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

[Ambrus]

Clelind smiles when the little warrior inquires about the tattoo. "Not a soul has asked me of this mark for... well, ages I guess." He opens his tattered shirt to reveal a remarkable tattoo of a silver dragon about to take flight, its wings flush against it and its powerful legs ready to spring. "It's been a... long time. I have seen much since I was given this mark. My life has taken a far different turn than I would have thought when I joined the Circle."

Jacoby is rendered speechless at the sight of the silver dragon adorning the man's chest. Just as in that moment when Jacoby first picked up the fallen knight's spear does time seem to creep to a halt. Jacoby begins to shiver uncontrollably with the dawning realization that his dream wasn't just an idle fantasy but a true vision; a message meant specifically for him. Defeating the Jabberwock had been, in hindsight, pure dumb luck. The beast had been peppered with arrows, impaled on a knight's lance, repeatedly cut and stabbed and then had nearly bled to death before it had luckily charged and run itself through on my outstretched spear. My choosing to take up arms and become an errant knight could be dismissed as a foolish flight of fancy or a delusion of grandeur. Meeting a beggar after having dreamt of a chapel with the word "charity" inscribed upon its lintel could simply be counted as a merry coincidence. But to now see a silver dragon, THE silver dragon from my dream tattooed to that same beggars' chest is just too much to see and still harbour any doubts in my soul. Jacoby tries to stammer out some kind of reply but comes up with nothing. Where to start? The Jabberwock? The knight? The hunt? The dream?

"Doesn't make much difference now," Clelind continues, "But I was once an esteemed member of the Order of the Silver Dragon. I don't s'pose you've heard of it. Not many have. Anyway, it don't matter now, seeing as how I'm, well, half the man I used to be."

...Huh? What did he just say? Something about an order of silver dragons? He's, was some kind of knight, Like Sir Johann? Could they have known each other? Did they fight silver dragons or serve them?...

Time passes as the pair spend the evening wondering about the other and not saying much. "Caedwynn's Pass?" Clelind asks after a long pause. "Aye, I've been through it many times during the wars. Can be a dangerous place. You'd better watch yourself."

Oh. He's still talking. Cadwynn's Pass? Oh right, I'd asked him about it; where I was going.

"There are many plateaus in the high mountains," he continues. "Dragons like to perch there, looking for prey. The adults are more apt to go after a larger catch, but the younger dragons, they might just feast on one such as you. For some reason, I get the idea that you know what I'm talking about. All the same, keep yer wits about ya."

He knows about dragons in the mountains? Did he serve in the king's army? Does his order hunt dragons? Am I meant to join the order too? Hunt dragons in the mountains? I... uh...

"As for a chapel, I suppose there could be one or two hidden up there," he says. "Don't know that I've seen any, but that don't mean your chapel doesn't exist. I can tell you that nuthin's been built in the mountains, the high mountains anyway, for a long time. During the wars, of course, materials and manpower weren't spent on projects like that."

See, he must have fought in the wars. He's no lumberjack. If not, how'd he loose his legs? Were they eaten by a dragon in the mountains? A silver dragon? He's someone sent by the Powers to teach me. To show me my path. He must be...

More time passes as the pair watch Amber play with the bones.
"The building you refer to... that's not my home, although I have spent a lot of time there, 'specially when I was younger. In my prime. I'll take you there."

What? Take me where? Oh. His house. Okay. Right.

Using his board, Clelind pushes himself across the open ground toward the stone structure. As Jacoby neared, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He could feel something strong in this place. Something important had happened here. When Jacoby and Clelind arrived in front of the structure, a large inscribed symbol of a dragon's claw was obvious just above the entrance. The place wasn't much to look at, but the symbology was clear enough.

Once again, Jacoby's mind reels as he begins to feel the power of the divine manifesting itself directly in his life again in so short a time. He's reminded of the burning eyes of the Jabberwock fixing themselves upon him seeing into his very soul. Jacoby feels naked and overwhelmed.

"Tis a Shrine to Bahamut," Clelind announced. "Probably of no interest to your kind, I know, but I thought I'd show it to ya all the same. Have a look inside if you like. There's nuthin in there to hurt ya."

