Steve Gorak
Adventurer
Ethian releases a quiet sigh of relief as the situation seems to be de-escalating. "So will I" he says, hoping that the spirit will now go away.
D&D 5E Witcher: Mother of Monsters
Talashia picks up her bedroll and gear and heads back out of the cabin...bouncing in and out like that; her pa would have given her no end of grief over it when she was younger. Not that it would have stopped her.
She lays the bedroll down on the little wooden porchside, lying across so as to block the doorway. As the door opens outward, sneaking out through it simply won't be an option. Hopefully, she thinks, the door would awaken her in time to see what's going on.
Something tells her the spirit in Odvara won't simply resign itself to the group's decision not to pursue the talisman. It seems too important to her to let it slip by.
She lays the bedroll down on the little wooden porchside, lying across so as to block the doorway. As the door opens outward, sneaking out through it simply won't be an option. Hopefully, she thinks, the door would awaken her in time to see what's going on.
Something tells her the spirit in Odvara won't simply resign itself to the group's decision not to pursue the talisman. It seems too important to her to let it slip by.
Queenie
Queen of Everything
"Well, I suppose the others want to sleep away your time here but I will not leave you." There was something in Elora keeping her curiosity peaked, something that warned her of danger and something that also made her heart hurt at this poor spirit's fate. In addition she was not about to leave Odvara's body to the spirits whims. She came here to help someone like her, and she planned on keeping that vow. "It shouldn't matter if the Talisman is found tonight or tomorrow. But what kind of protections will my friend Fergus have once you are back in the Lake? Will you be able to guide him to it? Or protect him from other dangers that might be down there?" She didn't much care about the answers at this point, she just wanted to keep the spirit talking.
Fenris
Adventurer
"Indeed" continues Fergus. "If you will leave Odvara at dawn, how will you guide me, ought you not give me directions now?"
Quickleaf
Legend
[video=youtube;h2CUSGKlUXk]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h2CUSGKlUXk[/video]
Day 1 thru the mountains
Wisps of cloud and snow curled across the peaks above as you navigated the foot trail through the Blue Mountains. From this high place one could see into Aedirn, Lyria, and Dol Blathanna on a clear day. The Blue Mountains proved neither an easy lover nor a harsh taskmistress, leaving your legs and backs fatigued after long days hiking across snow-kissed fields of celandine and moss. It was a day since the party came together at the ranger’s cottage with the lakeside spirit. On the first eve, as Ethian and Talashia gazed across the wintery expanse and shared a quiet moment of reflection at the “Edge of the World”, Ethian pointed out silhouettes of harpies flying in the northern reaches.
The feathered scavengers seemed occupied with another meal so there wasn’t much to fear, but the witchers kept their silver swords at the ready all the same. A harpy attack could quickly grow to unmanageable numbers. Birds of a feather, as they say.
Day 2 thru the mountains
The next day, Odvara and Talashia were lost in deep conversation like bosom companions. An exiled elven jeweler and a human weaver made the unlikely union that brought the black-haired 22 year-old half-elven Odvara into the world on an eclipse. Considered an ill omen by the mages of Ban Ard, Odvara was taken from her family to be raised in isolation for signs of the “Curse of the Black Sun.” When at last she escaped the torments of the mages, she found her father had joined the Scioa’tael and her mother had become the “war wife” of a boorish Nilfgaardian corporal. Terrified she’d be goaded into losing control of her power, Odvara packed her bags and met with the guides her father had arranged to take her to Dol Blathanna. There, Odvara has been told, the elven queen Francesca Findabair herself will provide sanctuary and training.
It was a language older than words, the secret torments known by the women gifted — some would say cursed — with magic. Elora knew it well. While she watched the sunset and reflected on their experiences with the spirit of the lake, Elora heard a whispered elven voice carried on the wind…a song in Elder Speech calling to something deep inside her…a song that only she could hear.
[video=youtube;usDgBw8oy-U]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=usDgBw8oy-U[/video]
[SBLOCK=the song’s lyrics]
Here’s a woman, brought by north wind,
brought by north wind, pulled by water,
washed ashore by waves of oceans,
drifted here on rising billows.
When I but begin my chanting
I’ll sing seas to mead and honey,
bottom gravel all to salt grains,
Sands of sea to beans uncounted.
Just by once my girdle tying,
just by once my shirt on taking,
by once my buckles fastening,
by once my feet in shoes thrusting.
Rise, my nature, off the earth now,
Lift my sin from ground beneath me.
Rise, my nature, off the earth now,
Lift my sin from ground beneath me,
fay from underneath the aspen.
