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  1. - Top - End - #271
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Selissa simply retrieved the letter and handed it over to Vargath.

    "Congratulations on eliminating such a diabolic threat to the village. Color me impressed. If you are inclined, I would like to parley with those responsible for the summoner's demise. Meet my agent at midnight at the Oaken Larder. Drinks, of course, will be on me. Sincerely, Moira Taggart Bo'Tel."

    "Arrived attached to a big crow that broke its neck on the door. Others - a murder," she tried out the word. What a stupid name for a group of birds, "Of other crows watched from the trees. They took off when I picked up the letter. Unnatural. Witchcraft. No good if the crows can watch. Or other birds."
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  2. - Top - End - #272
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Vargath reads the missive out loud in full for the assembled group, without paraphrase, before handing it back to Selissa. So much for a slow day. "The witch has given us until midnight, which leaves us with almost a full day to harry the wolfmen." He yawns at the thought of the time ahead of them - another late night. Why'd she have to ask for a midnight meeting anyway? "Set's right that we can't leave them unattended, but ignoring the witch's summons seems ill advised also." His mouth breaks into a false toothy grin. He was putting on airs a bit to boost confidence in the group and ramp them up for what was almost certainly going to be a deeply harrowing experience.

    "Well then we simply do both. Brownbottom said sun was the best time to strike the beasts. We collect the silver, do what we can until sundown, and then rest to prepare for meeting the witch. Even should we not fully destroy the beasts today, we can weaken them - and should they attack the village tonight in retaliation I doubt the witch will take offense on our part. Perhaps it might even work to our advantage, if luck's with us." It'd be nice to believe it would go so well. He wasn't so sure, but in his mind's eye he could see the sequence of events where they forge a bond with the witch through the heat of battle. Turning her powers to the aid of the town rather than the hindrance of it would be much preferable to seeing her dead, and she seemed amiable enough, when she wasn't flinging birds at doors.
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  3. - Top - End - #273
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Jemriah Cleater
    Aberrant Mind Sorcerer 3 | AC 15 | HP 20/20 | PP 11 / PIns 11 / PInv 10

    "I agree with Vargath. We need to move on the wolves first before they consolidate their power. The witch's magics have brewed here for a long time. If she's capable of more immediate destruction she hasn't shown it, but the wolves have," Jemriah chimes in.

    He takes a deep, calming breath for what comes next. "As promised yesterday, there should be no secrets between us surrounding these activities. Last night I was..." he pauses in a moment of uncertainty knowing this would make some people uncomfortable. It always did. His hand wipes a bit of heat-induced sweat from his brow. "... reading the thoughts of those standing trial. Everyone guilty has received their punishment save the merchant who fled. I've spoken to some of you from the shadows of your mind, but with effort I can hone in on even subconscious words. In Bence's final moments I saw a vision in his mind - a memory really. He was speaking to the ghostly spectre of Pale Night before a lavish altar in a red stone keep. He promised to find her something called the Ebon Ziggurat. That's why he was here - it's close to this village, but I don't think he found it yet."

    A silent moment to allow them to process. "This wasn't random slaughter. It had purpose. While we may have stalled the cult and Pale Night's plans with our deeds yesterday, we're not fully finished with the first of Dam'ess' three problems. We need to remain vigilant for signs of corruption as we continue with today's tests."
    Last edited by miinstrel; 2020-08-18 at 12:40 PM.

  4. - Top - End - #274
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Birel Amastacia
    High Elf Wizard
    AC: 13/16 HP: 20/20
    PP: 13 PIv: 13 PIs: 11
    Conditions: Mage Armor
    Concentration: --

    Birel thinks about this for a moment then shrugs and says, "That will put us at a disadvantage if this Moira wishes to harm us in some way, as we'll likely exhaust our resources for the day on the werewolves. But any plan is as likely to go poorly as any other."

