The Monastery of White Dawn - IC

[Sovjohn]

The Monastery of White Dawn - Foreword

Ianward Tarmikos woke up early, as he always did. "The first light of dawn should find the servants of Bahamut looking the sun eye to eye" - This was the phrase he had most often heard during his early years as a Paladin of Bahamut.

Of course, Ianward was finding it easier to rise as years went by - it was known that elders needed less sleep than adults, so this was no surprise to him. Of course it was easier to rise - There were no entourages sharing a wine in the name of Bahamut's glory with him. Here, he was the Prime Councillor, and not some adventurer who could afford "adventurous" luxuries. Examples were set to be followed, not mocked upon.

If there was one thing that would keep Ianward happy until the end of his days, it was the hot water supply he enjoyed first thing in the morning. Acolytes would gladly wake up before him in order to prepare hot water, breakfast (buttered bread with honey, for the last 20 years), and anything else he might have requested the night before.

Ianward felt ashamed at times, when he thought that people might have had to wake up before he did to serve him - but then, as was always the case when he thought about it, hadn't he woken up thousands of times in order to serve Bahamut, directly or indirectly? And Bahamut knew of his devotion, of course. He had seen the Platinum Dragon in his dreams dozens of times, always smiling, always pointing the way to the greater good.

He washed his face thinking about Bahamut...again. Then he snapped out of his momentary daydreaming. The day had come. The Expedition departed tomorrow, and the ceremony was today! Heavens...it would be a long day. Bahamut be blessed, everything begun at noon exactly, as ancient traditions mandated, and it was still 7 in the morning.

Donning his majectic armor with the intricate carvings of the Monastery, and Bahamut's kin, he had to make sure everything was in order.

His good friend and assistant, Leoril Chandler, stood outside the room.

"Bahamut bless us all. Good day Leoril. Has everyone been sent word?"

"Light bless you, Ianward. Yes, all the Orders and guests have their instructions from the evening before. No complaints thus far".

"No complaints?", thought Ianward. That was rare. Most of the times an Order or another thought it was being rightly shafted in the process. And most of the times, they were right. It was impossible to keep everyone at exactly the same level of happiness.

"Good. Find the adventurers, and tell them to come to my office at 11 'o clock, post haste. I would like to brief them in person, and make sure they are fit for the Expedition. The last time that details were overlooked, I recall a dragon getting a nice, unexpected, meal on his plate. The Monastery will not lose more fine members, just because one happens to be psychotic inside!"

"Of course.", nodded Leoril and moved out at once.

He had four hours until they came. Plenty of time to chat with the Order Councillors about their choices... Hopefully they picked the very best...

With these thoughts in mind, he ventured towards the various Order buildings, aiming to get an insight on the future members of the Expedition. The Monastery's honor depended on them.

OOC: One more post will follow until you are eligible to speak IC. For now we'll discuss your characters' location in the OOC thread. :smallwink:

[Sovjohn]

Leoril was walking briskly, wanting to find everyone Ianward told him to find as soon as possible. He only had a piece of parchment with their names, races, Orders and deities with him, though. His eyes scanned around rather hastily as he moved – The Monastery was vast, and he could not know where exactly each of them spent the morning. If only he had some sketches… But it was too late to think about this now. He started pacing even faster, his boots sounding rhythmically as they hit the stone pathways.

Deciding to take the safe route, he headed for the Grand Library first, hoping to catch at least one of the scholarly type there. The Grand Library was the focal point of all intellectual Monastery members, with its impressive collection of thousands of tomes, spanning through the ages. Books existed in there that were dated before the Monastery was founded – and this was a remarkable fact on its own.
Luckily, at around twenty minutes to eight 'o clock, only a few quiet folk seemed to study in there. Among them, it was unmistakable: The scarred young priest. Leoril smiled to himself, while approaching the table he was sitting.

"Good morning young one, and the Dawn be with you!" he said in a solemnly quiet voice. "I bear a message from Prime Councilor Tarmikos – Please visit his office at 11' o clock, before the ceremony. He asked for a chance to meet you before the formalities take place. Your presence, however, while desired, is not obligatory. Prime Councilor Tarmikos believes in a person's freedom of choice."

About a half an hour later, Leoril was at the Order of Associates. He half-expected to find the monk here, but he was nowhere to be seen. Just as he was about to leave, he heard slashing noises from the yard. Chuckling, he thought "Now that's some commitment, practicing sparring this early in the morning!" He had already set his mind on ignoring the noises, thinking another battle-crazed follower of Kord would have decided to engage on an early morning bloodlust, but he glimpsed casually towards the yard before leaving.
There, he saw an eladrin practicing, and was momentarily mesmerized – What agility, what speed! The eladrin seemed to be using several weapons in rapid succession, and positively decimated the dummy who was unfortunate enough to stand in his way.
Snapping out of it, he thought that he was looking for a cavalier eladrin – might he be that lucky? Approaching the eladrin carefully, he smiled and relayed the summoning message once more, verbatim, after asking for the eladrin's name.

The sun was now filling the sky with its life-giving rays, and the time was about 9. Leoril thought it prudent to enquire about the two Moradin followers in the most logical place to do so – Moradin's temple. As he approached the entrance, he saw the…the construct… that living proof of Moradin's will and glory, walking slowly away from the temple, with several young dwarves following it, and singing battle hymns along with it. He knew the Order of the Runes had submitted it (or was it him, nowadays?) for the Expedition, but he had not seen it in person. "Rig" was grand, and imposing, and intimidating to one who didn't know his true nature or way of life. He moved closer to him (For it was "him" now. He could not call "it" a living entity…a talking entity) and relayed the Tarmikos message once more, looking up to his face while he did so.

Immediately afterwards, he entered the temple. He had little trouble spotting the Moradin invoker in the corner. Invokers had… an aura around them… a kind of primal power emanating from their very fibers of existence. Invokers were a favorite in bar fights and brawling matches – half of their opponents were almost intimidated to death just from their divine retribution force of will. Unmistakable, then – this was an invoker of Moradin. Asking politely if he was the correct one, and finding out that he was, Leoril predictably enough reinstated the request he had spent all morning carrying around, and then left to find the last Expedition member.

Passing through the kitchens, he spotted him – The githzerai monk was eating, silently, his breakfast, which seemed entirely green and disgusting to Leoril, who could not imagine a breakfast without bacon and ale. Still, githzerai were honorable, quiet, and righteous, so who was Leoril to judge them based on what abominations of Nature they ate at times? He had the pleasure of being acquainted to several githzerai, old and young, in his years in the Monastery, and was always amazed at their spirit and ability to focus. Leoril was certain that most of them would be able to maintain a calm composure while meteors would fly around them, and he secretly admired this quality of the noble race. Relieved to finally being able to relay his request to the final hero, he did so gracefully, smiled broadly before leaving, and left for his office.

It was a ceremony day, and these days were always long and tiring. But Leoril did not complain – Duty was far more important than bodily weariness.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
Maxilian pauses in his assault, hoping that the new arrival might be willing to spar with him. When he sees Leoril, he nods deferentially. Sir Chandler. I am Maxilian Swandance, of the House of Swandance, Cavalier of Bane. To what do I owe your visit this morning? he says respectfully, always up to speed on who his superiors are at the Temple. Once Leoril relays his message, the eladrin nods. I shall meet with the Prime Councillor at the appointed time. May Bane favour your battles big and small, Sir Chandler.

True to his word, Maxilian is incredibly punctual, arriving the moment the clocks read eleven. He is now in his full suit of plate, all ebony black, including his daunting helmet. His many weapons and two shields are all in their various holsters at his back, with his warhammer in a sling on his right hip and his longsword in a sheathe on his left. He kneels on one knee before the Prime Councillor. Maxilian Swandance, of the House of Swandance, Cavalier of Bane, at your service Councillor, after that, he stands up and removes his helm, placing the black hunk of metal under his left arm and standing at attention.

[salt3d]

"... and that is why runes are set to become the most widely used method for divine communication over the next decade! Now if you're still not convinced, allow me to-"

Rig's sales pitch is lost on the dwarf children, who are following him purely to enjoy the novelty of a talking machine. Not that he seems to mind; he knows the power of runes and the wisdom of Moradin are eternal, and he has more than enough patience. On this occasion, however, he is interrupted by Leoril's message. Rig listens carefully to it before replying.

"And the Dawn be with you, Leoril. I shall not keep Prime Councilor Tarmikos waiting."

As Leoril scurries away, Rig turns back to the children, saying "I must go now. But before I do, do you remember what to ask from your parents next midsummer?"

In unison the children shout their reply, "My very own rune!"

"Very good." replies Rig as he walks away. Even though his head is little more than a block of stone, a smile seems somehow to appear on his face.

Rig makes his way directly to Tarmikos' office. Being almost two hours early, he stands motionless outside the Prime Councilor's door, waiting for his appointment.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal was at the Grand Library at his normal time that morning, despite the fact that it was perhaps the biggest day of his life at the Monastery. He didn't sleep well the night before, nervous but excited at the same time.

Once at the library, he found the book he's been studying for the last couple of weeks, "Secrets and Death: A Treatise on the True Historical Cults of Vecna". The library master has graciously allowed him access to that book, one of the old ones usually stored in safe locations for preservation. Regretfully, there was nothing in the book that has shed light on his unique condition. He subconsciously rubs his withered right hand as he reads. At least I'm learning more about how Vecna works, which will be valuable to me, hopefully soon, Ur'Thal thinks.


"Good morning young one, and the Dawn be with you!" he said in a solemnly quiet voice.

Ur'Thal jumps, startled a little by Ianward's assistant as he was completely immersed in his reading. He quickly stands as Leoril greets him. "M'Lord, well met and the dawn be with you as well."


"I bear a message from Prime Councilor Tarmikos – Please visit his office at 11' o clock, before the ceremony. He asked for a chance to meet you before the formalities take place. Your presence, however, while desired, is not obligatory. Prime Councilor Tarmikos believes in a person's freedom of choice."

Ur'Thal nods, "of course, master Leoril, I would not pass up such an honor."

After Leoril leaves, he attempts to resume his studying, but his mind is afire with anticipation, so he returns his book to its rightful place and heads to Ioun's temple for a quiet devotion. He asks for wisdom, discernment and competence in fulfilling his duties on his mission.

He spends the rest of his morning preparing for his mission before arriving at the Prime Councillor's office a few minutes early.

