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

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 48/49 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- Vargath hesitates for a moment before raising his own cup in return. "Vargath Hubrecht, of the Bloodwolf Tribe. I'm not sure about hero though." He takes a long gulp, before setting the liquid down. Still tastes awful. If anything it's worse than last night. Rancid. Something he needs to suffer through for the sake of his body's health. It was plain to see she wasn't a local girl in a number of ways, but if anything that just made her even more likely to be useful. "Is it just this village, or would you fight elsewhere?" He lets the question linger for a heartbeat before deciding that it would be simpler to just ask plainly, no dancing around the concept or details. "The threats to the village have been, for the moment, removed, but we've received information that vampires - lugat, bloodsuckers of the night - are in the capital, with a far reach that, supposedly goes all the way up to the nobility. Would this be something your Order," he uses the term as much to denote a group as a cause, "would seek to remove?"

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 16/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- Selissa looked at the gnome for a moment when the medicine was given, and finally inclined her head in a nod. A moment later, almost begrudgingly, she muttered a quiet: "Thanks." Back at town A paladin from a foreign land. She'd seen one with that symbolism before - but she'd never talked to them. Jonath had, interested in the strange sword they'd carried, but at the time the wood elf had only the most basic grasp of Common. "Stay a night is best," she said to the Chief, fighting down the urge to clutch at her wounded flesh arm. "Leave in the morning. First light." She needed to treat her wounds, which even now gave the sharp throb of deep injury. She needed to sort of what was in the little house she'd lived in the past five years. She figured both could wait an hour. "Tell successor," she spoke up again to the Chief, "Whoever needs my house can have it. Anything left behind, same. Don't think I'll be back after this. Not to stay." After talking to the Chief, she too entered the pub. She gave a terse nod to Horace. "Spirits," she said shortly. "Bottle." Once she'd received her beverage, she took a seat at a table close enough to Vargath and the paladin they could include her in conversation if they wished - but not so much she'd be clearly joining in. She retrieved the medicines and ointment the gnome had given her, and tentatively unwrapped some of her arm - the impromptu bandages were discoloured with blood. Eurgh. What a pain. At least they hadn't chewed off Hans' or Hildegard's - Hildebrand's? - heads, though the forest elf had no wish for a second wooden arm for her part either: the first one had already cost her too dearly.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: Hex (Demon 1, Dexterity impacted) Dam'ess Square Set listens as Doctor Madaras explains his possible solution to Hans' disability. Despite himself, Set can't help feeling hopeful for the man who'd joined them in a fight beyond his capability and suffered the price for it. If Set had been dealt the same blow, he would surely cling to such hope, if only because the alternative was so grim. What would he be without his spear hand? "Doctor, what would you need to build such a thing?" Set pauses a moment to put his thoughts in order, opening his mouth and shutting it rather than speaking openly of the Ebon Keys in a public square. "There is a shield made of Ebonstone, but it is already heavily laden with magic and cursed besides. It probably isn't suitable to reforge into a hand, but then, I don't know what would be." Set locks eyes briefly with Mal, reminded of the tiefling's own curse. "You may wish to take a look as well. Perhaps you've dealt with Ebonstone in the past, but it is unlike anything I've seen before." Mouth twitching behind his shemagh, Set wonders just what sort of Elder the tiefling calls master, but he would have to be careful about being too direct. Mal seemed as sharp as the eldritch beam he wielded. He'd only chosen to reveal his own power after Set had demonstrated his, and he'd only used it once. It was a sign, surely. He wished to be known to Set, but he did not wish to speak of their affliction further. Set could certainly appreciate that. In the meantime, he could wait and study Mal, learning what he can of the tiefling's master until the other man was ready to speak. Set snorts audibly as Maus speaks of not betraying a pact. He takes the news that the Chief would be joining them in stride. It seemed Maus had finally taken an interest in seeing things for himself, but Set couldn't congratulate the man. The most he could do was to try to stop himself from antagonizing Maus further. "Another night here would give more time to study the shield and Dr. Fixer's elixer," Set offers weakly before shrugging. "I will stay here if they do," Set reveals, getting to the heart of it as he gestures after Evergreen and the Mighty. "In the meantime, if we're not traveling immediately I could use a drink," Set admits without moving from his spot, looking back and forth between Ignacius and Mal while ignoring Maus.

[purepolarpanzer]

In Dam'ess Square

The Chief nods at Selissa's words, with a look bordering on regret in his eyes. "I was honored to lead this community, and you will always be a part of it, Selissa, no matter how far you roam. But I will tell them." Maus seems to accept Set's disregard, almost as though he expected it.

In the Oaken Larder

Horace finds an old dusty bottle of something resembling gin for Selissa, handing it over without a word. He knew her well enough that he wouldn't engage her with words unless she opened up first.

Uluthando considers Vargath's words for a moment, but it is a very brief moment. "Vampires are the spawn of Orcus, Ukufa Nkosi, demon lord of undeath. It would be my duty to exterminate such things. But it is not up to me." She lifts her cup a bit higher and speaks in a language you have never heard before in some sort of drinking salute before she takes a sip of her wine. As soon as she does her face scrunches up in distaste and her eyes close slowly before opening wide. "Amanzi. Sour as vinegar." She pushes the wine aside and motions for Horace to return. "Something sweet if you have it. Water if you do not. I presume it will be clean either way?"

Horace bows, apologizes, and removes the glass, heading behind the bar to pour the paladin a cider. While he is away, Ulu turns to Selissa at the next table, her features still rigid but her eyes appraising. "You are wounded, umuntu wesihlahla. In exchange for a silver coin, I will heal your wounds. I do not mean to offend you by requesting money, but it is customary to my people to not give magic for nothing." The cider arrives and the representative of Order lifts it, gives it an experimental sniff, then takes a long drink, tipping the mug upwards. She releases a pleased sigh before reaching into a pouch at her belt and handing Horace a golden coin off foreign manufacturing- it looks more like a eight sided die than a round coin you would all be familiar with. "You should throw out your wine or charge less coppers for it. It is swill." Horace bows, apologizes again, scoops up the odd coin, and returns to the business of eavesdropping from behind the bar.

After a brief pause for another sip, Uluthando adjusts her chair so that she is facing Vargath, Selissa, and anyone else who has wandered in at this point. "I am a soldier, and I take instruction from my superior. Currently, she resides in Harumburg, surveying the area and deciding where my blades would be most useful. If you would ride with me in my stagecoach back to the capital of this Harumvale, you may meet her and present your case. If she thinks there is wisdom in your report, she may decide that I should assist you. But I can make no promises. Pale Night... Ubusuku Obuphaphathekile ... moves openly in this land, and I am sure that there are other places in need of cleansing." She takes another sip of cider, allowing you all time to consider her offer.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: - Concentration: - With Hans and Hildegard Madaras initially refuses the gift, but after Hildegard pushes it onto him, he obliges. You know I am unsure if I can find ever back to the flock. But if you are willing to part with this at least for the time being, I will gladly accept it. He thanks the couple and leaves a few pain killers. Hans would need to struggle with the pain on his own, but it was a bit to cover the worst parts. At the square If I had a better understanding at how the ebonstone works, I would be more comfortable. It seems I got lucky with Alvis, but he does have a bit of a mind on his own. Ignacius confesses. It is hard to find uncharged ebonstone, and if it is used to channel spirits into a body, I can see a mechanical arm starting to have a mind on its own. And this could very well not be an improvement for Hans. Madaras begins to dream about options, his gaze vacant and daydreaming. If I can find newer ebonstone, or dare I say, produce it myself, the possibilities could be endless. Though a drink could not go amiss. I prefer a tea myself. At the larder Madaras takes Selissa aside for a moment inside the Larder. Even if these people didn't mind, he was there to provide some knowledge and hygiene. He pulled out a small simple leather bag for the dirty bandages, and redressed the wounds properly, this time taking charge. If any of these are bloodied tonight or morning, you will call me. Plus, you never manage your bloodied wounds at the same table used to eat and drink. Somewhat mad, he pours a bit of gin onto a clean rag and disinfects the table. He orders tea, and adds yet another bit of gin to his tea, maybe to calm his nerves a bit. The warrior offers to heal, and Madaras nods. At your exchange rate for mystical healing, you will either die a poor woman, or be exposed like a fraud. the gnome smiles, hinting at his own hustle. Just know that you will improve this town's attitude towards your Order, when you stay polite, no matter how amateurish their distilled alcohol is. He takes a sip of his tea. Despite I assume the distillery just needs a few new items. Ever tried to get lead crystal in this area?

