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

**Spore** · 2021-06-20, 07:12 AM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 36/37
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 10 mHP)
Concentration: -

Ignacius jumps back a foot as the wood elf snarls in a foreign tongue at him. Sorry, you seemed to have a medical emergency.I'll ask next time. He brushes himself off, he was not angry, he knew patients that reacted irrationally, and this was mental trauma, he was particularly inexperienced with those.

Most importantly, how does it look like?

**purepolarpanzer** · 2021-06-20, 11:16 AM (ISO 8601)

In the Foothills of Mount Beldrin, Along the Delvus River

While the team questions Selissa, Ulu's eyes are focused with direct intent on the corpses. Her arms slide up her sides and she clutches at herself, eyes bulged wide and lips clamped shut. Compared to her normally stony demeanor this face betrays all too much. The mummer's slaughter has affected Ulu in ways the demons couldn't. She keeps her back turned to the group, still staring into the ruined eyes and secret grins. Meanwhile, Maus seems untouched by the fear that pervades the air at the rest stop. He spent his time tracing the path of the animal tracks, attempting to make sense of them. The giant elder even knocked a limb aside with the bottom of his staff. He finds his way to the far end of the rest stop and looks down the steep bank for a few seconds before intoning the sound of a cantrip. Something from down below rose up the hill, and Maus reached out and grabbed it from the air before turning to face you all.

"I don't think we'll have much luck tracking this creature of evil." Maus holds up a feather the size of a shortsword with blood red roots leading up into a night black tip and points towards the rising hill to the right. "From what I can tell, the creature dropped down from that hill, knocked over the wagon, and killed everyone. Took the time to eat everyone, then went that way..." He points down the steep embankment on your left. "But there's no tracks on the hill, and there are a few of these feathers scattered through the trees." Maus waited for Selissa to respond to the others, but it was clear he had a question for her too. The answer was no, the Horror of Yurl that Selissa had lost her arm to could not fly, or showed no ability to. This was some new foul trick.

**Awful** · 2021-06-22, 06:23 PM (ISO 8601)

Selissa Betula
Wood Elf Scout Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 38/38 -> 48/48
PP: 16
Conditions: Aid, bardic inspiration
Concentrating: --

Feeling mentally taut, Selissa fought down the urge to retreat from the cluster of attention and voices aimed towards her.

"Called it Horror of Yurl. Preyed on the people there. That one... couldn't fly. Smaller. Weaker. Claws and teeth... wounds made you giddy. Euphoric. Why they're smiling. Even torn apart." Even at the memory of the thing, she had to clamp down on her muscles to keep her hand from shaking. Instead of meeting anyone's eye, she stared down at the smiling faces of the dead. Had she smiled when her arm was flensed from her torso? She didn't think so. "Was always changing. Even wounds. Just bubbled away into new flesh. Faces. Teeth. Had to burn it to stop it healing."

She went quiet, looking into the sky for sight of a flesh-twisting monster.
"Smelt it before we saw it. Smelt like..." she searched for the words. "<Moongleam.> Moonlight. Cold and distant. Impossible. Moonlight doesn't smell. Had scent of it, anyway."

Finally, she nodded in unhappy confirmation to the Chief's question.
"Can't track it through the air."[/B]

**Spore** · 2021-06-23, 05:04 AM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 36/37
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 10 mHP)
Concentration: -

A bird? Ignacius asks in an exasperated manner. I know there are flying creatures the size of carriages around, even back in the Vale. But they usually attack their food and then EAT IT. This...this is just vile murder. Ignacius cannot stand the sight of this travesty any longer.

Stand back. he demands. His fingers flick and suddenly his left thumb is burning. He pulls out a small iron flask which he shakes. He opens a small valve and sprays a translucent liquid onto the flame. It ignites into a roiling stream of flames, burning the corpses in the process. As the lighting fills with smoke and the heavy smell of decayed BURNING flesh, you can softly hear Ignacius invoke a prayer for the spirits of the departed.

Spoiler

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Dragon's Breath (Fire) for a minute to burn the corpses. I assume this should be enough. Yes, this is a 2nd level spell for RP purposes, but I deem it necessary in character. The technique is basically "lighter plus hair spray bottle" only WAY bigger.

If the guards hear and identify my prayer I do not care.

**Amnestic** · 2021-06-23, 05:21 AM (ISO 8601)

Vargath Hubrecht
Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter
AC: 19 HP: 49/49
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT
Concentrating: --

"If we can't track it, we should move on. Roaming the countryside for something that could be miles from here won't serve us...or them." He gestures to the bodies, now given to the flames. It would save them from being risen again, at least, in case this horror had some additional magics behind it. "We can't be the only ones who kill monsters though, if we report the matter in Harumburg then others may take up the fight, while we deal with the..." He stops himself before blurting out everything, conscious of being overhead. "...the situation there."

"But we can't do anything more here for now, other than keep our eyes on the skies while on the road." The smell of sizzling flesh was affecting him in a disturbing way, and the sooner they were done here the better.

**Riggdgames** · 2021-06-23, 07:50 PM (ISO 8601)

Set Al-Sayyid
Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
AC: 17 HP: 36/36 [44]
PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9
Conditions: Iumenta Pox (-8 max hp); 3rd level Aid for 8 hours (Mal, +10 max hp)
Concentration: Detect Magic

In the Foothills of Mount Beldrin

Set's attention shifts from one person to the next as Vargath and Ignacius ask their questions, Maus explains the nature of the feather he's holding, and Selissa shares more about the Horror. The creature delivered euphoria with destruction, hand in hand. It smelled of moongleam, though Set would be hard-pressed to describe what such a thing meant. But it could also change its shape, shifting its form to put on new flesh and new faces. For a long moment, Set dwells on this fact, but says nothing as he stares through Selissa. Ignacius' voice breaks into Set's thoughts just before the gnome pulls out a flask and ignites a steady stream of flames.

Set grimaces as he watches the corpses roast in Doctor Madaras' makeshift pyre. Although different in application, he'd seen a similar power used before. Birel had infused him with firey breath once, and Set had bathed a monster in flame. But these weren't monsters. These people, or at least what was left of them, would never be entombed with supplies for their journey to the afterlife.

The people of Abydos knew that admittance to Aaru was not guaranteed. Every soldier kept their arms and armor, regardless of how cut up they'd been on the field of battle. No matter how mangled their bodies were, if their souls were intact, they'd be thankful for the boon. Those Abydosians who could afford it would take care to give their relative's bodies a cool, dry place out of the sun to guide the soul to rest before their journey, but even the poorest in Abydos found the means to give the people they cared for something to travel with.

Set was not in Abydos though, as the people here often reminded him. Their customs weren't his. Between their claustrophobic graveyards and Ignacius' pyre, Set despairs of understanding what these people believe. Perhaps it's thought to be a mercy given how disfigured the bodies are, but where would the souls go to arm themselves after their bodies go up in smoke? Perhaps it's to ward against undeath. Set can still see a heavy layer of magic hovering over the bodies, but he can't tell if any are soulbound. Perhaps the people here simply do not have to travel to their afterlife, and have no need of tools and trinkets. Set doesn't know, and so standing back from the Doctor as instructed, Set asks over the crackle of flames, "why do you burn them?"

Listening to Vargath's carefully measured words, Set nods. "If we can't track it," he echoes, "we can only wait for it to strike again. Even if we knew it would come back to this very spot, we don't know when." Set brings a hand up to ward away the bright light of flame nearby. "Vargath's right, I think. We have to move forward," Set says, holding his tongue from speaking further instead of voicing what he thinks is obvious. The situation in Harumburg couldn't wait, but neither could John Bence's list. John was a madman, but no doubt the others are as eager as Set is to prove it.

**Spore** · 2021-06-24, 03:03 AM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 36/37
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 10 mHP)
Concentration: -

Ignacius is content with his grim makeshift burial. I know these people deserve a burial, and many would be accepting of being consumed by the wildlife around. But these guards make me nervous. Their racism is thinly veiled, and neither do I want them to desecrate corpses they deem unworthy nor do I want the corpses to attract any scavengers and endanger those who remove them from the street for safe passage.

"why do you burn them?"

The doctor had collected his faculties again. He turns to the Abydosian Prince. And it is a big giant health hazard. If I admonished you for staying in unhygienic conditions, these are worse tenfold.

Now back to Ulu and proceed. He watches the flames for a moment. If to see if the flames would die down on their own, or fascinated by the pure power of fire you are not sure.

**purepolarpanzer** · 2021-06-24, 03:42 PM (ISO 8601)

In the Foothills of Mount Beldrin, Along the Delvus River

As Ignacius begins emitting waves of flames over the corpses the priests of Haram scatter to the edges of the rest stop, whispering and speaking to one another in hushed tones as the gnome puts twenty seven bodies to the torch over the next minute. Their eyes are wide in fear, and Father Ilim motions at Dr. Madaras to stop, but none of them are willing to interrupt Ignacius' work. After sixty seconds, there are twenty seven vaguely humanoid ash piles, rapidly turning to dark liquid in the rain. Father Ilim steps forward looking tired, his fellows shooting you all withering looks from where they speak with one of the horse riding guards.