[Gillric]

Gred quietly finished his prayers before addressing the messenger. The Prime Councilor wishes for me presence? Aye, I will be there. May the Dawn be with you as well.

Having received his message as well as having finished his prayers, Gred returns to his room and attempts to make himself a little more presentable before heading to the appointment, arriving with slightly more than a minute to spare.

[Sovjohn]

Meanwhile (1/2)

Ianward Tarmikos looked outside his window. It was a clear day, with a blue sky and not a cloud visible in the horizon. He had decided to be sure, this time around, that the Expedition was properly staffed. He straightened his armor and went to talk to the Order Councillors.
----------------
First, he reached the Order of Associates. A small building housed its command quarters, fitting really, considering that the Order only had a few dozen members. Entering the building, Ianward passed beside several open doors where chants could be heard. Turning his head ever so slightly, he saw monks, dressed in orange-brown uniforms, praising their gods in unison. At least, most of them were meditating and chanting – save the followers of Kord. Stationed in the fourth room, they were fighting wildly, barehanded or with implements, while their overlords were watching with interest.

Eventually, he was able to knock on the door of the Councillor's office. Spartan and sparsely decorated, this office could not be mistaken to belong to anyone else, but Loratranna Trannyth. Loratranna was the first female Councillor in the Order of Associates since the Monastery was founded. Stories told of her mentioned Kord himself blessing her from the sky, and battles upon battles won in his name. She was more battle-hardened than most knights and soldiers of Briam, and yet, she provoked no fighting without a good reason, just as most sensible humans would do.

Ofcourse, Ianward thought, she could have used a better hairstyle – but ceremonial braids were almost mandatory to Kord female followers, and he thought no more of this. The door opened, and Ianward greeted Loratranna warmly.

"My dearest Loratranna, good day and the Dawn be with you", he said.

"Ianward! Good day, and may Kord bless you always. I did not expect to find you here today. The ceremony takes place in a few hours, does it not?"

"Indeed it does. I would just like to make sure you have picked only the best and finest for the Expedition this year. Can you spare a few minutes and tell me of your choice?"

Loratranna sneered a bit. "My choice… Well, Ianward, it is not as if I have hundreds of students and young ones to spare. You know well that the Order is small. However, I have no regrets about Durth. He is among the most devoted githzerai I know. Pelor himself must count his Grace lucky to have him as a follower. He wakes up and goes to sleep with an inner spirit that radiates energy at all times".

Ianward was visibly interested. "I see. A githzerai follower of Pelor, then. He should make for an interesting choice, that one. Probably better than the last battle-crazed Kord fellow you sent, at least."

Loratranna's voice became a tad less warm. "Well, we both know that Stephanius had his… inner issues, and Kord has nothing to do with that. I have faith in Durth, however."

Ianward touched Loratranna's hand, and then shook it. "Thank you, Councillor Trannyth. That will be all. We shall meet again in the ceremony."

Loratranna returned the courtesies, and saw Ianward to the door.
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A few minutes later, Ianward was approaching the Order of the Shining Light. Every time he came here, many memories were refreshed in his mind – this was the Order he served for so many years, before eventually becoming Prime Councillor. The initiation… the oaths… the Platinum Dragon… Everything seemed to mark his life in here. He navigated the familiar corridors with ease, and silently observed that all Paladins seeing him kneeled immediately, and stayed so until he had moved well past them. He also heard hushed voices around, proclaiming "Prime Councillor Tarmikos!" "Honor and glory!" "Bahamut bless you!", and other honorifics.

He climbed up the intricate staircase which depicted the Dawn of the Light in all its glory, and reached the private office of Davgretor Icesword. Davgretor was pretty much an exemplary dragonborn Paladin, serving Bahamut completely and zealously, as expected from him. He knocked on the door and heard a deep voice answering "Come in, brother". Entering the office, he found Davgretor as he expected him to be – having donned his shining silver armor with the Bahamut crest on the chest, which seemed as if it was forged yesterday.

"Good day brother, and may Bahamut protect you", said Ianward.

"The Platinum Dragon bless you, brother. To what do I owe the honor?"

"Ah, it's nothing of grave importance. I thought to drop by and discuss your choice for the Expedition this year. If I'm not mistaken, he's a cavalier, is he not? Not exactly the typical Paladin, this one…"

Davgretor smiled widely. "Maxilian… Of course, I'd be quite hesitant to call him typical Paladin material. And he follows Bane, which makes him further stand out, I suppose. You should not be disillusioned, however, brother. Maxilian is an excellent fighter and an inspiring leader in battle. Did you know he's a Cavalier?"

Ianward nodded apprehensively. "Yes, this much I know. Cavaliers are usually dependent and valiant warriors, of course. Well then, I trust Bane worship is nothing to be skeptical about?"

"Maxilian Swandance does not worship Bane as a blackguard would. He strives to reach battle perfection, and Bane has a tradition of military prowess, I'd say. Keep in mind that Maxilian spends a good amount of time meditating in other Orders, among others. When you meet him, you shall understand."

"Your words reassure me, brother", said Ianward while shaking the scaly hand of Davgretor. "I have to go now, and prepare for the ceremony. My apologies".

"No apologies needed, Ianward. We will speak later."
---------------- 
Ianward moved towards the very center of the Monastery. There, the largest Order was spread in several grand buildings, the Order of the Creators. While having visited the Order hundreds of times in the past, its magnitude and scale always amazed Ianward. He saw clerics of Melora and Sehanine perform ceremonial blessings outdoors, with flowers and water streams among them; elven followers of Corellon praising the beauty of the world, and their god alike; tiny forms to the eye, but carrying great souls, the clerics of Avandra, the halfling patron, chatting lively in their outdoor shrine…

…And moving inside the Order grounds, he found Raven Queen clerics dressed in ceremonial raven uniforms and meditating beside animal skulls; clerics of Ioun seeking internal nirvana and knowledge, reading from entirely gigantic books; and of course, clerics of Pelor, in their Sun Room, which has more windows than humanly imaginable, and prisms to direct the sun energy of the Shining One. Others, too, were present, in smaller rooms, worshipping their own deities, obscure or less known. Fascinating, as always – The Order of the Creators.

Ianward found Belven Fletcher, his friend and Order Councillor, together with his Pelor initiates. Belven had a very rigid schedule in regards to training, and even in special days such as today, he had the habit of displaying Pelor's ways around ceremonies. Belven saw Ianward and signified a break to his initiates.

"By the Sun! Good day Ianward, you should have told me you were coming", said Belven.

"The Dawn be with you, I will not be staying long, brother", replied Ianward. "The issue is not major - I would just like to talk about that, what was his name, Ur'thak?"

Belven chuckled. "It's Ur'thal, Ianward, I wonder when will your memory stop misplacing things in your head"

"This day shall not come before I die", added Ianward with a knowledgeable smile.

"Ur'thal… He was my personal choice for the Expedition. He has spent quite a few years here, and I trust him very much. Solid young fellow, really, if it wasn't for this Vecna curse, he'd be perfect. "

"Vecna curse? Are you sending a cursed one to join our Expedition?" Ianward seemed disturbed at the news.

"No, it's not as it sounds. Ur'thal was cursed by a Vecna spirit when he was only months old, or at least we believe it to have been a Vecna spirit. The spirit robbed Ur'thal of his use for his right hand, and left him blind from the right eye. However, when he came here, we were unable to magically restore either of his parts, but his soul did not carry any evil marks, in plain sight or concealed. I checked personally using the most advanced rituals I know… The child was clean."

"Very interesting… I think he will do fine, then. Especially considering the nature of this years' Expedition…" said Ianward.
Patting him in the back, Ianward added to Belven "Time is running out. I have to go now, and prepare for the ceremony. I will see you there, friend".

"The Light of the Creator shine over you, Councillor Tarmikos."

[Leotholdus]

Durth swallowed another forkful of breakfast thinking about the mornings practice, mentaly going through the steps, when Leoril stepped into the room. Lowering his fork to the table, Durth gave him his full attention. After hearing Leorils request, Durth nodded his acknowledgement and gave a simple "Thank you." planning on taking his advice and being on time.
Excusing himself from the table, Durth headed towards Prime Councilor Tarmikos room. Noticing as he approached, several others of various orders heading in the same direction.

[Sovjohn]

Meanwhile (2/2)

Prime Councillor Tarmikos, this time around, carried on towards the underground caverns that formed the foundation of the Order of the Runes, where the majority of the Monastery's dwarven population dwelled. Albeit darker, at first glance, from the remainder of the Monastery, the opinion a visitor might form of the Order changed radically once inside its grounds. A splendor of dwarven craftsmanship waited to dazzle the senses of any visitor – A majestic representation of Moradin's principles could be found at the Hall of the Ancestors, an exquisite construction which paid heed to the dwarven tradition, with thousands of runes, some of which dated back to the dawn of time, carved on virtually every surface of it, be it walls, floor, ceiling, or decoration.

Further inside the Order, it became apparent that craftsmanship was indeed promoted in all its forms: Numerous blacksmiths and smelters exercised their profession here, producing magnificent items which were worn with pride: Armor, swords, maces, hammers, bearing some clan's insignia, Moradin's ceremonial hammer, or the Order's crest, were readily available. The atmosphere almost smelled of mithril and adamantite. Ianward was sure that, should he focused enough, he would be able to see diamond dust flowing through the light.

Ianward had no trouble at all locating Udolannan Battleheart, the Order Councillor. He seemed to challenge visitors to track him, based on the sound of his hearty laughter alone. Udolannan was notorious for his ale drinking contests, when not being on duty of course – Contrary to popular belief, being charged with being drunk whilst on duty was a heavy crime in the dwarven society. Naysayers claimed that this was the only way to prevent clerics and runepriests from worshipping Ale Almighty instead of Moradin, but this was a rather unfair depiction of things, and Ianward knew better than that.

"Good day and the Dawn be with you, Udolannan", greeted Ianward.

"Ianward! By Moradin's beard, welcome! Honor and glory!", replied Udolannan – or perhaps, should one not pay close enough attention, one might think it was Udolannan's hazel-brown beard which replied – but on closer inspection, his mouth was visible.

"Unfortunately, good Councillor Battleheart, I do not have much time, so I'll go straight to the point: I wanted to discuss the choice the Order made for the Expedition this year."

Udolannan frowned a little. "Discuss? Something troublin' ye? I decided to send to the expedition our greatest living treasure – The mark of power of Moradin himself!"

"I understand… he's a construct, is he not?" asked Ianward with a slightly mischievous look.