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 3/4 2nd - 2/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 0/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 0/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: — Maledictus watched events unfold in the square. The band of Moira's trusted appeared an enthusiastic lot in their actions, despite several of their disaffected demeanors. He processed the proceedings even as he surveyed the village in its quieter iteration. Another nameless speck not worthy of an ink blot on a map, yet this is the foreground to Lady Bo'tel's demense. The roads must remain serviceable between here and Harumburg if a coach can arrive. The implications stirred up considerations on the occasions one would need to render these passages unserviceable or protect their trafficability to marshal troops. This range of planning, along with the review of the day's skirmish with the abyssal apes, hedged out any true consideration of the balanced scale. Besides, the moths flock to the novel flame. I am sure the true nature of the emblem and its bearer will become known soon enough. "I would like to inspect this ebon ward whenever the opportunity presents itself. These items seem concentrated around this Vale," Mal answered the shrouded spearman. When Set looked to the attache and the doctor, Mal gave a subtle nod of polite acknowledgment. He, however, did not move to follow to the drink hall as Madaras and his construct did. He instead said politely, "It would be a privilege to learn the drinking customs of your people, scion of Abydos. I shall join you shortly." The tiefling let the procession pass through the door of the tavern before he spoke to the elder. His tone remained pleasant and conversational, as if speaking to a traveling partner. Mal's gaze passed from the inn, to the carriage, and then finally settled on Maus as he spoke. "Even mercenaries find themselves drawn to a new face. As much as I would like to trade stories with the tight-lipped knight, I am sure I will have the opportunity given our intention to stay the evening. I would ask a few questions of you, Elder. As your succession will have import for Dam'ess, perhaps we could conclude that matter and then discuss these, as well as other topics prior to our departure." Mal produced the carefully wrapped bundle in which a pair of heavy rings pressed their silhouettes.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.
Elder Maus: Seeks to kill Moira. Hired mercenaries who betrayed him.
--Healed to his full 9ft height.
--Disbelieves Moira's insights; seeks to end her directly or indirectly.
--Seeks us to verify the truths of Moira's claims--or stop her by any means necessary.

Barlgura: Demon loosed by summoning ritual on the road to Dam'ess. Slain with its summoned partner by team. (Bless helped with accuracy issues due to invisibility. In the future, layer mind sliver to aid with saves.)
Brazen Hart: Spirit of the wild wood around Dam'ess. Seeks to test the party's mettle by forcing an open fight with the Barlgura.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[purepolarpanzer]

In Dam'ess Square

Maus takes the golden arm bands slowly, one in each hand, and looks over them. They are massive, but look like they could fit appropriately on him, at the very least. "From the demon? You'll want these identified before anyone uses them. It would be just like a fiend to leave behind cursed treasure. I don't have that spell, but I can prepare it tomorrow. I have a fresh water pearl from the lake that I can dig into. I'll let you know what it is in the morning."

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 3/4 2nd - 2/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 0/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 0/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: — Maledictus smiled large, revealing his gratitude. The tiefling passed along the bands and watched Maus' inspection. His thanks was in part for revealing the elder's knowledge and insights, confirming something the attache had heard. He replied, "Indeed, poisoned fruit falls from such wicked branches. Thank you for the generosity of inspecting these. I would prefer to know what hazards the barlgura left behind in its bloody wake." Mal shifted to follow Maus should he appear prepared to locate his successor. The bard added as he did so, "Where did you learn the art of arcane identification? It is a valuable skill to possess.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.
Elder Maus: Seeks to kill Moira. Hired mercenaries who betrayed him.
--Healed to his full 9ft height.
--Disbelieves Moira's insights; seeks to end her directly or indirectly.
--Seeks us to verify the truths of Moira's claims--or stop her by any means necessary.

Barlgura: Demon loosed by summoning ritual on the road to Dam'ess. Slain with its summoned partner by team. (Bless helped with accuracy issues due to invisibility. In the future, layer mind sliver to aid with saves.)
Brazen Hart: Spirit of the wild wood around Dam'ess. Seeks to test the party's mettle by forcing an open fight with the Barlgura.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 48/49 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- Strange that they'd send her to this town without any support, given the varied list of threats. Just how would she have dealt with them alone? Overpowered through sheer might? It seemed unlikely, but maybe she did have that sort of strength and mind. He didn't fancy her chances against those wolves on her own though. "I, at least, am heading to the capital tomorrow, I wouldn't turn down a ride if offered...though I'm not sure your stagecoach could fit us all." Including Uluthando and Maus they were seven in total, and though Madaras didn't take up much space, the same could not be said for Vargath or Maus. He struggles through another drink of the rancid piss ale, fighting off the urge to wretch it back up again, if only to save it from covering his tongue a second time. A gnawing temptation enters his belly to leave his work on the door, leave the conversation here, and just go hunt. Find a fresh deer, maybe a rabbit or two, and drink deep of something that doesn't make him want to throw up. Deep breath. Calm. He pushes the temptation away. It wouldn't do to embrace the beast inside, no matter what it visited upon him in the meantime.

[Awful]

[QUOTE=Awful;25040536]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 16/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- Selissa frowned at the gnome's fussing, judged the situation, and clearly came to the conclusion that letting him do it would just be the least amount of trouble. "Stop fussing. Could deal with it." she grumbled quietly, but only withdrew her injured arm once she was done. To the paladin, she didn't have to consider the offer long. She was not, as a rule, particularly attached to most physical possessions, and especially not money, which was not typically used amongst the forest elves. She was, however, attached to her blood, and she'd already paid more of that than she cared to to a giant evil monkey. She retrieved a silver coin, held it up between two fingers, and placed it on the table. After a second, she extended her wounded meat-arm. "Far from Nguni," the moon-pale stoic, expressionless woman said to the dark-skinned stoic, expressionless woman. "Long roots from home."

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: Hex (Demon 1, Dexterity impacted) Oaken Larder Set wanders in after Ignacius in time to hear the knight's address. Pausing in the doorway, Set's eyes are taken immediately by the woman with skin like Ebonstone sitting across from Vargath. In all his travels northward, Set had only seen human skin grow paler, not darker. He'd heard her accent in the Square, of course, but any lingering doubts that she might be from a region nearby fade. With Evergreen sitting close by, however, Set's attention lapses as the gash on her arm is revealed. "<Ant musab?>" He watches Doctor Madaras take the situation in hand, but Set's gut still twists momentarily as he realizes he doesn't even know how close Selissa came to losing her arm. "When I saw you dive into the trees like a falcon after a mouse, I thought you'd escaped mostly unscathed," Set says almost apologetically, examining the wound over the doctor's shoulder as Madaras busies himself dressing it regardless of her wishes. He isn't sure it would've made a difference if he had known, but it still comes as a bit of a shock. Set quickly finds himself in the way and moves a couple paces off, wary of giving Ignacius and the knight room to work, but his concern is plain. "We are obviously not soldiers," Set explains, collecting himself after listening to Vargath and Selissa respond first. "Not really," he continues, thinking of their part in Moira's cause, "which is why Vargath can't speak for the rest of us. Nor can I, but I believe we are committed to finding the truth in Harumburg." Somehow they'd even convinced Maus to join them after Set had left the Chief's home. "If the vampires are a threat there, I hope your superior will join us in thinking it is a threat deserving of attention," Set says diplomatically. "Until then, it would seem we can at least help each other reach the capital safely." Any enemy of Pale Night would be welcome company on the road, but Set couldn't help thinking that there was more to be gained than one woman's sword. The name Nguni was like an itch in the back of his mind, but he couldn't place it, nor would he have guessed that Evergreen would be the one to guess her origin. In any case, both Set and this woman were far from home, but she was a soldier in service to something larger. A soldier in Harumvale, but not one of the king's own. It was like when the Khartou traversed Abydos with the changing of the seasons. They were permitted to ride through and trade unmolested, but they did not answer to the king. Such an arrangement always made some people uneasy given how fragile peace could be. Set wonders how many more soldiers roam Harumvale, loyal to their commander rather than the king. "Forgive me," Set says, inclining his head slightly, "I did not receive your name. I am Set Al-Sayyid of Abydos, far to the south," he says, watching her carefully for any sign of recognition. Normally in this land, he could speak his name freely without worry, but a fellow traveler could always be a danger. Still, it was better to admit it to her face and watch her carefully than have her find the answer when he wasn't aware. It probably wasn't an issue. Nguni didn't sound like a place he'd ever heard before.