"I wish you hadn't done that. In the faith of Harum it is important that bones be set to rest within the earth. It is simply not done this way amongst my people. I understand that your ways are different... but not all of us do. The other priests... may try to make trouble for you now. I'd recommend you leave before they get a chance to speak with the lieutenant. I will try to calm them." He flashes you all a very strained smile. "May Haram bless your journey, and ensure you arrive where you were meant to be in a timely fashion." He displays his holy symbol while he gives the blessing, and in return Maus steps forward and removes a charm from around his own neck. "Spirits guide you, Father Ilim. Thank you for your assistance." The two holy men exchange looks of acknowledgement before turning their backs on each other, one to calm his brethren and one to load up into the coach.

When you are in the stage coach, Ulu's face has gone back to it's normal stony expression. "Something else to hunt. Some chaotic morphic monster. Whether it is us or some other group that bring it down, it is a noble act" Ulu begins cleaning her blade with oil and a rag as Kagiso gets the stage coach moving again. "I hope it is us."

Twenty Minutes Later, at the Next Checkpoint.

It's become quite dark by the time you all reach the next check point, protecting the scene from the opposite side. The soldiers there stop the stage coach, speak with Maus, and then begin clearing boulders out of the way. Apparently whatever words he used were convincing enough to get you by. One of higher ranking soldiers shouts that their contingent would be camping here tonight, and that the road would be clear tomorrow. Why he shouts this when there are none wishing to pass towards Dam'ess is a mystery to all but him. Kagiso shouts something back at Ulu, who sheaths her blade and looks up at all of you. "The horses are tired and they cannot see. The road is filled with stones. We will move beyond this cordon in case the soldier's mood towards us turns sour, but we must stop for the night very soon." Passage cleared, Kagiso snaps his small whip and the horses push forward, though at a slower pace than they've been moving all day.

Kagiso drives the horses for nearly an hour, obviously wishing to get far beyond the range of the check point. He slows the stage coach to a crawl and shouts back to Ulu in their native tongue again. "We stop here. We can take turns sleeping inside the coach. It is not overly comfortable, so if you have a tent I would understand refusal." Ulu makes to step out of the coach, but stops with one leg still inside. "Kagiso and I will take first watch. I must remove my armor before sleeping, among other things. You may decide the rest of the watches yourselves."

You find yourselves on a narrow stretch of road, the stage coach nestled against the right side and taking up more than half the track. Beyond the coach are rolling woodland hills, the Delvus somewhere deeper in and out of sight for now. To your left is a small bulge in the road suitable for a small fire and some tents (not that one can be started in this downpour), but it is somewhat alarming to find a fifty foot cliff beyond that, ensuring that if anyone sleep walks in the wrong direction this evening they will find themselves broken on the stones below. While it may be possible to camp under the trees, it will take time and effort to find a suitable spot, and it may not be within sight of the stage coach.

Spoiler: OOC

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See Discord for discussion of who will be keeping watch. If anyone wants to find a place to sleep among the trees I will need a survival check, DC 12. Dr. Madaras rolls with advantage because he doesn't require as much space. For the rest of you, sleeping in the stage coach with that many people in there requires either a disregard for personal space, or for some people to sleep out in the rain. Anyone who wants to sleep in their armor also needs to roll me a constitution saving throw.

**Spore** · 2021-06-25, 03:57 AM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 36/37
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 10 mHP)
Concentration: -

With the massacre

These corpses may receive your god's blessing, but this is also similar to a battlefield. Any burial rite is a race against time, else those who assist the slain souls may join them in pestilence. I won't allow for this. But I thank you for your help. Ignacius bows and departs for the carriage.

At the campsite

I would prefer to take last watch. I have a bit of brewing to do, and I don't want to bother anyone with any errant noises in the middle of the night. It will probably stay silent, but the odd pop, bubbling or sizzling could be heard.

**Amnestic** · 2021-06-25, 04:16 AM (ISO 8601)

Vargath Hubrecht
Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter
AC: 19 HP: 49/49
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT
Concentrating: --

"I'll take the second watch." He eyes the stagecoach for a moment, but ultimately his bulk makes it inadvisable for him to stay there. With the decision between sleeping beneath the open skies or cramped on top of each other for no reason, his decision is clear. "A natural sleep will suit me fine, I fear I'd wake everyone at watch start and close."

Perhaps it's fatigue, distractions from the day, or something else, but he finds no comfortable spot to rest among the trees, so instead takes one simply near the stagecoach propped up against one of the wooden titans. He wasn't free from the rain, but his cloak would keep the worst of it away. Given the already distinct lack of comfort he eschews his armour for sleeping purposes, leaving it covered nearby. It wasn't the worst place or situation he'd had to sleep it, but neither was it exactly ideal. He'd make sure to track down a tent once they had a moment in the capital.

**Riggdgames** · 2021-06-25, 09:32 PM (ISO 8601)

Set Al-Sayyid
Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
AC: 17 HP: 36/36 [44]
PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9
Conditions: Iumenta Pox (-8 max hp); 3rd level Aid (still active?) for 8 hours (Mal, +10 max hp)
Concentration:

In the Foothills of Mount Beldrin

Set listens quietly to Ilim's strained plea for them to leave before the other priests of Harum can make trouble. Looking back and forth between Ilim and Ignacius, Set tries to make sense of the two men. Ignacius sought to protect the living. Ilim seemingly wished to do the same, in the sense that he would stop the other priests from taking action against those who had denied them the right to bury what was left of their people. Set watches Ignacius respond to the other man's request and bow respectfully before departing. Set takes a moment to puzzle over where his own priorities would fall if it was his people lying dead in the road instead of strangers in a strange land.

Making Camp

Set finishes snacking on a few nuts and some dried fruit before consolidating his things, strapping his armor and spear to his pack. Coming to a decision, Set approaches Doctor Madaras.

"Is there anything I need to do to keep the Pox at bay? Mal's magics erased the heaviness in my chest earlier, but I can feel it returning."

Giving Doctor Madaras ample time to respond, Set breaks back in when given a chance. "I am not sure it is of great concern, but I wish to let you know that if you are around when I die and it's necessary, you can burn me. I have no qualms, particularly if it means safeguarding others from disease. I only ask," Set says, looking on Thrice-Blessed and hoping he understands, "if you should ever come across any other people from my land, do not burn them after death. Please. Wrap them in linen and cover them with rocks if you can, but leave their body and their belongings in peace. If you can spare them a torch and even a dagger if they're unarmed, you would honor them. That is all," Set says, inclining his head and following through on whatever instructions he is given to help cure his Iumenta Pox.

Nodding to Vargath, Set asks him to "wake me when your watch ends, and I'll take the next."

Peering towards the trees for a moment, Set leaves them be and instead seeks out some other cover from the rain.

Spoiler: OOC

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Armor, spear, and pack located on the roof of the coach if he stays inside. Alternatively, Set will stay in Leomund's Tiny Hut and bring his gear in there if Mal creates it and invites him.

**Spore** · 2021-06-25, 10:13 PM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 36/37
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 10 mHP)
Concentration: -

Ignacius smiles at Set's words. Ever the dramatic one, that princeling. Right, the pox. We need to proceed your treatments. He bows, shifting into a sarcastic tone. If the fine princeling on death's door would be so kind as to join me in our abatoir over here. he beckons to a blanket he had unfurled. To the rest, if you are sickened easily or sense some shame in seeing a naked body, I suggest you turn away. I would do this in the carriage, but I don't want to spend the evening disinfecting expensive foreign cloth.

Set can hear Ignacius mumbling yet another prayer to his Green Faith deities, in lieu of knowing other minor protectors, he asks the Hart for aid. May someone aid me over here? I would appreciate a bit of cover from the rain for our patient, lest you want a man from the desert die to a pneumonia in the rain. And fire, I want to disinfect my blades. He points at small apparently very sharp knives. As he covers his mouth with another cloth, he proceeds to pray, and do his thing.

Spoiler

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Medicine (1d20+1)[9]+Guidance (1d4)[3]
(1d20+1)[12]

**Awful** · 2021-06-27, 01:30 PM (ISO 8601)

Selissa Betula
Wood Elf Scout Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 38/38 -> 48/48
PP: 16
Conditions: Aid, bardic inspiration
Concentrating: --

Selissa spent a short while foraging in the nearby forest, returning with various berries, leaves, and a pair of rabbits with arrow-holes neatly in their foreheads, already gutted and set on spits. There was enough there for six people, perhaps. Having returned, she planted her staff in the ground, and used one of the hides she'd brought with her stretched between her staff and the wagon as an impromtu shelter, rolling out her bedroll for somewhere to sit out the mud. Using the shelter, she lit a little fire using the driest wood she could find in the forest, the smoke trickling out under the hides, and set the rabbits to cook.
"Don't need to sleep like humans," she said. She'd been entirely silent on the way here; this was the first time she'd spoken in a while. "Can watch for longer. Cursed one. You're sick. Sleep, idiot. Help you recover."

