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

[James Heard]

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

A woman, probably a mother in her mid thirties, smiles at Shuelsai's approach. She calls out in the Trade Language, with a Mitean accent, "Hello there!" As a small girl runs to the woman's side, she takes the child in her arms, still keeping an eye on Shuelsai's vessel. "Welcome to Marvoe Island," she says.

Smiling across at the little girl, "I've a few your size back at home, lass. Say, do you think your older sister and you could help me out?"

Without waiting for an answer, Shuelsai makes a short sardonic bow with a wink in his eye and lopsided grin on his face, balancing unevenly upon the prow of his boat. Sweeping his hand across his face in an empty-handed removal of presumed headwear, he says, "Greeting's m'lady, 'n her blessing's 'pon you n' yours. Have you a tavern fit for filling a pot for an old tired sailor here, and can you tell me the name and nature of yonder mountain?"

Almost as an afterthought he adds, "I've coin to pay for it of course, or else I've could aid your people with what small magics The Mother blesses me with?"

 

[Insight]

Misha

Misha Koldun | Veltune, Lurien

Misha cracks a wry smile at the words, The things I do for my faith in the higher powers… He raises his hand smoothly, and grips the point of the blade, his jaws go tight as he applies slight pressure to draw blood. He never lets out a sound using his warrior discipline to ignore pain, he will not be weak, he is a champion of Raziel and he will carry himself accordingly!

But I like my soul, he muses in his mind, but focuses back on the divine task at hand.

Clenching teeth, Mishal Koldun does indeed draw blood from pressing on the blade. Scarlet streams run down his palm, whirling around his wrist, and dabbing onto the stone floor. The pain is well more than what Misha had been prepared for, and he lets go of the blade, dropping to the ground.

"Well done, Misha Koldun," the figure says, approaching the prone form. "Now that you have the mark of Raziel on you, prepare yourself for the journey. You already know where to go..."

Before Misha can reply, the figure steps away and out of the small antechamber, leaving Misha alone to his thoughts. Looking at his bloodied hand, Misha sees where there should have been cuts from the sword instead a symbol: a shield crossed by a lightning bolt.

 

[Insight]

Shuelsai

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

Smiling across at the little girl, "I've a few your size back at home, lass. Say, do you think your older sister and you could help me out?"

Without waiting for an answer, Shuelsai makes a short sardonic bow with a wink in his eye and lopsided grin on his face, balancing unevenly upon the prow of his boat. Sweeping his hand across his face in an empty-handed removal of presumed headwear, he says, "Greeting's m'lady, 'n her blessing's 'pon you n' yours. Have you a tavern fit for filling a pot for an old tired sailor here, and can you tell me the name and nature of yonder mountain?"

Almost as an afterthought he adds, "I've coin to pay for it of course, or else I've could aid your people with what small magics The Mother blesses me with?"

The mother smiles demurely. "Oh, but aren't you the gentleman?" she says playfully. "We will certainly help you, visitor." She sets the girl down. "I am Neradie, and this is my daughter, Chelsie. My husband was a fisherman, and I know my way around a fishing boat. Do you need help mooring your ship?"

"And yes, we most certainly have a tavern," Neradie adds. "It's not much, but I have a feeling the local brewer will be able to satisfy your needs, traveler."

The girl runs off onto the clay colored beach while Neradie takes a few steps into the breakwaters, approaching Shuelsai's vessel.

 

[Ferrix]

Sharma | Refelis, Refel

"Har, I've not met a Mitean yet who could resist my merchandise!" Jaroth says with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "But sadly, I may not be here when the festival starts," the dwarf adds.

Jaroth waves a few beggars away from his booth, shooing them back to the dregs from whence they came. Returning to Sharma, he dusts himself off yet again. "Well that's what I was getting at," Jaroth replies. "There's been such demand for my wares, I'm heading back to the continent. Should be in Hrux shortly."

"And no jokes about my height neither!"