"Of course 'e is! As ye very well know, Rig was a very assisting…construct, exactly. At least, until the Creator himself blessed us with his presence, and breathed life into Rig!"

"I see… And, does he talk? Will he present any problems?
" inquired Ianward, afraid of any unpleasant consequences, and determined to find out if the Expedition was at risk.

"Yes, Rig talks. And more than you'd expect, too! He's as kind as an angel, however, so no problems should find you with him aroun'!" replied Udolannan with a hearty laugh.

"Most impressive… I will reserve judgment until I see him!" Ianward ended up saying.

"Sure ye will, sure ye will… The ceremony is not so far away, is it? Shouldn't ye prepare already?"

"Indeed I should, although mercifully, most of the preparations are already made. We will see each other there, Udolannan!"

"True, we will, Ianward. I have prepared the ceremony runes meself, not to worry!" winked Councillor Battleheart.
----------------
Ianward was moving towards the Order of the Holy Vengeance, at the far southern end of the Monastery, lost in his train of thought. There were outstanding issues with this Order, and Ianward had to appease Councillor Darella Daleborn sufficiently, today above all days, in order not to cause any problems to the ceremony. Darella resembled an otherworldly being on her own – While decisively human, she preferred appearing wearing a hood most of the time, or otherwise concealing herself; she preached that the wrath of Erathis, and other deities, was best delivered from a concealed attack.

The Order of Holy Vengeance did not resemble other Orders in either magnitude or presentation. Darker, dimmer halls were the norm here, with the lighting seeming quite inviting to shadows…spirits…and unseen enemies. The Order was highly valued in the Monastery for gathering information about cults, and manifesting divine wrath itself, however, many among the Monastery's populace had never set foot in its grounds, unless they had quite compelling reasons to do so.

Ianward reached the room / study where Darella could usually be found, and found it quite empty. He rang a small bell positioned by the bed once, but nobody appeared either. Deciding that he did not have much time to dwell around, he had just reached the balcony and was looking outside to see if anyone could be seen, when he heard an icy cold voice behind him.

"Prime Councillor Tarmikos… We are honored." mentioned a voice. Its tone was not exactly sincere, though: The voice sounded more like a forced attempt of someone to greet another, than a heart-felt greeting of any kind.

"Councillor Daleborn, the Dawn be with you", said Ianward.

"To what do we owe your presence here today, Tarmikos? I did not think you would come here before that ceremony we're forced to endure!" added Darella with a venomous hint on her voice.

"I came here to hear of any advice you might had for the Expedition, Darella. I know the Order of Holy Vengeance has no participation this year, but you know the task is too great to be ignored."

"Participation… Advice! "Darella burst into a fit of laughter.

"You know I have nothing to add, concerning a war we are not willing to fight in, Ianward."

"Your decision is final? You will only send someone to take part in the Expedition if some of the initial members cannot carry on with his duties?"

"But of course I will… I do not see any reason to provoke Vecna's wrath because the Monastery wants to play nice. We have endured too much to start being careless now, dear Councillor Tarmikos."

"I do not agree. But I do not blame you. If you still feel this way, we will discuss this in the next conference of the Divine Council."

"But of course we shall… as always… as always…" hinted Darella with signs of tired contempt in her voice.

"And now you will excuse me, I have to get ready for the pompous ceremony."

And with these words, she left the room, leaving Ianward readily perplexed, staring still outside the balcony.
---------------- 
Ianward had now spent the better part of his morning walking, and silently reminded to himself that he was not the young paladin he once was. He found himself elated with the fact that the Monastery had only six orders, and not nine, or twelve. He would have to ride to reach them all in the same morning, and he was no cavalier of notice. Luckily, the Order of Invokation was not far from his own quarters, which is why he decided to visit it last.

Immediately upon entering the Order's grounds, Ianward felt this familiar touch on his soul. Music seemed to flow through his ears, although he could not hear any. Splendid visions of fire turning into ice and back into fire filled his eyes, despite the yard being almost empty. His heart felt at ease here, and he had Vicorin Justiciar to thank for this. The Deva had taken really good care of the Order in the past 10 years, and among others, had installed special wards which psyched up allies and caused fear to enemies. When asked about this, he would say "The powers channeled through us can rally our friends, and destroy all foes. This is the essence of invokation".

Ianward did not spend much time distracted by the Order cantrips, or even by the practicing acolytes who seemed to move their hands and implements causing great waves of energy to appear. He darted straight into Councillor Justiciar's office.

"Good day Tarmikos. I thought you might come", said a melodic, otherworldly voice.

"Vicorin, good day, and the Dawn be with you", responded Ianward casually.

"Might I presume that you are here to inquire about Gred? You have the habit of being over-anxious, friend" added Vicorin, sensing the purpose of Ianward's visit.

"You know me too well, Vicorin. I'd be surprised if you didn't, considering your age and intellect!" teased Ianward with a good-hearted smile.

"Indeed, Ianward. I will not delay you much – Gred Deepsmiter is a great spiritual traveller, and a skilled invoker. You know how much I tire of conversation with inferior listeners. Gred holds this year's record of discussion time with me. Once, we talked for 5 hours straight, analyzing the potential the elimination of Tiamat might hold in strengthening Bahamut's spirit infinitely" said Vicorin, smiling back with his eerie glowing eyes.

"Is that all? Nothing peculiar to pin on the dwarf?" wondered Ianward with sincere interest.

"He is no deva. But he'll assist you greatly. If the Expedition referred to waging war to Asmodeus himself, then I'd join it myself. But for the task at hand, Gred is perfect."

"Always calculating, always balancing your act before you unleash your divine energy to our foes, Vicorin. Very well, I will heed your advice, and evaluate Gred Deepsmiter myself."

"A wise move indeed, Councillor Tarmikos. We can discuss of this more, after the ceremony" said Vicorin, with his eyes seeming to glow even more, if that was really possible.

"This is the prudent thing to do. We will speak soon, Vicorin." With there words, Ianward bowed ever so slightly, and exited the office, and the Order immediately afterwards. The time was almost eleven 'o clock, and he had the Expedition members to meet in person.

He moved towards his office, thinking "This should be interesting. An extraordinary group, this year. I hope they live up to their reputation, all of them".
----------------
He then entered his office.

[Sovjohn]

Leoril appeared before the group, greeting them with a smile.

"Hello, and thank you for coming. Prime Councillor Tarmikos will now see you. Please proceed into his office."

The Prime Councillor's Office was not as grand as one might imagine it - Splendid paintings decorated the walls, but other than that, it appeared that Ianward Tarmikos stayed true to the Paladin Code, which strongly recommended wealth to be shared with the community, and not clutched for oneself.

Of course, visitors were expected in the Prime Councillor's office from time to time, and thus, some seats (including one which seemed to be curiously magically enhanced for sturdiness, and oversized quite a bit) were present there, next to the fireplace which by now was burning brightly.

Prime Councillor Tarmikos sat up from his office once he saw the group entering.

"Welcome, welcome. Please, have a seat. Please begin by telling me your names and Orders, if you will. We will then be able to get to know each other better!" said Ianward almost in one breath.

He then sat again, and held his hand close to his chin, displaying sincere interest to the group members, as well as observing them, while waiting for the introductions to take place.

[salt3d]

"I am Rig," announces Rig, "priest of Moradin and irrefutable proof of the power of runes. I represent the Order of the Runes."

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
The cavalier of Bane bows graciously to the Prime Councillor, and then stands at attention, preferring not to sit. Maxilian Swandance, of the Noble House of Swandance, Cavalier of Bane, at your service, Councillor. Dawn be with you. I have the esteemed honour of representing the noble Order of Shining Light. The eladrin's posture is immaculate, his armor and weapons pristine, as if brand-new. Standing out in his attire is a small but ornate gold earring on his right ear, with a piece of amethyst in the centre.

[Gillric]

Gred Deepsmiter entered the office of the Prime Councilor and quickly glanced at the others there before bowing low until the braid of his beard swept the floor. Standing straight again he then proceeded to introduce himself, I am Gred Deepsmiter of the Order of Invokation and I am honoured to be selected for the expedition. May the dawn be with you all. Having finished introducing himself, Gred nods to the others before taking a seat.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

"I am Ur'Thal Dekaj, initiate of Ioun, representing the Order of the Creators, m'Lord. And may the dawn's light find that which hides in darkness." As he sat down, he looked around the room at the others. He was impressed by the selections and quietly wondered if he deserved this great honor. He absent-mindedly rubbed his right hand as the others introduced themselves.

[Leotholdus]

Durth waited patiently for the others to state their names, taking an account of their reactions. When it came to his turn he took a short breath "I am Durth. Order of Associates." it came out shorter and more direct than he had intended, but he was not much of one for idle chatter anyway. With a slight bow he then took his seat, curious as to what would happen next.

[Sovjohn]

Satisfied from what he saw, Ianward Tarmikos leaned forward and crossed his hands.

"Excellent. Nice to meet you all in person. Please, Cavalier Swandance, take a seat if you will, this is an off-the-record chat and you should know each other before the ceremony. I do not mean to inconvenience you, I'm just asking.

I will have you know that the Expedition is not an affair for novices and misfits. You may have heard the objectives of the past few years, or even met some of the Expedition members of those previous, ah, adventures.

Last year, the Monastery recovered the Rod of Pelor's Wrath from the distant nation of Muse'ka, and the smugglers who intended to sell it to cultists in order to defile it.

Two years ago, you may have heard about this, there was an incident when our Expedition then attempted to use a silver dragon for their purpose of destroying a foul orcish colony of Gruumsh, and the aforementioned dragon injured gravely several of its members.

Ever since, I have taken personal care of the recommendations for the Expedition. Earlier today I talked about you with your respective Order Councillors, and they unanimously vouched for your skills, character, and integrity. I was very pleased to find out that you all have excellent references.

You may have noticed that one Order, the Order of Holy Vengeance, has not provided us with an Expedition recommendation this year. I assume you are at least broadly familiar with, let's say, Monastery politics, however, hopefully you will be joined by one of their envoys later in your journey."

Ianward paused for a moment, and looked to his fireplace absentmindedly, as if trying to decipher the meaning of the flames burning. He composed himself immediately, and called Leoril:

"Leoril, please bring me the parchment".

Leoril entered the office and handed a rolled parchment to Ianward, who left it on his office.