She gave him a blank-faced look, unimpressed with his desire to stand watch when he had the plague.

Spoiler: OOC

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Using her background feature to forage 6 people's worth of food. Under RAW one can rest in light armour with no penalty.
Assuming from the discord that Mal's doing his hut thing, or else she'd be somewhere more hidden.

**Theophilus** · 2021-06-27, 04:01 PM (ISO 8601)

Mal
Levistus Tiefling Bard 5
AC: 14 HP: 40/41
PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11
Spell Slots: 1st - 2/4 2nd - 2/3 3rd - 1/2
Fey Touched: 1st - 0/1 2nd - 1/1
Masquerade Tattoo: 1st - 0/1
Levistus Legacy: Armor of Agathys - 0/1 Darkness - 1/1
Bardic Inspiration: 2/4
Healer's Kit: 20/20
Mal Conditions: Tiny Hut
Mal Concentrating: Comprehend Languages

Esai
Ancient Companion: Warrior
Companion HP: 30/30
Companion AC: 16
Companion PP: 18 PIv: 12 PIs: 12
Warrior’s Protection (Reaction). When a creature within 5 feet of the companion makes a Strength or Dexterity saving throw, the companion imposes itself between the creature and the danger. The creature can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to the saving throw

At the Carnage Conflagration

Mal puffed his pipe and listened. He does not break his vigil as he watches the exchanges and inquiries. The tiefling appears engrossed, though otherwise expressionless. When Ignacious sets the corpses to torch, the attache sniffed at his snuff box and waited. When Maus diffused the situation, he maneuvered back toward the coach. Nothing good will come from interfering with the rites of the locals.

The statue quietly tromped into the carriage in pursuit of his summoner.

Camping in the Rain

Mal disembarked in the gloom. His vision parted the shadows near at hand, but he knew the dusk would settle as a black veil beyond his inheritance's night sight. He drew forth his viol with its bone inlays and ebony wood, playing a pianissimo sonata that reminded the listener of hearth and home. A golden dome swirled into existence near the carriage.

He addressed the others in the midst of the song, "Any who should wish to sleep dry and less confined may join me in my humble creation. Otherwise, I shall see you in the morning."

Once the domed structure appeared, Soreshu arranged the scholar's gear and settled into a standing position near at hand, staring into the darkness beyond. Mal instead settled in with his newly procured book from Bo'tel's estate. He strummed his viol, playing softly as he wove magic into the notes. Understanding settled into his mind. He reached out and touched the strange glyphs, seeking to learn more concerning the instruments of his profession.

As the art faded from his weary mind, he recited the infernal tongue to Soreshu, <"Thank you, honored Mari Soreshu. Farewell and may the secrets of the ages enrich you with true insight.">

Soreshu saluted his ward. Mal then continued the rite of binding, releasing the spirit within the statue. He called forth to the martial grandmasters of his Order, those true sovereigns of the sword. The books on the statue unfurled as he did, twisting to fuse their spines into a single panel like a great tower shield. Their arcane words in esoteric tongues shifted to speak of stratagems, martial forms, and other military lore lost to the ages. The statue's brow deepened a shade as the new spirit indwelt, presenting a formidable cunning and coldness. Grand marshal Esai addressed the pupil in draconic, "<A swift stroke and a keen eye, Bannerman. What threats do we pursue or await this evening?>"

Mal withdrew a palm-sized marble as he replied, <"A bold evening, Grand Marshall Esai. Demons, loup garou, or a chimeric horror may cross our camp. 🏕 This Vale promises many worthy foes for valorous tacticians.">

Esai chuckled coldly in his rumbling voice. He took the posture of a sentinel, unwavering in his watchfulness. Where Soreshu pondered, the grand marshall glared into the dark daring a foolhardy or epic foe to advance toward the opaque shelter.

Mal mentally addressed Moira,, "Evening, m’Lady. Bence potentially possessed ancient, potent artifacts. Stagecoach advance halted by King’s highwaymen due to Mummer massacre. Shapeshifter—kin to Horror of Yurl—responsible."

Spoiler: OOC

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Ritually cast Tiny Hut, followed by Comprehend Languages. Languages to read the manual on crafting Instruments of the Bards.

Replace Soreshu the Sage with Esai the Warrior

Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Spoiler: Cast and Crew

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Set: ~~outcast~~ exiled princeling of Abydos. Two princess sisters (Sisi and Sythpen Al-Sayyid). Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse. A Bloodwolf?
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? Calls Mal 'Mdala Ohlonishwayo.' Professes to serve no god, but spirits whose reach may be weaker in the Vale than elsewhere.

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: Bence's Secrets

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Spoiler: Bence's Journal

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...is a backwards plane, so far removed from the Prime Material that it has not seen an angel or the work of a god in a millennia. I hear that far to the west they do not even worship the gods. Proper savages, but I must remain vigilant, as their knowledge of the ways of this world is far more educated than most. But it is ripe for my conquest. While my Master was tasked with corrupting Avendor, my home plane, a bastion of good and law, my chore is simply to tip the rat into the bucket of the Abyss as it prowls the rim looking for cheese. This plane is already so flooded with the energies of the Abyss that demons spontaneously emerge, monsters manifest in the dark, and their weak leaders bargain with forces they would be wiser to repulse. It will be child's play to nudge it the last few inches into anarchy and destruction, mostly due to the efforts of Pale Night herself. For thousands of years she has been grasping and clawing at this realm, dragging it further from the light and closer to her realm day by day, inch by inch, soul by soul. While my home plane was beyond my ability to destroy, this place will be my masterpiece. With my death at the hands of the forces of good, a symphony of destruction will play the anthem to my ascension to demonhood. The Pale Mother has promised me that each death will bring me closer to my true form, and each rebirth will increase my power, just as our pact promised. I can't wait to die. When will the heroes arrive? I've been planting and tending the seed of the idea in the old giant's mind for weeks now. When will it bear fruit? When can my dark rise to power begin? (The rest is a combination of burned and Abyssal that becomes impossible to read)

Dam'ess- Mass Quasit Summoning. Magic Mouth to Levy Commands re: Retrieve Mirror of Leng, Scepter of Rulership, And Aniot's Cube. Disperse to Appropriate Parties Per The Plan. Burn The Cabin.

Harumburg- Sending to Lord of Bone re: Portal to the 113th. (Indecipherable Due to Burns) In Accordance with Their Great Alliance.

Falluneer- Sending to Lord of Flesh re: (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Ebon Spear.

(Indecipherable Due to Burns)light: Sending to Lord of Blood re: Assassination of (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Yukkot, Recovery of Blood (More Burns).

(Indecipherable Due to Burns)odge- Sending to Cult of Pale (More Burns) re: Initiate Divining Ritual Sacrifices. FIND THE DAMN ZIGGURAT.

Garrunrow- (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Kill the Last Bloodwolf. Recover (More Burns) Key.

Mountain of Smoke- (Indecipherable Due to Burns) crypt. Seize the Ebon (More Burns).

Sussoon- Ensure the Prophecy (Indecipherable Due to Burns)... Pay the Bounty Hunters to Find the Abydossian and the Princesses. re: Sacrifices of The Old Blood

(There is more, but seemingly out of paranoia Bence switched to Abyssal. It is impossible to tell how many lines there are, as the last half of the paper is fully burned away)

Spoiler: Arcane Lore concerning Bence's Notes

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The magic of Contingency is a nearly mythical bit of spell work that was said to be lost when the Library of Leng burned down. It allows a caster to prepare spells in advance for a predetermined event, in this case John Bence's own death, and the spells will automatically cast when the event happens. If Bence is capable of such sorcery, he is likely far more powerful than his flashy death at the party's hands would indicate.

The Mirror of Leng is a artifact of the Library of Leng, said to contain a frozen moment of time where the library was at it's height that a person can temporarily step in to, giving access to the greatest magical library this world has ever seen. Supposedly several mirrors were made, though some are confirmed destroyed after their use led to come calamity of forbidden magics long lost to time. The Scepter of Rulership is said to be an even more powerful version of a Rod of Rulership, a magic item that allows for mass mind manipulation of people to believe that the holder of the Scepter is their rightful ruler. The last time the Scepter was confirmed in play it toppled an entire nation.