"Ah, but you are such a rangy dwarf, I'd be at a loss to jest of your height," Sharma says with an assuring smile. Tapping a finger against his brow, "since you are heading back that way, would you mind if a meager storyteller accompanied your great travels?"

"Thinking of becoming a Druid are ya?" the dwarven merchant joked. He knew, of course, that Sharma was well-entrenched in his own closely-held faith. "There's a few I know, here and in Mitea. The ones here are... strange. But their coin is good! They keep to themselves. Now the ones in Mitea, I would recommend. A fun lot."

"Well, I don't wanna keep ya. Sure you got lots of other things to do," Jaroth says, patting Sharma on the back.

"A fun lot you say, well, I'm not entertaining the thought of becoming a druid, although I'm certain it could mean a great deal of frolicking with the nymph's..." he trails off for a moment, then snaps back to reality, "so, when do we leave?" Smiling broadly to the dwarven merchant.

 

[Insight]

Ralan

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

As soon as Ralan realises that an attack is taking place, he draws his morningstar and tries to locate where Talia, Venang and Avrick are. He will stay close to them, while trying to protect the caravan folk. He won't directly engage any banidits unless they attack the people close to him. If this happens, he will yell: "do not approach, as you will not live to regret it" and will feign [OCC: bluff +6] and attack [occ: (+3 melee, 1d8+2].

It is a mass of humans, half-orcs, elves, dwarves, and other assorted warriors on both sides, waves of attacks coming from both sides of the conflict. Bandits issue forth from the tall grasses of Abils Fields. Their crossbows and shortbows strike home, but in many cases, merely strike the wagons themselves. The close combat oriented bandits charge in on foot, swords and axes ready for the clash of arms they knew was to come.

Guardians of the caravan, caught slightly off-guard, but yet still able to mount a counterattack against the bandits, are able to hold their own - for now. Wheeling around to react, crossbowmen load their implements to strike their counterparts across the field of battle, while pikemen and other guards ready for the charging bandits on foot.

It quickly becomes obvious to Ralan that he is not going to have much impact on the outcome of this battle, but he tries valiantly to aid his employer in any way possible. Venang and Avrick do not stray far from Ralan, staying close and readying weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, Ralan thinks he sees Talia disappear into a ravine that forms a half-circle around the field of battle.

"These bandits," Venang remarks, "They seem to come from everywhere. But we can handle them." With this last statement, the pikeman issues a smile, and regrips his pike.

Avrick looks around. "We have yet to take major casualties," the merchant's aide points out. "Let's see how valiant you are when half the guards are dead. You may not have noticed, my friend, but we are outnumbered."

The awaited clash of bandits and guards takes place, with much noise and violence. A few Hobgoblins, bearing a strange symbol on their shields, approach Ralan and his two allies, but the Hobgoblin spearmen do not prove to be the equal of Ralan, Venang, and Avrick.

OOC: Here's what happened in a nutshell. Three Hobgoblins armed with shortspears, wearing studded leather. Avrick armed with a longsword, Venang with a warpike, and Ralan with his morningstar. Our heroes win initiative, and get into position. Venang is first, and get attacks the middle Hob with his warpike, taking out the Hob. Because he has a reach weapon, he also threatens the other Hobs. Ralan is next, and since the Hobs are flat footed, Ralan manages to flank a Hob and gets sneak attack, hits, and kills the Hob. Avrick handles the other Hob with some sort of fire spell.

"See, that wasn't too difficult," Venang says, wiping some Hobgoblin blood from his armor.

Avrick stoops to take a look at one of the fallen Hobgoblins. "This symbol," he says. "Interesting."

 

[Insight]

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

Jacoby whirls around in bewilderment at the sudden appearance and equally sudden departure of the strange emerald drakeling. He spins back around, quickly bows towards the empty spot where the darkness used to be and rushes out the door of the chapel to seek the wyrm. As he emerges, Jacoby looks around for the whereabouts of Clelind and whistles for Amber to join him.