[purepolarpanzer]

In Dam'ess Square

Maus seems surprised that Mal chooses to walk with him instead of joining his companions in the tavern, but with a shrug he turns south and starts heading for the small riverfront of the village. He makes no attempt to shorten his stride, leading to Mal having to beat a quick pace to keep up. "When my back was bent by Moira's vile curse, I nearly ended my own life. My entire concept of self was built around being a big, strong leader of men. I wallowed in my own self pity for years before the spirits gave me the wisdom to see the only cage I was in was one of my own design. So instead I read. Every book I could get my hands on, on every topic I could find, from nature and magic to architecture and engineering. I left the village to travel the Vale and find more books. When I felt I was done reading for the moment, I journeyed into the wilds and took up residence with a small circle of druids to learn their arts. When I returned to the village, my back was even more bent, but my mind and my connection to the spirits was keener than ever. When Chief Edeir fell ill, he named me his successor, and I took my place as the spiritual leader of Dam'ess."

The journey isn't far, just to one of the larger shacks situated next to the river. There are a bevy of children playing out front, ranging from mid teens to barely walking. The crowd runs up when they see Maus, and the Chief and Mal are beset by questions from tiny mouths- about how tall Maus was, about Mal's fiend touched skin, and many more. Maus laughs out loud and leans down to start scooping up the smaller children so they can ride across his shoulders as he strides up to the doorway to knock. A few seconds later, a woman with smile lines around her eyes and grey in her auburn hair opens the door. "Chief Moeller! I wasn't expecting you! Let me make some tea for you and your... friend..."

Maus shakes his head. "Not today, Maulei. I've come with news. I am going to be leaving the village tomorrow for Harumburg. I do not know when I will return. It is time this village had a new chief, and I am picking you." The woman looks shocked and begins to protest. "But Maus... I don't know how to lead services... or all the rituals and rites that you know! I don't know a third of your knowledge!" Maus begins plucking children from his back, neck, and shoulders, gently placing them down with one hand. "And when I became chief I didn't know an eighth of what Edeir knew. You'll learn. I'll leave books for you to read. Even if you doubt yourself, even if you doubt me, do not doubt the will of the spirits. It was them who guided me to choose you." Maulei looks slightly sick, but she bows. "I will follow their will..."

Maus turns to Mal, now free of hanging monkeys, and scootches down to look him eye to eye. "I need have words with the new chief. Private words, in regards to the people she will be stewarding and protecting. Is there anything else you need of me? I feel we will have plenty of time to exchange lore on the road, if that is what stirs your hunger."

In the Oaken Larder

Ulu looks to the gnome with the same detached, impassive gaze that she has held the entire time her helm was off. "I save my politeness for those who have earned it. I did not insult the man, only told the truth about his wine. Honesty is a beautiful thing, whether it is gentle as a uvemvane or cruel as isiphepho. To tell him otherwise would be a lie, and members of my organization do not lie." She sips her cider and turns to answer Vargath. "The stage coach seats six in the carriage and two in the front. Gear gets strapped on top. Unless you plan on bringing half the village with you, we will fit. Do not worry. The stallions are strong. They will not waver before we reach the next stop on the coach line to switch horses." Next she turns to Selissa. "My home travels with me wherever I go, so long as I remember who I am. One day I may return to Nguni, but until that day I can only strive to represent my people's values in this strange land." Lastly she responds to Set. "Well met, Set of Abydos. I am Uluthando Mikoso, paladin of Order, and I travel from the land of Nguni, as your tree elf friend seems to be aware." You're beginning to pick up on subtle pops, clucks, and clicks when she speaks in her native language or says her name, something that none of you have come across linguistically on Mund.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: - Concentration: - I am as much travelled as you are, Ma'am Mikoso, just not from as afar. And I have learned to add myself to the local customs instead of trying to convert everyone. Besides, your truth and honesty is subjective. What if you deem this gin of poor quality, yet it is enjoyed here? Objective criteria are different. 2 parts wood spirits 3 parts alcohol and 4 parts water may be one part methyl alcohol too much for objectively decent drinking, but as long as it improves my tea, and I stay under the - say - 5 drinks it takes before I risk my eye sight, I am fine. The gnome finishes his tea, in which he drowned the poor workmanship, and jumps up. Regardless, my friend paid you for your services, and I don't expect such generous help again, but I believe you promised her some Nguni magic.

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 3/4 2nd - 2/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 0/1 2nd - 0/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 0/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: — The Walk to Maulei Maledictus listened respectfully to the story, double-timing his strides with swift precision to keep in gait with the loping elder. He looked a lynx kiting alongside a bear. The attache thought back to the hut as Maus unveiled his travels, mentally cataloguing what items may have import to this roving pedigree of self-education. Individual initiative was a quality his masters' sought to cultivate, though they also ground in a strong dose of deference--a rising pupil may suddenly displace an incautious teacher. Yet, for his part, he volunteered none of this comparison in his demeanor or words. Instead, the arcanist replied cordially, "This fine tale reflects a thorough mind. You have accomplished much in your journeys. You have strode the whole of the Vale, and brought back tomes from each part? It is a pity to miss seeing such accumulated knowledge before we survey the current state of affairs beyond Dam'ess." When the children peppered with questions, he drew a bit of lint from his pouch and began forming images to punctuate his stories. He told them a very brief tragedy of a great heroine succored by a repentant frost devil, whose ultimately sacrificed his life in her protection from the cold fury of his brothers. This woman bore a child of their union, which has sired many of the progenitor's traits down the line (Yes, those horns. Yes, this hue. No, no hooves. Ah, yes, frost magic! No, I can't do that here. Too dangerous). Mal shifted to silence, plucking a child's grasp from his tail before swishing it to the other side...only to remove another child's hand from the sweeping appendage. In the end, he curled the tail under his cloak to deter wandering, grubby hands from soiling his skin. He nodded politely to the apparent successor, allowing the exchange undergo unimpeded. When Maus made a point to address him face to face, the tiefling neither flinched or strayed his golden gaze. He kindly remarked, "Thank you for the privilege of witnessing this passing of the torch. It has been insightful. I have other business to attend, but I am sure we shall converse in our travels, as you have said." He address the woman as he moved to leave, "I congratulate you, Chieftain Maulei, on your ascension to protectoress of Dam'ess. May your leadership be one of beneficence and bounty for your people." In order to extract himself from the knot of children, the tiefling bowed with a flourish and vanished in a puff of frosty mist like a wintry fog. He reappeared a spear's toss away, where he gestured and produced a phantasmal song in pianissimo for the benefit of the children. The jovial melody played for a minute after his departure and hinted at the pleasant opportunities of spring and good cheer. The Walk Back On his return journey, Mal contemplated the revelations. This village saturated in animistic shamanism. Whatever learning Maus obtained across the Vale, he had syncretized the arcane lore with druidic knowledge. The tiefling would like to unravel the grove-tongue and see what insights the tree-lurkers kept to themselves. A temptation wormed its way into his consciousness. He could attempt to infiltrate Maus' hut, rifle its contents, and find what gems he may. Yes, then he could see what secrets the Elder had, add those to his quiver in case he should need to expose the man, some germ of truth for a poisoned lie...but no, Dam'ess was small and the elder's hut conspicuous. He had many arts, but invisibility was not one. A disguise would be a decent middle ground. Indeed... Mal produced his violin, strumming and tuning its strings. He drew the bow across the surface, producing a sonorous and soporific tune. The notes suggested rest from strife, toil, and trouble. The tiefling approached the town proper and flit his eyes from person to beast. When a a tree rodent scurried a bowshot away from the bard, he whispered an infernal curse as he concluded the stanza and whispered something about the critter's debased parentage. Mal let the notes strangle themselves in the breeze as he stowed his instrument, leaving the squirrel for some cat to ferry off. Then he turned his attention to his true target. The Tavern Maledictus entered the bar without pomp or circumstance. His gilded eyes roved the hall until they alighted on the strange paladin. Then he moved to the bartender, saying, "Would a song or a tale of the hawkeyed Hildegard and dauntless Hans suffice for a pitcher of your finest for those brave souls at the tables?" Once he satisfied his conversation with the barkeep, he shifted his will-diluting art to the paladin. Mal busied himself with sharing some of his wit with the occupants at the rail before finally making his way to the group. He settled in next to Set and offered a smile to the dour paladin. "A fair evening, Lady of Order. It is good to finally make your acquaintance. You may call me Mal."