[/SBLOCK]
Darius found an ice cave which proved suitable shelter from the gathering winds that second eve. The campfire made the ice scintillate. While the others talked around the campfire, Darius scouted the cave, finding an old elven calendar-compass beneath the ice. Realizing the constellations depicted therein corresponded to the cave’s structure, Darius unearthed a frozen elven corpse with a scimitar of keen blue steel at its side.
Day 3 thru the mountains
What transpired at the cottage by the lake had left Odvara shaken, but even the trauma of being possessed could not withstand the grandeur and good company of your journey. During the blustery descent from the Blue Mountains she relied many a time on Fergus’ steady hand. She was no lady, but neither was she a skilled mountaineer. Gradually, conversation turned to Fenris’ life as a witcher and where he gained the strange runes she’d seen covering his skin. It was Odvara’s way of feeling safe, safe enough that she could share this wasn’t the first time she felt a spirit enter her being. Once, a spirit came to her during a heated argument between her elven father and a loan-shark — the entire alley was iced over and corpses frozen; it took many days before Odvara returned to herself.
The winds continued up, battering the party along a steep ridge. Kynee received the brunt of the wind, having gone first to anchor the rope, but her nimble feet did not stray and her deceptively slight frame rooted like a tree. Reaching a cluster of boulders which offered shelter from the winds, Kynee found a massive 7-point antlers burnished with black streaks unlike any buck she’d seen. The range of some great monster, most likely.
At last, descending from the mountains, you came to a trail running along a stream which fed into the Arel River, and from there you followed the road into Lower Posada, arriving in the late afternoon…
Day 1 thru the mountains
Wisps of cloud and snow curled across the peaks above as you navigated the foot trail through the Blue Mountains. From this high place one could see into Aedirn, Lyria, and Dol Blathanna on a clear day. The Blue Mountains proved neither an easy lover nor a harsh taskmistress, leaving your legs and backs fatigued after long days hiking across snow-kissed fields of celandine and moss. It was a day since the party came together at the ranger’s cottage with the lakeside spirit. On the first eve, as Ethian and Talashia gazed across the wintery expanse and shared a quiet moment of reflection at the “Edge of the World”, Ethian pointed out silhouettes of harpies flying in the northern reaches.
The feathered scavengers seemed occupied with another meal so there wasn’t much to fear, but the witchers kept their silver swords at the ready all the same. A harpy attack could quickly grow to unmanageable numbers. Birds of a feather, as they say.
|
Day 2 thru the mountains
The next day, Odvara and Talashia were lost in deep conversation like bosom companions. An exiled elven jeweler and a human weaver made the unlikely union that brought the black-haired 22 year-old half-elven Odvara into the world on an eclipse. Considered an ill omen by the mages of Ban Ard, Odvara was taken from her family to be raised in isolation for signs of the “Curse of the Black Sun.” When at last she escaped the torments of the mages, she found her father had joined the Scioa’tael and her mother had become the “war wife” of a boorish Nilfgaardian corporal. Terrified she’d be goaded into losing control of her power, Odvara packed her bags and met with the guides her father had arranged to take her to Dol Blathanna. There, Odvara has been told, the elven queen Francesca Findabair herself will provide sanctuary and training.
It was a language older than words, the secret torments known by the women gifted — some would say cursed — with magic. Elora knew it well. While she watched the sunset and reflected on their experiences with the spirit of the lake, Elora heard a whispered elven voice carried on the wind…a song in Elder Speech calling to something deep inside her…a song that only she could hear.
[video=youtube;usDgBw8oy-U]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=usDgBw8oy-U[/video]
[SBLOCK=the song’s lyrics]
Here’s a woman, brought by north wind,
brought by north wind, pulled by water,
washed ashore by waves of oceans,
drifted here on rising billows.
When I but begin my chanting
I’ll sing seas to mead and honey,
bottom gravel all to salt grains,
Sands of sea to beans uncounted.
Just by once my girdle tying,
just by once my shirt on taking,
by once my buckles fastening,
by once my feet in shoes thrusting.
Rise, my nature, off the earth now,
Lift my sin from ground beneath me.
Rise, my nature, off the earth now,
Lift my sin from ground beneath me,
fay from underneath the aspen.