  5. - Top - End - #275
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Selissa was silent for a moment. Her tone deceptively level, she stepped closer, her eyes fixed fiercely on Jemriah.
    "Did you read my mind? Why?"
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  6. - Top - End - #276
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    At Jemriah's mention of the ebon ziggurat the voices surge past his mental block. "ᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᚱᚾᛊ ᛟᚠ ᚦᛁᛜᛊ ᛁᛟᚢ ᚨᛚᚱᛖᚨᛞᛁ ᚲᚾᛖᚹ ᛟᚠ. ᚺᛖ ᛁᛊ ᛊᛚᛟᚹ. ᛊᛚᛟᚹ ᛚᛁᚲᛖ ᚦᛖ ᚱᛖᛊᛏ. ᛁᛟᚢ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛚᛖᚨᚢᛖ ᚢᚾᛏᛁᛚ ᛁᛟᚢᚱ ᛏᚨᛊᚲ ᛁᛊ ᛞᛟᚾᛖ. ᚾᛟ ᛊᛚᛖᛖᛈ, ᚾᛟ ᚱᛖᛊᛏ. ᛊᛏᚨᛁ ᚠᛟᚱᛖᚢᛖᚱ. ᚾᛟ ᚱᛖᛊᛏ ᚾᛟ ᚱᛖᛊᛏ ᚾᛟ ᚱᛖᛊᛏ. ᛊᚢᚾᛊ ᛒᚢᚱᚾ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛞᛁᛖ ᛒᚢᛏ ᚦᛖ ᛒᛚᚨᚲᚲ ᛈᛁᚱᚨᛗᛁᛞ ᚱᛁᛊᛖᛊ ᛊᛏᛁᛚᛚ. ᛏᚺᚱᛖᚨᛏᛖᚾᛊ ᚨᛚᛚ. ᛏᚺᚱᛖᚨᛏᛖᚾᛊ ᛁᛟᚢ. ᚨᚾᛞ ᛊᚺᚢᚱᚨ. ᛁᛟᚢᚱ ᛈᚨᚱᛖᚾᛏᛊ. ᛏᚺᛖ ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ ᚹᛟᛚᚢᛖᛊ. ᛁᛟᚢ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛒᛖᚠᚱᛁᛖᚾᛞ ᚦᛖᛊᛖ. ᛁᛟᚢ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚢᛊᛖ ᚦᛖᛗ. ᛞᛟ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛞᛖᚠᛁ ᚢᛊ ᛟᚾ ᚦᛁᛊ. ᛁᛏ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚲᛖᛖᛈ ᛁᛟᚢ ᛊᚨᚠᛖ. ᛁᛏ ᛁᛊ ᚦᛖ ᛟᚾᛚᛁ ᚦᛁᛜ ᛊᛟᛚᚨᚲᛖ ᛁᛟᚢ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᛁᚾᛞ. ᚨᚾᛞ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛁᛏ ᛊᛖᚱᚢᛖ ᛁᛟᚢ ᛏᛟ ᛁᚷᚾᛟᚱᛖ ᚢᛊ ᛊᛏᛁᛚᛚ? ᚺᚨᛊ ᚦᚨᛏ ᛟᚠᚠᛖᚱᛖᛞ ᛊᛏᚱᛖᛜᚦ? ᛟᚱ ᛞᛟ ᛁᛟᚢ ᛊᛏᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᛟᛚᛚᛟᚹ ᛟᚢᚱ ᚹᚨᛁᛊ, ᛞᛟᚹᚾ ᚦᛖ ᛈᚨᚦ ᚹᛖ ᚺᚨᚢᛖ ᛚᛖᚨᛞ ᛁᛟᚢ. ᛁᛟᚢ ᚨᚱᛖ ᛟᚢᚱ ᛊᚨᛚᚢᚨᛏᛁᛟᚾ ᛃᚢᛊᛏ ᚨᛊ ᚹᛖ ᚨᚱᛖ ᛁᛟᚢᚱᛊ. ᚹᛖ ᛟᚠᚠᛖᚱ ᛁᛟᚢ ᚦᛁᛊ ᚨᛏ ᛚᛖᚨᛊᛏ: ᚨ ᚾᛖᚹ ᛏᛖᚲᚺᚾᛁᚲᚢᛖ. ᚲᚨᚱᚢᛖ ᛁᛏ ᛁᚾᛏᛟ ᛁᛟᚢᚱ ᛗᛁᚾᛞ ᛁᚠ ᛁᛟᚢ ᚹᛟᚢᛚᛞ, ᚨᛊ ᛁᛟᚢ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚢᛈᛟᚾ ᛁᛟᚢᚱ ᚹᛖᚨᛈᛟᚾᛊ. ᚲᚨᚱᚢᛖ ᛁᛏ ᛁᚾᛏᛟ ᛁᛟᚢᚱ ᛊᛟᚢᛚ ᚨᛊ ᛁᛟᚢ ᛒᛖᚲᛟᛗᛖ ᛗᛟᚱᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛗᛟᚱᛖ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᛁᛟᚢ ᚹᛖᚱᛖ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᛁᛊ ᛗᛖᚨᚾᛏ ᛏᛟ ᛒᛖ. ᛏᚺᛖ ᛒᚢᛚᚹᚨᚱᚲ. ᛏᚺᛖ ᛒᛚᚨᛞᛖ." He doesn't stumble at the barrage, but he does close his eyes and press a hand to his temple, hearing every thundering word of the myriad assembly that calls his mind home. "ᚾᛟ? ᛁᛊ ᚦᛁᛊ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛖᚾᛟᚢᚷᚺ ᚠᛟᚱ ᛁᛟᚢ? ᛊᛏᛁᛚᛚ ᛁᛟᚢ ᛞᛖᛗᚨᚾᛞ ᛗᛟᚱᛖ. ᛖᚨᚷᛖᚱ ᚹᛖᚨᛈᛟᚾ. ᚨᛚᛚ ᚦᛖ ᛈᛟᚹᛖᚱ ᚹᛖ ᚺᚨᚢᛖ ᚷᚱᚨᚾᛏᛖᛞ ᛏᛟ ᛚᛖᛏ ᛁᛟᚢ ᚨᚲᚲᛟᛗᛈᛚᛁᛊᚺ ᛁᛟᚢᚱ ᚷᛟᚨᛚᛊ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᛊᛏᛁᛚᛚ ᛁᛟᚢ ᛞᛖᛗᚨᚾᛞ ᛗᛟᚱᛖ. ᚲᚨᚾᛊᚲᛃᛖ ᛏᚱᛖᛜᛖᚱ ᛞᚢ ᛗᛖᚱ ᛁᚾᛊᛖᚾᛏᛁᚢ. ᚺᚢᚨ ᛖᚱ ᛞᛖᛏ ᛞᚢ ᚢᚾᛊᚲᛖᚱ ᛞᛖᚷ ᛞᚨ? ᚺᚨ ᛞᛖ ᚱᚢᚾᛞᛏ ᛞᛖᚷ ᚢᛖᛞ ᚠᚢᛏᛏᛖᚾᛖ ᛞᛁᚾᛖ? ᚠᛟᚱ ᚺᚨ ᛖᛏ ᛊᛖᛏᛖ ᛗᛖᛞ ᛗᚨᚲᛏ? ᚲᚨᚾᛊᚲᛃᛖ ᚠᛟᚱ ᚱᛖᚷᛃᛖᚱᛖ ᛟᚢᛖᚱ ᛞᛖᛏᛏᛖ ᛒᚨᚲᚢᚨᚾᚾᛖᛏ ᛊᛟᛗ ᛞᛖᚾ ᛊᛃᛖᚠᛖᚾ ᛞᚢ ᛁ ᚨᛚᛚ ᚺᛖᛗᛗᛖᛚᛁᚷᚺᛖᛏ ᚢᚾᛊᚲᛖᚱ Å ᚢᛇᚱᛖ. ᚾᛖᛁ, ᛞᛖᛏ ᛖᚱ ᛗᛖᚱ ᛖᚾᚾ ᛞᛖᛏ. ᛞᚢ ᚢᛁᛚ ᚺᚨ ᚨᛚᛏ. ᛞᚢ ᚲᚨᚾ ᚨᛚᛞᚱᛁ ᚢᛇᚱᛖ ᚠᛟᚱᚾᚢᛁᛞ ᛗᛖᛞ ᛒᚨᚱᛖ ᛖᚾ ᛒᛁ. ᛞᚢ ᚢᛁᛚ ᛁᚲᚲᛖ ᛒᚨᚱᛖ ᚺᛖᚱᛊᚲᛖ, ᛗᛖᚾ ᛞᛟᛗᛁᚾᛖᚱᛖ. ᚺᚢᚱᛖ ᛒᛚᛟᛞᛖᛏ ᛞᛁᛏᛏ ᛊᛁᛜᛖ ᚠᛟᚱ ᚨᛚᛚᛏᛁᛞ." How, after all this, they'd still failed to properly grasp his self was beyond him. Perhaps it was a giant's arrogance. Still, he gleans some things of his own from their sudden interest. "Shut. Up." He forms the mental image of a prison in his mind, wrapping around the voices that assailed him, trapping them in their own words before shoving them back into a recess of his mind where they could be drowned out. It hadn't lasted more than a moment, but it had felt like a long battle. He wasn't sure how tiring out their 'host' was meant to play in their favour, and frankly he'd given up trying to discern their true intentions.

