger in Fallen, you use your time in ways far wiser than most would guess. With access to the wreckage and junk of hundreds of people, and with time upon time on your hands, you get to work with a will. The face of a new friend dances across your mind, and with Sparky’s help, you begin the slow process of assembling him. A metal keg, three beams, some lengths of chain, two blocks of stone, three hundred and forty-two screws of assorted sizes, five springs, sixteen strips of canvas, a chamberpot… the list goes on an on. Though you know your infusions lack the strength at present to fuel the magical heart of your creation, you have assembled it with the kind of obsessive care only you could provide…
OOC: You just cut your creation time on your junk golem by all but one day, and your costs by 8,000gp. Once you have the magical components (1,000gp worth) and the necessary feats and caster level and spells, it’s yours.[/sblock][/sblock]
Bail, Mel, Rayni, and Shenystari [sblock]Bail, Mel, Rayni, and Shenystari talk about jobs, elf customs, places to live, and things to do for a few hours, filling their bellies, quenching their thirst, and finally getting a few plans in place. After leaving the tavern, they start hunting for a place to stay for a while. They look high and low, trying to find a place to blend in that would also be close to places for them all to find work. A half-day's searching finds them some decent rooms to rent in the Smoky Towers district. It's a theater district, but it's in Middle Menthis Plateau (just below where Morgrave University is), a solidly middle-class area of town. And with the crowd it attracts, it allows them to be lost in the shuffle. As Mel well knows, the easiest place to hide a red fish is in a school of red fish. Your own eccentricities will pass unnoticed in the general hubbub.
Your address is: 254 Yellow Tower, Smoky Towers District, Middle Menthis Plateau, Menthis, Sharn, Breland.
The place is furnished, and the group can get whatever small necessities or groceries they need (there’s a small kitchen in the place). It’s safe enough, and there are locks on the doors. Your neighbors are mostly students of Morgrave and aspiring thespians and other entertainers.
Bail: [sblock]Bail searches about the area for work as a bodyguard, but he quickly discovers that he’s not able to find a drop of work. All bodyguards he’s seen wear the yellow and green chimera badge of House Deneith, a badge those he asks for work demand he provide. They have a monopoly on that kind of work, and while the occasional band of adventurers don’t pose a threat (they cost too much for the average citizen to hire, nor are they always known to be reliable), a single person performing their chosen duties will bring the substantial weight of the House to bear upon them. No normal citizen would hire a non-Deneith bodyguard openly, as they would find the ranks of the House closed against them should they try to hire a Deneith bodyguard later. And those seeking to hire a non-Deneith bodyguard are shady at best, and hazardous to work for at worst. Most of this Bail learns from the third fellow he attempted to be hired by, an elderly gentleman willing to take time to explain the complicated political situation Bail had inadvertently stumbled upon.
Frustrated but not disheartened, Bail sought other avenues of employment, such as peacekeeping at taverns. He could only find sporadic work at that, mostly for those who had sick peacekeepers. But while inquiring at a bar called the Tooth and Nail in the neighboring Middle Tavick’s Landing, he found a different but entirely suitable job of sorts. The proprietor, a shifter called Boz, was a fanatic about the rough-and-tumble game called Hrazhak. While it was primarily a shifter game, the occasional human with good reflexes, endurance, and strength could make a good showing. Boz suggested that the young strapping human man might find both good competition and cash in some of the local betting hrazhak games. A good judge of strength, in a burst of slightly drunken goodwill, Boz sponsored Bail in his first Hrazhak match.
Hrazhak is played on two teams of seven each, each team having an idol. Points are scored by taking the other idol from the opposing team and putting both idols in your home goal. The field is covered with downed trees, broken masonry, small ponds or streams, and anything else that comes to hand. The idols can be thrown or carried, but there is no limit on contact. Nothing but natural weaponry is allowed, and no magic or psionics are permitted to be used. A druid or adapt often stands by to heal wounded participants, but those that are healed are out of the rest of the game, so few would leave unless they’re direly injured. Needless to say, it’s a bloody, violent, and endlessly exciting sport.