Spoiler: OOC

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Minor Illusion (Image) to portray ice sculptures of his heroine, the frost devil, the devil's cruel brothers, and the supposed scion of their union.

Misty Step, followed by Minor Illusion (Sound) of a soft melody at a point that benefitted the children while did not disturb the elders.

Edited: Hex (Wisdom checks) followed with Vicious Mockery on the squirrel, then shift to the paladin.

25 persuasion with bartender to barter a song or tale for pitchers of his finest drink to the party.

Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.
Elder Maus: Seeks to kill Moira. Hired mercenaries who betrayed him.
--Healed to his full 9ft height.
--Disbelieves Moira's insights; seeks to end her directly or indirectly.
--Seeks us to verify the truths of Moira's claims--or stop her by any means necessary.
Maulei: Successor to Elder Maus as elder of Dam'ess.

Barlgura: Demon loosed by summoning ritual on the road to Dam'ess. Slain with its summoned partner by team. (Bless helped with accuracy issues due to invisibility. In the future, layer mind sliver to aid with saves.)
Brazen Hart: Spirit of the wild wood around Dam'ess. Seeks to test the party's mettle by forcing an open fight with the Barlgura.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[purepolarpanzer]

In the Oaken Larder

Ulu's eyes shift an iota towards annoyance when Ignacius speaks of converting people, but it is barely perceivable before she extends a hand and touches Selissa's arm. She stamps her foot and strikes a quick beat against the metal plates on her side for a few seconds, closing her eyes and emitting a hum from deep in her chest. Selissa's wounds heal almost instantaneously as a deep gray light wraps around her wounds and suffuses into them. Her skin feels oddly cold, as though the grey light were fresh fallen snow. Mal walks in just as this magic is finishing, and Selissa is fully healed. As the paladin turns to view the newcomer, her stony demeanor falters for a moment.

She reaches a hand to her side and grips the curved dagger that resides there, and a look of shocked surprise crosses her face. She quickly stands up, nearly upsetting the table and knocking over her chair. Then, as quickly as open emotion comes over her, it is gone. She releases her dagger, adjusts her chair, and accepts Mal's introduction. She returns it, and perhaps with a bit more warmth than with anyone else. "It is good to meet you, Mal. I am Uluthando Mikoso, though you may call me Ulu for short. Excuse my surprise. Tieflings are... treated differently where I am from." She gives him the same salute that she did in the street, with her fist coming up to meet her chest, but this time she inclines her head a fraction of an inch, sending her beaded braids on the right side of her head jangling against each other. Then the cold, detached demeanor returns. "Are there any more of your party? I tire of introducing myself."

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 3/4 2nd - 2/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 0/1 2nd - 0/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 0/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: — The Tavern Mal smile remains unbroken despite the reaction. He waves dismissively and replies with friendly cordiality, "Do not be troubled, Ulu. My presence stirs a poignant response most places I venture. I should be the last echo this evening. My apologies for troubling you to make introductions a habit for a road-worn traveler." He settled back and looked to the others so as not to force the guest to catch him up should the group deign to review their previous conversation with the knight of Order. The tiefling asked, "What discussion have I interrupted with my delayed arrival?"

Spoiler: OOC

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20 insight and 28 (nat 20) deception to study her reaction and not react.

Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.
Elder Maus: Seeks to kill Moira. Hired mercenaries who betrayed him.
--Healed to his full 9ft height.
--Disbelieves Moira's insights; seeks to end her directly or indirectly.
--Seeks us to verify the truths of Moira's claims--or stop her by any means necessary.
Maulei: Successor to Elder Maus as elder of Dam'ess.
Uluthando Mikoso "Ulu:" Paladin? of Order. From beyond the Vale. Reacts by gripping her dagger and declaring Tieflings are treated differently...Lawful (N/E?) Order?

Barlgura: Demon loosed by summoning ritual on the road to Dam'ess. Slain with its summoned partner by team. (Bless helped with accuracy issues due to invisibility. In the future, layer mind sliver to aid with saves.)
Brazen Hart: Spirit of the wild wood around Dam'ess. Seeks to test the party's mettle by forcing an open fight with the Barlgura.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: As Doctor Madaras elaborates on the subjectivity of truth Set perks up and pays close attention, but it does him little good. He invariably seemed to grow dizzy listening to the gnome, and today was no exception. Two parts wood mixed with four parts water made for one part too much or too little meth-a-something alcohol? Thankfully, Ulu quickly steps into the void left after the doctor falls silent. He couldn't understand her magic any better than he understood the good doctor, but the cold, deep gray had a familiarity to it. Set's smile at Selissa's good health is short-lived, however, as Ulu's chair clatters to the ground. Her hand quickly finds her dagger as she stares past him. Set looks back and forth between Mal and Ulu, watching both carefully before surreptitiously dropping his hand from the hatchet still looped in his belt. He'd never left his seat, but he felt his heart hammering at the thought of being thrust into a fight when he'd felt at ease moments before. He bites the inside of his cheek, forcing his heart to slow as the situation ramps back down into a seemingly pleasant introduction. Set's gaze lingers on the tiefling a moment longer. Mal had kept his cool through their battle with the barlgura, but in that case they'd been the hunters. They had all known a demon lurked ahead and had ample time to prepare themselves for the coming struggle. Here, Mal had walked into a tavern, presumably expecting nothing more troubling than weak ale, and yet he still remained colder than ice when threatened. Set still couldn't be sure what that was from Ulu or whether Mal had truly been in danger, but the tiefling hadn't so much as flinched either way. He was still carrying the same smile he'd walked in with. The silence stretches out for a beat before Set fills it. "We were just discussing travel arrangements to Harumburg. Uluthando," he says, using the name he was given, "is headed back there and has generously offered her stagecoach." He waits another beat to see if Mal objects or excuses himself from such an offer given the recent sequence of events, but Set couldn't tell if the tiefling's pulse had even risen through the entire exchange. "She has also offered to introduce us to her superior, who may or may not see the wisdom in pursuing vampires and aiding us further." At one time, Set had wondered if he could ever provoke a response from Mal. Now it was finally clear to him that Iceblood only responded when he wished to. "Horace," Set calls out, "bring some food as well, will you? Mal's tale should cover a pitcher, at least, but I've gold for the food." Set turns to Ulu, regarding her warily. Still, he's able to easily overlook the actions of a foreigner who's culture was different from his own, especially one who healed Evergreen and had yet to shed blood. "Will you break bread with us? I am quite hungry. I do not know if you have pancakes in your land, but I tried them for the first time this morning. They are quite good, just cakes of flour with syrup and jelly, but I did not eat enough."

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: - Concentration: - As his tea is finished, Madaras extracts himself from the situation. Once outside he decides to check the local traders for some alchemical ingredients. If they are to travel tomorrow, he should need some items to actually create a few more potions than he actually carries. That is to say none at all. If nothing worthwhile or payable shows up, he decides to go into the nearest woods to find some magic ingredients. For the others he leaves his mechanical companion so they can inform him if they make a move by simply sending Alvis towards the gnome.

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 16/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- Selissa retreated from the personal contact as soon as the healing was done. Experimentally, she flexed her arm, and poked at her bare stomach. No pain. Impressive trick. "Thanks," she said tersely before she introduced herself at last. "Selissa Betula." If Set managed to score them food, she stayed. Otherwise (and alternatively much later, post-meal) the elf rose to her feet with the easy smoothness her pre-injury movements had always demonstrated. She left enough money for the gin and took the bottle with her. She headed back to the little house that she technically owned, and sorted through what was there for anything worth taking - some hides to trade, perhaps, more dried meats and foraged goods, more arrows, a good skinning knife. A comfortable cushion and spare clothing. All this went into a different, slightly backpack rather than the sling of pouches she normally used. Then she sat on her furs, drank the gin, and thought on recent events - on the undead and the demons, on the werewolves and the dead. Slowly, in a mental exercise similar to tracing, she separated up those memories, went over each part until they lost their power of her. She retrieved that doll, and feeling vaguely foolish, placed it in the cruck of her crossed legs, hoping it would truly give her comfort. Spoiler: ooc Show Selissa tried to undo some mental damage, hopefully getting advantage from the alcohol and doll. She'll also gather up any decent but light enough stuff in her home, depending on whether you think she'll have much worth trading based on previous descriptions in older posts.