    "I agree Birel. It's not ideal." He concedes. "Hopefully we can use our talk with Moira to delay her until we can recuperate." He tries, unconvincingly, to put on a helpful smile. "So, best behaviours?"

    He chooses to ignore Jemriah poking around his head - there wasn't anything to find other than babbling ghosts anyway.
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  7. - Top - End - #277
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    NecromancerGuy

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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Jemriah Cleater
    Aberrant Mind Sorcerer 3 | AC 15 | HP 20/20 | PP 11 / PIns 11 / PInv 10

    "Did you read my mind? Why?"

    ... he hadn't expected it to come out so directly. "Once I cast the spell a whole other world of thoughts opens up - it's difficult to describe and no less so to control. While I admit your curiosity about my gaze did reveal itself as my eyes scanned the crowd for fleeting thoughts of depravity, the only ones I pressed deeper into were Weldry, Bence, and the others on trial. I've little to gain from your enmity, Selissa; we've a good deal of dangerous work ahead of us yet. I would never knowingly allow this... affliction... to subvert or seed any of you," he says earnestly.

    Spoiler: Insight DC 10
    Show
    (1d20+3)[10] Deception
    His tone is defensive - Selissa's accusation seems to have struck a chord. This may not have been the first time he's faced a situation like this.
    Last edited by miinstrel; 2020-08-18 at 04:56 PM.

  8. - Top - End - #278
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    SwashbucklerGuy

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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Set Al-Sayyid
    Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
    AC: 16 HP: 23/27
    PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9
    Conditions: --
    Concentration: --

    Confusion reigned supreme first as Set tried to understand why. Why would Jemriah openly admit his capabilities to the rest of them? Why would he expose his powers of observation and communication in the shadowy recesses of our minds? Why would he admit all of their thoughts were under his scrutiny?

    Then Set realized. It was to undercut him before Set had a chance to expose the Fake One himself. If Jemriah admitted openly that he could read their thoughts and the group accepted this, it would make Set's accusation that he was doing it malevolently sound hollow at best. Any avenue Set might have had to properly prepare and show these people Jemriah's true colors was dashed in a moment. The Fake One was forcing his hand because he knew Set wasn't ready to act.

    Confusion gave way to anger, which gave way to despair, but hope temporarily took its place as Selissa questioned Jemriah directly. Now. It had to be now. Not all of them were blinded by his boyish charm and feigned earnestness. Set had to act now. He had to try, but he hesitated. What about his sisters? Would they not suffer if he opposed Him and His servant so openly? Set's eyes strayed over to Birel, and for a moment he was back in the barn, Her strength washing over him. He could do this. There were people here like Birel and the Chief who might even give the Shadowkeeper pause, or at least, he had to hope they would.

    "I don't see how you can promise not to keep secrets about our work together one moment, and the next you're inside our heads without us knowing about it," Set says coldly, trying hard to keep his voice from shaking. "You never had any intention of keeping that promise, did you? Or better yet, no doubt you did, noble Jemriah, son of Brind, but your...affliction," Set continues, spitting the word out, "wouldn't let you, would He? No doubt He made you read our minds, just like He made you admit to it here and now because you both saw that I knew. I knew you were in my head again last night. I knew you two were working together. Just how much of this was planned? Say what you want about not allowing your "affliction" to subvert us, but you lied to us before Jemriah, and you're lying to us now. But that ends here," Set says, grinding his teeth as he steps closer to Jemriah and tries to swallow his fear.

    "The truth now," Set says dropping his voice an octave, "go on and tell us where your loyalties really lie, Jemriah, or does our master hold your tongue? Well. I will not. Be. Silenced. And I will shine a light on the Shadowkeeper's grip on you, no matter the cost."