Though numbering and organizing the layers of the Abyss is a fool's errand, there are some realms that are constant enough to designate. The one hundred and thirteenth layer is Thanatos, layer of Orcus, the Lord of Death. It is a lifeless frozen landscape where life is snuffed out almost as soon as it arrives, either by the untold legions of undead denizens, the magical aura of the layer itself, or, in the worst cases, by Orcus himself, using his fearsome Wand.

Spoiler: John Bence's Wall Art

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There are no invisible objects in the room, but the entire back wall of the cabin is plastered with profane runes and abyssal scribblings. Where there was nothing to the naked eye, there is an extensive patchwork of spell work, seemingly scribed in the rusted red of blood. More disturbing is the fragments of souls that have been bound to the wall. Faces of people rise and seethe from the wood like a strange and rippling tide, mouths open in anguish. There are not many of them left, presumably due to whatever spell was used here absorbing so much energy, but there is a fine layer of ectoplasm that would indicate that once there were dozens of soul fragments powering this spell. The sight turns Mal's stomach, as the chaotic, destructive magic of the Abyss is written as plainly as news script, but as subtly as any devil could manage.

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.
Horror of Yurl: Shapeshifting kind of monster. Severs limbs, creates euphoria, and slays by consuming the liver. The newest variant flies...

Spoiler: Instrument of the Bards

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

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.

**purepolarpanzer** · 2021-06-27, 10:13 PM (ISO 8601)

Northwest of Dam'ess, In the Foothills of Mount Beldrin

As Ulu and Kagiso climb down from the stage coach, both of them stretch and bend, still rigid from the road. Kagiso clambers up the side and removes a large box from the top of the stage and begins unfolding and setting up the most elaborate tent any of you have ever seen. It isn't particularly large, and while structurally sound it was nothing permanent, but it is dripping in ornamentation. Gold cords, silver capped pegs, and complicated looking fasteners make for a needlessly luxurious tent. Ulu sneered at the waste of coin before entering it. Perhaps a minute later, Ulu exited the tent using her hands to move around. She was wearing practical and comfortable looking night clothes, stained by oil and with what looks like small arcs or electricity constantly rolling up and down the fabric. And, for the first time outside of her armor, Ulu is revealed to be missing her legs from her upper thighs down. Her arm muscles are rippled with definition, and she easily maneuvers her body up to the stage coach, where she clambers up into the front seat using decorations on the vehicle as hand holds, as though she has made the climb many times before. Removing a thin blanket from a pouch at her side, she spent her watch facing in the same direction as the stage coach while Kagiso leans against the rear, facing the opposite direction and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.

When Mal summons his magical structure of solid air and light, Maus eagerly moves into it to avoid a rainy fate. Dr. Madaras' precipitation problems are easily abated when Set and he move into the magical dome as well. There is plenty of room for Vargath and Selissa should they choose to join rather than persevere the damp. Inside, Ignacius gets to work lancing Set's boils and cutting away at necrotized flesh. The process is painful, with pus and blood being drained in equal measure, but after the Doctor is done, Set feels slightly more purified through the pain. Mal, reading at a significantly slower rate due to the nature of the spell, manages to labor through a seemingly endless introduction in this strange foreign language that makes him yearn for something of substance. The author goes on at length about what inspired them to craft a magical musical instrument, but by the time Mal's eyes are weary with tiredness, he has learned that the instrument in question is a violin, and it must be made of only the finest materials for the enchantment to take hold. Any flaw in the craftsmanship will cause all the mana invested in the item to drain out and render the violin useless, both as an instrument of music and magic.

Time passes, the night cools to a bonechilling temperature for those who are in the wet, and sleep overtakes some of you intermittently throughout the night. After a few hours Ulu and Kagiso clamber into the stage coach, obviously more intent on keeping their own company than joining you in your arcane shelter. Vargath and Selissa each find a position in which they can see both ways along the road and simply wait. For once, it is Vargath's eyes that spot the small shimmer of dancing light in the distance, higher in the hills where the road hitches back along a ravine. When it is pointed out to Selissa, she confirms the campfire for what it is. It seems there are travelers just ahead of you in the road, less than a quarter mile away. Vargath swears he sees figures moving in the distance, but Selissa can't confirm them from this distance in the dark of the night. The half-orc also feels... an anxiety. As though a note of sound is being played too high for anyone else to hear, but his enhanced physiology can pick up on it. The sensation puts the taste of cold metal on Vargath's tongue and puts a pulse of pain behind his nose and below his eyes. It makes his watch less than enjoyable, but he is under no threat of falling asleep on shift at least. He has trouble settling down for the evening when his watch is over, getting less sleep than he would prefer.

Whether or not Set follows Selissa's directions to sleep the full night, Selissa is on for the next shift of watch as well. The night grows even colder, and the absence of a fire does little to help with the darkness and the constant sound of rain. She marvels that there could be any number of people just outside her dark vision and she would never know. The only constant is the little dancing glimmer from the neighboring camp site further up the road. Now, with little other stimulation, Selissa finds her eyes drawn to this flame. She swears she sees someone step in front of it one or two times, but she detects nothing else that evening before she settles in to trance and the next shift is due.

Mal, perhaps frustrated from the lengthy diatribe he was forced to read, barely notices the fire that Selissa pointed out to him, spending the watch in whispered conversation with Esai. It is the warrior spirit who points out to Mal that the fire in the distance has gone out of the night, presumably from a lack of constant fuel in the rain. The cunning warrior suggests that if their neighbors intended to be hostile aggression would be coming soon. But there is no night raid, and the rest of Mal and Esai's shift proceeds without event.

Finally, Ignacius and Maus take their turn, both benefitting from a decent length of uninterrupted sleep. The rain slows during their shift, and slowly dawn begins to rise over the hills to the east. Though both of them have been briefed of the other campsite, neither can spot anything further up the road. No movement, no fire, no nothing. It is not until the others begin to awake to a grey and drizzling day that Maus leans down to shake Ignacius' shoulder and point at the road up ahead. Around twenty five yards out of camp there is a strange wreath hanging from a low tree branch next to the road. Maus quietly requests that Ignacius cover him while he goes to retrieve it, and he returns with a small construct the size of a large buckler made of wood, branch, flowers, and deer horn that seems to bare some significance beyond it's simple construction.

Spoiler: DC 15 Investigation or Survival

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The twists of wood on this totem are still bleeding sap, the flowers are still fresh and vibrant. This was created within the last day or so, likely last night.

Spoiler: DC 10 History (Advantage for Selissa)

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This appears to be some sort of primitive fetish or ward.

Spoiler: DC 15

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This sort of creation is very simplistic method of communicating used by ancient elves. The rust red flowers may be some form of welcome... or warning...

Spoiler: DC 20

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This is a maerjen nunk, something of a calling card of wild elves who travel on or around roads. You would leave one of these on a road or path that is often taken. It served as a welcome to the area. This one specifically speaks of plentiful deer in the upcoming region, a freshwater spring, and a home welcome to needy travelers somewhere in the distance.

**Spore** · 2021-06-28, 07:51 AM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 36/37
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 10 mHP)
Concentration: -

The doctor is in:

As Ignacius drains the boils, and sterilizes the necrotic flesh. Soon Set's whole body is irritated, bleeding, the stoic warrior too stubborn to show pain. Ignacius didn't know the Abydosian prince for long, but he had a bit of a knack for people, though his skills paled in comparison to those of the tiefling. So he let the princeling suffer in silence, into a crescendo of agony, until finally, healing balm and magic washed over and through the man. The rashes went back, his flesh smooth instead of sore. Finally Ignacius swished his amber colored magic wand, the puss and dirt of Set circled above the wand's tip in an orb of grime blood and puss. With a flick, it ignited and evaporated into nothingness.

Without a pause, the small doctor cleans his own hands and starts eating, as if he hasn't deal with necrotic flesh and wounds just a minute before.

General Esai
Ignacius started to be distrustful of the bard's magics. They were entirely foreign to him, and the ease with which the attache created and controlled a construct this advanced was frightening. Though he still trusted in Mal's loyalty - after all they served his mistress - he was not sure about her goals, nor about the magics she commanded. He expected someone close to her to be using dark arts, not be an expert in history or even artifice.

Ignacius proceeded to ask Mal, thinking that discussion should come before distrust. Your sudden knowledge in the artificing is very welcome, but where did you learn this? Do these things understand our common or just you? The artificer circles the golem. This build, it is ... genius. Using the inbuild ley lines to strengthen the creature rather than to try and protect them via complicated construction. I thought Alvis was sturdy for his size, but this is marvelous. I reckon it can take some punishment.

The fetish

The gnome investigates the buckler the titanic shaman brought.

I know nothing of such things, but it is either a warning or an invitation. An ambush would have happened, if they wanted it, so maybe they fear us. In any case, we should wake the others. They should be rested enough.

