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

[Insight]

Misha

Misha Koldun | Veltune, Lurien

Misha heads to a place of scholarship and seeks to go over maps that depict the region, focusing on mountain ranges and especially those with pine forests growing upon them. He does his best with his limited scholastic knowledge to take notes and study as much of the terrain as he can…

Traveling to the edge of Veltune, Misha finds the Royal Map Depository, a place normally frequented by scholars, explorers, and colonists. It is a solid, square, two-story structure with one level underground that is reserved for invited visitors only. The two aboveground levels are open to the public, though people armed and armored as Misha draw strange looks from the scholars inside.

"Welcome to the Royal Map Depository. Can I help you, good sir?" a Half-Elven middle-aged woman says, approaching Misha as he enters the caverous structure. "I am Helen, and I would be pleased to assist you." Helen is dressed in what Misha would consider fineries, and while she appears to be in her mid-thirties, Misha knows, being a Half-Elf, Helen is likely at least 40 or 50.

 

[Insight]

Clare

Clare Karaby | Darisant, Lurien

"I will see him Father. Father, do you think that the dream was not perhaps about a place I must go but people I must meet?" she says as she walks.

Father Laertes leads Clare down to the Sanctuary, an impressive structure (the largest in the complex). The pair enter through a set of heavy, wooden double doors lined with etchings in Celestial, prayers for peace and clarity to Pistis Sophia and the rest of the Celestial Hebdomad.

Inside, Clare and Father Laertes pass through several large rooms, which when the facility served to train monks were quite full with students and faculty. Before too long, Clare and Father Laertes enter a large room known as the Atrium, the height of which used both stories. This chamber, a de facto reception room for visitors to the complex, did not often have visitors this late at night. But tonight, there was a lone visitor of interest to Clare Karaby.

It was a bearded man in his late thirties, wearing a rain-soaked beige cloak, and bearing the symbol of Pistis Sophia on a silver necklace. As Clare and Father Karaby entered the Atrium, the man turned, revealing a distorted face with wounds and sores across it. His shirt was torn and covered in blood.

The man stepped forward, lurching as he did. It was obvious that this stranger had lost a lot of blood, and was clearly wounded.

"I... he said not to say anything about his condition," Father Laertes says before Clare can even ask. "I do not know why."

Looking squarely at Clare, the wounded man spoke. "Clare Karaby," he said in a grave voice. "I have been sent to you by the Mistress herself. Only you can save me."

 

[Insight]

Jacoby

Jacoby | The Village of Cumberland, Mitea

Jacoby suddenly remembers his dream, the chapel, its engraved lintel spelling out that one word: Charity. The crippled man is a sign; a herald from the Powers. Jacoby suddenly feels humbled. He tries to regain his composure and smiles in what he hopes is a warm and friendly manner.

Well, uh... goodman. I've been blessed with some very good hunting on the road and still have a good rack and haunch of elk with me; far too much for Amber and me to eat by ourselves. I've also a wedge of cheese and some double-baked bread left. Mayhaps we can share a meal together. Do you know of some place we can find a fire to warm ourselves and perhaps some shelter for the night? My name is Jacoby... uh, of Amberlea. Jacoby extends his arm to the man in greeting.

Jacoby will be willing to spend some silver to pay for shelter for the three of them if the beggar can indeed suggest some place willing to accommodate them. If not, then Jacoby will offer to make camp in some naturally sheltered area and build a campfire for the three of them to share. Jacoby is a little curious to know the man's story and how he lost his legs. He'd also like to talk to him about his dream, the chapel and perhaps learn a little about Cumberland at the same time if the man is willing to talk to him.

The beggar looks up at Jacoby and transforms his dour expression into a toothy grin. This man, though dressed in tatters and well worn from years of physical neglect, appears to have seen far better days. In fact, Jacoby spies through the man's torn shirt a tattoo of some sort - an intricate design that sure cost a fortune to have made.

"The name's Clelind," he says roughly. "You know... you're the first person to speak to me today. I s'pose the rest of them have had their fill o' my belly-achin."

"Place to find a fire... well, if you don't mind the loggers, their camp isn't far from here," he says. "They don't much care for me after the accident - they say I'm bad luck to have around. You seem like a different sort. Not from around here are ya?"

He struggles onto a board made for transport. "If you can find my wagon around heres... I can show ya a nice place. I think it'll suit ya just fine."

Once Jacoby has located Clelind's wagon, the beggar leads Jacoby and Amber to a clearing well outside Cumberland. Along the way, Jacoby learns that Clelind was once a lumberjack, but lost his legs in an accident. While Clelind doesn't reveal all of the details, it apparently involved a very large saw that somehow got out of place. Clelind has been in Cumberland for more than five years, though he doesn't say from whence he came before coming to the small logging town.