    Set's heart is threatening to pound out of his chest as he stares at the young man through the opening in his shemagh. His Favorite is 10 feet away, leaning up next to the door, but it hardly mattered now. He might have held her for the last time a few minutes ago, and he hadn't even known it at the time. Such was life. One moment you understand how the world works, the next moment you realize how the world really works, and then you start over again in a never-ending cycle meant to drive you mad.

    Set took a deep breath, savoring the heat as he tried not to think about the Shadowkeeper taking his revenge for outing his loyal servant, or the Fake One doing it for Him in a spew of filth and corruption. In the end, his life and his soul had been forfeit long ago. He could only hope Birel and the others would snuff out Jemriah and keep his sister's safe in their pursuit of the Shadowkeeper and Pale Night. And yet, in the moments that followed, all Set heard was an echo of uncontrollable laughter deep within his mind, emanating from the shadows there.

  9. - Top - End - #279
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Selissa's green eyes narrowed as Jemriah admitted he had read her mind, anger at the violation growing. Was it not enough they'd intruded upon her sanctum to rummage through it? Her wooden fist clenched hard enough the wood creaked as she began to lift it to strike him in the face...

    And then Set spoke. Cold anger in his voice gave way to accusations of some master called the Shadowkeeper. The elf looked between the two, confused and irritated.
    "...What?"
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Birel Amastacia
    High Elf Wizard
    AC: 13/16 HP: 20/20
    PP: 13 PIv: 13 PIs: 11
    Conditions: Mage Armor
    Concentration: --

    "Ah finally!" Birel exclaims. "I knew you were keeping secrets from us Set. Could tell you never intended to share them, promise or no. I knew pressing you about them wouldn't work. That I'd have to be patient. And here it is. Sooner than I would have expected to be honest. So what is it? This 'Shadowkeeper'? And what is he to you? Your people's ancient enemy? Your patron in a regretful bargain? Hmmmmm?" Birel asks as she gets practically right up in Set's face, very clearly delighted she was finally in a position to pry his secrets out from him.
    Last edited by Ramsus; 2020-08-19 at 12:51 PM.

  11. - Top - End - #281
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    NecromancerGuy

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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Jemriah Cleater
    Aberrant Mind Sorcerer 3 | AC 15 | HP 20/20 | PP 11 / PIns 11 / PInv 10

    ... what? our master? Set's confusion proved as infectious as their shared secret. So then it was true - this creature that lived in Jemriah held Set's body captive as well. How much longer had he been its slave that he had a name for it where Jemriah knew nothing? He seemed to be of good breeding - perhaps his family had access to sages or other lore. How wide its roots must run to reach the distant lands Set called home... Jemriah had to know more, but first he needed to diffuse this situation. His dark passenger surely wouldn't consume one of its own hosts in Set, but he wasn't so sure about Selissa. Or the others if they proved aggressive toward it.

    But these folk were not like the others who'd run him out before. They were skilled and wise to the darker side of the world. In this moment he would either make allies or enemies and needed to choose his words carefully - a difficult task with the irate pair of eyes in his face. He stands his ground, muscles tensed to respond to Set's ire but not cowering before it. As Set's baritone rumbles from without, his dark passenger echoes from somewhere within Jemriah's chest.

    "What do I gain by exposing this to you? As uncomfortable as detecting unspoken thoughts may be, it's useful. You can't deny that. Or wouldn't you like to know what the witch is thinking? Or sense the werewolves before they spring from the bushes? I could have kept this private - it's certainly safer for me to do so, but we all become stronger by knowing it's possible. And with the challenges before us, we need every strength available."

    "A man is only as good as his word, and I've never broken mine. Not to you, not to anyone*. We all swore, there'd be no secrets between us, but it was late and we were exhausted, so I decided to wait until morning to share this with the rest of you. How dare you accuse me from ignorance,"
    he jabs back with contempt. "The only one that might understand this magic is Birel, and she showed no fear when we talked last night. Her grace is the only reason I'm sharing this with you all now - with the hope that maybe people like you who've seen and fought the darkness might be more accepting of someone fighting it within themselves every moment," he glances appreciatively at their hostess before continuing.

    "This... Shadowkeeper..." he didn't care for the name on his tongue. "...does not control me, and I've done everything in my power to keep it from harming anyone else again." he moves to his pack and withdraws the petrified, twisted black root, holding it up for them to see. "It's journeyed with me since it's black tendril crawled into our basement a year ago and spit its filth into me. How long has it been for you, Set? Does it breed anger in time or is yours from something else? As far as I can tell all it wants is freedom from its prison miles beneath our feet - I'm loathe to offer it freedom from anything besides my body. A town with Dam'ess' problems draws people with special skills. People who might know how to rid me of <The Dripping Dim>. People like the Chief."

    That's why I'm here. Why are you here, Set? What did it do that chased you so far from home?" he challenges.

    Spoiler: * Insight DC 7 (lol)
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    (1d20+3)[7] Deception

    A momentary flash of sadness suggests there's clearly someone particular he has in mind that he broke a vow to, though the circumstances are inscrutable without further prodding.

    Last edited by miinstrel; 2020-08-19 at 01:08 PM.

