The Tol Haggerun Prophecy - 3.5 D&D [Ended]

[Insight]

Misha

Misha Koldun | In the Viltoe Mountains Outside Veltune, Lurien

Misha laughs through the pain, "Nice try, but now you just pissed me off!"

+3 attack with Honor, Using Power Attack +2/-1 so damage is 2d6+5 on the same one he hit last round, since it isn't down I am assuming...

OOC: Misha hits, dropping the wounded cloaked figure with 16 points of damage!

In retaliation, the two remaining figures attack. Even though they are flanking Misha, neither hits.

I assume that Misha is going to continue to Power Attack. He strikes at #2, but misses.

The two figures attack with their maces once again, and #2 hits for 4 poiints of damage.

There is a flurry of action as Misha and the three cloaked figures trade deadly blows. Misha manages to fell the one he previously struck, and now turns his attention to the next attacker. Misha and this attacker exchange weapon strikes, with the cloaked figure grazing Misha's head with his mace.

 

[Insight]

Sharma

Sharma | In the Fiery Sea, Aboard the Just Looking

"I am more a teller of tales than a singer of songs, so I shall commence..." Sharma begins slowly, hoping to get a feel for his audience, he weaves together a tale of a half-elf sailor lass who won her own ship from a tireless crew and traveled the seas for the pleasure of the waves and the sun on her brow far more than any trinket placed before her. Standing tall against pirates and ruffians, she earned the respect of the powers of the sea who granted her a small part of divinity and forever now she travels the winds and breathes speed to ships in need.

OOC: Perform (oratory) +7

OOC: The Perform (oratory) check is a total of 20, which is quite a success!

Sharma's tale of the half-elven lass keeps the crew interested, and they even cheer as he ends the tale. Imro is obviously impressed, and approaches Sharma at the tale's end. "Look," he says, pointing at a cup near where Sharma spun his tale. "Donations to the shantyman." Sure enough, the crew dumped a few copper and silver into the cup in recognition of their storyteller's efforts.

"No pirate activity yet," Imro continues. "This is a good sign. I half expected to see some action on this trip through the Fiery Sea. No such luck, I suppose."

"Still, keep your wits about you," he says. "We'll be stopping in Mokkar, the Mitean port. I've heard tell that there's been some pirate activity in that area, so we'll be careful. But not too careful," he says with a smile.

The rest of that leg of the journey is uneventful, and the Just Looking arrives safely at the Mitean port of Mokkar.

 

[Ambrus]

"Dunno if I'm magic or no," Raster replies. "Don't know much about magic. I try to keep to myself, except for when the Great Dragon calls."

Jacoby stuffs the last piece of his precious wedge of cheese into his mouth while nodding as if the giant bear's statement actually made some kind of sense to him. Well I've never met a talking bear... or any talking animals really. Amber here can't talk like you do... Amber perks her ears up at the sound of her name and looks expectantly at Jacoby. He smiles and reaches out a hand to scratch behind her ear. ...but she listens beautifully; don't you lady? Jacoby looks down at his quickly diminishing food supplies. I hope the great dragon has some food at this chapel, I didn't get a chance to buy anything back in Cumberland before I left and no game has come anywhere near me since I'd started traveling with that dragon...

The next morning, Raster is up early and rouses his hin companion. "We'd best be going. The others will be along soon. Don't wanna keep them waitin'."

Jacoby ignores his growling stomach and tries to wipe the sleep from his tired eyes. He takes several deep breaths before slowly climbing to his feet. The hin stretches and tries to work the knots out of his neck. The ground is so cold up here... and it's getting harder and harder to catch my breath. I think Amber's getting tired too, best to walk her for a bit.Jacoby saddles up his mount, packs his things and dons his armor and shield and hefts his lance, the pennon catching the early morning wind. Taking Amber's leash into his hand he turns towards the mountain of fur and says: Lead on Raster.

 

[Evil Ujio]

Misha Koldun | In the Viltoe Mountains Outside Veltune, Lurien

There is a flurry of action as Misha and the three cloaked figures trade deadly blows. Misha manages to fell the one he previously struck, and now turns his attention to the next attacker. Misha and this attacker exchange weapon strikes, with the cloaked figure grazing Misha's head with his mace.

Misha stumbles back breathing hard, “Time to finish this!” He presses his attack on the second attacker with a powerful strike hoping to bring his victim low in one terrible blow!

Misha will Power Attack once more +3 attack for 2d6+5, and if he survives till next round he will do the same; and if not well he tried.