Finally, in the ensuing silence Jacoby, still staring into the dark doorway of the chapel falls to his knees and manages to stammer a few words: "Please... Sir Knight... tell me of Bahamut... the Circle... the Silver Dragon..."

Jacoby will listen to every word Clelind offers him in rapt attention. As he gets more excited at learning the details of what the Powers expect of him he'll interrupt with all the unasked questions he's been holding back until now. Over the next few hours, Jacoby will in turn tell Cleling his own tale in an inelegant retelling starting with the Jabberwock and ending with his arrival in Cumberland. In his excitement he'll constantly interrupt himself to add in details he'd forgotten to mention earlier. He knows next to nothing about the silver star pennon he carries or that it's even Bahamut's own symbol, so he'll be particularly anxious to learn what he can of this odd dragon god and what he may want from Jacoby. One way or another, he'll probably spend the night in prayer in the small chapel.

 

[Steve Gorak]

Ralan | Darisant, Lurien

Ralan is set to bed down amongst a group of fellow guards. They have opened up to Ralan a bit, but are still somewhat standoffish at the same time. Among these guards are Venang, a pikeman from Slusong, Talia, a wagon driver from a small town in Mitea, and Avrick, a merchant's aide from Darisant.

OOC: I need to know a little more specifically what you're looking to find out. Also, list which skills you plan to use, and bonuses for those skills.

Ralan will talk with his bedside companions to try to find out if they have seen a religious symbol of a strange symbol of a pair of hands over a gem of some kind. Also he will inquire about a city that doesn't speak Lur, close to a forest and a mountain. He will describe the landmarks as best he can. If his companions question him, he will tell them that he saw these signs in a dream.

Of course, he will do this as a normal part of conversation, and will also inquire about their backgrounds, so they do not become suspicious.

[OCC: Sense motive : + 6 (to see if they're lying), Gather information : + 6 (to get the info), Diplomacy : + 6 (to chat and be liked by them)]

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

Clare Karaby | Darisant, Lurien"Clare..." he says with a grave tone in his voice, "You... we are all in danger. There is a great Evil harbored nearby."

As Clare concentrates on the power of healing, in an attempt to assuage the man's poor condition, the sores seem to get better, but do not entirely vanish.

"I knew to come to you, Clare," the stranger says, his body in obvious pain. "I have seen you, in my mind. You are the one thing I can count on. A purity in an otherwise gloomy world." He hacks, coughing up some blood. "You do not yet understand what I have been through, and there is not time for my entire life's story, so listen close, for what I tell you may set into action a chain of events from which you can never turn back."

"Please, help me to sit up," he says, and Father Laertes does so. "My name is Spenzer Koren and I was once a Priest in the Order of the Book. This is how I came to know who you are, Clare. But I have disgraced the Order, and I have been punished. These are not physical injuries, but spiritual ones. There is not much left for me in this world, and I fear, nothing but Hell for me in the next, but I must follow my conscience one last time if there is any hope for my salvation."

"Like I said, there is a great Evil nearby," he continues. "It has been made manifest in a most pleasing form, but it is Evil nonetheless. You know... you must have learned in your studies... Evil stalks the innocent, and tempts the Good into perversions." Blood trickles from his tear ducts. "I have done bad things," he says. "But I am here as a last resort, to right what I have wronged."

"These sores you see upon me," he says, "These are the signs of my failure as a Priest and as a follower of the Celestial Hebdomad." He coughs up again. "I have given into the pleasures of the flesh, only to discover too late that these were no pleasures of any kind, but subtle torture, the product of a devious mind."

"She waits for you," Koren warns. "You must be strong in your Faith, and in the words of your Patron. There is so much more Good in you than I ever had. Clare, you must stop her before she destroys all that we have worked for."

Father Laertes intervened. "Perhaps some rest..."

"No!" Koren shouted. "There isn't time. Clare must go to the Chapel of Unity and..."