"This year's Expedition has a noble cause - We have information that artifacts linked to Vecna have been unearthed and used by cultists to zombify, or otherwise control, innocent townsfolk. Our goal is simple: Destroy the cult once and for all, and bring the artifacts here for magical destruction.

We have reason to believe that the cult is secretly supported by the Monastery of Eleven Pillars, located not very far from here, in the Volvue district. The Eleven, governing body of the Monastery there, supposedly are all of paramount integrity and morals, however, we have reason to believe some of them have been irrefutably corrupted and direct resources actively towards the worship of Vecna.

I do have some information, including locations to begin your search, and I hope you understand why our selection process this year was so..." Ianward fixed his gaze on Ur'thal "...vigorous and detailed".

Ianward got up, and unrolled the parchment on a nearby table.

"Before we talk about locations, do you have any questions for the nature of this years' Expedition? Feel free to ask me as a friend, not as a superior", he added with a friendly smile, and stood next to the table with his hands, once again, crossed on his chest.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
The eladrin gives a courteous smile and shakes his head when Tarmilkos asks him to sit. Truth be told, Councillor, I am more comfortable upright. Call it a force of habit.

Once he has finished explaining, the cavalier nods his head. Very interesting. I have some questions about mission specifics - do we have any intelligence on which of the eleven pillars have been corrupted? Can we expect any support at all within the neighbouring Monastery? He pauses, then asks a few more questions. What is the favoured weapon of a worshipper of Vecna, Councillor? I would hone myself in the proper combat techniques to destroy such foes. And this may seem an odd question... but what are the chances that we will encounter elementals? The others can sense... hope?... in this last question.

[Leotholdus]

Durth lost focus for a moment as a small disruption in his breathing came about with the mention of the citizenry. Gathering himself he looked up as Ianward finished speaking. "Sir, who on the Governing body is suspect?" It was doubtful they would have to deal with those in governance, but Durth wanted to know who would allow such evil.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal's heart skipped a beat when Ianward mentioned cultists of Vecna. He rubbed his withered right hand again as he continued to listen to the Councillor. Mild trepidation was slowly being replaced by confidence and eagerness to start the mission and bring the cultists to justice. Ur'Thal hated Vecna and everything that evil being represented: Secrets, undeath, darkness.

After the briefing, Ur'Thal spoke up. "Sir, I have only one question: Would these artifacts you speak of be the eye and hand of Vecna?"

[Sovjohn]

Ianward seemed satisfied to hear the questions he heard, and while still standing next to the table, he answered:

"Of course, of course... First of all, sadly we lack precise intelligence on who exactly from the Monastery of Eleven Pillars may be providing resources to the cultists. However, since the Monastery general populace has not changed to zombies, liches, or anything of the kind, we presume that they act in a composed, yet stealthy, manner, so as to prevent a mass-scale conflict with their subordinates. At this point of time, we should expect the worst.

Considering we have no official evidence, it will be hard even for you to visit the Monastery of Eleven Pillars and investigate, since we have sent no such request yet, and as you know, Monasteries tend to welcome visiting scholars and adventurers for short periods of time, but not active associates of other Monasteries, save for official visits.

I will attempt to schedule a visit for you at a later date, but first you will need to travel to Roque, and investigate the actions of the cultists there. After all, the main cult operation should be located outside the Monastery of Eleven, or at least this is what we believe thus far. I should point out that we believe multiple artifacts or magical items to be used, definitely the Hand or Eye of Vecna, as well as other, less powerful, evil objects."

Ianward turned to Maxilian, smiled, and said:

"Vecna followers do not have any particular weapon of choice, although I'd expect exotic weapons such as morningstars or scythes to be more used than "simple" longswords. A good portion of such cultists tend to be clerics, or wizards, using their arcane or divine power to impress cultists of lower standing. As for elementals, I cannot say. I would not rule them out, however."

Walking from the table to the window and back to the table, Ianward said:

"I will be happy to answer any other questions you have, but if you don't have any pressing concerns, we will talk about resources and contacts to assist you in your noble mission. We will have to start making ready for the ceremony, after all."

At the sound of the word "ceremony", Ianward's eyes seemed to shine brightly.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
Scythes and Morningstars... these are cumbersome weapons. I should use my heavier shield, I think. Very well. I have no further concerns for the time being, Councillor, though I may develop more as we are properly debriefed on the mission. Will our expedition have time before our departure to discuss our respective roles and determine such necessities as marching orders?

[Gillric]

Vecna? And we are delaying? Lets get straight to the ceremony so we can deal with this scourge.

[salt3d]

Rig stands motionless, waiting for further instruction.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal nods to Gred. "I agree with you. This mission seems to be of critical importance. We should not tarry any more than necessary." Turning back toward Ianward, he bows and adds, "and I thank you again, m'Lord for allowing me to be a part of this mission. May the light I bring penetrate Vecna's deepest secrets."

[Sovjohn]

Ianward nodded apprehensively.

"Very well. I would like to personally wish you luck, and ensure you that the resources and knowledge of the Monastery will be at your disposal, you will have our full and unwavering support.

We should all get ready for the ceremony now, since this is an important part of our tradition. When the ceremony is complete, please seek Leoril - he will take care of gear, consumables and provisions for your journey, and brief you on Monastery contacts. You will be expected to depart tomorrow, and will spend this night under common quarters in preparation of your departure.

May the Light of the Dawn shine upon you always, and best of luck to your endeavor, which will undoubtedly bring honor and glory to us all."

Ianward then pounded his fist on his right torso, in an apparent gesture of respect, and at this point of time, Leoril opened the door, holding it open for you to pass through. The ceremony was due to begin in 25 minutes, in the Cathedral of Dawn.

[Gillric]

Gred stands to his feet and makes for the open door. Well gentlemen, to the ceremony and then to end this curse upon the land!

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
Maxilian salutes the Councillor. Dawn be with you, and Black Hand favour you, Councillor. With that, the highborn eladrin follows Leoril out of the room, his posture remaining as immaculate in motion as it is when standing still.

[salt3d]

"You are a good man, Ianward Tarkimos." says Rig, still standing completely still. "Your work here will be remembered for generations. May the Dawn be with you."

With that the construct strides out the door, heading directly to the Cathedral of Dawn.

[Leotholdus]

Durth nods respectfully "The light be with you as well" he then makes his way toward the door, stopping to allow Rig to pass through. I wonder what it must be like to not feel, but to be spirit and machine he thinks to himself as he walks behind the living construct.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal is the last one to stand and leave the office, and he does so silently, only nodding respectfully to Ianward. Ianward's revelation about the mission weighed heavier on Ur'Thal's heart than he expected. So much so, that he physically felt burdened, making it harder to stand up and walk out. While searching out Vecna's infiltrators in the Monastery of Eleven Pillars, fighting undead and cultists, and securing deadly evil artifacts were things not to be trifled with, Ur'Thal's biggest concerns were of a more personal nature. While he doesn't doubt his abilities, he knows his selection was at least partly motivated by his curse. That being said, he felt like this was the greatest opportunity to learn about what happened to him when he was an infant and more importantly, why. For the first time in his life, Ur'Thal questioned whether he was prepared for the answers he's always sought.

[Sovjohn]

The Cathedral of Dawn was ready for the ceremony. The building was built in a standard cathedral fashion, with large rows of seats being present on the left and right of a corridor in the middle, which was reserved for ceremonial use only. Weddings, funerals, and ceremonies which required the participation of all Orders, such as the one being held today, took place here.
The Monastery subsidized the cost of using the Cathedral for senior Order members, however, acolytes, disciples, and visitors, were only allowed to use it if they were prepared to meet the cost. Considering that where certain Orders or gods were concerned, someone could be a disciple for years, many of them preferred some more mundane churches for their own ceremonies.

The ceremonial chamber was filled with members of the church and civilians of the community alike, and as part of the ritual, everyone present individually wished strength, protection, and clarity of mind to the Expedition members.

The Cathedral was decorated fittingly – Banners of all colors, bearing the Order and the Monastery crests were prominent in the building. The Divine Council was, as expected, seated in the front rows, and the other rows were occupied by Order, with a section at the back reserved for townsfolk and travelers. At the center stood a brazier, burning with incense for quite some time, and a marble stand, holding the ceremonial weapons of the deities protecting the Expedition.


A silver quarterstaff, blue and visibly enchanted to resemble starlight, for Ioun.
A mithril-and-adamantite warhammer, symbolizing eternal strength, for Moradin.
A golden heavy mace, almost pulsing with light in itself, for Pelor.
A black bastard sword, shined to perfection as well as perfectly crafted, for Bane.
Finally, in honor of Prime Councillor Ianward Tarmikos, Bahamut's heavy pick, with a diamond-treated handle, was placed next to the weapons of the Expedition members.


The marble stand was engraved with powerful runes, which radiated in shades of blue, amber, and red, and made the weapons glow if watched from afar.

Then, the Divine Council members stood up behind the brazier, to formally bless the Expedition members. The Expedition party stood firmly behind the marble table with the weapons, and awaited the blessing of each Order. Each of the Order Councillors blessed the Expedition in their own, suitable, way:

The Order of the Associates whispered a silent prayer to Kord, to inspire the Expedition in battle.

The Order of the Shining Light called upon Bahamut's glory to keep the adventurers in the way of the Light and dispel all evil.

The Order of the Creators asked for Pelor's guidance in good times and in bad, asking him to banish the darkness to the Nine Hells where it belongs.

The Order of the Runes called for Moradin's sturdiness and grace to follow the Expedition to the bowels of the Earth.

The Order of Holy Vengeance wished to a pantheon of deities to grant the Expedition the first unseen strike, no matter how nimble the enemy.

The Order of Invokation called on the wrath of the skies to fall on the antagonists of the Expedition and the Monastery.

Following some chants and blessings, the ceremony was nearing its end. At this point of time, the runes around the marble table with the weapons seemed to radiate even stronger, bathing the Cathedral in rays of light. Prime Councillor Tarnikos, proclaimed:
"May all the deities, and the powers of the Light, protect you in your endeavors. May the darkness be banished from our realm. May honor triumph over deceit. May the Dawn be with you!"

Prime Councillor Tarnikos then opened a small wooden box, and rays of light from all of the runes present in the Cathedral seemed to enter it, and then vanished. Councillor Tarnikos declared the end of the ceremony, and motioned to the Expedition party to go towards the exit.

[Sovjohn]

The Monastery of White Dawn - Chapter I

At the exit, Leoril congratulated the adventurers, and called them to a small room adjacent to the Cathedral entrance.