Despite not having the innate powers that allow the shifters to dominate at Hrazhak, Bail had strength, courage, endurance, rage, and over a decade of abuse at the hands of sadistic goblins. While he was clearly not an expert, Bail managed to keep his team very close in his first game, and scored the last point by the skin of his teeth. Much backslapping and ale-drinking ensued, and Bail had the rather curious experience of being part of a cooperative team for the first time in his young life. Trev and Malik were the team’s runners, brothers only a few years apart, and just about Bail’s age. Both had a kind of innocence that Bail had whipped out of him at an early age, though both clearly had several lifetimes’ more experience in wenching than Bail did. Kevik was the team’s climber, and mate to Sharis, the team’s swiftwing. Both were mature beyond their years, and clearly felt a bit paternal towards the others. Zahn was one of the team’s razorclaws, and was great friends with the tiny but powerful Isha, a gorebrute with a disposition as sweet as cider (until someone set off her short temper). Lorn, the other razorclaw, was currently laid up with a broken leg, which is why the team was more than happy to let Bail give it a go.
The next several weeks had games nearly every third day or so, and Bail found himself a fairly good player. Also he found he attracted attention from one of the many on-lookers, a red-haired buxom half-elf with sparkling green eyes who called herself Melanie Vega. She made a point of draping herself upon him whenever his team won a game, and even planting a kiss on his blushing, sweaty cheek. Trev and Malik always elbowed him and made jokes about him getting “another goal,” whenever they saw her. What that meant exactly, Bail wasn’t sure of…
After nearly a month at Hrazhak, Bail found himself nearly forty-three gold richer than he was before![/sblock]
Mel: [sblock]Mel spends a little bit of each night and morning schooling Rayni in the mannerisms of Khorvaire elves, suggesting alternate curses and oaths, behaviors to avoid, fashions to dress in, and other such things she’s picked up.
As the buxom Melanie Vega, she moves easily amongst the middle and lower wards, hearing about the gossip and whatnot that rules those that live below the salt. Middle Menthis and neighboring Middle Tavick’s Landing are not Dura, but they also are not Central. That is to say, while they may be spared the worst of criminal manipulation, people here are not immune to it. More than one shopkeeper admits paying money to the Boromar clan for protection, assaults by thugs are not uncommon, and there are several people that it’s simple not healthy to inquire about. Most people know and understand that the Boromar clan runs certain gambling halls, and collects a great deal of money and goods that previously belonged to someone else (the Boromar clan is an extended halfling crime family).
However, several attacks by large and powerful creatures, mostly ogres with at least one unverified troll sighting, have been happening on Boromar-owned properties. It’s known that a group of monsters calling themselves Daask are trying to move up from below to take over the enterprises previously owned by other criminal organizations. Needless to say, the Boromar clan takes a dim few of this, but since their organization is very large (no one denies this), it’s hard to protect everything. A discrete call has been put out to people in debt to the Boromar clan, a call to arms. The general feeling is that a very nasty street war may be breaking out in the lower wards within six moons or less.
Aside from that rather disturbing information, Melanie Vega has become a bit of a fixture at the bi-weekly Hrazhak matches; the ones where a newcomer human named Bail is becoming a rapidly rising star. Filling in for an injured player on an all-shifter team, he’s aided them to several victories. Eager to praise the hero of the hour, Melanie Vega doesn’t hesitate to drape herself over him after his matches, planting a kiss on his cheek, and cheering for him during his game. He seems pleased, to be sure, but uncertain of how to act around her.
Melody Rhythm Rumba manages to find several taverns and inns in Smoky Towers and Firelight that are happy to have an entertainer for a night or two. Many already have a musician, but having a trained dancer of any stripe is welcome for the sheer novelty of it. She can get her dinner without having to pay a copper, and oftentimes it’s fairly decent, sometimes even good! The local gossip around the taverns has many speculations about the attempted murder of Councilor Kilk, with wild rumors flying naming everyone from the Boromar clan, the assassins of House Tarkanan, and the mysterious shapechanging Tyrants, to a rogue wizard, an estranged wife, or a fallen angel! The talk from the less-inebriated quarter is murmuring about some angry member of the dragonmarked houses, but that is said very softly, while looking over their shoulders.
Melvin Bogart does the two most obvious things in his search for Melphina Delena. The first is to look around and ask questions himself. The second is to hire an inquisitive to get into records he couldn’t simply because of time constraints. The first route uncovers vague recollections from some local elves, mostly recalling an aristocratic elf by that name that spent a lot of time in Upper Central, where the most powerful people of Sharn tend to gather. However, that was quite a while ago. The second route is done by hiring a middle-aged halfing inquisitive for the not unreasonable price of twelve silver pieces a day, to uncover all she can about Melphina in a week.
At the end of that week, Leyna Thorngage hands you her report:
[/sblock]
Rayni: [sblock]Rayni gets instruction from Mel during breakfast and later in the evenings regarding her new persona as a Khorvaire elf. It’s not too difficult to get into the swing of it, but she has to remind herself of it constantly.