Koren stops, clutches his throat, and falls to the floor, trembling. Father Laertes rushes to the stranger's side, turning him over. As he does, Koren's eyes are completely bloodshot, his face with a pallor of the spectre of death.

"Clare..." he says. "You must unite them... they need your strength... your sense of purpose. Without you, all will fail. You must find the... the..."

And with that, Spenzer Koren is no more.

*Clare looks at Father Laertes in shock.*

"Oh no... Spenzer... Oh Father, my dream was more real than I knew. How horrible, such a terrible death..." she cries, trying to make sense of this tragedy. "He wanted me to unite 'them,' who are they? And where must I go? I must honor his dying wish Father, I have to. Please, I think there is something terrible there I must help combat, to reveal its true form of evil. Where is this place, this Chapel of Unity?" she says in a halting voice, suddenly realizing that her life is about to change forever.

 

[Insight]

Shuelsai

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

Shuelsai's fresh water supplies are filled quickly by the blessings of Bharrai, murmurings of prayers and a pass of his hands over his skins (Create Water) fill them. For food he stretches his supplies by purifying the putrid (Purify Food & Drink) and dragging his nets. If he's truly out of supplies he calls upon Moro to fish for him, trusting on the bluettipped hawk's keen eyes to see small fish that he does not. All in all, Shuelsai's travel suffers more from his keen lack of spirits than supplies. Just thinking about the possibility of a cup of hoi-hoi in some hostel's hut makes Shuelsai's lips smack with anticipation.

Once in the shallower waters nearer shore, Shuelsai fells his sails and heaves the heavy anchor into water just outside the breakwater and out of the dangerous reach of the shore currents. That mission accomplished, Shuelsai swims to shore (OOC: Not from 2 miles out, the breakwater shouldn't be more than a few hundred feet) and goes looking for inhabitants and fresh supplies of the garden variety (OOC: Survival +8), all the while softly humming a chant to the Mother.

Reaching the shore, Shuelsai immediately takes note of a chill in the air, and decides that he has come upon an island in a far less temperate area than what he has become used to in Kurst. Trees pepper the shoreline here, and are a combination of coniferous and deciduous foliage. The beach is not white sand as one would find in Kurst, but instead a chalky grey variety. Even the birds here are slightly different, larger, and far less playful.

In the distance is a great mountain, a pillar of grey, black, and white stone forcing its way skyward through the forest canopy threatening Shuelsai's distant vision.

OOC: I am substituting a Survival check to pick up some additional details. I assume these are things Shuelsai would investigate.

Darkness is gathering, a sure sign of dusk's approach. There are noises in the distance, a braying of strange animals, and a rush of footsteps. Looking around quickly, Shuelsai spots tracks, both animal and humanoid along the sand. Investigating further, the Kurstic fisherman notes several cloven hooved herd animals led by a few humanoids of likely average weight and height.

Not being a skilled tracker, Shuelsai isn't sure exactly what to make of these tracks. All he knows is that these animals and people walked in one direction across the bare beach and into the forest nearby. This is the same direction in which Shuelsai heard the noises.

As he considers his options, Shuelsai catches a glint of water inland off the beach. Following a few steps, Shuelsai figures this to be a small delta of a river, likely coming from the mountain at the center of the island.

OOC: OK, you have several options here. Let me know in the OOC thread if you want to cast any informational spells before proceeding and I can edit this post without making it too crazy. Trying to keep this thread as readable as possible.

 

[Insight]

Misha

Misha Koldun | Veltune, Lurien

Misha begins to pour over the two maps, trying to reference as many holy sits as he can and then eliminating what he can, taking what notes he can. He tries to stay focused on the task at hand. Hoping that he can glean a clue from the maps at hand and perhaps some divine intervention if needed…

Mish takes a moment to give a prayer, “Raziel, I do not pray as often as I should, but I know that action pleases you more then words. My faith has me doing your will, I have seen your message and now I seek what it is you wish for me to see… guide my thoughts, my actions…”

Misha smirks, “Watch over me, Raziel, except them times that I need my privacy…” thinking of the barmaid from the past evening. Misha returns to trying to find potential sites that match the description.