[/SBLOCK]
Darius found an ice cave which proved suitable shelter from the gathering winds that second eve. The campfire made the ice scintillate. While the others talked around the campfire, Darius scouted the cave, finding an old elven calendar-compass beneath the ice. Realizing the constellations depicted therein corresponded to the cave’s structure, Darius unearthed a frozen elven corpse with a scimitar of keen blue steel at its side.
|
Day 3 thru the mountains
What transpired at the cottage by the lake had left Odvara shaken, but even the trauma of being possessed could not withstand the grandeur and good company of your journey. During the blustery descent from the Blue Mountains she relied many a time on Fergus’ steady hand. She was no lady, but neither was she a skilled mountaineer. Gradually, conversation turned to Fenris’ life as a witcher and where he gained the strange runes she’d seen covering his skin. It was Odvara’s way of feeling safe, safe enough that she could share this wasn’t the first time she felt a spirit enter her being. Once, a spirit came to her during a heated argument between her elven father and a loan-shark — the entire alley was iced over and corpses frozen; it took many days before Odvara returned to herself.
The winds continued up, battering the party along a steep ridge. Kynee received the brunt of the wind, having gone first to anchor the rope, but her nimble feet did not stray and her deceptively slight frame rooted like a tree. Reaching a cluster of boulders which offered shelter from the winds, Kynee found a massive 7-point antlers burnished with black streaks unlike any buck she’d seen. The range of some great monster, most likely.
|
At last, descending from the mountains, you came to a trail running along a stream which fed into the Arel River, and from there you followed the road into Lower Posada, arriving in the late afternoon…
The encounter by the lake had left Darius unsettled, the possession of their charge had made his realise how helpless they were against some potential foes. Not all could be fought with hammer and axe and he finally appreciated the diversity of their little group.
Returning from the icy tomb of the long dead elf, Darius spends a night examining the blue steel blade. It was truly a remarkable and elegant weapon and with even his basic smith training he was able to tell it was the work of a master of the smithing arts.
As he held the blade by the firelight he noticed Kynee's attention fixated on the blade. Knowing the lithe witcher would put the blade to good use, Darius nods to Kynee and holds out the blade.
Returning from the icy tomb of the long dead elf, Darius spends a night examining the blue steel blade. It was truly a remarkable and elegant weapon and with even his basic smith training he was able to tell it was the work of a master of the smithing arts.
As he held the blade by the firelight he noticed Kynee's attention fixated on the blade. Knowing the lithe witcher would put the blade to good use, Darius nods to Kynee and holds out the blade.
"Behold," declaimed Talashia melodramatically on seeing the hamlet before them. "The wondrous...hovel...of Posada. Jewel in a very, very...pathetic crown." She sighed and added, "Even so, it will be nice to have a bed tonight. The night sky is pretty, but a little sleeping on the ground goes a looooooooong way."
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Nodding, Kynee takes the sword and stands. She tests it's balance before sliding into a fighting stance. Still silent, she tries a few practice thrusts and slashes.
"A fine weapon," she concluded. "The gods have smiled on you," she added, offering a wry smile. Damn it was hard to keep the emphasis off the word you...
Kynee offered the blade back to Darius, hilt first. "It was built for Elven fighting styles. But the steel is strong and its edge sharp. This sword would serve even an ox like you well. I could not accept such a gift."
After a few days in the wilderness together, Kynee has thawed (despite the weather) enough to be almost sociable. Almost...
"It is amazing what a few nights in the open do to a traveller's understanding of civilisation. I look forward to a hot bath, and being out of my boots for a time. Besides, I do not think this sword belt has come off since the lodge by the lake..."
Walking a little further, she wondered aloud. "I have not visited this part of the world before. Does anyone know of their customs toward armed strangers?"
Quickleaf
Legend
Ahead of you on the road, a father and his two young sons drive a weary ox bearing a squeaky cart of hops and flax, returning home from a day in the fields. The poor old animal moves slowly, so even in your fatigued state from traveling you'll surpass them in a bit. Already the two boys, not older than 12, turn to look over their shoulders, whispering to one another and trying to get their father's attention as he raps the ox's haunch with a willow branch.
[SBLOCK=Darius, Elora, Ethian (passive perception 15)]The boys whisper to one another... "Th' one's a witchman for sure. Who has need of two swords? An' his skin looks a written up. Magic spells no doubt."
"Don' be a fool, Thomwald, witchmen don't travel in groups...Pa...Pa..."
"Mmm," says the younger boy dubiously. "Well, can there be witchwomen? Th' other has eyes that a glisten like a cat! Maybe they're elves?"[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Darius, Elora, Ethian (passive perception 15)]The boys whisper to one another... "Th' one's a witchman for sure. Who has need of two swords? An' his skin looks a written up. Magic spells no doubt."
"Don' be a fool, Thomwald, witchmen don't travel in groups...Pa...Pa..."
"Mmm," says the younger boy dubiously. "Well, can there be witchwomen? Th' other has eyes that a glisten like a cat! Maybe they're elves?"[/SBLOCK]
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