"Congratulations. You are now formally blessed by the Monastery to undertake the Expedition". He then produced the wooden box that Prime Councillor Tarmikos seemed to be holding during the ceremony. Opening it, several rings were found inside.

Leoril handed each of these rings to the adventurers. The ring was adamantite, and had the crest of the Monastery engraved on its top side. Each ring seemed to have a curiously magical feeling, as well.

"These are the Expedition rings. You will need them in case you are ever needed to prove that you come from the Monastery. There are no duplicates, they are crafted for Expedition members only. However, it is not always prudent to publically state who you are, or where you come from – there are many prying ears around, and people may want to harm the Monastery or its members should they know the truth about you.
This is why the ring itself can be magically concealed. If you want to hide it, you merely have to think of it, and it will remain attached on your finger- yet become totally invisible. Furthermore, in dire times, the power of the ring will assist you in lighting the darkness.

I wholeheartedly wish you luck and all the best. You are now free to gather your travel gear, obtain provisions, and go to sleep in the Divine Council guest quarters this night. You ought to start your travel to Roque tomorrow, which will take about 2 days on horseback. You are to speak to Dartana Battleheart, she is a blacksmith in Roque, the little sister of Councillor Battleheart. She is trusted, and can fill you in on what is happening around the town."

Smiling, he added "Any questions?"

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
The ring is placed on Maxilian's ever black-gloved hand. He bows to Leoril. Dawn be with you, Leoril. He turns to his companions. Before we obtain provisions, I would ask that we spend some time planning certain necessities out; we shall need a marching order, and knowledge of each others' strengths and strategies, among other things. We can then plan our equipment accordingly. Even in an informal setting, the eladrin's posture belies his noble birth and arduous training. The earring on his ear glints briefly. I shall begin. I fight from horseback, employing a variety of weapons. I shall be ever-ready to meet the demands of the situation - I am proficient in both one-handed and two-handed combat, with multiple grades of shield and with polearms. My steeds are bred by Bane's own grooms, and I can summon them from The Black General's realm when they are needed. If any of you require a strong horse, I do have control of two - however, they allow others to ride them only hesitantly.

[Leotholdus]

Durth picks up the ring, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment before sliding it over a bare finger. "Thank you Leoril. I will treasure this gift." Durth says with a dip of his head.

After listening to Maxilian explain his strengths and impressive array of skills Durth thinks for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking. "I do not have horses or carry many weapons, but I have speed, agility and a strong spear. I hope to prove worthy of the Monasteries choosing and assist you all however I can." Durth says before looking around to the others in the room feeling humbled from the ceremony and those with him in the room.

[Gillric]

Gred takes his ring and places it upon his finger. As soon as the ring is on, he attempts to turn it invisible. Must test this out a little bit I confess.

[salt3d]

Rig finds his ring much too small for any of the two fingers and thumb he has on each hand. After a pause, he wedges the ring into the cavity that represents his left eye. The glow in his eye socket lights up the ring, highlighting the Monastery's seal on it momentarily before the ring fades to invisibility.

Rig turns to Maxilian and says, "I have not known combat before, but I am skilled with a mason's hammer, my shield is sturdy, and my spirit was forged by Moradin himself. The power of runes allows me to augment our attacks or bolster our defences as circumstance warrants."

[Sovjohn]

You do notice that the rings do indeed disappear and reappear at will.

Leoril notices the discomfort in Rig, and adds:

"Of course, the jewelcrafter forgot to modify the size of this one. I can enlarge it for you if you wish, it will not take long.

Other than that, do you require any further information from me?"

[salt3d]

"Thank you Leoril," replies Rig, "but do not trouble the jewelcrafter. The ring fits fine where it is. As for questions, I have none, but I cannot speak on behalf of the other expedition members."

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal takes the ring, bowing his head slightly to Leoril in appreciation. He places it around a finger on his right hand, but struggles to use his weaker hand to push it fully on his finger. Embarrassed by the difficulty, he finally forces it on comfortably. He then mentally turns it invisible and back, getting the hang of it.

Ur'Thal smiles at Leoril. "My blessings and thanks to you, master Leoril." Turning to the rest of the group, he listens to each person's descriptions of their abilities. His own seem to pale in comparison, but he stands tall, refusing to allow himself feel weaker or inferior. "Ioun has blessed me with several capabilities. I can call forth the light of truth to burn our enemies, making them easier targets and use the same light to heal and aid my comrads. Undead are particularly susceptible to my attacks."

[Sovjohn]

Leoril bows his head politely, and says:

"I see you've started to discuss your own matters. I recommend you head towards the communal area, perhaps even share a drink together, as well as gather provisions for your journey. Should you need anything before you begin your journey, you will find me in my quarters, and I will be glad to assist you."

With these words, he moved towards the door, and held it open for you to pass, smiling while he did so.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

"Assuming someone knows how to get to Roque, I have no questions, master Leoril. May the dawn be with you." With that, Ur'Thal passes through the door held by Leoril and heads toward the communal area.

[Leotholdus]

Durth nods his thanks and follows Ur'Thal, glad to be moving somewhere more comfortable. Fishing in his pocket Durth grasps the small coin with the image of Pelor given to him those many years ago, fiddling with it more out of habit than out of nervousness.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
Dawn be with you. With that, Maxilian inclines his head to Leoril and follows his companions into the communal area.

[salt3d]

As Rig makes his way through the door he turns his head to look at Leoril. The ring wedged in Rig's eye socket becomes visible briefly before fading again, giving the construct the appearance of having winked.

After reaching the communal area, Rig stands motionless and silently observes his colleagues as they go about their organic activities, such as breathing.

[Leotholdus]

Taking a moment to take in the surroundings, Durth then turns towards his current companions "Excuse me, I normally would go back to practice or study, but with leaving by dawn tomorrow I wonder if you all would join me for a drink? Or perhaps a can of oil for our friend Rig?" This was of course was practice for Durth, not being a very social person and usually having little to say, but he learned the trick was not to make them notice that it was. He had also practiced a smile, but was told his people looked scarier when smiling something that has confused him for some time.

[Gillric]

At the mention of drinking, Gred's interest is caught. A drink you say? I could always go for one of those.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
I suppose tonight is an occasion to celebrate. I will allow myself a single glass of something. Shall we proceed to a bar or similar, then?

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal moves to a small building on the east side of the communal area and enters it. A moment later, he returns to the bench area with a stein with dark liquid in it. He carefully sips on his drink, obviously enjoying it quite well. He looks at the others in the area and asks, "have you ever tried master Berenthane's prune juice? It's my favorite here and he doesn't often have it. Something about the prunes being in season or some such thing. Perhaps some day, he'll tell me how he makes it. I'll miss it..." He trails off, considering for the first time that he may never see the inside of the Monastery again. As quickly as the thought came, he banished it, refusing to think that this mission will be the end of him.

[Leotholdus]

Durth nods politley "I have heard of master Barenthane's, though I was thinking something a little stronger" he says nodding toward the small but lively Ale house. A black horse is depicted on an overhanging sign with the words The Drunk Horse prominantly displayed. Durth had only heard of the place but had never stepped inside, assuming it would be frequented by those with less of a focus than himself.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
The cavalier visibly shivers, which can be seen through the armor he wears. I don't suppose that... distinguished establishment would have any Fey vintages?

This is a question for Sovjohn, really; Maxilian is not fond of ale. Any chance there would be eladrin wine anywhere in the Monastery?

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal glances toward the Drunk Horse and shivers slightly. After years of ribbing, he was talked into going there to play a "friendly" game of bones. He was naive enough to accept any drink that was brought from him, thinking them kind to buy him things. His memory after that was a spinning blur until he awoke late the next day in the healing ward to find he had been attended to by a senior cleric of Pelor! His embarrasment was almost more than he could stand.

Looking at Durth, Ur'Thal says, "I think I'll sit here content with my prune juice, but I won't stop anyone from their drink of preference."

When the others are nearby, he adds, "Maxillian asked earlier about a marching order. I don't think I'm the one to take the lead, but perhaps I can serve the group better from the middle where I can be as near to the rest as possible for healing as needed. Should we be called upon to battle our enemies, I can best be used behind the main line as I don't have a great deal of range for my attacks." He rubs the patch over his right eye absent-mindedly, conscious of how only one eye can affect his accuracy at times.

"I've taken the combat basics course and can use a few weapons and chain mail. Never mastered the use of a shield, however. I have studied Vecna and his evil cults for years now, so my value may best come from that training."

[Gillric]

I understand your reasoning Ur'Thal, I will accompany those going to the tavern though. As far as a marching order goes, I also would like to be in the "middle" so that I can use my ranged attacks and buff those engaged in close combat. With that Gred stands and heads towards The Drunk Horse.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
I shall lead us from the front, and danger shall be met by my blade at first sighting. My steed is quick, so I can engage enemies fast and with great efficiency. At the further discussion of the bar, the cavalier rolls his eyes. I shall just have to ask the barman, then, if he can procure a more... sensible beverage for me, he says, and then he follows his companions to the bar.

[salt3d]

"The actions you describe would make Moradin himself proud, Maxilian," replies Rig. "I shall stand beside you at the front line, ready to meet adversity with stoicism and tenacity. Now, as for the ale house..."

Rig trails off, seeming to ponder something. Absentmindedly, almost unconsciously, he taps the depression carved in his face that represents his mouth. "I will join you. Perhaps there is something to be learned of the purpose of drinking beyond mere hydration."

[Leotholdus]

Just before they cross the threshold Durth begins to say "Ah then perhaps I too will meet our enemies from the..." the words slow as he nearly walks into the barmaid "...the front". The barmaid gives him a sly grin and moves on. Durth clears his throat and approaches the bartender, "A stout ale good sir!" While he had never drank, Durth had heard this line before and thought it sounded like a good thing to order.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
The cavalier shakes his head. Brother Durth, there are too many of us for the bar. We should get a table, he says, as if it should be obvious.

[Leotholdus]

"Oh, quite right." Turning to the barkeeper "I'll just take that at the table if you don't mind." With a grunt of acknowledgement from the barkeep Durth turns and follows the others to a large round table. Sitting down Durth takes a moment to let his fellows join him before reaching into his well of practiced sayings once more "I hope we have good weather on this trip"

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal spends a while longer lounging in the comfortable bench outside the tavern, enjoying his prune juice. Not long after the others headed into the Drunken Horse, he was innundated with members of various orders congratulating him on being selected. His curse had made him well-known to many there, but rarely in a good way. Garnering this level of positive attention was initially awkward, but he relaxed and enjoyed the time in the spotlight without being self-conscious of his physical defects.