As he opens his eyes, Misha Koldun's gaze is blurry with a reddish haze, almost a film, obscuring his vision. He had been in this condition many times after a dusk-to-dawn bender, but never since...

... and he blinked... and his eyes focus on a spot on the map laid out on the table before him. This spot is blank - a patch of white paper on a yellowed parchment map. This blank spot appears within a range of mountains capped with snow, not far from Veltune.

His head filled with questions, Misha knew Helen would have the answers he sought. Turning to stand, Misha instead falls backwards in his chair as he sees a gleaming armored knight in the corner of the room. Misha looks around - there is no one else here. Surely someone of this... presence... would have been noticed coming into the map reliquary.

Still, there the armored figure stands, apparently unnoticed, his faceless gaze fixated on the now prone Misha Koldun.

"Rise, Misha Koldun," the armored figure says. "There is much to be done."

 

[Insight]

Jacoby

Jacoby | Shrine of Bahamut, Outside the Village of Cumberland, Mitea

Finally, in the ensuing silence Jacoby, still staring into the dark doorway of the chapel falls to his knees and manages to stammer a few words: "Please... Sir Knight... tell me of Bahamut... the Circle... the Silver Dragon..."

Jacoby will listen to every word Clelind offers him in rapt attention. As he gets more excited at learning the details of what the Powers expect of him he'll interrupt with all the unasked questions he's been holding back until now. Over the next few hours, Jacoby will in turn tell Cleling his own tale in an inelegant retelling starting with the Jabberwock and ending with his arrival in Cumberland. In his excitement he'll constantly interrupt himself to add in details he'd forgotten to mention earlier. He knows next to nothing about the silver star pennon he carries or that it's even Bahamut's own symbol, so he'll be particularly anxious to learn what he can of this odd dragon god and what he may want from Jacoby. One way or another, he'll probably spend the night in prayer in the small chapel.

OOC: I'm going to assume a few questions for you in the dialogue below, just to keep things moving. If this is a problem, post in the OOC thread and I'll change it.

Clelind looks away from Jacoby and regards the claw symbol upon a stone circle above the door, the entrance to the Shrine of Bahamut. Following a period of inexorable silence, Clelind again turns back to face Jacoby.

"My boy," he says. "The Order of the Silver Dragon... where to begin? The Order is more an ideal now than anything real. It was once a shining example of all of the good and honorable things Bahamut stands for. Started off that way, long ago. The Dragon commands us to do Good works in his name, and honors us with rewards, some material, and some... of a far more valuable variety."

Jacoby smiles and produces his silver star pennon. "So the Order was founded by followers of Bahamut?"

"Yes," Clelind replies. "Though they did not know it at the time." He laughs, a chuckle to stir up old cobwebs. "A band of adventurers, they were. Known as the Circle. Don't know much about them at all. They founded the Order of the Silver Dragon based on the addled dreams and visions of one of their number. Kept seeing a silver dragon in his sleep. Spoke to him - through him - taught him of the tenets and beliefs of old."

"Was Bahamut talking to the man?" Jacoby asks, playing unconsciously with the pennon.

"What is that in your hand?" Clelind wonders, taking the silver star pennon before Jacoby could answer. "Looks familiar."

"It's a pennon I found," Jacoby replies.

"Interesting," the cripple comments after a few moments' examination. He hands it back to Jacoby without a further word.

"So Bahamut told the man to create the Order of the Silver Dragon?"

"Hard to say," the cripple answers. "It's a topic of much debate amongst members of the Order. But in any event, soon, the Order of the Silver Dragon was formed. The Order's heyday was more than three generations ago - long before you or I were born. These knights who obeyed no worldly lords or powers, they righted wrongs and sought out evil wherever it could be found. Such was their mandate."

"What happened to the Order of the Silver Dragon?"

Clelind frowns and turns toward the Shrine, lightly touching the mark upon his chest. "They... we... are still around, in one form or another. Not many left now."

Jacoby jumps towards Clelind with a shout. "I knew you were a knight. Had to be!"