Jacoby, Amber, and Clelind arrive at a small, remote clearing. There is a fire pit in the center, and enough room for several people to camp out. Just outside the clearing, Jacoby can make out some sort of small stone structure in the woods.

"So hows about we cook up some of that fine mutton," Clelind suggest, smiling once again.

 

[Insight]

Sharma

Sharma | Refelis, Refel

Sharma cracked a smile at the dwarf's attempt at a play on words, Jaroth was really something, but a lyricist he wasn't, "it's a good one, anyone buy it yet?" He adds with a touch of humor.

"Har, no," the Dwarf retorts with a wry smile. "Not much takers today. I think it's due to the big market next week. You know, with the Miteans coming back and all. It better not ruin my business either..." Jaroth kicks at a board used to support his cart.

Sharma shakes his head, "no, but it's like slow rain, and much colder. Like the clouds floating gently to the ground, small flakes of white. I've heard many stories of it, so these mountains must have been south. Would these snowy mountains also thrive with mistletoe?" His curiousity expanding.

Jaroth's brow perks up at this last question. "Mistletoe, you say..." The Dwarf mutters a bit under his breath. "Not around here. Of course, I sell some on occasion to the Druids, but it doesn't grow naturally in Refel... too warm here. I get mine from a feller in Hrux. Good prices too. Think he said it grows in the mountains there, or nearby anyway. Never asked him much about it."

 

[Insight]

Shuelsai

Shuelsai Deng | South of Chunabo, Kurst, In the Trackless Sea

"Someplace to make land and fill my skins though, that would be nice. Otherwise I'm afraid I'm no more and no less sane in this meeting than I was yesterday. If that's a pity or it means I'm lost then so be it, it be my lot to be lost. Besides -" Shuelsai said offhand, "Not only does one educate himself by becoming lost, but the greatest treasures in life sometimes reveal themselves thusly. Is that not the calling of the sea? To see the wave before it passes, or to find the cove unspoken for?"

"Look now," he said, nodding at the sun's movement with a gesture of his head, "I've led you all too far astray into the pittance of an old man's mind. How far by this meager sail to Lurien then, so I might fill my skins and heave a small beer for lost friends? I bless you all in the name of Bharrai, may she covet your peace and make grace with it."

The crew of the Verarken Star murmur amongst themselves for a moment, and then one of them speaks to Errold, the bosun. The Shivenic sailor smiles. "You speak of Bharrai," he says. "Are you a true follower, or did you somehow come to know that she is our patron... In any event, you are not very far from Lurien, but we happen to be headed that way. If you would come aboard and speak to our captain, perhaps we can be of some assistance to you."

Crewmen drop lines and a rope ladder down into the water, waiting for Shuelsai to decide whether or not to accept aid from his vessel.

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

Clare Karaby | Darisant, Lurien

It was a bearded man in his late thirties, wearing a rain-soaked beige cloak, and bearing the symbol of Pistis Sophia on a silver necklace. As Clare and Father Karaby entered the Atrium, the man turned, revealing a distorted face with wounds and sores across it. His shirt was torn and covered in blood.

The man stepped forward, lurching as he did. It was obvious that this stranger had lost a lot of blood, and was clearly wounded.

"I... he said not to say anything about his condition," Father Laertes says before Clare can even ask. "I do not know why."

Looking squarely at Clare, the wounded man spoke. "Clare Karaby," he said in a grave voice. "I have been sent to you by the Mistress herself. Only you can save me."

"Please, please do sit down, let me tend to you," Clare says immediately. Anything else could wait until the man was healed. "Just relax and try to think of the sun, it will help with the healing," she murmurs. Inwardly she's shocked at the man's condition, and wonders why her of all the priests in the temple, should be the one to save this man.

*Carefully she opened herself to the power of healing all around her, and let it flow into the man, mending his wounds and stopping the bleeding. Her eyes were open, but they were not seeing the man beneath her. She was seeing roses, a garden of white roses. Tiny angels danced amongst the blossoms, and sunlight poured down upon all...*

OOC - Converting 1st level spells into cure light wounds, using both if necessary, then converting the 0th level ones if needed.

 

[Insight]

Ralan

Ralan | Darisant, Lurien

Ralan will attempt to sign on with a merchant caravan traveling south. He will also seize the opportunity and question any merchant willing to chat with him about the potential location of a city with a burned building on the edge, somewhere with a forest close to a mountain. Also, he will inquire about an order that has "hands over a gem" as a symbol.

Ralan finds his way to the Market Square, which isn't too difficult to find. It is the busiest place in Darisant, and full of employers and people looking for work. The fact that there are more buyers (employers) than sellers (workers) means that Ralan shouldn't have too difficult a time finding a job on a merchant caravan.