 

[James Heard]

Shuelsai Deng | Island of Marvoe, off the Coast of Lurien

"Were I younger myself I'd be glad to simply dismiss the nature of things blithely rather than seek understanding. Unfortunately for the both of us though, I've come to understand that understanding and the pronouncements of prophets rarely meet squarely at the place that that the prophets and soothsayers claim. Whatever extravaggance of prophecy you proclaim, whatever possibilities might make themselves known, nothing is more proper a discussion than the nature of truth." Shuelsai scowls, his wizened face pinching into a mass of leathery wrinkles. "It's so good of you to be told of who I am, by people you fail to name. Tales of a sailor's role in the slaying of defeat of demons? Whomever you are though, indeed, whomever I am myself - might tell a man any story at all over a cup in a tavern - especially a man alone, far from home. Until we find the truth though, and make that mark of airs and earth where that which is hidden from our hearts and minds reveals itself to each other in a sense of trust, you'll have to forgive me if I must treat every word of prophecy as false and every sudden friend as figment. What Mother tells me then, I shall whisper in my mind and without lips - such is the way that sails stand taut with the wind behind and not before." He sips his beer. "Furthermore, the sweetness of tongue you dream of fails you if you imagine me insignificant from without it. No wonder they call you hermit, for precious few graces you claim besides a talent for ordering ale." A slight pause and the sailor nods to himself in decision.

"No, sir nameless. I don't think I need to hear more from you. If your heart is as rude as your words then I wish no Child a wonder if we break fast together. Be well and may the waves lay flat for you stranger, if the Mother wishes to speak to me then I imagine she'll wash me sea bottles before she entertains cruelty for a lack of sudden friendship. Good day."

Shuelsai gets up and leaves the tavern without looking back.

 

[Steve Gorak]

Ralan | With the House Myrrkal Caravan, Abils Fields, Lurien
After gathering his javelins, Ralan spends a good ten minutes carefully sneaking up the hill to where he saw the riders take Talia. It is a short, shallow hill overlooking the Abils Fields, and appears to be the place from which the bandits staged their attack. Ralan sees everywhere standards and pennants bearing the strange symbol he first saw not too long ago on the first batch of attackers. Avrick seemed to recognize this symbol, but did not indicate what it was.
Ralan finds three tents, each large enough to house 12 men, or perhaps equipment. There are many barrels filled with javelins, arrows, or other weapons. With some more investigation, Ralan sees the horses he chased up here, tied to a nearby tree. Talia is nowhere to be found, however, without entering the camp proper.

"hmm, this may not be the the wizest thing I've done... but i can't leave Talia with them... Ayala know what they'll do to her!" Ralan will head towards the horses, making sure he isn't seen. He'll carefully listen for anything that may give him a clue to where they are.

If he thinks there is a chance, He'll try to sneak up on the riders individually, to improve his chances.

 

[Ferrix]

Sharma | In the Fiery Sea, Aboard the Just Looking

OOC: The Perform (oratory) check is a total of 20, which is quite a success!

Sharma's tale of the half-elven lass keeps the crew interested, and they even cheer as he ends the tale. Imro is obviously impressed, and approaches Sharma at the tale's end. "Look," he says, pointing at a cup near where Sharma spun his tale. "Donations to the shantyman." Sure enough, the crew dumped a few copper and silver into the cup in recognition of their storyteller's efforts.

"No pirate activity yet," Imro continues. "This is a good sign. I half expected to see some action on this trip through the Fiery Sea. No such luck, I suppose."

"Still, keep your wits about you," he says. "We'll be stopping in Mokkar, the Mitean port. I've heard tell that there's been some pirate activity in that area, so we'll be careful. But not too careful," he says with a smile.

The rest of that leg of the journey is uneventful, and the Just Looking arrives safely at the Mitean port of Mokkar.

Sharma collects the cup, smiling and raising it in a responsive toast to his excellent audience, "a storyteller needs only a good ear to listen."

Nodding in acknowledgement to Imro, Sharma spends the rest of his journey talking and gathering bits of everyones stories. When he encounters Jaroth, he inquires about Captain Spitsteel and what is it that makes the man keep such private company. In his sparetime, he'll write a short note thanking the Captain for the swift journey and his pleasant crew. Depositing the note under the Captain's door as the make way for the docks of Mokkar, Sharma will bound up to the deck, glad to have land in sight once more, and a bit of Eyla as well before he goes.

With a relenting smile to the half-elf maiden of his inspiration, he meanders down the plank next to Jaroth onto the docks, "so, where could I find the druids, since you know Mitea better than myself."