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    Vargath shifts in place but says nothing. This was a distraction from what should be important, but perhaps it was best that whatever problems now were put to bed before they could fester. A lack of trust could kill them just as sure as blade or claw. He expected that the typical Bloodwolf manner of conflict resolution - bare chest brawling - wouldn't suffice here, even if it did seem like it might be faster. The fastest way to learn someone's true nature was to fight them, to see their movements, the strike of their weapon, the spring of their step, the bite of pain. False words fall away, you can't help but show your true nature. He quietly sighs, fully intending not to intervene in what looked to be turning into a shouting match unless a sword or spell was drawn. Hopefully they could solve their issues quickly so they could move on and fight together. He'd seen no reason to distrust either's motivations. They both said a lot of words that meant little, yes, but as with the giants if he cut through the words to the intent behind them both Jemriah and Set seemed decent sorts.
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    Set Al-Sayyid
    Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
    AC: 16 HP: 23/27
    PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9
    Conditions: --
    Concentration: --

    The laughter echoing in Set's mind distracts him, but only for a moment. Birel's obvious delight sends Set reeling at first, but he freezes up completely for a moment after she asks whether the Shadowkeeper is his patron. He opens his mouth to answer her and then shuts it just as quickly, looking up at her a moment longer as he tries to puzzle out her intent. He couldn't understand. There hadn't been even a hint of accusation in her tone. Finally, it dawns on him. She already knows. He couldn't hide anything from her, not really. She'd known he was lying before, and she would know if he lied now. Like Chief Moeller, Birel already knew all there was to know. She'd simply asked her questions to guide his answer for the group's benefit. And that meant...she was trying to help him. Even in the sweltering heat of the day, warmth flooded Set as he looked on his North Star, the one true beacon of light in his life, guiding him forward.

    The warmth in Set's chest turns to open flame, burning hotter and hotter as the Fake One speaks. Every word spoken is twisted, the young man's cleverness on full display as he seeks to reframe everything Set had said. But before Set can explode in anger, he explains the "Shadowkeeper's" origin.

    "It's journeyed with me since it's black tendril crawled into our basement a year ago and spit its filth into me.

    Wait.

    "As far as I can tell all it wants is freedom from its prison miles beneath our feet - I'm loathe to offer it freedom from anything besides my body."

    ...what the ****.

    "A town with Dam'ess' problems draws people with special skills. People who might know how to rid me of <The Dripping Dim>. People like the Chief."

    Set's head seemed ready to explode in the silence that followed.

    "What...what are you doing? What are you talking about? WHAT THE **** IS THAT?" Set roars, trying to snatch the dark, root-like object from Jemriah's hand. "I...you..." Set tries, thoughts screaming through his mind until they come crashing together in a train wreck, forcing Set's eyes closed as he starts to hyperventilate. The cackle in his mind gives way to that old, familiar voice.

    "Oh Set, look at you...Set the Savior," he intones sarcastically, that same deep chuckle reverberating through Set's mind. "Your defiance is as hollow as your head. In what world do you imagine you could defy ME?" The power pulsing through Set's mind sends him down to one knee, as he struggles to comprehend everything around and inside him. "As entertaining as all of this has been, it's past time you understood something. A grain of sand can't stand against the ocean. You are nothing, Set. You have the power to do my bidding, and perhaps even entertain me while I find a way for you to be useful, but nothing more. So go on and tell these people how you SAVED your sisters the first time, but don't forget to mention that I own you and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it."

    A short bark of laughter erupts after He finishes, before He adds, "<The Dripping Dim.>" A wisp of shadow almost seems to shake it's head within Set's mind. "The boy seems about as bright as you, my dear Set. Why don't you offer him a bargain. I will cure all that ails him for a price," the Shadowkeeper finishes, laughing maniacally.

    Standing up unsteadily, Set swallows, keeping his eyes downcast as he avoids the other's gaze. Had he just awoken a few hours ago? Or was he dreaming still? He felt completely drained, like they'd been awake investigating the cult for a week straight instead of just a night.

    "I, umm," Set begins, clearing his throat audibly, "I think there's been a misunderstanding." A thousand lies he ought to tell come hurtling to mind as Set swallows a lump, but looking over at Birel he knows the truth is the only way forward. Still. It's a struggle. "The Shadowkeeper is a Being with great and terrible power. He's not of this place. He's not even of this plane. Where He resides I do not know, but," Set says, looking over at Jemriah and seeing him for the first time all over again, "He is not imprisoned anywhere. For certain He does not lie beneath our feet. He dwells in the shadows, both in and out of our minds. I do not know who or what this <Dripping Dim> is, but I was...wrong. We do not share a master, Jemriah. For that I...there were so many things...I knew, I mean I thought I knew..."

    Set wants to collapse in his confusion and dive into a dark hole himself. A prison beneath the earth would be no less than he deserved. Pulling down his shemagh, Set's mouth twitches visibly as he tries to meet Jemriah's gaze. "I'm sorry, Jemriah. Whatever else you might be, you're not the monster I thought you were. There are so many similarities...but that hardly matters now. I wronged you in my thoughts, and I'm thankful I didn't yet take action that would've damned my soul still further, if that were possible. I hope you can accept my apology. Either way, we need to talk when time permits. There is much I would ask you about the <Dim>."

    Looking over at Birel, his apologetic tone continues. "I know you're eager for me to explain all, but perhaps they can wait a bit longer," Set continues, glancing at the rest of their companions. No doubt he would have to tell them more later, but if Birel saw what he was and accepted him, no doubt the rest already understood what it had taken him so long to see. She could be trusted, and if she vouched for him, then no doubt the others would follow suit. "The story is long, and we already have a pack of werewolves and a witch to deal with, neither of which are likely to wait for us. Speaking honestly, without secrets, I'll just say quickly that I bargained away all I have to give and more to safeguard what's left of my family. I pray my sisters are still safe, but the Shadowkeeper...He...I am here," he says, starting again and looking to Jemriah, "because He told me my sisters were close, that he'd saved them from the destruction of my homeland, and that they were in danger of being found by the servants of Pale Night. I thought you were involved in His game, aligned against me and my family," Set offers, cutting his explanation off there. "So you see, if you're with us, and all of us are with Chief Moeller in trying to track and destroy the servants of Pale Night, then we are all on the same side after all."

    And by "we" I don't mean you. One last cackle rings out inside Set's head.