**Theophilus** · 2021-06-28, 09:51 AM (ISO 8601)

Mal
Levistus Tiefling Bard 5
AC: 14 HP: 41/41
PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11
Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 3/3 3rd - 2/2
Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1
Masquerade Tattoo: 1st - 1/1
Levistus Legacy: Armor of Agathys - 1/1 Darkness - 1/1
Bardic Inspiration: 4/4
Healer's Kit: 20/20
Mal Conditions: ---
Mal Concentrating: ---

Esai
Ancient Companion: Warrior
Companion HP: 30/30
Companion AC: 16
Companion PP: 18 PIv: 12 PIs: 12
Warrior’s Protection (Reaction). When a creature within 5 feet of the companion makes a Strength or Dexterity saving throw, the companion imposes itself between the creature and the danger. The creature can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to the saving throw

Conversation in the hut

Esai watched the circling gnome with cold appraisal from his own ruby eyes. The tiefling smiled and responded, "Binding spirits to vessels is an art my community employs with care. I had not realized our need for such support until Bence's work became more fully known--and this horror confirms masters like Esai shall benefit our efforts. Your work is laudable, since you craft the vessel alongside the animating spirit and your work requires much more input from your arcana. The older method is more art than artifice."

Esai added in laconic trade speech toward the gnome, "We speak as we wish to whom we will."

The morning revelation

Mal burned through three bowls of his tobacco during the evening, between the insipid introduction to the manual and the bleak view beyond his magical hut. He had alternated between low light to darkness to assist with the sleepers within the structure, enabling those who chose the arcane comforts to sleep far more peacefully than the sodden, dripping accommodations beyond. However, he felt a pang of temptation to see the construction of Ulu's armor after the revelation of her legless state. His design required he stay within the magical ring of the hemisphere, lest he breach the binding magic.

His bleary eyes barely noted the flames. Their loss elicited a silent curse. A scholar's weakness is his eyes. Esai's vigilance came with the cost of feeling the undisputed variance between Mal's bardic specialization and the Grand Marshal's path within the Order. The spirit tactfully did not display disappointment in the tiefling in either word or its stony countenance.

Mal rose with first light as Esai roused the sleeper. The sentinel pointed toward Maus and his discovery. The pair awaited the rest to arise before trekking beyond the bounds of the structure, which instantly blinked from existence as Mal strode forth. In the interim, the spirit-guided statue instructed its junior through a series of martial forms to stir the living member's blood and ensure he was limber for what may come next.

The tiefling moved forward. Esai and Mal quietly assessed the art piece as they approached, taking in its strange significance on the road. The bard addressed Maus, "What bit of elvish communication is this? A rather ancient method of conveying beware or welcome. I wager the prior given our recent encounters."

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Spoiler: Cast and Crew

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Set: ~~outcast~~ exiled princeling of Abydos. Two princess sisters (Sisi and Sythpen Al-Sayyid). Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse. A Bloodwolf?
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? Calls Mal 'Mdala Ohlonishwayo.' Professes to serve no god, but spirits whose reach may be weaker in the Vale than elsewhere.

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: Bence's Secrets

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Spoiler: Bence's Journal

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...is a backwards plane, so far removed from the Prime Material that it has not seen an angel or the work of a god in a millennia. I hear that far to the west they do not even worship the gods. Proper savages, but I must remain vigilant, as their knowledge of the ways of this world is far more educated than most. But it is ripe for my conquest. While my Master was tasked with corrupting Avendor, my home plane, a bastion of good and law, my chore is simply to tip the rat into the bucket of the Abyss as it prowls the rim looking for cheese. This plane is already so flooded with the energies of the Abyss that demons spontaneously emerge, monsters manifest in the dark, and their weak leaders bargain with forces they would be wiser to repulse. It will be child's play to nudge it the last few inches into anarchy and destruction, mostly due to the efforts of Pale Night herself. For thousands of years she has been grasping and clawing at this realm, dragging it further from the light and closer to her realm day by day, inch by inch, soul by soul. While my home plane was beyond my ability to destroy, this place will be my masterpiece. With my death at the hands of the forces of good, a symphony of destruction will play the anthem to my ascension to demonhood. The Pale Mother has promised me that each death will bring me closer to my true form, and each rebirth will increase my power, just as our pact promised. I can't wait to die. When will the heroes arrive? I've been planting and tending the seed of the idea in the old giant's mind for weeks now. When will it bear fruit? When can my dark rise to power begin? (The rest is a combination of burned and Abyssal that becomes impossible to read)

Dam'ess- Mass Quasit Summoning. Magic Mouth to Levy Commands re: Retrieve Mirror of Leng, Scepter of Rulership, And Aniot's Cube. Disperse to Appropriate Parties Per The Plan. Burn The Cabin.

Harumburg- Sending to Lord of Bone re: Portal to the 113th. (Indecipherable Due to Burns) In Accordance with Their Great Alliance.

Falluneer- Sending to Lord of Flesh re: (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Ebon Spear.

(Indecipherable Due to Burns)light: Sending to Lord of Blood re: Assassination of (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Yukkot, Recovery of Blood (More Burns).

(Indecipherable Due to Burns)odge- Sending to Cult of Pale (More Burns) re: Initiate Divining Ritual Sacrifices. FIND THE DAMN ZIGGURAT.

Garrunrow- (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Kill the Last Bloodwolf. Recover (More Burns) Key.

Mountain of Smoke- (Indecipherable Due to Burns) crypt. Seize the Ebon (More Burns).

Sussoon- Ensure the Prophecy (Indecipherable Due to Burns)... Pay the Bounty Hunters to Find the Abydossian and the Princesses. re: Sacrifices of The Old Blood

(There is more, but seemingly out of paranoia Bence switched to Abyssal. It is impossible to tell how many lines there are, as the last half of the paper is fully burned away)

Spoiler: Arcane Lore concerning Bence's Notes

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The magic of Contingency is a nearly mythical bit of spell work that was said to be lost when the Library of Leng burned down. It allows a caster to prepare spells in advance for a predetermined event, in this case John Bence's own death, and the spells will automatically cast when the event happens. If Bence is capable of such sorcery, he is likely far more powerful than his flashy death at the party's hands would indicate.

The Mirror of Leng is a artifact of the Library of Leng, said to contain a frozen moment of time where the library was at it's height that a person can temporarily step in to, giving access to the greatest magical library this world has ever seen. Supposedly several mirrors were made, though some are confirmed destroyed after their use led to come calamity of forbidden magics long lost to time. The Scepter of Rulership is said to be an even more powerful version of a Rod of Rulership, a magic item that allows for mass mind manipulation of people to believe that the holder of the Scepter is their rightful ruler. The last time the Scepter was confirmed in play it toppled an entire nation.

Though numbering and organizing the layers of the Abyss is a fool's errand, there are some realms that are constant enough to designate. The one hundred and thirteenth layer is Thanatos, layer of Orcus, the Lord of Death. It is a lifeless frozen landscape where life is snuffed out almost as soon as it arrives, either by the untold legions of undead denizens, the magical aura of the layer itself, or, in the worst cases, by Orcus himself, using his fearsome Wand.

Spoiler: John Bence's Wall Art

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There are no invisible objects in the room, but the entire back wall of the cabin is plastered with profane runes and abyssal scribblings. Where there was nothing to the naked eye, there is an extensive patchwork of spell work, seemingly scribed in the rusted red of blood. More disturbing is the fragments of souls that have been bound to the wall. Faces of people rise and seethe from the wood like a strange and rippling tide, mouths open in anguish. There are not many of them left, presumably due to whatever spell was used here absorbing so much energy, but there is a fine layer of ectoplasm that would indicate that once there were dozens of soul fragments powering this spell. The sight turns Mal's stomach, as the chaotic, destructive magic of the Abyss is written as plainly as news script, but as subtly as any devil could manage.

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.
Horror of Yurl: Shapeshifting kind of monster. Severs limbs, creates euphoria, and slays by consuming the liver. The newest variant flies...

Spoiler: Instrument of the Bards

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

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.

**Amnestic** · 2021-06-28, 04:26 PM (ISO 8601)

Vargath Hubrecht
Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter
AC: 19 HP: 49/49
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT
Concentrating: --

As long as they were content to leave well enough alone during the night, Vargath was as well. He was in no mood or state to be finding fights, even if the magical dome had saved him from a night in the rain. It's something to note, and be wary of, but he wouldn't prompt action based off of a hunch and ill feeling, especially while the others slept and they were safe for the most part inside the hut. There were countermeasures one could take against a group that holed up inside the protective dome - not least of which was simply dispelling it outright - but such measures usually came through trial and error. He hadn't had cause to use any such countermeasures himself, but they had been discussed in a lecture on the advantages and limitations of such a spell.