After nearly an hour of being accousted, he managed to tear away and head toward the quiet confines of the monastery library. There, he spent the next several hours studying anything he could find on Vecna and his cultists as well as brushing up on what he could learn about the Monastery of Eleven Pillars. He decided to meet up with the group later that evening to decide what supplies they would need before heading toward the Divine Council guest quarters.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
The cavalier hails one of the barmaids. Hello. Could you tell me what vintages of wine you have in stock?

The girl smiles. Last year's, and this year's.

Ah... well, then, I suppose I will have a glass of last year's, then, he replies, with strict politeness (though an especially observant observer could probably detect the overtones of distaste in his voice).

She nods, jotting it down on a small notepad. She then turns to the rest of the gathered adventurers. Anyone else want a drink?

[Gillric]

Why yes, I believe I do. I will have a flagon of your finest Dwarven Ale if you please. Gred then proceeded to make himself comfortable to await his drink.

[salt3d]

"I will have one each of what everyone else is having." says Rig, matter-of-factly.

[Gillric]

Slow down there my rather large friend. Actually, now that I think of it, how does alcohol affect you anyway Rig? Gred looks quizzically at the rather large warforged.

[salt3d]

"I have yet to find out myself," replies Rig, "but given its popularity I am interested to do so. Some of the members of the Order of the Runes are quite fond of this ale, so I have been curious for some time."

[Gillric]

Ah, yes, there are many dwarves in your order are there not? Gred replies with a slight smile. Many an ale has probably been consumed by its members.

[salt3d]

"You may have heard of the Rune of Fermentation and the Rune of Distillation. Even if you haven't I'm sure you'd have heard the explosion they caused in the development lab. I spent a long time on the reconstruction effort after that incident."

[Gillric]

Ah, it sounds like you have many good dwarves then. Let us drink to the success of this mission.... Gred quickly scans around the room. Hmm, where is that barmaid with our drinks?

[Leotholdus]

The barmaid returns with several Ales and two glasses of wine, Rig receiving the majority of the glasses as well as the stares from other patrons. With the table set, Durth takes a whiff of his drink and debates his decision, wondering how much he'll be forced to drink to be considered friendly. Hoping for the best he turns to the others "Should we make a toast?"

[salt3d]

Rig considers the range of drinks in front of him. He picks up one and splashes it in his face. After a moment he selects another and repeats the process.


"Should we make a toast?"

Rig lifts his third drink, a mug of dwarven ale, and exclaims, "To the Monashderry!"

Following another moment's contemplation, Rig announces, "I'm afraid I still don't understand the appeal. Nor the change in speech patterns that accompanies it, for that matter. It all seems like a lot of effort for no reason."

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
Maxilian takes a small sip while Rig is splashing things on his face. When Durth asks for a toast, he nods. To our success, and the honour of the Monastery, he offer, lifting his glass.

[Leotholdus]

Durth wipes at the splatter that hits him from Rigs play at drinking "Perhaps it is not the drinks, but the comradeship Rig" With that he turns to Gred and Maxillian "To success, the monastery and the blessings of the gods." with that he raises his glass, waiting for the others before tasting his drink. The night rolls on with the lively chatter of the table and those around them. Before long Durth stands and bids the others goodnight, heading to his quarters feeling a slight wobble to his usually stable walk. He promised himself he would not drink again till the adventure was over.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
Having nursed the single glass of mediocre wine all night, Maxilian does not once let go of his intense composure. As the group disperses, he pays for his drink and departs for the quarters he has been assigned for the night, wishing everyone a good night's rest.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

After spending hours in the library, Ur'Thal chose to spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening at the temple praying for guidance, wisdom and discernment for this quest he'd been assigned.

He decided to worry about the supplies tomorrow morning and instead get some rest at the guest quarters before his journey began.

[Sovjohn]

Interlude - Night

The adventurers fell asleep, or meditated, in their rooms during the night. However, the night did not end in peace for all of the group -

Generally, the Monastery had enough anti-magic wards and assorted magical defenses to ensure no charm or spell could penetrate its walls, barring exceptional circumstances.

This night, though, a dark aura could be clearly felt. Not everywhere in the Monastery, in select few places. Not sensed by anyone, but from a few unfortunate folk. Not foreseen by the Councilors, or the scholars. Still, it was there, looming in the darkness, and disturbing the minds of those who sensed it...

Alright. This may seem a bit cliche, but it's worth it, I promise. Also, I have the posts for the dreams ready, so no more long waiting to see them :smallbiggrin:

Roll a d20 in the OOC thread.

One of you will get a good dream, one a neutral, two a nightmare, and the unluckiest one, a terrifying nightmare which he'll remember IC for a lot of time. May the luckiest win!

[Sovjohn]

Durth

While Durth was asleep, he could sense a looming evil presence. It felt like a spirit. However, Durth remained peacefully asleep.

In fact, he found himself in the middle of a field of flowers. The sun was shining brightly, and the wind seemed to gently rustle through the leaves of trees. It seemed like it was spring, or the eve of summer. Some distance away, a shrine could be seen, and it seemed to emanate some kind of energy waves.

A blissful feeling filled the air. The tranquility of the scenery and the nature seemed to be unending, eternal, and soul-soothing. However, Durth found himself fixated to the shrine he could see further away. He started to slowly walk towards it, and as he came closer, it was becoming apparent that the energy waves were bright sun beams, reflected on giant lenses placed on the ground. The sun beams made for a majestic display – They pulsed vividly, formed shapes on the pillars surrounding the shrine, and of course, engulfed all colors imaginable, much like an enormous rainbow would do.

Durth could do nothing more than stare in awe this display of power and elegance – it showed, beyond doubt, that the power of the Sun was too great to behold… provided the right amplifying force was applied.

Once his eyes got used to the spectacle, a voice was heard, which seemed to be projected from the sun itself, onwards to the rays, onwards to the lenses, the pillars, and eventually, Durth's conscience –

"This is only the beginning. Your afterlife, should you continue to serve me well, will stretch beyond your wildest dreams. Go with my blessing, child."

A feeling of power engulfed Durth's existence – the field faded to black, and the sun slowly faded away, with the myriad of colors still being on display vividly before his eyes.

Durth woke up, finding the sun reflected on his eyes through the window, in an angle which caused its rays to form many small rainbows before hitting his eyes.

Durth only:

You feel strangely confident about yourself, as well as empowered, and remember the dream in general, without too many details. Until your next extended rest, you gain passive 16 on all Diplomacy checks, and gain +1 to all your combat rolls.
 
Rig:

Rig, could not physically sleep. He lacked the anatomy to do this physically. However, he sometimes could find himself doing what mortal races called "daydreaming". This could also take place at night, despite the word's origins and original meaning.

Today, while Rig felt perfectly well that something did not fit exactly right… that something vile in nature might be nearby, he was busy daydreaming to take notice. Then again, divine people might call this a 'vision". Rig lacked the long life experience to classify the feeling, but was perfectly sure there was something extraordinary involved. Moradin tended to craft extraordinary things, after all, from hammers to dreams.

Rig thought he was back in a time where dwarves ruled in vast ancient underground kingdoms, and knew no race of the surface. He found himself overlooking a giant cavern, where a thousand different lavas flowed in elaborate tubes setup around the walls. These were not lavas… these were rivers of metal! And diamond dust seemed to… rain from the cavern's ceiling?! No, this was impossible, this was a delusion, and nothing could ever be built this way… And yet it could, this could not be more real.

Rig attempted to understand what lied behind the spectacle. Moradin's presence was strong in this room. Mya's too. Divine power filled the void of Rig's eyes, as he saw runes he had never heard about or read anywhere being actually formed.

Rig acknowledged the glory and greatness of Moradin – he was alive because of those traits of the dwarven crafting god. However, he never expected to see a rune with his name on it being made out of nothingness. This was the archaic alphabet used in runes, of course, but he could read it clearly: R-I-G on the upper part of the rune and G-R-E-A-T-N-E-S-S below this.

While Rig struggled to understand the meaning of this, he heard a soft laughter coming from the cavern's walls. It was a benevolent laughter, and it hinted of an anxious boy waiting to see his father…or so Rig thought when he heard it. He could see no boy, but he could swear to all gods that he felt a soft touch on his head. The laughter faded away.

Rig could no longer see this ancient cavern, hear the gentle laughter, or feel anything else. He found himself looking at a stone shape on the wall, seemingly similar to the rune he has watched being formed. His head seemed to be clearer than usual, and he felt a mental clarity flood his mind.

Rig only:

You feel smart and filled with knowledge, as well as mentally empowered through the sheer force of this knowledge, and remember the vision vividly. Until your next extended rest, you gain a passive +2 modifier on all Intellect-based checks, and gain +1 to all your non-combat rolls.

[Sovjohn]

Maxilian

Maxilian was sound asleep. In fact, he didn't remember himself being asleep like that in a long time. Unfortunately, he was not dreaming of blossom fields and golden dawns – he was dreaming of a castle; a dark, desolate, and unfamiliar castle. It did not seem normal in any way.

Maxilian was not sure, however – this lingering doubt consumed him. Was this a castle? It had to be, he thought. It appeared to be quite much like the Monastery, but in reality it was a twisted, perverted image of it. Where there was light, here lied darkness. Where there was honor, here lied deceit. Where there was duty, here lied chaos itself. He decided to move his dream self from the main gate to the catacombs… he could sense something nested there.

The stairs were dark, yet Maxilian could see, he could see better than he might expect as a matter of fact. He seemed to descend for quite some time, and the castle seemed to become ever darker and unfriendly. Eventually, he reached the lowest level, where the catacombs lied. Sensing some sort of treachery, he stood with his senses alert, and tried to figure what lied in these catacombs. He sensed an energy that made Bane seem angelic compared to it, and Maxilian did not know Bane to be a "good shepherd" by any means.

As he approached, he suddenly understood – He was inside the Monastery of the Eleven Pillars. But this, this was not the Monastery he knew of, and he had heard of – This was a desecrated ground. No, the grounds were not desecrated in whole – The catacombs surely were. And Maxilian could now also sense powerful warding magic, in and around the catacombs…

Somehow, he was able to move on, as if unaffected from the magic. Maxilian thought that this is a dream, and this is what made it possible – yet everything felt so lifelike, the walls, the magic, the powers at play in this complex, they were not a dream, it could not be a dream.