[purepolarpanzer]

The Oaken Larder

Horace agrees to the bargain of song for ale, pouring two pitchers for your party before heading into the back to get some food. A few minutes later he adds two meat pies to the table, and the eating can begin in earnest. Ulu is silent, but eats heartily of the provided food as Mal begins to sing for your supper. By the end of the meal the other occupants of the tavern are tapping their feet along with the musical celebration of Hans and Hilde, and though Ulu's features remain impassive, her armored hand taps rhythmically at her leg in time with the music. When the songs are sung, the music concluded, and the meal finished Ulu says something about going to her carriage to meditate and sleep, Set negotiates for a warm spot of floor in the attic, and Vargath and Mal decide to journey back to the castle. Selissa has already silently slipped out the door, and Ignacius left some time ago to hunt for ingredients. And so, as the sun sets and the moon begins to rise, the party disperses.

The Baneswood

Not being local, Dr. Madaras has not heard the local legends of the Baneswood- that it is a place of darkness and monsters. To him it is simply an untouched wood, rife with ingredients. He finds a variety of useful herbs, plants, and mineral samples to fuel his potions, weapons, and manufactured magics. He finds no creatures of destruction, only the creatures of the night. Most notably, he finds the scene of a natural battle. Under a rather large tree, Ignacius finds the body of a dead bear surrounded by the husks of dozens of black and white wasps the size of the mugs back at the Oaken Larder. Ten feet above, the bear seems to have knocked over a branch with a massive nest on it, which fell down and disgorged the wasps to do battle. The remains of the nest are burst upon the ground, leaving behind a transparent film of shimmering honey that seems to be constantly phasing in and out of reality, along with a helpless white larvae which lies immobile, it's body not developed enough to move.

Spoiler: DC 10 Arcana Check

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These are phase wasps, formidable creatures indeed. They can shift in and out of physicality, and fire magic missiles instead of stinging. Their honey is prized for it's ability to shift anything- magic, man, or item- into the ethereal plane if used as an ingredient in a food, potion, or oil, allowing it to pass through solid matter. There is enough here for six doses.

Spoiler: DC 15

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When a phase wasp nest reaches a certain size, the queen produces a special offspring, fed royal jelly, which grows into another queen, takes half the hive with it, and goes to a new area. The queen wasp seems to have fled the combat, leaving behind a royal pupae.

Spoiler: DC 20

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Phase wasps are far more intelligent than regular insects, and while they are resistant to it, they can be tamed and domesticated to provide a very lucrative (and dangerous) pet. If a queen approves of you, she will prevent the other wasps from harming you. Some dedicated wizards have even formed a familiar bond with phase wasps.

After he is done gathering ingredients (and possibly specimens), Dr. Madaras returns to the village to find everyone gone home for the night. He suddenly realizes how late it has become, and that he has no place to lay his head for the evening. He jumps as he hears the sound of wood clapping against wood, and when he turns he sees the abandoned general store that the others had mentioned was currently empty. With no other options on hand save rowing across the lake and dealing with the Mogg twins, Ignacius heads inside. With a bit of exploring, he finds a comfortable bedroom that has only been looted a bit, and he lays down to rest for the evening.

Spoiler: Dr. M's Dream

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It's another night in another backwards village, and the good Doctor is putting on a show. Sparks fly, smoke rises, lights of every color flash, all to the proper amounts of "oooooh!"s and "aaaaah!"s from the crowd. When Alvis does a fly by, the children of the crowd squeal in delight. It seems that Dr. Madaras will be making silver hand over fist, but that's when it all goes wrong. Someone from the crowd shouts "HE'S NEKKID!" and in an instant all of Dr. Madaras' clothes are gone. The delight of the crowd turns to scornful laughter, and the children throw stones instead of looking on in wonder. All in all, this seems to be a pretty standard and tame nightmare, until Ignacius hears the low throated growl behind him, and something leaps onto his back, clamps teeth down on his shoulder, and proceeds to tear him limb from limb.

Spoiler: OOC

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The Green Faith's Blessing is an attunement magic item that allows you to expend a charm to cast either healing word or bless on yourself. You do not need to concentrate on the bless effect, which lasts for one minute. The charms do not regenerate, though, so 8 is all you'll get.

The Hartswood- Selissa's Home

Selissa's meditations grow more and more woozy as more and more of the bottle of gin disappears down her throat. But she is experienced enough in this exercise that it will be even more liquor before she finds her work disturbed. When she takes the small ragdoll and sets it between her legs, nothing happens at first. Then, as he mind turns to more and more horrific scenes and acts, she senses a small amount of movement. When she looks down, the doll has shifted in her lap so that it is hugging her torso (to the best of it's miniature ability). There is a small pulse in the air that makes her candles flicker in the breeze, and she is flooded with a sense of safety, protection, and perhaps love. Suddenly the darkest moments of the last few days seem not so bad. Then something drops down behind her and makes her jump up and turn in place. An arrow had fallen down from her bow to clatter to her floor, but it is like no arrow she has seen before. The head is elegant and curved like the beak of a bird of prey, with twisted angles that cause it to spiral even faster through the air. The fletching is made from golden eagle feathers, with the bronze-on-brown shimmering in the firelight. Most notably, there is magical mist rising from the tip of the arrow, and the head glows with inner, silver light. When she reaches for the arrow, another hand has beat her to it. Materializing in midair is the upper half of an elven woman, translucent and seemingly made of the same misty energy. She spins the arrow across her palm before clutching it lightly between two fingers, and she begins speaking wood elvish, though with an archaic accent.

Spoiler: Elvish

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You now possess the student's bow, child. Use it, follow your lessons, and it will improve over time, just as you will. Your next challenge is to bring yourself to the edge of disaster. When the enemy closes the distance, nearer than ever to your life's blood, do not draw your blade. Rely on your bow, make the shot, and you will have graduated to the next level.

She extends her arm, holding the arrow out to Selissa, and disappears as the young wood elf takes the ammunition. As though to make a point, three more arrows clatter down from the bow on her back, all identical to the first. When Selissa collects them, she finds herself instinctually reaching for the bow, and when she makes contact all four arrows turn to mist and and seem to sink into the wood of the weapon.

Spoiler: OOC

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The Forgotten Doll has bonded to Selissa. When she is prompted to make a Sanity Save, she can draw it and hug it as a reaction. If she does, she has advantage on the save. This functions only once per day. Secondly, she has completed the first rite of the Student's Bow. It now produces unlimited arrows that are considered magic for the purpose of damage resistances and immunities. Any arrow produced by the bow dissolves into mist a minute after it is fired.

The Attic of the Oaken Larder

True to Horace's word, the cluttered attic has just enough room on the floor for a single bedroll. The tavern keeper was kind enough to provide Set a candle, which is good, since there are no windows. It is stiflingly warm, and Set quickly finds himself growing drowsy in the heat. Whether it was his intention or not, Set, exhausted from the day's combat, rapidly falls asleep. His sleep is far from dreamless.

Spoiler: Set's Dream

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Set dreams of Sisi and Sythpen. They are huddled in a small shack, bound together by chains, clutching each other and trembling- not from cold, but from fear. Both are dirty, tear stained cheeks splattered with mud and dust. He can dimly hear the sound of a man's voice singing a jaunty tune, but it is punctuated ever ten seconds or so by the long, grating scrape of metal against metal. In the corner lays the corpse of a man with the tan skin of Abydos who Set does not recognize, staring with empty eyes upward. The sisters whisper to each other in their native language, with Sisi trying to comfort Sythpen. "Someone will find us. Someone will save us." Sythpen shakes her head and tears begin to flow anew. "They're all dead, Sisi. Killed in the battle, or killed by Set. It makes no difference. No one is coming half a world away to save the daughters of a dead king!" There is one last agonizing scrape of metal before a few seconds of silence. Then the door to the shack bursts open, and standing in the doorway is John Bence. His impeccable white teeth open in a grin as he looks down at your sisters, and in his hands he bares a freshly sharpened woodsman's axe that glints in the moonlight. Though the girls spoke in Abydossian, Bence responds in calm, collected common. "Calm down, little girls. Set WILL come for you. He'll come out of the darkness, spear in hand and allies by his side, and I will kill them. Each and every one of them. And then once that is done, I'll kill you." He leans down and caresses Sythpen's cheek. "If you're good little girls and do as you're told, I promise to make it quick." He speaks in gentle tones, seemingly trying to reassure them that everything will be alright. Set's view begins to retreat out the cabin door, and when it does he notices something. Bence has rawhide lacing running up his spine, seemingly binding his skin together. Bence stands, tilts his head as though he is listening for something, and turns to face Set. For the briefest of seconds there is a look of recognition on the demon summoner's face, and then he smiles again. "Whose master do you think is stronger, Set? Your dark patron or mine? I guess only time will tell." Then Bence begins to laugh, but as the scene fades to black it is the Shadowkeeper's cackle that Set hears. But, unlike every other time he has heard that incessant laughter, there is something behind the mirth. Anger. Rage. Fury with no bounds. It seems the gauntlet of challenge has been thrown down between the agents of titanic forces. Either that, or this is all a dream of no consequence.