His sleep is restless, wolves nipping ever closer at the edges of his psyche, but he does manage to get enough actual sleep that he could be considered 'rested', and it leaves him more than a little irritable in the morning. He tries - and doesn't succeed terribly well - at concealing his ill mood as he straps the armour on, the silver pinching at his flesh uncomfortably. Protection that he needed, despite the discomfort that was growing stronger and stronger with each passing night. "Who cares what nocturnal woodsmen left for us? We'll be past this place soon enough and on to the capital. If they want to spend their time making wreaths instead of leaving notes like everyone else then let them. Maybe if they spent their time hunting instead of doing childish plant-crafts, the mummer's troupe wouldn't be smouldering ash right now."

**Riggdgames** · 2021-06-28, 09:05 PM (ISO 8601)

Set Al-Sayyid
Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
AC: 17 HP: 33/33
PP: 12 PIv: 13 PIs: 9
Conditions: Iumenta Pox (-8 max hp)
Concentration:

Once Doctor Madaras explains his intentions and the necessity of cutting into his flesh, Set nods to both him and Selissa. In the desert we accept such water as is offered, he thinks to himself even as rainfall seeps into his robes. "<Kama taqul.> As you say," he translates, plastering a smile on his face despite the sinking feeling that he barely understands how serious his illness is. "Thank you for taking my watch," he says to Evergreen as she chides him. She'd called his illness a plague and Thrice-Blessed insisted that death was enveloping him. Doctor Madaras would have to cut away whatever was already dead to salvage what still lived.

Set chews on the inside of his cheek, stomach churning as he tries to partake in eating some of the food Selissa provided. In the end, he satisfies himself with a morsel before breaking off a piece of the branch used to roast and spit one of the rabbits. Set runs the short stick back and forth across his leg as he sits there, motions subdued, but roughly in time with Mal's music. Set's 'bow' is stringless and much too stout, but there was something about music that had always made him want to play along regardless of his inability. When the dome swirls into being, it feels like a fitting crescendo. "Beautiful piece," Set calls into the opening, smiling warmly at Iceblood. For all his cold precision, Mal seemed to thaw during the song. Set couldn't help thinking of a warm breeze on his face as the notes faded.

Seeing that Ignacius is eager to get started Set follows Thrice-Blessed inside, holding on to untainted thoughts of home as he disrobes and lies down. His mock bow lies beside him, and Set's last act before he gives himself over to being cut and bled is to place the stick between his teeth and bite down.

A long time later, Set is vaguely aware of fluid coalescing over him as the bearded gnome waves a stick in the air. His? No, that wasn't right. Not Set's, Doctor Madaras had another one. Set's stick had fallen beside his head. Igancius' stick glows, but Set is too exhausted and too cold to care. He moves an arm, wincing at a stab of pain, and pulls his robes over top of him. There are vague motions around him, but without any fresh cuts biting into him, Set's focus drifts further. A soft glow from Thrice-Blessed paradoxically pushes Set deeper into darkness as Madaras takes the worst of Set's agony away, letting sleep sneak up and overtake him despite the lingering pain.

When Set awakens, he feels woozy but better despite the ache of a hundred cuts. This pox was insidious, killing Set's flesh slow and steady so that he could hardly tell when he'd begun to feel sick. But now, at least temporarily released from the rot that was trying to overtake him, he felt lighter and purified even if he also felt like he'd been in a fist fight with a barlgura.

Set pulls his robes on, trying to remember details where last night had started to become fuzzy. He reaches for the stick at his feet and holds it up, inspecting it as if it might glow, but finding only teeth marks. "Good morning," Set says to Mal and any others present, nodding quizzically in greeting at the reformed statue that has taken Soreshu's place. "Hello. You--Soreshu?" No, it was a different man-of-stone, wasn't it? Another gift of Mal's Elder? "Apologies. Honored to meet you," Set says, incling his head slightly as his head swims, black spots blurring his vision momentarily. "Set."

The dome was unchanged at least. Stumbling slowly out into the morning light, Set could see that it was what he remembered inside and out. A part of him wants to seek out Ulu, but he can't remember why. She had changed shapes last night too, hadn't she? Or was that a dream? Set briefly looks around for her before quickly giving up the search, settling quietly in the mud as he watches Mal and Esai practice forms.

As everyone starts to congregate, Set's eyes settle on Ignacius and he stands too quickly, bowing his head on unsteady legs and stumbling bodily into the Mighty. "Sorry Vargath," Set apologizes, leaning heavily on the half-orc for a moment before righting himself. He'd feel better once he had his spear to lean on. He rubs his eyes, refocusing on the wreathe. "Bad news?" he asks, trying to read the mood around him without making his head hurt.

Spoiler: OOC

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Constitution save: (1d20+5)[17]
Constitution save w/ advantage: (1d20+5)[20]

Investigation: (1d20+3)[21]
Investigation w/ disadvantage (self-imposed): (1d20+3)[22]

History: (1d20)[1]
History w/ disadvantage (self-imposed): (1d20)[10]

**Awful** · 2021-07-01, 12:28 AM (ISO 8601)

Selissa Betula
Wood Elf Scout Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 38/38 -> 48/48
PP: 16
Conditions: Aid, bardic inspiration
Concentrating: --

Selissa did not mind the rain, in truth,during her watch. The dark was strangely restful, even as the flicker of shadows danced like spectral legions just outside the grey-tinged greach of the so-called darkvision.

In the morning, she shook off the fur, retrieved her staff, and gave the wreath a careful once-over. The details were close to memory. There had been a forest-tongue name for them... ah, she couldn't recall. No matter.

"Elf-sign," Selissa agreed, "Old. Not the same as my people's. Don't think it's a warning. Would use an arrow, thorns, bones. At least, in my tribe."

She gave the half-blood a flat look as he spoke up dismissively. She gave a small shake of her head,
"Not childish. Using what's available. Best they don't hunt it. Horror beyond most. Even elves."

**Amnestic** · 2021-07-01, 04:52 AM (ISO 8601)

Vargath Hubrecht
Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter
AC: 19 HP: 49/49
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT
Concentrating: --

"They've got sap, they've got wood, they've got plenty of trees and rocks. If they cared to make a statement we could understand clearly they'd do so. Instead," he gestures dismissively at the wreath again, "...this. A gentle welcome or aggressive warning, full of ambiguity, and no doubt we'd be the ones to blame if we didn't interpret the ambiguity correctly. What is that if not childish?" People could have their ways and traditions, but they lived in a world with others, and part of that meant communicating with others - clearly.

**Spore** · 2021-07-01, 06:16 AM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 36/37
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 10 mHP)
Concentration: -

Ignacius scratches his beard after Selissa's statement, and then shakes his head at Vargath. Your magic uses runes with set meanings. This is more free-form. If it is not a warning, as Selissa stated, it might be an invitation. I say we should make new friends. We have barely enough allies. Of course this would demand our group's unity; and more likely than not either Selissa's or Mal's voice to guide us.

**purepolarpanzer** · 2021-07-01, 12:50 PM (ISO 8601)

Northwest of Dam'ess, In the Foothills of Mount Beldrin

Maus takes some time to look over the fetish, running his fingers along the horn and flowers to get a feel for them. "I once read a book about these. They are maerjen nunk, which means "path sign", or something like it. Ancient way of communicating between wood elves and travelers on their land before common was quite so... well, common. It's an ancient art, one I thought had gone extinct. Apparently there is a tribe near here that practices the old ways." Ulu, who was in her armor and at full height before any of you woke up, barely gives the wreath a second look. "If we encounter this tribe we will attempt to be friendly while we pass through their lands, but we do not have time to play diplomat to some tribals. If you are all ready, mount up. We are leaving after breakfast."

Maus makes the best of breakfast with a large supply of honeyed oats wrapped around dried fruit and crafted into bars, wrapped in rough paper. He freely shares these with any who would prefer it to their own supplies, and even Ulu gives a brief smile of delight at the wave of sweetness that washes over the tongue after biting one of these. True to her word, however, soon after these bars have been consumed Kagiso is back in the driver's seat and Ulu is climbing into the coach. "Woza! Come on! it it is another three days to the capital if we are fast. More if we are slow. And none of that is time we can afford. Khuphuka! Mount up!"