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    Birel Amastacia
    High Elf Wizard
    AC: 13/16 HP: 20/20
    PP: 13 PIv: 13 PIs: 11
    Conditions: Mage Armor
    Concentration: --

    Birel gives Jermriah a sympathetic look as she notices his lie and the kind of thing it probably means. For a moment she's taken aback at the furiosity of Jemriah and Set's exchange. And then at the end they've both shared so much more of their dark and foreboding secrets. While delighted at having finally heard what is going on with them, to some extend, the delight is fouled somewhat by how dark those things are. One infected with some dark thing and the other bonded to a darkness through what sounded to her like cruel manipulation.

    Birel gives Set a nod of understanding that he doesn't feel that now is that right time to go into all the details. And he's right. They have monsters that they actually know how to fight and are a present danger to slay.

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    Jemriah Cleater
    Aberrant Mind Sorcerer 3 | AC 15 | HP 20/20 | PP 11 / PIns 11 / PInv 10

    Jemriah holds tight as Set grabs the tenticular rod. For a moment they appear as children wrestling over a coveted toy before Set abdicates his claim and drops to the floor. Jemriah stands over him, rod pulled back out of reach in defiance, breath still caught in his chest. Was the vibration in his hand adrenaline or an energy awakened by the touch of another of the Dim's carriers?

    We do not share a master, Jemriah...

    In but a few words all his hopes for answers... for solutions... vanish, their absence leaving a vacancy behind Jemriah's already pallid face as he sifts through the events of the last 24 hours. Silence pervades the several moments after Set's speech before what few would truly call 'color' returns to his skin. He snorts, a thin smile curving sadly across his face. "... We wage war against demons and wolf men and the agents of evil gods... and you thought me a monster? What horrors you must've seen that a brewer's son with a scar causes such worry..." He extends his free arm down to Set. "We'll find 'em," he reassures referencing the hooded man's sisters and pulling him to his feet. Family's everything. I couldn't trust this around mine, not after what I've seen it do," he sympathizes ominously. As Set begins to pull away and right himself, Jemriah holds the grip on his forearm a moment longer, upturned brows and a steady gaze accompanying his disarmingly boyish smile. A simple reminder that we're stronger together... and perhaps a plea for a family of his own. One that would understand. "No secrets."
    Last edited by miinstrel; 2020-08-20 at 04:31 PM.

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    "Fantastic." He was ready to be done with this, and any further debate could lead to more squabbling. Hopefully best to head it off. "I'm glad that was put to bed." The unspoken without resorting to violence hung in the air, but the flex the half-orc's muscles spoke it well enough without giving the words actual form. He grabs up his shield and hooks it onto his back. No sense strapping it on just yet, and he didn't exactly look forward to sweating into his palm against the leather straps in this unbearable heat unless absolutely necessary. "If we're all ready then, shall we proceed to the Chief and locate this silver? We're burning daylight." He was refraining from commenting further, not because he necessarily lacked an opinion but because he didn't want the discussion to continue. They had a lot to do today, and precious little time to do it in.
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    Set Al-Sayyid
    Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
    AC: 16 HP: 23/27
    PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9
    Conditions: --
    Concentration: --

    Mouth twitching, Set can only nod sheepishly, admitting, "monsters come in all shapes and sizes, but truly, I may have gotten carried away with some of my assumptions." Squirming as if caught in a trap, Set takes a deep breath and clutches Jemriah's forearm in return. Swallowing hard, he stares at the young man and responds, "no secrets." The thought of telling these people everything without filter was enough to make Set nauseous, but what else could he say? He'd already admitted to more than he thought himself capable of, but he supposed that's what happened when an obvious threat turned out to be a friend all along. He hoped.

    Stop. He is a friend. Letting go of the other man's forearm, Set glances over at his North Star to steady himself before turning to Vargath. Finally all out of words, Set merely nods, exhausted before the day has really begun. And yet, he was thankful. Whatever else might happen today, he was among friends, not enemies. Whether they found witches, werewolves, or both, Set would be able to keep his eyes front, focused on them and finding his sisters instead of spending all his time worrying about an enemy that didn't exist.

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    Fanlomen watches the passionate exchange with a keen eye. If there was one thing he couldn't abide, it was in-fighting. They were here together now. They had already dismantled a cult before it could spread more roots into the town. Squabbling was unproductive, and the elf observed that Vargath seemed to be of a similar mind. Taking the time to explain the sources of all their powers was a waste of time; it could be assumed that Dam'ess was currently harboring a large amount of unfathomable mystical power from various sources. If they couldn't trust each other, then the town was already lost.

    As the situation seems to resolve itself, Fanlomen speaks for the first time in a while. "Yes, let us leave while the light promises the wolves' slumber. Hunting a hunter is already dangerous, we must take the advantage while we have it."
    Quote Originally Posted by fibericon View Post
    This seems like a really cool concept, so I feel like you're going to get a lot of applications. Best of luck sorting through them all. That said, I'm going to do my part to make your job that much harder by adding one to the stack.

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    At Birel's Farm

    Esquel Brownbottom gathers his hatchet and turns to leave, but not before giving Birel an anxious look and a few words. "Be careful, Ms. Birel. Wolf men are dangerous and contagious and outrageous. Let the stupid one die." He points at Set without subtlety, then scampers off into the woods, leaving the party to head into town.

    In the Village Square

    The Chief is waiting for you where the road meets the village square, and he looks absolutely miserable. Drenched in sweat, standing shakily due to his fall the night before, he watches you coming with pain and determination in his eyes. "Morning. We must share words, but I'd prefer to do it with a cool drink in my hand. I expected you earlier, and I've been standing in this heat for some time. Follow me." He heads towards the Oaken Larder, each step taking considerably more effort than the ones of yesterday.