Set bursts awake as the trap door to the attic is pushed open. Climbing up the ladder is young Alephandro, Horace's son. "Mmmm...mmmm...mmmister Set? I ka-ka-ka-couldn't sleep, and I heard you scr-scr-screaming! I thought you-you-you mmm...mmm...might be having a nightmare, so I b-b-b-brought you some mmmm...mmmm...mmmilk. It always helps me sleep." Alephandro smiles at Set, then tilts his head in confusion. "Wha...wha...what's happened to your face? You...you...you've gone all grey and p-p-p-pale." The boy doesn't seem afraid or disgusted, just genuinely innocently curious, and Set is suddenly painfully aware that in the distress from his dream he subconsciously lost control of his facial features, reverting to the ashen skin and milky eyes of the changeling's true form.

Castle Bo'Tel

Vargath's and Mal's journey is, thankfully, peaceful and easy. As they are poling across the lake, they are serenaded by frogs, insects, and night birds with the orange sun slowly going down over the distant mountains. Mal has plenty of time to utilize Moira's sending stone and update her on the change in plans, should he wish to. When they arrive at the shore, Pater Aeyilles is waiting to greet you. It looks like the poor elf with the mismatched limbs has been waiting most of the day. He bares a hammer and a small box of nails, which he promptly shoves into Vargath's hands. "Please, sir, the door?" Without waiting for a response, he scoops up a large pile of wood and begins walking back to the castle with his immensely long strides.

The work is difficult, but it is honest, and with Pater's assistance Vargath has both Moira's door and the one that Birel had slept behind repaired. It is not his finest work, but it is far better than the roughshod job the butler could have managed. As Vargath attempts to bend and reclaim some of the twisted metal from the door, he remarks at the strength it must have taken for a small woman to accomplish such a feat. Pater, nodding sagely, says "It is the magics of the castle. While a Bo'Tel resides within the castle and knows the proper attunement rituals, they have the strength, speed, and endurance of physical perfection. I daresay that if she had a mind to, my Lady could pick you up and throw you like a halfling, master Vargath. Not that she would, mind you. You are her sworn sword." He gives the half-orc a reassuring smile, clapping a large hand on the rune knight's back. He thanks him for a job well done, then excuses himself to go to trance for the evening, leaving Vargath to his rest. Vargath, worn out from a day of carpentry and conflict, returns to his assigned bedroom and returns to his wolf dreams, though this time they are not interrupted by eldritch madness or atrocious violence. He only dreams of running free with a pack, making a kill on a deer, and feasting with his brothers and sisters in bloody glory. The only terrible thing about the dream is how pleasant it feels come morning.

Mal has been in Moira's entrance area before, but this is the first time he has had time to really explore it. While most of the books are routine or reproductions of books Mal has read before, there may be gems awaiting in the piles. Unfortunately for him, for every book he finds interesting there are dozens of little to no value. Also, some of the more interesting ones he noted before seem to have been removed. Still, tucked among the primers and amateur books he finds a book that deals with the blending of magic and music. Specifically, it holds the instructions and rituals for a new version of the famed artifacts known as the instruments of the bards. Unfortunately, about a third of the book is in a language Mal does not understand or recognize, including most of the rites and rituals to imbue it with magic. Still, with a translator, appropriate magics, some study, and someone skilled in wood craft, he may be able to produce one of these relics for himself.

Engrossed in the book, Mal dozes off in a beaten up armchair.

Spoiler: Mal's Dream

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Mal has had this dream before. He finds himself in the legendary Library of Leng, an ancient home of virtually all worldly and mystical knowledge that burned when the city it was located in was razed nearly nine hundred years ago, half the world away. Still, in his dreams it still existed, and these dreams always played out the same. Hours of dutiful research, referencing and cross referencing sources from multiple tomes, carefully reconstructing ancient languages, until EUREKA! Some devastating and profound arcane truth became evident to him, and the sense of accomplisment and relief normally carried with him for several hours after waking up, even if he could never actually remember anything he learned. But this time is different. Mal is well versed enough in the arcane and divine arts to know that sometimes dreams carry real meaning. And as he stares down at what he has been working on, he instinctively knows this bears some significance. Where normally he would have arcane formulas and theorems, he sees only "The One Who Stalks Behind" scrawled over and over again in his own hand, though the words are manic and look like they were written in distress. He searches the paper for any further omen, and down at the bottom of the page, in the smallest script he could possibly manage, it says Behind you!. Just as he is about to turn, a claw as strong as iron grips the side of his head, snaps his neck to the side, and ends all feeling in the bard's body. But he can still hear the deep throated growls, along with the wet noises of whatever killed him beginning to eat him alive. But he never gets to see it before the dream ends.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 49/49 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- Vargath wakes with the dawn. His night had been...not entirely relaxed, but moreso than the previous one. While he's in no rush to meet his transformation, he can't deny that he at least understands the beasts. The thrill of the hunt. Running with your pack. It's no surprise that they'd be kindred spirits in that regard, but his affinity for the fight doesn't mean he's ready to surrender himself to the beast. His hunt was brutal, yes, but directed, controlled. Not driven by madness or hunger. He wouldn't concede to the curse. After his early morning workout he finds Mal in the foyer, quietly snoozing away. He considers waking them, to let them greet the new day, but from the books strewn around it seems they fell asleep while working into the early hours. Best to let them rest, and awaken on their own - assuming it didn't delay leaving for the capital. Instead, he goes off in hunt of Fixer, to acquire his elixir without any further delay.

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 4 AC: 14 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 Magic Initiate: 1/1 Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: 2nd - 1/1 Bardic Inspiration: 4/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Conditions: -- Concentrating: — The Tavern Mal bid the hall farewell with a flash of mischief, manifesting heroically posed perfected images of Hans and Hildebrand for the villagers to recall in their ale-laden dreams that night. The undercurrent of his song smoothed away the horrific cost to Hans, suggested a Dam'ess quality of courage and expeditionary resolve, and laden the listener with aspiration unfulfilled. The Castle Mal produced the smooth stone from his satchel. He fixed his thoughts in their proper arrangement and reported to Moira thusly. "My Lady: Demon cult destroyed. Two Barlguras banished. Redirect to Harumburg to possibly enlist outlander Order of knights to our cause. Maus joined venture. The Chair Maledictus snored in a soft whistle tone that just registered at the edge of conscious awareness should anyone watch the slumbering tiefling roost in the weary arms of the chair. He had followed the Analects of Antagoras up until line 1438, when fatigue from the day's events smothered him midway through the sentence. Any hope of a last night in a bed collapsed with the bard into the contorted jumble of limbs and spines, leather and bone. He snoozed, yet studied, his obsession that afflicted him with these discomforting sleeping arrangements. He roused with a SNAP! as his hands reflexively slammed shut the tome. Dust billowed like a ghost trail, seducing a prompt sneeze from the startled scholar. Mal rose stiffly, flexing and preening to bring himself back into a poised image of self-control. Yet, his throat caught on a bit of spittle, flushing his veins with adrenaline as echoes of a sinister slurp rekindled in his mind. He coughed once, breathed, and the spasm vanished. Fortunately, he awoke alone with no one to see the unsettled state. "I do hope the refectory has something white and heady to slake my thirst," Mal muttered to no one and nothing in particular. He semi-consciously realized his mind avoided red wine. The attache left the tidying to the house staff. Much of this is cruft to keep the less learned occupied anyway. It may as well serve to strengthen bodies where it wastes minds. Perhaps a return trip Mistress Bo'Tel would permit him access to her true lore. He would satisfy his appetite with her larder for now. Once he claimed a proper meal to break his fast, the tiefling exited into the yard and committed himself to his fencing forms and tuned his violin while he awaited Vargath.

Spoiler: OOC

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Minor Illusion at the tavern.

Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Spoiler: Cast and Crew

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Set: outcast of Abydos / Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse
Mandaras: Rival to Dr. Fixer.
Dr. Fixer: Moira's lieutenant and cultivates relations with the locals of Vale.
Elder Maus: Seeks to kill Moira. Hired mercenaries who betrayed him.
--Healed to his full 9ft height.
--Disbelieves Moira's insights; seeks to end her directly or indirectly.
--Seeks us to verify the truths of Moira's claims--or stop her by any means necessary.
Maulei: Successor to Elder Maus as elder of Dam'ess.
Uluthando Mikoso "Ulu:" Paladin? of Order. From beyond the Vale. Reacts by gripping her dagger and declaring Tieflings are treated differently...Lawful (N/E?) Order?

Spoiler: Dream of Leng

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Spoiler: In Full

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Mal has had this dream before. He finds himself in the legendary Library of Leng, an ancient home of virtually all worldly and mystical knowledge that burned when the city it was located in was razed nearly nine hundred years ago, half the world away. Still, in his dreams it still existed, and these dreams always played out the same. Hours of dutiful research, referencing and cross referencing sources from multiple tomes, carefully reconstructing ancient languages, until EUREKA! Some devastating and profound arcane truth became evident to him, and the sense of accomplisment and relief normally carried with him for several hours after waking up, even if he could never actually remember anything he learned. But this time is different. Mal is well versed enough in the arcane and divine arts to know that sometimes dreams carry real meaning. And as he stares down at what he has been working on, he instinctively knows this bears some significance. Where normally he would have arcane formulas and theorems, he sees only "The One Who Stalks Behind" scrawled over and over again in his own hand, though the words are manic and look like they were written in distress. He searches the paper for any further omen, and down at the bottom of the page, in the smallest script he could possibly manage, it says Behind you!. Just as he is about to turn, a claw as strong as iron grips the side of his head, snaps his neck to the side, and ends all feeling in the bard's body. But he can still hear the deep throated growls, along with the wet noises of whatever killed him beginning to eat him alive. But he never gets to see it before the dream ends.

The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind. RIGHT BEHIND YOU! The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind. The One Who Stalks Behind.

Spoiler: Monsters

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Barlgura: Demon loosed by summoning ritual on the road to Dam'ess. Slain with its summoned partner by team. (Bless helped with accuracy issues due to invisibility. In the future, layer mind sliver to aid with saves.)
Brazen Hart: Spirit of the wild wood around Dam'ess. Seeks to test the party's mettle by forcing an open fight with the Barlgura.

Spoiler: Instrument of the Bards

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Spoiler: Full Description

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Still, tucked among the primers and amateur books he finds a book that deals with the blending of magic and music. Specifically, it holds the instructions and rituals for a new version of the famed artifacts known as the instruments of the bards. Unfortunately, about a third of the book is in a language Mal does not understand or recognize, including most of the rites and rituals to imbue it with magic. Still, with a translator, appropriate magics, some study, and someone skilled in wood craft, he may be able to produce one of these relics for himself.

Report daily updates to Mistress Moira at last light.

Mal needs a translator, the spells, and woodcrafter to create a new relic.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: - Concentration: - His teacher was right, more often than not nature was the best source of fascinating and useful new recipes, even if the creatures that produce them are as old as time itself. He carefully collected the wasp's honey, slowly and methodically to avoid being bitten and meeting the same fate the bear did. Slowly again he extracted himself from the situation, seeing a half broken nest and a large wasp gorging itself on bear meat. He risked enough tonight, so Madaras against his urges decided against touching the large insect or hauling the half-broken nest home. Back in the broken down shop, Ignacius figured he could at least find a bit of basic foodstuffs and a place to sleep. Not entirely deserved, but the gnome decided that if the merchant wasn't at his service with his wares, he could at least help him out by housing him for the night. And it paid to be so small, sometimes a bag of oats is a soft enough bed for the night, especially for a small man like him. His body was stiff in the morning regardless, and the gnome was happy to greet the day in the morning, to start travelling and getting this thing on the road. Standing on the marketplace waiting for the others, he played with his newly acquired beads, studying them as a part of waiting for the others. He knew these, they were reserved for priests and druids of the Green Faith, able to emulate an assortment of divine spells, certainly a powerful and generous gift in the right hands.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (currently no symptoms) Concentration: Set extinguishes the small candle, closing his eyes to let sleep take him, but a moment later he briefly opens them again. It should’ve been much too dark to see, but the change from this morning seemed to be permanent. The shadows no longer held back their secrets from him. The room was small enough to take in with just a bit of candlelight, but it was almost clearer now in ghostly black and white. Despite the strangeness, there’s a certain comfort that comes from being completely enveloped in darkness but still able to see. Between the oppressive warmth that reminds him of home and the dark that cradles him, Set is lulled into a comfortable sleep. When he awakens, there is no comfort left in the world regardless of any attempt on Alephandro's part to help. Set is only vaguely aware of another presence in the attic as his own voice tears out of his throat. "No!" Even awake, John Bence still seems to stare back at Set, smiling broadly from beyond sight. Set's breath comes in shallow gulps, his body shaking, wracked with sobs as he bites down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to reopen the scars. He can still see the summoner standing there, caressing his sister's cheek as he promises them a quick death if only they'll behave. Fists clenched and arms folded across his chest, Set slowly comes back to himself as the vision of his sisters under Bence's axe fades. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Set reaches for his pack and pulls out a handkerchief, clearing his nose noisily. Ghostly-pale hands fold the travel stained hankerchief as he reopens his eyes. Set can't help regarding his own skin and Alephandro with equal parts anxiety and exhaustion. His eyes flash, long white hair shortening an inch as a hand strays to the weapon at his side of its own accord before he regains his wits. He was duller than the butt of his spear some days, particularly when his mind was elsewhere, but the boy was truly simple. The truth was anything but. "This is just my sad face," Set finally responds, smiling weakly as he reaches out to accept what is offered without further explanation. A polite sip of milk to show his appreciation, and then Set continues. "Thank you, Ali. Will you do me another favor? Wake your father, please. I need to speak with him urgently." Set pushes the hankerchief back into a pocket in his pack before seeking his robes. Before Alephandro can leave, however, Set's ghost-like hand darts out to catch him. "No sad-faces downstairs," Set says, bloodshot-pale eyes boring into the young man's. "We don't talk about our sad-faces, right? We only talk about and show our happy-faces around other people. Do you understand, Ali? Outside of this room, there are no sad faces." His hand squeezes Alephandro's shoulder before he nods for the boy to keep going. Set waits a moment after the trap door closes, pulling the hair back into his scalp and feeling his skin change like a waterfall running down his body to the tips of his toes. He packs up his things, stowing his bedroll before donning his armor and robes. Set takes a moment to crack the knuckles that aren't really his before pulling on his gloves and the shemagh. Finally covered twice over, Set shoulders his pack and fishes out the coin. Just a dream. It was only a dream. He would find Bence's home anyway before they left. The despair that marked his first waking moments was retreating, but cold anger was rapidly taking it's place. Even the thought of Bence laying a hand on Sythpen or chaining Sisi was more than enough. He would go there today and see the man's home through his own eyes. Vargath, Selissa, and Jemriah had once made the trip and discovered elements of his cult. Set would go see for himself, dream or no. Between despair and fury, the only constant was fear. Fear that he would find a shack with his sisters inside. Fear that he wouldn't. Fear that he would be too late if he delayed, or that he would not be strong enough by himself if he rushed forward. Set squeezes the coin in his fingers before flipping it into the air. It was only a dream.

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 16/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- Ultimately, she ended up not feeling better from either the alcohol, the doll, or the mental exercises; when the sun began to peek over the horizon, the gin sat sourly in her stomach, the memories just as sourly in her mind, and the doll was tucked back onto her back behind her hair out of sight. She had a few bites to eat before she decided her stomach was too unsettled, gave a quiet sigh, and stood. She took up the bow and slid it into her quiver, considering for a while if she should take arrows at all. She settled for having a quiver of a mix of the silver arrows and iron, figuring if the magic of the bow was stopped or nullified somehow she'd feel a damn fool for not keeping some close to hand - and it'd be a easy sign that the bow was magic for anyone who might look at her and notice she had no arrows for her bow. With the furs and everything else she intended to take bundled up, she slung on a backpack, took one last look around the place she'd lived in for the last five years, and stepped out the door without looking back. Her feet carried herself to the village square to see the others. "We going?" was all the terse elf said in the way of greeting.

