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

[Ferrix]

Sharma | Refelis, Refel

"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.

"Miteans? Why are they returning here? obviously aware of the dwarf's disdain for the whole affair, not that Sharma really knows what it is all about.

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."

Nodding along with Jaroth, Sharma smiles about halfway through when Jaroth mentions a place. Perhaps that is the place I saw in my vision. I wonder how far away it is. "So, this Hrux, where is it and how far from here? And do you know what the druids do with it? Realizing he is getting a bit more excited about it than he had planned, he pauses himself for a moment to wait for Jaroth to respond. Druids... I wonder if they knew the ritual I was looking for the mistletoe for.

 

[Steve Gorak]

Ralan | Darisant, Lurien

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.

Ralan, will schmooze a bit with the people around, to see if any of the three companies have a better reputation. If not, he'll check out the employees inside the tents and will join the company with employees that have religious symbols of the goods of good that Ralan knows of. Once hired, Ralan will spend the evening chatting with his new colleagues, to see if he can't find more information about the place he saw in his dreams and the symbol on the evil creature.

 

[Insight]

Clare

Clare Karaby | Darisant, Lurien

"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.

Clare takes the bleeding man to a nearby couch, which Father Laertes wisely draped with a white cloth before the wounded man was set upon it. Upon taking stock of the stranger's injuries, Clare notes that he is not so much wounded, as there are not signs of violence upon the body, but that this stranger seems to be oozing blood (and possibly other icky stuff) from various sores on his face, chest, and arms.

"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.

OOC: After one Cure Light Wounds spell, you can tell it's not really doing much. You can cast more spells if you wish, but Clare can tell he's not so much wounded as damaged, if that makes any sense. Read on for a full explanation.

"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.

 

[Insight]

Shuelsai

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

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.

Errold smiles, showing several gold-capped teeth. "Our Lady Bharrai be with you then," he says, instructing his men in the Shivenic tongue to bring up the ropes. "I'd say by the cut of your sails, you should head East and you could make the coast of Lurien before a week is done."

"May your sails be full, and your larder never empty," the bosun says as the The Verarken Star vanishes into the distance.

The westerly wind seems agreeable to sending Shuelsai and his tiny vessel in the direction Errold had indicated. A quick check of the small shipboard galley indicates that Shuelsai is starting to run low on supplies, and he's almost out of fresh water.

A few days pass. Shuelsai awakens to find land in sight. It is likely not the continent, but perhaps a smaller island. There are no signs of civilization so far. The fishing boat is about 2 miles from shore.

 

[Insight]

Misha

Misha Koldun | Veltune, Lurien

“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.

The Half Elven cartographer quickly scans Misha's map and frowns. "That is not so much a map as a scrawl," she comments. "Come with me. It is obvious you are in dire need of a real map."

Helen takes Misha and his map to a smaller room labeled LURIEN - GENERAL. There, Misha sees a 40' x 40' chamber, its walls completely lined with shelves, which are mostly filled with scrolls and objects, not books. The cartographer leads Misha to a table. "Please, sit here," she asks. "I will find you a suitable reference map."

After Helen spends two minutes looking through the cache of scrolls, the Half-Elf produces a large parchment with an intricate map drawn thereupon. It is obvious that the cartographer who created this veritable work of art was of great skill, and took delight in the details. "This is one of our best works," Helen declares. "My father, Dunson, drew this map after studying with King Saleid. It is likely the most detailed of any map you find of the Kingdom of Lurien."

"Now as for pine trees and mountains," Helen continues, "You are only going to find those in the colder parts of the world. Both Lurien and Mitea boast mountain ranges with pine trees, so I suppose that's not much help. Not much in the way of pine trees north of the Great Continent."

Helen thinks a moment. "A shrine in the mountains? A ruined one?" she asks. "I can't say I have heard of such a thing. But I am a cartographer and not a religious scholar. We do have some maps of various religious sites. Perhaps I could bring some of those in and we can see about cross-referencing those with what you are describing."

Before Misha can answer, Helen is gone. Apparently, her excitement at a new mystery to solve had taken hold of the normally placid cartographer. Misha spends a few minutes looking upon the elegant map before him, when Helen returns, a large leather-bound tome in her hands.

"Now this book, the Anointed Libram of Holy Sites, is from our secret storage," Helen begins. "I assume that I can trust you to only use this specifically for your research." She places the heavy book on the desk before Misha. "I cannot stay here to help you, so I am entrusting the book to you. If you need help, come find me - I shall be at the front desk."

With that Helen leaves to resume her position at the front of the Royal Map Depository, and Misha is alone to continue his research.

 

[Insight]

Jacoby | The Village of Cumberland, Mitea

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

"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?"

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."

"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."

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."

"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."

"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."

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."

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 enscribed 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. "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."

 

[Insight]

Sharma

Sharma | Refelis, Refel

"Miteans? Why are they returning here? obviously aware of the dwarf's disdain for the whole affair, not that Sharma really knows what it is all about.

The Dwarf spits. "Damn their hides, these Miteans think they own us," he says. Sharma recalls that Jaroth had served for a long time on the Council for the Restoration of Refel, a sort of rebellious group that had helped to win Refel's freedom from Mitean occupation. "It's a sort of diplomatic effort, allegedly, though I for one don't believe it. Letting the Miteans back into Refel, even if it's for the cause of peace between our cultures, I dunno. This festival is just an excuse for those Miteans to steal a share of our market."