Being right next to the University district, it’s not hard to do research. Paying a fee of one gold piece a day, she can delve into the secrets of her dream-figure. Feeling certain it has something to do with one of her deathless ancestors, she concentrates on elven history, specifically those with unusual or aberrant dragonmarks. It takes a lot of backtracking and cross-referencing, copious note-taking and re-reading, but in the end she thinks she has found what she’s looking for. And it wasn’t what she wanted at all.
Very few of the powerful deathless have dragonmarks purely for the reason that dragonmarks are a relatively new item in the grand history of things. Even though they have been around for many thousands of years, many of those that have dragonmarks are those that tend of leave Aerenal for mercantile gain. However, there was one mark that did tend to keep its members in Aerenal: the condemned and extinct Mark of Death. Last borne by the House of Vol, the dragonmark was destroyed along with the entire House when it was revealed that scion Erandis d’Vol was a dragon/elf halfbreed. She was bred to be a maker of peace between the elves and dragons, but instead was condemned as an abomination, along with her entire House. The Mark of Death and the House of Vol were considered lost to the ages, right up until the cult called the Blood of Vol surfaced. Despite the similarity in name and theme of death, the elves have generally denounced the cult as a bunch of half-baked fanatics that have taken the name of the destroyed House in an ill-conceived way to connect themselves with an infamous historical tragedy. [/sblock]
Shenystari: [sblock]Shenystari makes her way to the better parts of Middle Menthis, as well as much of Upper Menthis she can get away with. Using her innate talent and charm, she’s able to make some friends with a few of Sharn’s noble youngsters. Opal ir’Daga and Yilane ir’Cuthrodic are part of a very new class of younger nobles, those that can concentrate purely on philosophical pursuits. Since the end of the last war, this class has gained a great deal of strength, particularly for those that wish to leave any vestige of war far behind them. While they know little of practical value, both do have a great deal of theoretical or philosophical knowledge, including psionic powers and the mysterious “duel of the spirits.” It’s an elegant name for what Shenystari easily recognizes as the conflicts of the Dreaming Dark and the kalashtar. Someone in this philosophical community is essentially indoctrinating the most subseptible of these idle rich children with the power represented by the Dreaming Dark. And more than one has mentioned something about “liquors to free the spirit,” some kind of drug that grants visions… or mental probings, that some of their teachers are giving them to aid them in their “enlightenment.”
In the use of her Loom on some of her own visions and meditations upon this disturbing development, she finds the crystal of passion upon Shavarath, the Battleground, and the heart as well as the woman figure upon Xoriat. The crown rests upon Daanvi, the Perfect Order, while the hole and the crystal of sorrow are upon Mabar, the Endless night. The cruel diamond of perfection lies upon Dal Quor. The crystals of love and happiness lead to Irian, the Eternal Day. These show the insight of the cosmos to her: the passions of her friends lead them to madness, while the patience of Dal Quor hope to draw them down into night/death/despair. Using an ordered mind may break the connection, as would using positive emotions and light to counteract the dark.
In between her visits with the jaded youth of Sharn, Shenystari hoped to find work as a business negotiator. Alas, such things take time and the establishment of a reputation. Time and publicity are things she cannot afford at the moment. However, her philosophical friends are more than eager (with the spendthriftiness of old money) to pay her to aid some of their slower colleagues in the more basic principles of mental discipline. [/sblock][/sblock]
Harolk: [sblock]Harolk finds the “Oldest Established Permanent Floating Sword-Fight in Clifftop,” to be very much to his liking. Orange Crush, despite its odd appearance, odor, and vocalizations, is a weapon of no small enchantment. And while Harolk has more than enough confidence (or foolhardy pride) in his own skills no matter the sword, Orange Crush makes his attacks more sure by a measurable amount. However, after he beat his first five opponents with a kind of theatrical flair guaranteed to irk the very devil out of them, he beat them again with his old, unmagical blades, just to prove he could. And got double or nothing on his winnings to boot!
Several girls show up at every fight with the sole purpose of acting as ornaments and companions to the winners (with several equally handsome men showing up for the female victors). Granted they have more hair and cleavage than brains, but they can hold a witty conversation about nothing, and lack no skills at all between the sheets! Scarlet, Pearl, Diamond, and Irrigane come as part of the winnings, truth be told, but even the loss of the gold they wheedle out of their partners for trinkets and dinner are little compared to the prestige of their company.