Climbing Mount Beldrin

The rain today is not as constant nor as forceful as the day before, but it is a constant companion through your steady ride up a inclined slope. The horses churn the pebbly road to muck under their hooves, and the coach seems to bounce and jostle much more today. After a few hours of travelling Maus shouts and called for a halt, stepping down and walking forward and out of view once Kagiso obliges. When he returns, he holds another nunk, this one much more dire than the one before. Almost as though Selissa predicted it, this one is composed of bones and a skull that is covered in dried, peeling flesh and surrounded by a halo of flies. Instead of branches this one is crafted from thorn bushes, and streaked across the sharpened thorns there are splotches of red that is either blood or berry juice. Maggots climb out of the eye sockets of a deer skull, and if one looks closely enough they can see an entire colony of the worm like parasites feasting on what remains of a brain inside the skull. Maus holds this gingerly and with gloves hands, keeping it well away from his body. "This ward speaks of corruption and filth. The rotting skull indicates some sort of plague or pestilence, the blood spells out a warning, and the thorn bushes mean we are not welcome here. Problem is, there is another one of the welcoming wards hanging right on the next tree over. Whoever is hanging these things is sending mixed messages." Once everyone has had a chance to observe the disgusting ward, Maus throws it into the bushes at the side of the road, taking time to scrub his gloves clean with rain water dripping down the side of the coach. Ulu, again nonplussed at this primitive sign, simply gives a shout to Kagiso before speaking to all of you. "We move forward, but I advise all of you make sure you at least have A weapon from the top of the coach in case these sign makes show themselves." That done, Kagiso spurs the horses into movement and continues up the slope.

Near the Top of Mount Beldrin

The trip up the mountain becomes increasingly more eerie as the day progresses. The temperature drops rapidly, leaving the road shrouded in a haze of fog as the rain continues to come down. The stage coach slows down, much to Ulu's annoyance, simply because Kagiso needs more time to steer the horses around bends and twists that seem to come from nowhere through the thick fog, and along the left hand side of the road the cliffside has grown steeper and deeper, the bottom so far down you cannot see it through the fog. Occasionally a patch of trees will be close enough on the right side of the road to see more maerjen nunk posted. Throughout the day you must see two dozen of the things, seemingly alternating between beautiful and inviting and violent, putrid, and dire. Every time one of you looks out the window to the stage coach and spots a deer skull hanging in the center of one of these you get a strong feeling that the empty eye sockets are staring back at you. You only see the sun for fleeting glimpses through the heavy cloud cover, and before you know it the sky is darkening again, the rain is coming down harder, and Kagiso calls for a stop for the evening once again.

As you are stopping the coach for the evening, you find yourselves in a precarious position. Around a third of the road has fallen away down the cliff, leaving your stagecoach to completely block the road. Ulu discovers this lack of maneuvering room as her foot almost comes down onto empty space. Hurriedly stepping back into the coach, she exchanges a few shouted words with Kagiso before closing the door behind her. "We are going to move forward. Very carefully. This section of the road is damaged. Kagiso will try to find a better spot." A few minutes of agonizingly slow travel later, with stones kicked up by the wheels falling away into darkness down the cliff, the road widens up again and Kagiso brings the stage coach to a halt. He climbs down off the seat and clambers onto the side of the stage coach, opening the door a crack and speaking quietly to Ulu. She translates for him. "Small campfire ahead in the road. About a hundred feet, barely visible through the fog and the rain. How should we handle it? Approach as a group or send scouts ahead to investigate?"

**Amnestic** · 2021-07-01, 03:00 PM (ISO 8601)

Vargath Hubrecht
Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter
AC: 19 HP: 49/49
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT
Concentrating: --

Vargath can't help but feel somewhat vindicated at the mixed messages coming through. There was no point in paying heed to them, and he'd give it no more thought. The cold doesn't agree with him, and he pulls his wolf cloak a bit tighter around for warmth. He tries to spend his time in the carriage relaxing as best he can, catching up on sleep and ignoring the twinge of silver against skin. Empty travel was not his ideal, especially as he was right now. He wanted to be doing something with his hands. "Strength, and safety, in numbers," is his sole offering on the question of how to proceed. He's got little doubt that Selissa could probably approach stealthily, but if they had watch-guards, which they should, they may have heard or seen the coach's approach. They'd be expecting something, and a show of strength would better disincentivise any road hostilities. That was the idea at least. It's not delivered with any finality or insistence, just a musing, to give others the time to discuss it.

**Riggdgames** · 2021-07-01, 09:21 PM (ISO 8601)

Set Al-Sayyid
Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
AC: 17 HP: 33/33
PP: 12 PIv: 13 PIs: 9
Conditions: Iumenta Pox (-8 max hp)
Concentration:

In the Foothills of Mount Beldrin

Set stares at Ulu and Maus enjoying their blocks of honeyed oats wrapped around dried fruit, but contents himself with his own rations. His dried fruit was becoming chewy, the nuts growing stale, but he didn't want for food. Set's father likely would've had something to say about a thirsty man refusing an offer of water, but the old Abydosian proverb couldn't speak to every situation. Maus had already offered to join them and find the truth about Harumburg. Other offers could wait until that thirst was quenched.

Climbing Mount Beldrin

When Maus gives the call to halt hours later, Set takes the opportunity to stretch his legs. Stiff and aching, he nevertheless walks around the coach a few times, doing his best to ignore the deeper cuts that gnaw at him. It feels good to move, even with the pain and the heaviness lingering in his chest.

Set watches Maus return with a package in gloved hands. A second wreathe. A second message diametrically opposed to the first. Set understands elvish well-enough, but these maerjen nunk were of an older language. Set nods to Ulu's suggestion, retrieving his spear from the top of the coach and trying his best to keep it out of the way as they pile back inside. It doesn't make sense. The wreathes paired together on the same road were two sides of a coin, not a coherent message. Set pulls out a coin of his own, flipping the ankh and the scarab over and over in his fingers as he revisits the two 'path signs' in his mind's eye.

Set flips the coin into the air with a ping, letting it smack into his open palm. The scarab, death. It would be. Paired together, death inevitably follows life. The messages were no different. You couldn't be both welcome and unwelcome. Taken together, it'd be foolish to think it's a simple misunderstanding. Something was wrong. With luck, they wouldn't find out what. With luck, their paths would diverge and the messages would fade into memory while they moved on to Harumburg.

Near the Top of Mount Beldrin

No such luck. "I don't like it," Set interjects after Vargath speaks. "Leaving two messages where one should be, I mean. Nothing good can come from telling those who follow this path that they're welcome and unwelcome at the same time. I like using our numbers, though. If there's only one campfire, hopefully that means our numbers are similar or greater than theirs."

Set looks over the faces of Mal, Ignacius, and Ulu, trying to determine where they stand, but he can't ignore Selissa's heritage.

"They may not be your tribe, but these are your people, aren't they? Is there something we're missing?"

**Theophilus** · 2021-07-02, 08:47 PM (ISO 8601)

Mal
Levistus Tiefling Bard 5
AC: 14 HP: 41/41
PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11
Spell Slots: 1st - 4/4 2nd - 2/3 3rd - 2/2
Fey Touched: 1st - 1/1 2nd - 1/1
Masquerade Tattoo: 1st - 1/1
Levistus Legacy: Armor of Agathys - 1/1 Darkness - 1/1
Bardic Inspiration: 4/4
Healer's Kit: 20/20
Mal Conditions: ---
Mal Concentrating: ---

Esai
Ancient Companion: Warrior
Companion HP: 30/30
Companion AC: 16
Companion PP: 18 PIv: 12 PIs: 12
Warrior’s Protection (Reaction). When a creature within 5 feet of the companion makes a Strength or Dexterity saving throw, the companion imposes itself between the creature and the danger. The creature can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to the saving throw

The Climb

Maledictus spent much of the ride reading with his ritual, seeking to press beyond the insipid blathering to the meat of hte matter concerning Bardic instruments. He would need to secure a competent woodworker. Perhaps Vargath's carpentry extends to violin craft. The tiefling put low stock in such a guess, but he was not above being pleasantly surprised by his colleagues' hidden talents.

When the group discovers a second, sickening sign, the scholar puffed elvish skulls from his pipe. "Perhaps two tribes live upon this mountain, or one sect is far more occult than the rest. All answers shall prove ill nonewithstanding."

Esai, who kept his shield behind his back and cradled his hammer without complaint or shifting, remarked stoicly, "If plague or terror moves through these lands, the breathing should not stray too far from the coach. Expeditious travel is a surer defense than laboring to discern what these emblems portend."

The tiefling kept his dagger while in the coach as is. He added the nuisance of his short sword, shifting to accommodate the length of steel at his side. In the end, he worked the sheathed weapon down to the floorboards, propping it against his knee. The persistent slap eventually numbed where the metal contacted his breeches. Yet, he kept his mien as fixated on his studies as when they road in far more spacious capacities.

The Last Stop

The tiefling dismounted with zest off the forested side of the coach. He exercised his legs and stretched his arms while he heard the updates. Esai lowered from the vehicle and took a protective posture over his ward, intervening his stony hide between him and the thick, dark woods. The bard addressed the others concerns, "Perhaps we compromise between marshalling in strength and scouting ahead. Selissa could scout with the intention of parleying with elves while we follow at a distance to meet them openly. I shall bolster Ignacious, Set, and Selissa once more. If the wood elf wishes to slip ahead of us, I could also grace her with the agility of a panther."

He drew his bow and viol, setting them to his cheek, "Only if you wish, of course."