Nodding along with Jaroth, Sharma smiles about halfway through when Jaroth mentions a place. Perhaps that is the place I saw in my vision. I wonder how far away it is. "So, this Hrux, where is it and how far from here? And do you know what the druids do with it? Realizing he is getting a bit more excited about it than he had planned, he pauses himself for a moment to wait for Jaroth to respond. Druids... I wonder if they knew the ritual I was looking for the mistletoe for.

"Oh, Hrux?" Jaroth asks rhetorically. "A Mitean port city. It's where I buy a lot of my goods. Popular place. Huge port. One of the biggest in the world. It's located within a large bay, right on the coastal border between Mitea and Lurien. Long ways from here. About three to four days each way by merchant ship."

Jaroth considered Sharma's questions. "Them Druids, they keep to themselves," he says. "Not sure what they want with the mistletoe. All's I know is they pay good coin for it. It must be part of their rituals or something."

 

[Insight]

Ralan

Ralan | Darisant, Lurien

Ralan, will schmooze a bit with the people around, to see if any of the three companies have a better reputation. If not, he'll check out the employees inside the tents and will join the company with employees that have religious symbols of the goods of good that Ralan knows of. Once hired, Ralan will spend the evening chatting with his new colleagues, to see if he can't find more information about the place he saw in his dreams and the symbol on the evil creature.

Ralan first heads to the pavilion of the Verarken Trading Company. They are well known throughout Lurien and the known world for their efficiency and ruthlessness in matters of trade, but pay well. In fact, their tents are twice as full as those found in both the Armin Circle and the Dynal Mercantile Guild combined.

As Ralan enters the tent, a short-bearded man of Mitean stock approaches. "Hello and good day," he says. "I am Vander," he continues, extending a hand to shake. "Are you looking for work? We happen to have an extra caravan or two going out today, and they are short a few men. You look like someone who could handle this sort of job."

Ralan notes that the man is wearing a gold necklace bearing the symbol of Talisid, one of the Forces of Good. He seems an affable fellow, friendly, positive, and upbeat.

It isn't long before Ralan signs on with House Myrrkal, a signatory to the Verarken Trading Company, and known to be quite powerful. Johannes Myrrkal, the youngest of the current generation of House custodians, is the head of this particular caravan, headed south to Slusong. Ralan comes to know that House Myrrkal is based in Slusong, and that many of the caravan guards, drivers, and merchants have worked for House Myrrkal all their lives. In fact, Ralan, being a newhire, feels a little excluded from the rest of them.

But after a night's journey south along the road to Slusong, the caravan of 12 wagons stops for supper. Around the firepit, there is entertainment provided in the form of dancers and musicians, some hired specifically for the journey, while others are guards and merchants who happen to be talented in those regards. After a reading from a Druid, blessing House Myrrkal and the entirety of the caravan, everyone settles down for the night.

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.

 

[James Heard]

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

The westerly wind seems agreeable to sending Shuelsai and his tiny vessel in the direction Errold had indicated. A quick check of the small shipboard galley indicates that Shuelsai is starting to run low on supplies, and he's almost out of fresh water.

A few days pass. Shuelsai awakens to find land in sight. It is likely not the continent, but perhaps a smaller island. There are no signs of civilization so far. The fishing boat is about 2 miles from shore.

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.

 

[Evil Ujio]

Misha Koldun | Veltune, Lurien

The Half Elven cartographer quickly scans Misha's map and frowns. "That is not so much a map as a scrawl," she comments. "Come with me. It is obvious you are in dire need of a real map."

Helen takes Misha and his map to a smaller room labeled LURIEN - GENERAL. There, Misha sees a 40' x 40' chamber, its walls completely lined with shelves, which are mostly filled with scrolls and objects, not books. The cartographer leads Misha to a table. "Please, sit here," she asks. "I will find you a suitable reference map."

Misha takes a seat, pleased with how helpful Helen is.

After Helen spends two minutes looking through the cache of scrolls, the Half-Elf produces a large parchment with an intricate map drawn thereupon. It is obvious that the cartographer who created this veritable work of art was of great skill, and took delight in the details. "This is one of our best works," Helen declares. "My father, Dunson, drew this map after studying with King Saleid. It is likely the most detailed of any map you find of the Kingdom of Lurien."

"Indeed, it is beautiful, I see he took great care in what he creates," Misha comments.

"Now as for pine trees and mountains," Helen continues, "You are only going to find those in the colder parts of the world. Both Lurien and Mitea boast mountain ranges with pine trees, so I suppose that's not much help. Not much in the way of pine trees north of the Great Continent."

Helen thinks a moment. "A shrine in the mountains? A ruined one?" she asks. "I can't say I have heard of such a thing. But I am a cartographer and not a religious scholar. We do have some maps of various religious sites. Perhaps I could bring some of those in and we can see about cross-referencing those with what you are describing."

Before Misha can answer, Helen is gone. Apparently, her excitement at a new mystery to solve had taken hold of the normally placid cartographer. Misha spends a few minutes looking upon the elegant map before him, when Helen returns, a large leather-bound tome in her hands.

"Now this book, the Anointed Libram of Holy Sites, is from our secret storage," Helen begins. "I assume that I can trust you to only use this specifically for your research." She places the heavy book on the desk before Misha. "I cannot stay here to help you, so I am entrusting the book to you. If you need help, come find me - I shall be at the front desk."

"Your trust is well placed, milady," Misha replies.

With that Helen leaves to resume her position at the front of the Royal Map Depository, and Misha is alone to continue his research.

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.