The former knight half-turns at the movement, and is overcome by the joy he detected in the youngling's voice. "I was. That was a long time ago. But yes, I was indeed a member of the Order of the Silver Dragon. Still am, I guess."

Taking Clelind's shoulders in his excitement, Jacoby's mind raced. "I must tell you of my vision then! I saw Bahamut in my dreams as well!"

"No," Clelind retorts. "What you must do now is go inside." The cripple's once-powerful arm pointed at the dark doorway leading inside the Shrine of Bahamut. "You will find answers there. If I am still here when you return, we'll speak again. Otherwise, good luck, young one, and may your sword be true."

Jacoby timidly pushes the stout wooden door open, revealing a once-proud shrine in shambles. Broken rock walls line the inside of the building - Jacoby had not noticed these from the outside. After a brief initial examination, it is obvious that this was at one time a place of great distinction.

Feeling again the hair on his arms and the back of his neck rise, Jacoby whirls around, taking in the entirety of this unremarkable ruin. Strange as it would seem, he cannot see beyond the broken walls of the shrine. He is truly alone in this place. Only darkness outside.

"Thou hast come," a voice, created from power and fury, says with thunderous presence. Jacoby stumbles at the sound, which threatens to tear him limb from limb. He falls, and crawls into a corner to escape what every fiber of his being tells him is surely his doom.

Only Jacoby's innate courage, a rarity amongst people nowadays, enables him to turn to face the origin of this voice. He sees nothing, just darkness, an unnatural sort of obfuscation in one corner of the shrine.

"Servant of the Dragon, approach," the voice commands, and Jacoby, unable to resist the call, obeys. He stands, takes a few baby steps into the expansive darkness, and stops. "Walk no more closer, Jacoby of Amberlea," the voice says, its tones sending shockwaves through the young warrior's soul.

Jacoby stands, staring into the darkness, wondering how this voice came to be, and to whom it might belong.

"I cannot appear in thy midst, Servant of the Dragon, for to do so now would only destroy you. Be assured that I am here in thy presence, to give you succor and provide you with sustenance to thy soul."

"Thou hast doubt in thy thoughts. Thy perceptions cannot comprehend what I am, but be assured that thou art in a place of peace and of glory, though thou cannot see it now."

"Servant of the Dragon," the voice continues, "Ask of me one question and one question only. Think upon it, and be true. The answer provided to you shall makest a permanent a mark on thine own soul."

 

[Ambrus]

Jacoby's mind spins at the power and glory of the voice. Is it the voice of Bahamut? The voice of the Silver Dragon? Is it the one who sent me the dream? Did it guide me here? What does it want of me? Jacoby has a hundred questions to ask of it. But I can only ask one?!? It will mark my soul? What does that mean?... Jacoby feels at a loss to sate his curiosity with but a single question. But it's not my own curiosity that matters. What I want doesn't matter. I took up arms and sought the Jabberwock because I wanted to protect my kin from it. I left Amberlea because I wanted to fight to help those who were in need. That's what really matters.

Finally Jacoby looks up into the shadows, clears his throat nervously and says with as much conviction as he can muster from his small frame: "How am I to do the most good for others?"

 

[Insight]

Ralan

Ralan | With the House Myrrkal Caravan, Abils Fields, Lurien

Ralan will talk with his bedside companions to try to find out if they have seen a religious symbol of a strange symbol of a pair of hands over a gem of some kind. Also he will inquire about a city that doesn't speak Lur, close to a forest and a mountain. He will describe the landmarks as best he can. If his companions question him, he will tell them that he saw these signs in a dream.

Of course, he will do this as a normal part of conversation, and will also inquire about their backgrounds, so they do not become suspicious.

[OCC: Sense motive : + 6 (to see if they're lying), Gather information : + 6 (to get the info), Diplomacy : + 6 (to chat and be liked by them)]

It isn't long after the campfire is doused that talk turns to each others' interests. Talia, the least shy of the small group, was the first to speak of herself. In addition to her duties as a wagon driver, she counts herself talented in dance, music, and the textile arts. Talia, a Mitean from a small border village, openly displays her steel circlet, a symbol of Sealtiel the Defender.