He found himself in a dark corridor. There was a room at the end of the corridor, from which some sort of gray/purple aura could be seen. The cavalier did not feel good about this, and he had seen plenty crypts and dungeons in his day. He was determined to find out what lied there, however, and what possible relation it could have to his life. He approached the door, and opened it:

Inside, he saw a shrine. A desecrated shrine, which must had belonged to Corellon originally, with the leaves and trees depicted. But now, it lacked the elegance and beauty it once possessed. It was abhorrent, vile and disgusting. A purple light seemed to engulf an eye, a magical eye, which stood on the shrine. Maxilian looked at it, and he was afraid to continue looking at it.

Maxilian then woke up, quite startled. He wondered what really they were dealing with, and his mind felt somewhat blurry, as if he was dizzy. Luckily, he did not know what exactly he saw while asleep.

Maxilian only:

You feel dizzy and disoriented, and do not look as charming as usual to others around you. You remember the dream in general, without too many details. Until your next extended rest, you suffer a passive -1 modifier on all Charisma-based checks. However, you gain +2 to your Intimidate skill.

Gred

Gred hadn't had such a perfect dream in years! He was in the ancient city of Rapan – The cornerstone of dwarf civilization! He caught himself wandering in the streets and witnessing miracles before his very eyes – Miracles which justified the reputation of this city, indeed.

From dwarvencraft battlehammers, to magnificent shields; from elaborate scythes to solid helms; and from mithril-plated plate armors, to diamond-woven battlerobes, everything was there. Everything. Gred felt bewildered with tradition and ancestry. He felt like he could stay in this city forever, he felt his heritage summoning him and binding him in the city grounds, he felt…

…afraid. Once he saw the attack.

The city was not meant to remain in peace. There was an unending attack launched at the front gates, where stout defenders threw hammers left and right and center, burned their assailants with hot ore, and stood their ground heroically. Sadly, there were too many. Too many undead abominations, by Moradin's beard, far too many.

Gred decided that this was his fight as well. Rapan could not and would not fall prey to these atrocious beings! He grabbed his staff and found a relatively scarcely defended point, shouting "Ye shall not pass!" while blasting the undead with all his magical and divine strength.

The abominations were too many, and the pressure was relentless. They seemed to have a gate in the Nine Hells wide open for them, there was no end to the attack waves. Gred noticed that they were commanded by a black-clad figure, which seemed to monitor the battle in a nonchalant manner, almost indifferent to the slaughter taking place in front of him.

When Gred focused his energies on the black-clad figure, he saw some sort of magic defenses faltering around him. He thought of victory, and he thought that he'd be able to somehow end this battle all on his own…

…And in a split second, all was lost. The attack had no effect; the black figure flew close to Gred; Gred felt petrified and unable to move. He was able to take a look at his right, at the rest of the battlefield, and he saw nothing. There was no battle taking place, no attackers in sight, and no defenders on the walls. All Gred could see, apart from himself, was this black-clad figure.

He heard an atrocious voice in his ear "Do not underestimate the Undying King, young one. Vecna laughs at your pathetic attempts to fight him, or his will. And I, his most faithful servant, Elgeon, will make sure you do not live to disturb the Maimed God again!"

Gred rose suddenly from his bed. He remembered their foe vividly, and his chilling voice ringed in his ears. He obviously had a bad night's sleep, and was relatively tired even in the morning.

Gred only:

You feel fatigued and grumpy, as if you slept for a couple of hours after heavy drinking. You remember the dream in general, and the events surrounding the black-clad necromancer vividly. Until your next extended rest, you suffer a passive -1 modifier on all Constitution-based checks, and a -1 modifier on Fortitude and Will defenses.

Ur'Thal

Ur'Thal sensed an evil presence as he slept. He felt it close to his bed, close to him, but he could not wake up and face it. It seemed as if it channeled multiple dreams from others, in his own dream.

Ur'thal found himself inside a castle, which he recognized right away as the Monastery of the Eleven – he was in the library, studying ancient leather-bound tomes. What was he studying? It seemed like he was trying to find a way to transform his soul. He saw several titles mentioning soul manipulation, undead creation, undead domination, dark divine ritual castings…

Why was he studying such things? He did not remember himself displaying any interest in the undead, their domain and creation… Yet, he found himself compelled to continue studying. A very important event would take place soon, and he had to know how to proceed. Ur'thal tried to communicate to his scholar self that he should not spend his time like so, but he could change nothing. Days and nights passed, with Ur'thal in the library, until a dark night with a new moon came.

Ur'thal felt ready at last. He left the library behind him, and descended to the catacombs. While there was no light present, Ur'thal instinctively knew where to step, what to climb and where to grapple for him not to topple. It felt as if he had made this small trip hundreds of times.

He found himself in a dark corridor. There was a room at the end of the corridor, from which some sort of gray/purple aura could be seen. While he was walking towards this very room, a door to his right opened, and a black-clad figure joined him. The figure held a cup filled with some kind of dark, gooey substance, which Ur'thal knew was not pleasant in touch or taste, although how he knew that, he could not say.

Inside, he saw a shrine. A desecrated shrine, which must had belonged to Corellon originally, with the leaves and trees depicted. But now, it lacked the elegance and beauty it once possessed. It was abhorrent, vile and disgusting. A purple light seemed to engulf an eye, a magical eye, which stood on the shrine. Ur'thal stood, proudly almost, in front of the eye, and then his voice was heard, as if by a ventriloquist:

"I live to serve you, Chained God. I humbly request your power, King of Death. I vow to bring death and decay to your enemies, and enslave all that is good and benevolent under your terrible rule. For only Vecna can rule this realm!"

This terrible eye seemed to cast a deep gaze on the cleric, and then it blinked rapidly. Ur'thal received the cup from the black-clad figure, and drunk heavily. Then, he looked at a mirror on his left – his eye socket was no longer empty, and his hand was no longer withered. He had been endowed with Vecna's artifacts, and they felt incredibly comfortable….

…Until they woke up, and demanded him to surrender his soul. He felt unimaginable pain, like he was burning and was thrown on ice and burning again. The eye on the wall laughed, constantly laughed at his fate, as if acknowledging that it had now tricked him, but this pain was undendurable!

Ur'thal suddenly woke up, drenched in cold sweat, and finding the window over his head wide open, with a morning breeze chilling his insides. He felt ill, and did not know what this dream meant. Could that accursed lich god be attempting to warn him somehow?

Ur'thal only:

You feel confused and afraid of the dream's meaning, remaining obviously troubled for the next few hours. You remember the dream in its entirety absolutely accurately, as if you dreamt it a minute before you woke up. Until your next extended rest, you suffer a passive -1 modifier on all Charisma-based and Wisdom-based checks, and a -2 modifier on Will defense.

[Leotholdus]

Durth awoke with a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth, perhaps drinking was not so bad, it certainly gave interesting dreams. Popping out of bed he goes about his morning routine of stretches and cleansing before sitting cross-legged on the floor. With deep, cleansing breathes Durth touches his coin and meditates on the virtues of Pelor for a time before gathering his things for the trip. Stepping outside the threshold of his doorway, Durth wonders where he should meet the otheres, or if they are even awake yet. Shrugging to himself, Durth heads to where Rig would be staying, assuming the machine did not need sleep, and knocks gently on the door. "Rig? Are you there?" he asks, suddenly wondering if it is wise to "wake" such a thing as Rig.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Not again! Ur'Thal awoke with a start, gasping for breath as his heart pounded so hard he felt he would die. His heart finally calmed to a more reasonable pace, but the anxiety did not leave. He had a splitting headache and shook uncontrollably, though the morning breeze should've felt good. It was several minutes before he could even attempt to stand, and did so weakly. He tried to sit beside the small shrine in his room and meditate, but the visions of his dream would not give him a moment of mental peace. He hadn't experienced a dream like that in several months and it never left him so weak and sick before. No, he thought, I've had nightmares my whole life, but this was different. VERY different. If the evil that caused my dreams can penetrate the walls of this hallowed monastery, then I fear we will face a more powerful enemy that I realized.

Ur'Thal finally stirred around the room and dressed himself. His armor, pack and mace seemed almost unbearably heavy, but he took a deep breath, and headed out of the room, not allowing the armor, or the dream, to weigh him down.

Seeing Durth outside of Rig's room, he quietly approaches the githzerai. "May the dawn be with you, master Durth. Uh..., if I may ask, uh...., h-how was your night?"

[Leotholdus]

Durth turns toward Ur'Thal, who looks oddly shook up over something. "Quite well Ser Ur'Thal. You however look a bit shaken up, is something troubling you? Perhaps you ought to sit down." Durth motions for a bench in hallway.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
The eladrin wakes up mildly disturbed by his visions. I have never sense such... desecration... he thinks to himself. He puts it out of his mind with an effort of his unshakable will, determined to consider it further when it is more relevant. He begins his morning ritual.

Sister, may you rest in peace. Your sacrifice is not forgotten.
Galiel, I wish you all the luck in the world in the Court. You make our House proud.

Bane, I rededicate myself to you with the dawn's light. My blade shall strike true, my mind grow sharp and my voice eloquent, to better serve the cause of the Iron General. I thank you for the gift of my noble steeds, and I look forward to the day that I stand at your side, leading the charge to eradicate the primordials once and for all.

Finally, I issue my challenge. Servants of the Elemental Eye, quake in fear; the Black Knight rides to seal your fate.

He then dons his armour in silence with ritualistic grace, opting not to visit the practice ring on this most important of mornings. He checks that all of his many weapons are in their proper place, and then exits his quarters, emerging to see his already-awake companions. Dawn be with you, Brothers Ur'Thal and Durth. I trust your final evenings here in the Monastery were restful? he greets, belying nothing of the rather shaking dream he has the previous night.

[salt3d]

Rig emerges from his room. He looks directly at each of his colleagues, turning from one to the next slowly and deliberately. Finally he seems satisfied, and he speaks.

"The Dawn be with you all." Rig pauses for a moment before he continues. "And let us pay tribute to the glory and wisdom of Moradin, for He has given our expedition His blessing. Praise be to Moradin, the great creator."

Rig's voice takes on a more informal tone. "The times I have witnessed the stillness of night and the coming of the dawn number only in the hundreds. But for the first time, last night I did not bear witness. Instead I was taken to the workshop of Moradin Himself. I cannot describe sufficiently well the sights that I saw there, but one thing is certain. Our expedition will create a great legacy; one that will capture the attention of the gods."