There are three merchant companies or guilds with large booths set aside to hire workers of various kinds. The Verarken Trading Company, the Armin Circle, and the Dynal Mercantile Guild. All of these companies are looking for workers, and have recruiters standing outside the large pavilion tents each has setup to hire.

It is a calm, warm day in Darisant, and a good number of workers have made themselves available. From the chatter, Ralan gathers that a great deal of hiring has already been done today, and that he might want to hurry if he wants to get a decent assignment.

 

[James Heard]

Shuelsai Deng | South of Chunabo, Kurst, In the Trackless Sea

The crew of the Verarken Star murmur amongst themselves for a moment, and then one of them speaks to Errold, the bosun. The Shivenic sailor smiles. "You speak of Bharrai," he says. "Are you a true follower, or did you somehow come to know that she is our patron... In any event, you are not very far from Lurien, but we happen to be headed that way. If you would come aboard and speak to our captain, perhaps we can be of some assistance to you."

Crewmen drop lines and a rope ladder down into the water, waiting for Shuelsai to decide whether or not to accept aid from his vessel.

Shuelsai smiles, "If we both sail to Lurien, then perhaps you would allow me to buy your captain a jug of ale then? I admit, I'm remiss to leave my sails behind to sway beneath another's. Why hurry the Circle? If we meet now then we shall meet again. May your sails be full and the seas calm beneath your brow. Ho!"

With that Shuelsai winks up at the crewmen and heaves off from the side of the larger ship, sailing toward Lurien.

 

[Evil Ujio]

Misha Koldun | Veltune, Lurien

"Welcome to the Royal Map Depository. Can I help you, good sir?" a Half-Elven middle-aged woman says, approaching Misha as he enters the caverous structure. "I am Helen, and I would be pleased to assist you." Helen is dressed in what Misha would consider fineries, and while she appears to be in her mid-thirties, Misha knows, being a Half-Elf, Helen is likely at least 40 or 50.

Misha smirks, and taps a book absentmindedly letting her words play on silence for a long moment. Misha knew he was somewhat out of his element not that he couldn’t read or study, he did both, but scholarly pursuits were never his calling, as anyone could plainly see.

“Well Helen,” Misha says with a wistful smile, “I am trying to find a map of the surrounding region; perhaps a place where pine trees grow at the base of mountain, vague I know.”

He pulls a map and unrolls it onto a table, “I am trying to find a ruin, a shrine in the mountains, at the base of which pine trees grow… it could be in either Mitea or Lurien… I wish I had more to go off of, but my clues are few and the task ahead is great.”

Misha turns to her focusing his intense eyes on her, “Any help you could give would greatly assist me, Helen.”

OOC: Misha will use Diplomacy +5 to try and improve her mood if need be, not that it would do much, he is being earnest and charming as always.

 

[Ambrus]

OOC: I'm going to write some of this up as a dialogue to keep it clear and short.

"The name's Clelind," he says roughly. "You know... you're the first person to speak to me today. I s'pose the rest of them have had their fill o' my belly-achin."

Jacoby tries to keep his attention fixed on the man's face; away from his tattoo, tattered clothes and obvious injuries. "Well, for my part, you've already said more than I've heard a body speak in days."

"Place to find a fire... well, if you don't mind the loggers, their camp isn't far from here," he says. "They don't much care for me after the accident - they say I'm bad luck to have around."

Jacoby chuckles; "Well, so far, they don't seem to care much for me either."

"You seem like a different sort. Not from around here are ya?"

Jacoby begins to warm up to the odd fellow and replies with a wink; "How could you tell?"

He struggles onto a board made for transport. "If you can find my wagon around heres... I can show ya a nice place. I think it'll suit ya just fine."

Jacoby, Amber, and Clelind arrive at a small, remote clearing. There is a fire pit in the center, and enough room for several people to camp out. Just outside the clearing, Jacoby can make out some sort of small stone structure in the woods.

"So hows about we cook up some of that fine mutton," Clelind suggest, smiling once again.[/QUOTE]

"It's venison actually. Nice little place. You live there?" says Jacoby, motioning towards the small stone building. Jacoby will remove Amber's saddle, go about collecting some deadfall for the firepit and use his flint to spark a fire. He'll then go about the process of setting up a spit to roast the meat. All the while, he'll continue chatting amiably with Clelind. "That's, uh, a fine tattoo you have there. How'd you come by that?" A little while later, after they've eaten and Amber is working on the bones, Jacoby will continue: "Amber and me are heading up into the mountains by way of Cadwynn's Pass. We're looking for a small chapel up high on a plateau where the snow falls. Ever been up in those parts yourself?"