    In the Oaken Larder

    The Chief shuffles his way over to one of the barrel chairs, sitting down with a sigh of relief. There are no other customers in the tavern at this hour, with the whole village either sleeping in or working in the abominable heat. Alephandro quickly runs up from behind the bar and places a glass of cider in front of the Chief, who tips it back immediately. "C...C...C...cool from the cel...cel...cellar Chief Moeller." "Thank you, boy. Take the other's orders, then take this..." The Chief slides two silver piece into Alephandro's hands. "And take your father to practice sums with you in the back. We'd have words in private." Alephandro nods energetically, turning to the party, ready to take their orders.
    The Bear is Back.

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    Set Al-Sayyid
    Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
    AC: 16 HP: 23/27
    PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9
    Conditions: --
    Concentration: --

    Despite how far they've all come together in just 24 hours, Set has to swallow a bit of discomfort on the road as he trudges forward with his companions, unable to escape the frequent bouts of self-loathing and suspicion that plague him. He would adjust, in time.

    The Chief's appearance seems to match his spirits as they finally reach the public square, and Set continues to follow without comment, eager for that drink. "An ale, please," Set says through the sweat-dampened shemagh as they reach the tavern, setting his pack down and leaning his Favorite against the bar. He sinks into a seat opposite the Chief as the others get settled, trying to look on each of them without a stab of anxiety. Eyes falling on Jemriah, Set's mouth twitches as his heart skips a beat. A little more time, maybe.

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    Birel Amastacia
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    AC: 13/16 HP: 20/20
    PP: 13 PIv: 13 PIs: 11
    Conditions: Mage Armor
    Concentration: --

    Birel orders an ale as well, and once Alephandro has retreated to the back she looks to the Chief and says, "Esquel Brownbottom paid me a visit this morning. He traded me quite the interesting bit of information. Apparently the werewolves have selected an alpha, which means an attack on the town is most likely imminent. I also managed to pry from him the location of their lair." At this point she takes a long drought of her ale while she waits for someone else to speak or the Chief to respond.

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    "Water." It wasn't barked, but it was short, to the point. The heat was oppressive, and alcohol would only make it worse. He'd decided to keep quiet about the witch for now. He still didn't entirely trust the chief who seemed to know just a bit too much about Vargath. Meeting the witch without him present might be the ideal, stop him complicating matters. And the invitation had been for them anyway, it hadn't referenced him at all. "Given the imminent attack," he adds onto Birel's statement, "the silver you mentioned would be best collected sooner rather than later. What's it's location and how quickly could we have it in hand ready for use?"
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    On the way there, she had kept apart from the others, drifting behind or to the side as the whim took her, occasionally casting a glance towards the two party members possessed by evil eldritch powers.

    "Water, too," she said, seated as far as possible from Set and Jemriah and still ebing able to talk to the group.

    She pulledo out the message again and tossed it on the table by the Chief.

    "Congratulations on eliminating such a diabolic threat to the village. Color me impressed. If you are inclined, I would like to parley with those responsible for the summoner's demise. Meet my agent at midnight at the Oaken Larder. Drinks, of course, will be on me. Sincerely, Moira Taggart Bo'Tel."

    "Letter arrived attached to a big crow that broke its neck on the door. A full flock," a much more sensible name, "Of other crows watched from trees. They took off when I picked up the letter. Not good if the birds can watch us. Especially if not just crows. I'm stealthy. Most of you are not. She'll know what we're doing."
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

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    In the Oaken Larder

    The Chief listens to each of you in turn, sipping his cider as you talk. When Selissa passes him the letter, he reads it silently for a few moments before his eyes bulge and his breathing becomes shaky. "Moira... spirits, no. Not her." He clenches his fist around the letter, crumpling it, and for a few moments he seems overcome with a tirade of emotions- fear, sorrow, perhaps longing as well. Then he shakes himself, closes his eyes, releases a long breath, and returns to the business at hand.

    "The silver... yes. One thing at a time." He steadies himself again before resuming. "Thirty years ago a man settled in this village. A hunter of some renown in the rest of the Vale names Milos Chevvile. He came here an old man, looking to retire to the country, but he had an odd fascination with weres. Wereboars, wererats, even claimed to have killed a weretiger in some foreign part of the world. He had a veritable armory of silver weapons and hunters tools. The problem is, not long after he moved out into the Hartswood, he stopped coming to town. People went out to check on him, but they couldn't find his cabin. Don't get me wrong, we know EXACTLY where it is, but no one we've sent out there has been able to find it. They end up walking in circles around the place, walking through it, anything but actually finding it." He finishes his cider, hands still shaking. "I can give you an exact map of where his cabin should be. It will be up to you all to solve whatever mystery hides it from our senses. Getting there will take only a two hours. I've no idea if you'll be able to pierce the veil or not, but it's our best bet for getting the weapons you need." He carefully uncrumples the letter and looks it over again, lips trembling, then stuff it into his coat and removes a roughly drawn map from his inner pocket. "This will get you to where Chevvile lived. I wish I had a more solid lead for you all, but if you can find the hunter's cabin you'll have all the weapons and tools you'll need." He sets the map on the table and pushes it across to Set. "Hopefully you can handle it quickly and deal with the pack even quicker. I have a feeling they'll be much easier to deal with than our third problem... that we confront at midnight..." He clutches at his coat above his pocket, looking troubled again.
    The Bear is Back.

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    "We'll confront at midnight." Vargath corrects the chief gruffly. "If she wanted to see you she's had ample opportunity, but chose not to. The invitation was for us. I wouldn't jeopardise the meeting by attending yourself."