 

[Insight]

Jacoby | In the Northwestern Reaches of the Viltoe Mountains, Mitea

Jacoby stuffs the last piece of his precious wedge of cheese into his mouth while nodding as if the giant bear's statement actually made some kind of sense to him. Well I've never met a talking bear... or any talking animals really. Amber here can't talk like you do... Amber perks her ears up at the sound of her name and looks expectantly at Jacoby. He smiles and reaches out a hand to scratch behind her ear. ...but she listens beautifully; don't you lady?

Raster smiles and says matter-of-factly, "Amber doesn't talk because she doesn't know what to say." The bear looks down at Amber. "She'll speak to you when she's ready, or when she has something to say."

Jacoby looks down at his quickly diminishing food supplies. I hope the great dragon has some food at this chapel, I didn't get a chance to buy anything back in Cumberland before I left and no game has come anywhere near me since I'd started traveling with that dragon...

Jacoby ignores his growling stomach and tries to wipe the sleep from his tired eyes. He takes several deep breaths before slowly climbing to his feet. The hin stretches and tries to work the knots out of his neck. The ground is so cold up here... and it's getting harder and harder to catch my breath. I think Amber's getting tired too, best to walk her for a bit.Jacoby saddles up his mount, packs his things and dons his armor and shield and hefts his lance, the pennon catching the early morning wind. Taking Amber's leash into his hand he turns towards the mountain of fur and says: Lead on Raster.

Jacoby, Amber, and Raster spend a few more days in the mountains before coming to a particularly tricky summit. Beyond, an area painted with the rays of the morning sun, which Jacoby makes out as a plateau. He can't make out much details from this distance; it's a good mile or so away still. But something about this plateau seems...

"Yup," Raster says without being asked. "That's it, my friend. We are very close now. But this is just the first part of the journey. The real adventure is about to begin."

"Let's get you there before dark."

 

[Insight]

Misha Koldun | In the Viltoe Mountains Outside Veltune, Lurien

Misha stumbles back breathing hard, “Time to finish this!” He presses his attack on the second attacker with a powerful strike hoping to bring his victim low in one terrible blow!

Misha will Power Attack once more +3 attack for 2d6+5, and if he survives till next round he will do the same; and if not well he tried.

Misha, straining to maintain his composure, lashes out with his sword, biting deeply into his attacker. The cloaked figure stumbles, and falls off the ledge, onto a small outcropping about 30 feet below.

Turning his attention on the final cloaked figure, Misha senses something stirring within his foe. Was it fear? Possibly. The figure, wielding a flail, lurched forward, swinging wildly, but Misha easily sidestepped the attempt. Misha, seeing his opponent off-balance, stabs the cloaked figure in the side, dropping him (it) to the ground.

OOC: Misha has no problem dispatching the second attacker, leaving one remaining. The lone cloaked figure swings a flail at Misha, but misses. Misha counterattacks, and hits, dropping the last opponent.

His foes dispatched, Misha turns to take stock of his situation. Leading a bit on, Misha finds a snowy peak, and beyond that, at some distance, a flat rocky plain.

 

[Insight]

Shuelsai Deng | Island of Marvoe, off the Coast of Lurien

"Were I younger myself I'd be glad to simply dismiss the nature of things blithely rather than seek understanding. Unfortunately for the both of us though, I've come to understand that understanding and the pronouncements of prophets rarely meet squarely at the place that that the prophets and soothsayers claim. Whatever extravaggance of prophecy you proclaim, whatever possibilities might make themselves known, nothing is more proper a discussion than the nature of truth." Shuelsai scowls, his wizened face pinching into a mass of leathery wrinkles. "It's so good of you to be told of who I am, by people you fail to name. Tales of a sailor's role in the slaying of defeat of demons? Whomever you are though, indeed, whomever I am myself - might tell a man any story at all over a cup in a tavern - especially a man alone, far from home. Until we find the truth though, and make that mark of airs and earth where that which is hidden from our hearts and minds reveals itself to each other in a sense of trust, you'll have to forgive me if I must treat every word of prophecy as false and every sudden friend as figment. What Mother tells me then, I shall whisper in my mind and without lips - such is the way that sails stand taut with the wind behind and not before." He sips his beer. "Furthermore, the sweetness of tongue you dream of fails you if you imagine me insignificant from without it. No wonder they call you hermit, for precious few graces you claim besides a talent for ordering ale." A slight pause and the sailor nods to himself in decision.

"No, sir nameless. I don't think I need to hear more from you. If your heart is as rude as your words then I wish no Child a wonder if we break fast together. Be well and may the waves lay flat for you stranger, if the Mother wishes to speak to me then I imagine she'll wash me sea bottles before she entertains cruelty for a lack of sudden friendship. Good day."

Shuelsai gets up and leaves the tavern without looking back.

OOC: OK so what do you do next? Sit around on this island? Go somewhere else?