OOC: Clelind isn't here when Jacoby emerges from the Shrine. I'll explain more below. I'm going to slightly alter your actions as a result. I hope that's OK.

Emerging from the Shrine of Bahamut, Jacoby is shocked to have his eyes assailed by daylight, and not the pitch of darkness. It is the morning, though Jacoby is unsure what day it might even be.

The legless knight Clelind is nowhere to be found, and neither is Amber, but her barking can be heard in the distance, letting Jacoby know that his steed is close, but currently out of sight.

Seeing that Clelind is gone, Jacoby will say goodbyes to him anyway, while saddling Amber for the unexpected departure: Thanks for your help, Clelind, wherever you are. I want to thank you for all your help. I wouldn't have found this chapel if it wasn't for you. I was going to give you some coins as a token of my esteem for your aid, but I'm going to leave them here on the doorsteps to the Shrine. Jacoby places ten gold coins from his purse, more than half of all his remaining money, onto the step in front of the Shrine of Bahamut. I'll try to return to see you again if I can. Goodbye.

In but a few seconds after exiting the chapel, Jacoby is mounted and ready to follow the odd little dragon into the night. Raising his pennon, Jacoby says: Guide the way Zanpher.

"Time's a wastin'," the drakeling says, waiting impetuously for Jacoby to get ready for the departure. Flapping his impossibly small, butterfly-like wings to keep his body hovering, Zanpher sends a few puffs of greenish smoke into the air. "Looks like you're finally ready to go... good. Let's get moving."

Jacoby follows Zanpher into the mountains ready to start the next part of this already unique adventure.

It is a day's journey into Caedwynn's Pass, and Jacoby and crew are a good half-mile above sea level, into the craggy peaks of the northern reaches of the Viltoe Mountains, a range that forms the de facto border between Mitea and Lurien. It is getting cooler, and the winds up here are stiff and blustery. Luckily, Jacoby was wise enough to bring along supplies for such an eventuality.

The sojourn ends that night as Jacoby and Amber are tired from the mountain trek, and need to stop to camp for the night. Though Zanpher does not admit as such, the drakeling is no more accustomed to this weather and altitude than Jacoby and his dog.

"Well, if we have to stop," Zanpher says, settling on a fallen log. "I might as well tell you a little more about what's going on."

As he is about to speak, Jacoby hears something stirring in nearby foliage. Zanpher takes to the air about the same time, whirling to face the source of the noise, a strange bear that rips forth from the bushes and into the camp!

 

[Insight]

Sharma

Sharma | Refelis, Refel and Aboard the Just Looking

"Ah, but you are such a rangy dwarf, I'd be at a loss to jest of your height," Sharma says with an assuring smile. Tapping a finger against his brow, "since you are heading back that way, would you mind if a meager storyteller accompanied your great travels?"

"Sure, why not?" Jaroth replies. "I could do with the company."

"A fun lot you say, well, I'm not entertaining the thought of becoming a druid, although I'm certain it could mean a great deal of frolicking with the nymph's..." he trails off for a moment, then snaps back to reality, "so, when do we leave?" Smiling broadly to the dwarven merchant.

"I was planning to leave tonight, actually," Jaroth says. "Word is that the winds are ripe for southerly travel right now, so I might as well save myself a few days on the sea if at all possible. Not really much for sea travel, but it's rather necessary in my line of work."

"Pack for about a week's worth of travel," The dwarven merchant explains. "Plan to spend two days in Hrux - no more."

Jaroth tells Sharma to meet at the Just Looking, his personal merchant ship, docked in Refelis. Sharma had seen this ship a few times, but never been aboard. Night came, and the Just Looking was ready to shove off. Supplies had been loaded, as was Jaroth. A drunk dwarf was better than an anxious one when traveling by sea, and none took this axiom more seriously than Jaroth.