    He scrutinises the map provided, trying to discern if there were some arcane meaning behind its position and disappearance, some nexus of a giant arcane diagram or casting circle. It seemed unlikely but it never hurt to check. Disrupting it would reveal the hut if that was the case. And if not that...some fey trick perhaps? If they coveted crafted items perhaps they wished to keep his armoury for themselves. "A traveling trader I met once told me of a hut that could grow legs and move on its own," he muses idly, not really believing that to be the case here, but just more making conversation as his brain ticked away at the problem, "perhaps it simply walked away?" He didn't relish the idea of dealing more with the fey, but Birel seemed to have a way with them.

    Spoiler: Longshot Arcana check on the map
    Show

    (1d20+4)[21]
    Advantage from Uvar: (1d20+4)[22]

    I fully expect to find nothing, I'm just being thorough.
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    Fanlomen finds the story curious but not surprising. The elves used the tricky nature of the forests to keep themselves hidden, and it wasn‘t a stretch to think that such measures were being used here as well. “With many eyes, we should find the hunter‘s refuge. The woods are difficult for human eyes, and even practiced elves find themselves on a difficult path from time to time.“

    It would do him some good if they didn‘t find the house right away. While he had only been here two days, it was rare that he found himself on the inside of walls and houses. He didn‘t dislike or hate being in civilized company, but a trek into the woods would allow him some time to clear his mind. Perhaps the spirits of the trees would grant him some wisdom as to their current plight.
    Quote Originally Posted by fibericon View Post
    This seems like a really cool concept, so I feel like you're going to get a lot of applications. Best of luck sorting through them all. That said, I'm going to do my part to make your job that much harder by adding one to the stack.

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    Set Al-Sayyid
    Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
    AC: 16 HP: 27/27
    PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9
    Conditions: --
    Concentration: --

    "Moira...spirits, no. Not her."

    There is something wrong. Set watches Chief Moeller crumple the letter, unable to hide the turmoil written all over his face until he closes his eyes and recenters himself. But then, after sharing the hunter's tale, Moeller uncrumples the letter to reexamine it before stuffing it into his coat pocket. There is something very wrong. Who is this man? Where is the Chief who inspired fear and respect? Where is the Maus Moeller who's back bent under the weight of his responsibility, but would not break?

    "We'll confront at midnight..."

    Set winced, Vargath's words falling like a hammer on the table as his tone seemed to brook no argument. Set watched Chief Moeller, looking for his reaction to being told this was no longer his business. Whatever Set might've felt for the man yesterday under similar circumstances, today Set felt like a man fresh off a tightrope, legs still shaking after coming perilously close to plunging into the abyss. But where Set was trying to get used to having his feet planted back on solid ground, Moeller looked like a man still waving his arms frantically, trying not to fall. What about this Moira had taken a man as solid as the Chief and pushed him off balance?

    Set narrows his eyes, staring at the Chief intently while trying to think back, but he feels sure of one thing. He doesn't know enough about the Chief to know who this Moira is or what power she might hold over Moeller. For a moment, Set feels his stomach twist as he struggles to figure out what he should do. From one liar to another, Set could smell a truth buried in Moeller, but not well-hidden. The idea makes Set avert his gaze, staring down at the table, thoughts swirling. He'd told his companions there would be no more lies. But he couldn't out the Chief. Even if the Chief had outed a secret of Set's yesterday by referring to his dark presence, Chief Moeller was no Jemriah. Well, neither was Jemriah, but the point was, Moeller was a good man just trying to do the right thing.

    Set's eyes veer North, his thoughts following as they find his guiding star. She already knew, or had at the very least noticed Moeller's distress. If it was good and right that she should do so, Birel would ask the Chief or inform the others. Set visibly relaxed then, a sigh of relief escaping him even as the others' focus only seemed to intensify on the task ahead. The Chief hadn't lied and neither would Set. Both of them just had more truth to tell.

  28. - Top - End - #298
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Birel Amastacia
    High Elf Wizard
    AC: 13/16 HP: 20/20
    PP: 13 PIv: 13 PIs: 11
    Conditions: Mage Armor
    Concentration: --

    "If Chief wants to be present, I don't know why we'd rebuff the offer of his wisdom." Birel comments, giving Vargath a look and mouthing "rude" at him. "As for any further information about this bad witch, well as they say.... sharing is caring." she says to the Chief with a little self-amused smirk at the very stupid joke (along with the joking implication that she is a "good witch" or some such) she hoped would lighten his mood.

  29. - Top - End - #299
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    "If you think she'd be happy to have a hanger-on attending out of nowhere, I can't stop you," Vargath concedes with a shrug while not actually conceding his point at all, "We've got an opportunity to break bread. I don't think it should be jeopardised. Witches tend to hold a grudge at perceived or actual slights, if what I've read is true." He saw Birel mouthing at him, didn't hide that he saw it - and moved on. Was it rude? He honestly couldn't tell. It seemed unlikely the chief would take offense. Perhaps he might even be glad for the excuse to not attend, given how petrified he seemed to be of her.

    "My point has been made, I won't press it further." He draws a figurative line under that discussion - for him at least - to move on. He understand that he didn't hold any real authority. On their own heads be it.
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  30. - Top - End - #300
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    Default Re: The Madness of Men in a World of Monsters (D&D 5e IC)

    Selissa's eyes slid between Vargath and the Chief, wondering how the old man would take his words. Then Birel spoke up, and the wood elf decided to keep quiet on the matter.

    "Sounds like Fae work," she said abruptly. "Not being able to find the hunter's home. Illusions and trickery. Probably walked straight past, never knew. House maybe passed onto fae when he died. Doubt he lives."
    She tapped her wooden fingers against the mug of water. It had been cool to drink, but her false hand couldn't feel the temperature even if it could just about feel the impact of her fingers against it.
    "Maybe worth bringing something to offer in trade for access. Something that won't be too troublesome to get through forest."
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

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