After a few well-meaning questions from the men present, Venang, a pikeman from Slusong, speaks of his past. A veteran of the recent wars between Lurien and Mitea, Venang has traveled with Talia and mistrusts neither her nor her people. Venang seems a humorless sort, but is relatively harmless, so long as one stays well away from his pike.

Avrick, a merchant's aide from Darisant, speaks after Ralan, taking curious note of what Ralan says. Avrick reveals that he does not believe in the war between Good and Evil, and disdains all religion. The merchant's aide, however, takes interest in Ralan's dream and asks all sorts of questions.

OOC: Ralan does not sense anything beyond normal curiosity from Avrick at this point.

After nearly everyone has gone to sleep, Talia appears at Ralan's tent, which he shares with the snoring Venang. She beckons Ralan to follow, and takes Ralan to an area well away from the others.

"I heard what you said about the pair of hands over a gemstone," she says quietly. "It could be nothing, but I have seen that somewhere. I wish I could remember where. It escapes me right now."

"I wish I could help you with the city that doesn't speak Lur," she adds. "I'm sure there are such places, but none around here of course. Lur is spoken in all of the cities of Mitea in addition to Lurien. Even in some farflung places such as Shiven, I am led to believe."

The night passes without incident. Next morning, the caravan, currently located in the northern Abils Fields, a flat, green space at the heart of Lurien, heads south towards Bloodstone Bridge, a popular spot to cross the Torin River, especially for those in wagons. The stout bridge, built recently, has seen many caravans, military and mercantile, in its two decades of service.

It is quiet, despite the plethora of horses, wagons, and people all around. As the caravan approaches a bend in the road, the wagonleader announces that the caravan will need to narrow in order to cross the Bloodstone Bridge up ahead. A huge grove of trees blocks line of sight to the bridge, though the Torin River can be seen less than a mile away.

As the caravan starts to turn, dozens of bandits pore forth from the forest, setting upon the caravan!

OOC: This is a mass battle, but Ralan need only be involved in part of it, or not at all if you wish to flee. Otherwise, post what you would like to try to do, and I'll do my best to accomodate.

 

[James Heard]

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

Darkness is gathering, a sure sign of dusk's approach. There are noises in the distance, a braying of strange animals, and a rush of footsteps. Looking around quickly, Shuelsai spots tracks, both animal and humanoid along the sand. Investigating further, the Kurstic fisherman notes several cloven hooved herd animals led by a few humanoids of likely average weight and height.

Not being a skilled tracker, Shuelsai isn't sure exactly what to make of these tracks. All he knows is that these animals and people walked in one direction across the bare beach and into the forest nearby. This is the same direction in which Shuelsai heard the noises.

As he considers his options, Shuelsai catches a glint of water inland off the beach. Following a few steps, Shuelsai figures this to be a small delta of a river, likely coming from the mountain at the center of the island.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Shuelsai considers things carefully. He knew, of course, that the southerners were all savage barbarians who did nothing more than fight amongst themselves and war upon each other. It was a simple fact. He did, however, require some provisioning and he was poorly equipped to deal with angry tribesmen bent on jabbing him in the nomos with sticks or some nonsense over picking their fields.

Sighing to himself, he dusted off the beach sand and slogged tiredly back into the water and out to his small boat. Smiling at Moro wanly he erected his sails again as the sun slipped over the edge of the world, and he whistled half-heartedly through his missing teeth as he made his way slowly against the night beachwinds toward the presumed delta settlement. If nothing else perhaps he can beg a few foreign coins and buy a pot of beer soon.

"Ah Moro...If only more people were like you." he said. "That is, excepting the pretty girls," he finished sagely.

 

[Evil Ujio]

Misha Koldun | Veltune, Lurien

Still, there the armored figure stands, apparently unnoticed, his faceless gaze fixated on the now prone Misha Koldun.

"Rise, Misha Koldun," the armored figure says. "There is much to be done."

Misha flicks the beads by his left ear, and stands; his mind at first racing when the obvious washes over him like a hot morning bath he nods, “My lord, I am the vessel for your will command me as you wish.”