The Just Looking leaves Refelis harbor not too long after nightfall. Sharma finds the mixed crew amiable, if not terribly talkative. By the time the Just Looking has slipped out of sight of land, Sharma has already spoken lightly with Imro, the half-elven first mate, as well as heard the name of the captain, Kodan Spitsteel. This fellow appears to keep to himself at all times, as Sharma is warned repeatedly not to bother the captain if at all possible. Comprising the rest of the crew are half a dozen Refelic humans, a sly female half-elf named Elya Moonrise, and the half-goblin cook, Rog.

 

[Evil Ujio]

Misha Koldun | Veltune, Lurien



Clenching teeth, Mishal Koldun does indeed draw blood from pressing on the blade. Scarlet streams run down his palm, whirling around his wrist, and dabbing onto the stone floor. The pain is well more than what Misha had been prepared for, and he lets go of the blade, dropping to the ground.

"Well done, Misha Koldun," the figure says, approaching the prone form. "Now that you have the mark of Raziel on you, prepare yourself for the journey. You already know where to go..."

Before Misha can reply, the figure steps away and out of the small antechamber, leaving Misha alone to his thoughts. Looking at his bloodied hand, Misha sees where there should have been cuts from the sword instead a symbol: a shield crossed by a lightning bolt.

Misha looks at his hand, “Interesting,” he says aloud before he tries to clean it up with a makeshift bandage. Once he is satisfied he puts a glove over the hand, just in case, and then returns the maps, he thinks the librarian and then gets astride his loyal steed and starts riding to the destination that Raziel has set before him.

I already know where I must go, he thinks to himself as he rides to his destiny, and hopefully not doom.

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

Clare Karaby | Darisant, Lurien

Father Laertes smiles. Not a smile of pleasure, but a smile of a coming insight. "You have come a long way," he says. "And there is much farther for you to go. I fear that my time as your mentor has come to a temporary end."

He takes a walk across the large atrium. "Our Mistress Sophia... Pray to her. Meditate on this. I know nothing of a 'Chapel of Unity', but I believe you do... or will in any eventuality."

He turns back to face Clare. "There is much power in you to do great things, Clare. You journey to your destiny begins now."

Clare gives a tremulous smile to Father Laertes.

"I will pray to her after I prepare Spenzer's body for its final rest," she says with a bowing of her head. She'll try to clean the body and set it to rights, then go see some of the crafters or carpenters about making a coffin for the man. "He was a priest and he carried a terrible burden," she says to them in explaination of who it was for. She then returns to the chapel to meditate and pray for guidance.

Mistress Sophia, I pray for wisdom and guidance. I have been charged with helping remove a seductive evil from the land, but I know not where to start. Where shall I go to search for the Chapel of Unity so that I may aid in the dying request of Spenzer?

 

[James Heard]

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

The mother smiles demurely. "Oh, but aren't you the gentleman?" she says playfully. "We will certainly help you, visitor." She sets the girl down. "I am Neradie, and this is my daughter, Chelsie. My husband was a fisherman, and I know my way around a fishing boat. Do you need help mooring your ship?"

"And yes, we most certainly have a tavern," Neradie adds. "It's not much, but I have a feeling the local brewer will be able to satisfy your needs, traveler."

Shuelsai smiles sadly in sympathy, "I'm so sorry for your loss t'nana Neradie. The Mother brings some of us home far sooner than anyone expects. I've lost several wives myself," he adds sadly. He looks up at Moro sheepishly and grins, "The tides and winds, even the moon, what leaves us always returns. Patience is the most important thing of all after a respect for the world around us."

Looking on at the approaching woman, Shuelsai finishes securing the lines to set the anchor and dives into the water.

"You didn't have to wet your skirts t'nana, if I'm going to find that pot of beer I'm going to have to leave her be eventually anyways."

As he reaches the shore, Shuelsai tugs the mooring ropes up onto the shore and ties them off.

"In any case, you about to tell me about the mountain?"