Despite his skill, Harolk can’t win them all, and one lady he finds himself crossing blades with at least twice a week. Sometimes he wins, sometimes she wins, but Querzana Lightningblade is always a pleasure to fight. Lean and elegant as a grayhound, with white-blonde hair and a brilliant smile, Querzana’s violet eyes always seem to gleam extra bright when she fights Harolk. She fights with rapier and dagger, but moves like lightning on the water, sweeping her white silk cloak around to obscure her movements. Despite your mutual friendly battles and post-fight conversations over wine, she has yet to even walk to you home, let alone accept an invitation inside…[/sblock]
Hxaptos and Tondrek: [sblock]The two of you can hire a House Deneith bodyguard initially for the standard price of one gold a day. However, when he hears where you’re going, he flatly refuses, stating his House policy forbids him from throwing his life away. Knowing the rich and monopolizing won’t take your gold, Hxaptos quickly finds the poor and desperate. But not too desperate, a knife in the back won’t do either of you a lick of good. For the exorbitant price of three gold each, two knife-wielding knaves, one a halfling named Harven, the other a half-elf called Felis, will accompany you both into Fallen.
Descending down the tower is no more nerve-wracking than before, despite your lack of numbers. Perhaps the Disastrous Duo might earn their fee after all. The stench of burned garbage and scorched flesh reaches your nostrils well before you reach the bottom of the tower. Remembering what happened last time you carried an open flame down here, Hxaptos uses an everburning torch he “liberated” from a careless passing adventurer to light their way. It’s the same way he got gold to hire his bodyguards too…
Descending down and down and down, past the vault, through another corridor, and down towards where the gleam of metal shines, Hxaptos leads the party without failing. Nothing moves in the garbage heap or corridors, not a single demented raver laugh or scream, not a muck-crawler’s squeak, nothing.
Hxaptos sets his erstwhile guards outside the small metal room at the very bottom of the tower, and even leaves Tondrek behind in his hurry. That sets the tune for nearly every day this month, a trek down to Fallen, liberating wealth on his way, a period of every day spent in the small metal room for Hxaptos, while Tondrek gathers a king’s ransom in useful junk.
Hxaptos: [sblock]Your first experiment with the screaming in the metal room did not go exactly as you planned. Luckily, your hopes were not set too high, as the directions of chaos were far from clear and unambiguous. You howled into the dark, pounded upon the walls with both fists and mace, read from your triangular book (which glowed in the dark, not to your surprise really), and screamed again. It seemed you needed a strange combination of screaming and sustaining a series of notes, and it took you almost two weeks to find the right keys. But finally, finally, one day you howled your chorus of cacophony into the metallic darkness, and a wash of violet light stabbed through your eyes.
Opening them, you could see before you a rent in the air of the room, leading to a place where vines criss-crossed the air, where gravity no longer applied, where you hauled yourself along the plants to seek out the others creatures, things with no limbs or two many, where magic twisted and turned and ate itself, turning into violet and blue lightshows. You found you could not keep it open for long, for it depended on how long you could sustain a scream. But a glimpse of true madness in that violet light urged you on. When the violet light would appear in the following days, your Voice (the lump) would begin to scream as well, allowing it to stay open longer, giving you longer and longer looks at the wonders before you.
The day when it seemed you were ready to cross over, the Voice spoke to you, the first time it had done so in three weeks. Beware! The Dragon Below has not yet given you such blessings as to allow you to return here should you cross over. You have had a glimpse and sound of glorious madness, enough to give you insight into the sounds of sight and minds of lesser men. You see before you one of the gateways to a gateway to a portal to a place of Xoriat, but you’re not ready yet. You have proven yourself tenacious and worthy, but you do not yet have the power to return if you go. And how is one to learn enlightenment stuck in a gateway?[/sblock]
Tondrek: [sblock]Blissfully unaware of the danger in Fallen, you use your time in ways far wiser than most would guess. With access to the wreckage and junk of hundreds of people, and with time upon time on your hands, you get to work with a will. The face of a new friend dances across your mind, and with Sparky’s help, you begin the slow process of assembling him. A metal keg, three beams, some lengths of chain, two blocks of stone, three hundred and forty-two screws of assorted sizes, five springs, sixteen strips of canvas, a chamberpot… the list goes on an on. Though you know your infusions lack the strength at present to fuel the magical heart of your creation, you have assembled it with the kind of obsessive care only you could provide…
OOC: You just cut your creation time on your junk golem by all but one day, and your costs by 8,000gp. Once you have the magical components (1,000gp worth) and the necessary feats and caster level and spells, it’s yours.[/sblock][/sblock]
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