[Leotholdus]

Durth does a half turn taking in the other two companions. "Good morning to you both!" he says with just a hint of a smile. After listening to Rigs speech, he turns to the living machine "I would hope so, we certainly could use their blessings." Turning back to Ur'Thal "Are you well?"

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal removes the glove from his right hand and rubs it absent-mindedly. "I am.... troubled by a dream I experience last night." He relates the dream to the others, omitting no details (see unspoilered text, above). "I'll admit, it left me weak with a headache and nausea this morning. I could've stayed awake, pounding my head against a wall all night and felt no worse." He takes a deep breath and stands tall. "Nevertheless, I'm even more resolved to start this mission and slay the enemies of Ioun. Vecna may have penetrated my mind, but my heart is true. I will make no excuses and not lag behind, you have my word."

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
The knight furrows his brow. Peculiar. I had a dream which observed the exact same catacombs as those you describe, Brother Ur'Thal. I did not feature in the dream; in fact, no other personages were present. But I am certain that I was witness to that same altar.

[Sovjohn]

While you are talking, an apprentice approaches:

"The Dawn be with you, brave members of the Expedition. I have been instructed by Master Leoril to let you know that you are due to depart at noon today. Master Leoril would like to know if you are comfortable riding, or would need some other last-minute arrangements", and the servant looked at Rig whilst uttering these very words, "for your journey. He will greet you at the gate, unless you need something from him before you leave."

While waiting for your response regarding riding arrangements, the apprentice left a small envelope and a pouch on the nearby table.

"Master Leoril gave me these to deliver to you. Please open them at your leisure."

Perception DC 15:

You hear the apprentice mumbling something very silently while he leaves the envelope and pouch on the table.

Religion or Insight DC 15:

You notice something peculiar about the apprentice's holy symbol.

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
He turns to the messenger. I cannot speak for my companions, but I do not require a steed. Bane himself provides my mounts.

Perception: [roll0]
Religion/Insight: [roll1]

[Leotholdus]

Durth nods "I don't believe I will need assistance but thank you."

[roll0] Perception
[roll1] Religion

[Gillric]

As the apprentice is placing his missive on the table, Gred stumbles forth, rather blurry eyed, from his room. What a night. Feels like i got run over by a carriage. Seeing the others all present, Am I the last to rise?

Perception: [roll0]
Insight: [roll1]

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

"Actually, I do have need of Master Leoril. Will he come here before we leave or shall I visit him at his office?"

Turning to Maxilian and the others, Ur'Thal says, "forgive me, but it's obvious that what I experienced was far more than a dream. Maxilian's description only confirmed that. I do not wish to delay the mission, but he must be warned if something evil is afoot here. Does anyone know of any catacombs here in the Monastery?"

Perception: [roll0]
Insight: [roll1]

(These include the -1 from the dream)
He grins slightly. "My apologies, apprentice. My name is Ur'Thal and I don't think we've met before. What is your name and who do you serve?"

[Sovjohn]

The apprentice looked startled, evidently not being accustomed to much of a conversation with people who were not apprentices themselves, but snapped out of his momentary nirvana soon enough:

"Master Leoril gave me these instructions, and I daresay that he will be in his office before you depart. I expect he had planned to greet you at the gate, when you departed. And my name is Frumorn Carter, I serve under the honorable Councillor Davgretor Icesword in the Order of Shining Light."

He then paused, appearing a little blushed, enthusiastic, or both, depending on how you judged things.

OOC:
I'm waiting for salt3d's rolls before I reveal the full results. I will just, by your permission, respond to Shadow_Elf who sadly rolled a 1 in Perception :smallbiggrin: - well, for now at least.

Shadow_Elf:

While attempting to catch what the apprentice was saying, a large bumble bee flew through the open window, and flew within mere inches of your head and ears, causing your ears to buzz for quite a few seconds. While waving it away with your hand succeeded, the whole temporary commotion caused you to miss a glance at the apprentice's holy symbol by a fraction of a second - it was hidden by a fold on his robe.

[salt3d]

The construct stares back at the apprentice silently, seemingly unsure what to make of him.

Perception: [roll0]
Religion: [roll1]

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian
Maxilian ignores the bee, but its too late; he missed the detail. He doesn't care, though; he's not one to prod about others' faiths.

OOC:
I just forgot earlier, but Eladrin Trance, instead of sleeping; would that have any effect on the whole dream sequence thing? By the way, this is how Maxilian always wakes up early enough to stretch and don his armour before everyone else gets up; trancing is shorter than sleeping.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal nods to the apprentice. "My thanks, Apprentice Frumorn." Turning to the rest, he adds, "I will return shortly."

He takes off at a quick pace to Master Leoril's office.

[Sovjohn]

The apprentice regained his composure, and added:

"The Monastery has arranged for suitable horses for the Expedition. You can pick them up at the stables, I reckon you know where to find them, next to the common grounds. I have been told that the Orders have passed notice of your specific mount requirements, so you should be aptly accommodated."

He then bows to you and turns to leave, while noting:

"Please don't forget to open the envelope and the pouch I left for you on that table. May the Dawn be with you, brave adventurers!"

Durth & Gred:

You heard the apprentice mumbling "I hope they make it back in one piece, it'd be a shame to bury more this year"

Durth, Gred, Ur'thal, Rig:

You notice that the holy symbol of the apprentice signifies a remotely-known branch of Bane, a peculiar selection for a Paladin, although having already seen Maxilian you do not find this as peculiar as you might otherwise.

[Leotholdus]

"Dawn be with you as well apprentice Frumon." Durth says, contemplating on the strangely mumbled statement. I wonder how many have perished before us... "Excuse me friends, I too must question Master Leoril on something. I do not wish to hold us up, feel free to see what the apprentice has brought us" With that Durth turns and begins to follow Ur'Thal down the corridor.

[Gillric]

As the others head off to find Master Leoril, Gred reaches for the envelope on the table. Well, lets see what we have here.

[salt3d]

"As you wish." Rig joins Gred at the table, picking up the pouch and inspecting its contents.

[Sovjohn]

The apprentice leaves the room. You get the feeling that while your task at hand is important, the particular apprentice might be, say, less battle-hardened than one would expect from followers of his faith, so his remarks should be viewed under that light.

Durth & Ur'Thal pace swiftly towards the office of Leoril, and once outside, can see Leoril scribbling on some large pile of papyrus-like papers.

Leoril sees the adventurers and motions to them to come in his office:

"Ah, welcome, good day. I wasn't expecting you here, I thought the envelope and pouch would keep you busy with last-minute supplies and such, and then would greet you at the gate. I trust your visit does not regard some grave issue?", he blurted a bit too fast, while still holding the quiver in his left hand, dripping minuscule ink quantities on the desk.

Gred and Rig open the pouch and envelope, and find a note in the envelope, and Leoril's seal on the wax sealing it:

"Brave Expedition members,

You may be bound by oath and duty to undertake any task the Monastery deems necessary, but the Monastery should not leave such a striking force malnourished, or worse. Please accept the contents of the pouch, one for each of you, as an advance payment for your services - if you, like me, believe that services rendered for greater good should not be paid for, that's fine - In such a case, use the pouch contents to remain well-fed, and sleep in warm beds while away, which could make for a significant time period. Should you need further provisions or remuneration, discuss such issues with the Monastery contacts applicable in the province you find yourselves in.

We will be in touch before you leave.

-Leoril Chandler

Undersecretary to the Divine Council"

Opening the small pouch, you find 5 platinum coins, of the kind banks and loan sharks tend to use for easier transfer of funds. The coins seem very shiny, as if just minted, and bear the King's royal portrait on the head side ("H.R.H. Thomas Aguinara III") and the Briam royal crest on the tails side.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

"I'm afraid it does, master Leoril." Ur'Thal relates the dream in as much detail as possible, also mentioning that another person experienced a similar dream. "This was no coincidence and I fear it is a dark portent of things to come. If I may ask, do we have catacombs of the sort here?"

[Shadow_Elf]

Maxilian Swandance
Maxilian nods apprehensively at the sight of the funds. These coins should serve us well in the trials ahead, to keep us in relative comfort. I am of the mind of Master Leoril; I see this quest as a means to hone my skills, and I shall require no payment for such an opportunity. I am willing to contribute my share entirely to provisioning, states the eladrin.

[Leotholdus]

"Yes there is that Master Leoril," Durth says nodding to Ur'Thal, "I also have a question. Regarding those before us, it is rumored that none have survived thus far, is this true?"

I'd like to throw in an insight check to see if Durth feels he is lying in some way Insight [roll0]

[Sovjohn]

Leoril hears you out, and intertwines his hands on the office, sceptical.

"Vecna's avatar? I have heard it assuming a similar shape like the one described. Still, we should have powerful enough wards to keep such influences outside this Monastery... We do not have catacombs here, but what you describe could be the Monastery of Eleven Pillars."

He stood up, and stared at Ur'thal for a few seconds, then scribbled a note and passed it to Ur'thal.

"I feel, Ur'thal, that this is somehow connected with you. A pathway of communication or interaction may have been opened. Apart from an occasional nightmare, you should not encounter anything else, however, there is no potion we can provide you with that can block this entirely.

This sleeping draught will help you experience dreamless sleep, however, if for any reason you find it prudent not to dream. Take this note to the apothecary and he'll inform you about the draught's usage."

Turning to Durth, Leoril smiled and added:

"Barring the dragon's incident two years ago, the Expedition has been a success in all the years it has taken place. Some people are afraid when a new Expedition launches, afraid that the events of that year will be repeated somehow, but Councillor Tarmikos has exercised great caution in approving Expedition members since then. You may feel confident that you ride with the best."

Leoril now moved to his office's window and looked outside in a daydreaming fashion, before asking: "Any other concerns you might have, brothers?"

Durth:

You are trying to figure out if Leoril has hidden something from you, or lied to you about something, and can't figure out anything. He seems to speak as normal.

[Leotholdus]

Durth, feeling somewhat reassured nods "I have nothing further to add Sir, I just hopped to confirm or deny something I had overheard. Dawn be with you." With that, Durth steps back awaiting Ur'Thal to finish anything else he has to say.

[Emongnome777]

Ur'Thal Dekaj, Human Cleric of Ioun

Ur'Thal accepts the paper and bows deeply. "Your wisdom and graciousness is greatly appreciated. May the dawn be with you." He turns and leaves, heading straight toward the apothecary and turns in the note.