[purepolarpanzer]

Castle Bo'Tel

While Mal is in the yard practicing his forms, Vargath searches for Dr. Fixer. At first the rune knight searched the upper rooms where him and his party were staying, but each door had no response to knocking, as the servant family has set about their daily chores by now. When he makes his way back to the stairwell he hears "OUTOFTHEWAY!OUTOFTHEWAY!OUTOFTHEWAY!" as heavy, billowing smoke pours into the stairwell, accompanied by the sound of running feet on the first floor. When Vargath climbs down to investigate, he sees a trail of some sort of shimmering smoke coming up the basement stairs and heading for the front door. He moves through the already opened front door to see Mal sitting on a chair shaped stone and Dr Fixer, wearing goggles, a heavy apron, and thick gloves holding onto clamps that are secured around a large glass vial that is erupting in thick, smoke-like gas. "I forgot this damn elixir can't be finalized without excellent ventilation!" He sets the potion down on the ground, removes a cork from the pocket of the apron, and jams it into the glass lip of the bottle. The liquid inside seems to boil away until the entire bottle is filled with thick smog. Reaching out with his gloved hand, he takes the bottle and firmly shakes it. There is a blinding flash of light and the bottle trembles, but once you can all see again it appears to be filled with silvery liquid. Dr. Fixer sets the bottle down on the ground again and begins removing his protective gear. "There you have it, my friend- Dr. Fixer's Mystical Cure-All Elixir! Lycan edition! Drink a third of that each day before moonrise on each day of a full moon and I GUARUNTEE you will not change into a mindless beast! You may still notice some... effects of your condition, but if you are strong willed you'll be fine! Just... fine!" Wiping off his hands, he reaches down and picks up the bottle, juggling it between both hands as though it were very hot before tossing it high in the air and catching it in a hand extended towards Vargath in one smooth motion.

In the Town Square

Ignacius is perhaps underwhelmed by what passes for a market in Dam'ess. A handful of older women and men have set up in front of the ruins of the dry goods store and the Oaken Larder with home made foods and crafts for sale, but there is no organization of supply and demand remaining in this purged village. He isn't long in waiting until Set and Selissa have joined Dr. Madaras outside of the tavern. Almost in response to Selissa's question, the carriage door opens and Ulu steps out, fully armed and armored. "Where are the rest of you? Are we ready to leave or do any of you still have business in this speck of humanity?" If anything she appears to be more dour and put off than the night before.

Spoiler: Perception DC 8

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Set has what appears to be several large pimples on his face.

Spoiler: Follow-up Medicine DC 15

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Those aren't pimples. They are small boils. They are enflamed, and seem to be getting larger. Set is suffering from Iumentia Pox, and it is only going to get worse. Soon his whole body will ache, his boils will burst with black liquid, and his skin will slowly begin to slough off. Nasty way to die. There is a chance he fights it off, but not many do.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Alchemist Artificer | Raven Homunculus AC: 14 HP: 27/27 | AC 13 HP: 9/9 PP: 11 PIv: 16 PIs: 11 | PP: 14 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Conditions: - Concentration: - Somewhat distracted by his gift from Hildegard and Hans, Ignacius doesn't even realize his new friends approached. As Ulu speaks up, the gnome is startled enough to almost drop into the town's well. Good morning to you too, my dear lady. Ig adds in a sarcastic manner. The others are still at the castle, no doubt finalizing their gear. Vargath was promised some potions by Dr. Fixer, Moira's personal alchemist, maybe that explains the delay. Alchemy is a precise science that does not excuse a hurried attempt. He presents a small flask and a brown powder. This is powdered mandrake root. One ounce combined with the solution here makes a small bomb. Two ounces creates an out-of-control roiling sentient fire willing to eat fuel of any kind. To show its effect, Madaras places the powder inside the flask, shakes it and then throws it. A small explosion and a jet of flame sends a flock of crows flying and startles the old merchants, who glare at the trouble maker.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 49/49 PP: 12 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT Concentrating: -- Were all alchemists like this? Small wonder it had never caught on as a practice with his people. He plucks the elixir from Fixer's hands. The doubt was likely etched into his features, so much that even someone as socially dense as Fixer could see it. He sighs. Ideally this would be the last time Vargath saw the man, and he would be cured before a second dose was ever required. He considers keeping his thoughts to himself, but sometimes - just sometimes - you have to run your mouth a bit. How would they learn otherwise? "Your conduct and attitude inspires doubt, not trust, in your customers. I trust this," he gently shakes the bottle, "only because of Moira's assurances. Reflect on this if you hope to ever make a living beyond your Lady's shadow. Thank you for the elixir and good day." He gives the slightest of bows in farewell and departs immediately. With elixir safely nestled in his pack with ample padding to keep it safe, he gives one final review of his things to make sure nothing is forgotten, poking a head into Birel's former chamber at the same time. She'd taken most of her things, but she had left one item behind - the shield that had such a marked and negative impact on the Alpha wolf. The ebonstone monstrosity deeply concerns him, and he would much rather leave it behind. Yet, the others might see some use of it, and he couldn't abandon a potentially useful item simply because of his own misgivings - especially if he acquired a cure for his condition. He gathers it up in a thick bundle of cloth which he slings under arm. Even between cloth, armour and clothes it feels too close, cold stone somehow still feeling like it was touching his flesh. The sooner he could foist it off on another the better. With that thought in mind, he tracks down Mal in the yard. It was good to see someone else understood the values of a good workout, and though he'd like to join them for a spar, they did have other matters to attend to. "Good morning," he calls, loud and far enough away that there's ill chance he could be mistaken for sneaking around - not that he did much sneaking in his clanking armour. "Hope you weren't kept waiting. If you're ready we should depart immediately, my business is complete." He'd save the shield discussion for the boat ride and walk into town. It was a long enough journey, they had time.

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 31/31 PP: 16 Conditions: None Concentrating: -- Selissa gave the gnome a sharp look at the sound of the explosion. So noisy. Always. To get away, she clicked her tongue, feeling her inherently shallow well of social energy already returning sand in the bucket. "Going to get the chief," she murmured, and slunk away to do that very task.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 34/34 PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9 Conditions: Iumenta Pox (really bad acne that Set hasn't noticed yet) Concentration: Set flinches as the small explosion of light and heat draws his gaze before he turns to the source. "That could be a very useful trick as a distraction or if employed on the right creature. I don't imagine a vampire would care to be near that," Set says, looking around at the few men and women plying their trade nearby. "Though I don't expect there are many who would care for such a thing. What was it called? Man-drake?" As Set is engaging with the gnome, he doesn't even hear Evergreen's murmur, much less her footsteps slinking away. By the time he thinks to ask if she has everything from her home, he's looking around for a ghost. "Did you see where Selissa went?" He'd waited this long. A few more minutes waiting for her to return with Maus couldn't hurt, though he was anxious to know just how far away Mal and Vargath were. The coin had flipped in favor of the ankh, but whose life had been favored? Sisi and Sythpen's or John Bence's? He had to move cautiously. If his sisters really were in danger but still alive, they would need to hold on a bit longer. If Bence was still alive, giving into anger and running headlong into his trap would only get what remained of the Al-Sayyid family killed. He needed to be patient for just a little longer. With Ulu's first question already answered, Set addresses the second. "There is something I need to do, yes, though I've waited hoping you'll see the merit in attending to it as well. The barlgura we fought yesterday," Set says, his eyes shifting from Ulu to Ignacius, "was summoned by a cultist of Pale Night. A man by the name of John Bence. We slew him in this very square a few nights ago," Set laments, gaze shifting after Evergreen towards the Chief's house. "Or at least I thought we did. Now I am not so sure." Set pauses, trying to decide how to give voice to his thoughts. "Dead or alive, his home is in the wilderness nearby. He lived here. He deceived Maus and others for years and corrupted some who might not have knelt before Pale Night otherwise. If there is anything left of him in the place he called home, I wish to find it. Some of us searched his home before," Set recalls, thinking of Selissa and Vargath, "but as long as that night was, time was short. I would look again with your help, if you'll join me," Set says, looking to Ignacius. "There may yet be some clue as to what he was planning before we discovered him, and a sharper mind than mine would be most welcome." Set looks to the armored knight. "You've come this far. What is another morning lost? There may yet be corruption there to cleanse. There may be innocents, even, whose only crime is that they did not avoid capture," Set says, biting the inside of his cheek to avoid a spill of emotion as he tries to find the lever that will move Ulu. A vision of John Bence's axe hovering over his sisters threatens to undo his attempt to remain calmly logical and patient, but for the moment at least he follows Iceblood's example. Spoiler: OOC Show Persuasion if necessary: (1d20+4)[21] Insight on Ulu this morning (does it seem like she's been having some nightmares too?): (1d20-1)[4]