Spoiler: OOC

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Cast Aid on Set, Ignacious, and Selissa.

Spoiler: Mal's Notes

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Spoiler: Cast and Crew

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Set: ~~outcast~~ exiled princeling of Abydos. Two princess sisters (Sisi and Sythpen Al-Sayyid). Romantic connection for Moira?
Selissa: Blighted or reconstructed wood elf? Purported Scout.
Vargath: Afflicted Lycanthrope seeking to suspend his curse. A Bloodwolf?
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? Calls Mal 'Mdala Ohlonishwayo.' Professes to serve no god, but spirits whose reach may be weaker in the Vale than elsewhere.

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: Bence's Secrets

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Spoiler: Bence's Journal

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...is a backwards plane, so far removed from the Prime Material that it has not seen an angel or the work of a god in a millennia. I hear that far to the west they do not even worship the gods. Proper savages, but I must remain vigilant, as their knowledge of the ways of this world is far more educated than most. But it is ripe for my conquest. While my Master was tasked with corrupting Avendor, my home plane, a bastion of good and law, my chore is simply to tip the rat into the bucket of the Abyss as it prowls the rim looking for cheese. This plane is already so flooded with the energies of the Abyss that demons spontaneously emerge, monsters manifest in the dark, and their weak leaders bargain with forces they would be wiser to repulse. It will be child's play to nudge it the last few inches into anarchy and destruction, mostly due to the efforts of Pale Night herself. For thousands of years she has been grasping and clawing at this realm, dragging it further from the light and closer to her realm day by day, inch by inch, soul by soul. While my home plane was beyond my ability to destroy, this place will be my masterpiece. With my death at the hands of the forces of good, a symphony of destruction will play the anthem to my ascension to demonhood. The Pale Mother has promised me that each death will bring me closer to my true form, and each rebirth will increase my power, just as our pact promised. I can't wait to die. When will the heroes arrive? I've been planting and tending the seed of the idea in the old giant's mind for weeks now. When will it bear fruit? When can my dark rise to power begin? (The rest is a combination of burned and Abyssal that becomes impossible to read)

Dam'ess- Mass Quasit Summoning. Magic Mouth to Levy Commands re: Retrieve Mirror of Leng, Scepter of Rulership, And Aniot's Cube. Disperse to Appropriate Parties Per The Plan. Burn The Cabin.

Harumburg- Sending to Lord of Bone re: Portal to the 113th. (Indecipherable Due to Burns) In Accordance with Their Great Alliance.

Falluneer- Sending to Lord of Flesh re: (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Ebon Spear.

(Indecipherable Due to Burns)light: Sending to Lord of Blood re: Assassination of (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Yukkot, Recovery of Blood (More Burns).

(Indecipherable Due to Burns)odge- Sending to Cult of Pale (More Burns) re: Initiate Divining Ritual Sacrifices. FIND THE DAMN ZIGGURAT.

Garrunrow- (Indecipherable Due to Burns) Kill the Last Bloodwolf. Recover (More Burns) Key.

Mountain of Smoke- (Indecipherable Due to Burns) crypt. Seize the Ebon (More Burns).

Sussoon- Ensure the Prophecy (Indecipherable Due to Burns)... Pay the Bounty Hunters to Find the Abydossian and the Princesses. re: Sacrifices of The Old Blood

(There is more, but seemingly out of paranoia Bence switched to Abyssal. It is impossible to tell how many lines there are, as the last half of the paper is fully burned away)

Spoiler: Arcane Lore concerning Bence's Notes

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The magic of Contingency is a nearly mythical bit of spell work that was said to be lost when the Library of Leng burned down. It allows a caster to prepare spells in advance for a predetermined event, in this case John Bence's own death, and the spells will automatically cast when the event happens. If Bence is capable of such sorcery, he is likely far more powerful than his flashy death at the party's hands would indicate.

The Mirror of Leng is a artifact of the Library of Leng, said to contain a frozen moment of time where the library was at it's height that a person can temporarily step in to, giving access to the greatest magical library this world has ever seen. Supposedly several mirrors were made, though some are confirmed destroyed after their use led to come calamity of forbidden magics long lost to time. The Scepter of Rulership is said to be an even more powerful version of a Rod of Rulership, a magic item that allows for mass mind manipulation of people to believe that the holder of the Scepter is their rightful ruler. The last time the Scepter was confirmed in play it toppled an entire nation.

Though numbering and organizing the layers of the Abyss is a fool's errand, there are some realms that are constant enough to designate. The one hundred and thirteenth layer is Thanatos, layer of Orcus, the Lord of Death. It is a lifeless frozen landscape where life is snuffed out almost as soon as it arrives, either by the untold legions of undead denizens, the magical aura of the layer itself, or, in the worst cases, by Orcus himself, using his fearsome Wand.

Spoiler: John Bence's Wall Art

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There are no invisible objects in the room, but the entire back wall of the cabin is plastered with profane runes and abyssal scribblings. Where there was nothing to the naked eye, there is an extensive patchwork of spell work, seemingly scribed in the rusted red of blood. More disturbing is the fragments of souls that have been bound to the wall. Faces of people rise and seethe from the wood like a strange and rippling tide, mouths open in anguish. There are not many of them left, presumably due to whatever spell was used here absorbing so much energy, but there is a fine layer of ectoplasm that would indicate that once there were dozens of soul fragments powering this spell. The sight turns Mal's stomach, as the chaotic, destructive magic of the Abyss is written as plainly as news script, but as subtly as any devil could manage.

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.
Horror of Yurl: Shapeshifting kind of monster. Severs limbs, creates euphoria, and slays by consuming the liver. The newest variant flies...

Spoiler: Instrument of the Bards

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

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.

**Spore** · 2021-07-03, 05:06 PM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 32/32
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 5 mHP)
Concentration: Invisibility (Selissa, 1h)

I agree with the combined effort. And in fact, I have a few neat little tricks to apply myself. the doctor rummages in his bag, producing threeitems. A small vial of lightly wet dirt, a paper bag filled with short hair and a ball of elastic off-white substance. The coach is a horrible environment for experiments, thus I have to brew the potions here and now. Or just cut out the brewing part, and simply mix and match.

The gnome smiles, and changes to his bombastic sales persona, though his voice a bit subdued and more silent. Fantastic Doctor Ignacius has a solution for your every woe! Is it subtlety you need? Take this invisibility elixir! Prefer a swift foot? Well, here's a vial of muddied water! he jokes himself, ready to guide Selissa in applying his potions correctly. He smears the dirt on her calves, along with an incantation of aiding forest spirits. Adding to her speed, he incants a small trickery known by the fae. Selissa turns invisible at his command.

All the spectular sight of nothing, with the incredible speed of the wind! He crosses his arms, content with his ministrations.

Spoiler

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casting Longstrider and Invisibility on Selissa

**Awful** · 2021-07-04, 03:17 PM (ISO 8601)

Selissa Betula
Wood Elf Scout Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 38/38 -> 43/43
PP: 16
Conditions: Aid
Concentrating: --

Selissa had mulled on the contradictory messages.
"My people generally avoid non-<People>. But from deepwoods tribe. There, non-elves don't come. Others not trustable. Eighty years, all new humans, orcs. Different views. Don't hold to oaths. Might be different with shallowtree tribes.

Few possibilities. First. Two tribes as the devilblood says, or split tribe. Some welcoming, some not. Second. One tribe, something else. Something else trying to lure us. Tribe leaving warning."

She looked at the others.
"Want to go first. Take a look. Fastest, quietest. Maybe talk."
She bore the various enchantments being poured upon her, even resisting the urge to kick the doctor in the face when he abruptly leant down to rub mud over the porcelain skin of her calves.

When she turned invisible she lifted her hands to stare at them. There was nothing - only the innate knowledge of her body let her know what she was doing. It was a very strange sensation.
"Nice trick. Back soon," the air said, and she turned to pad silently towards the distant campfire, skirting the edge of the forest for easy retreat.

Spoiler: OOC

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Stealth of 27 and invisible. Gods themselves would have difficulty spotting her, mayhap.

**purepolarpanzer** · 2021-07-04, 09:44 PM (ISO 8601)

Near the Top of Mount Beldrin

Whether or not anyone follows her, Selissa is less perceptible than the wind. Moving toward the camp fire ahead of the stage coach, she finds Kagiso's (or perhaps Ulu's) estimation to be quite conservative. Selissa travels a hundred feet before she can even make out who stands around the fire. One hundred feet of cold, rain slicked earth and stone, fog obscuring her normally sharp vision, with her own feet making so little sound and her breath so measured that all she can hear is the beating of her own heart and the impact of rain all around her. Halfway there she gets the sudden sensation that despite her skill, despite both Mal and Ignacius' magic, SOMETHING is watching her. Selissa quickly looks to the forest on he right in search of whatever could see her through trees, darkness, invisibility, and rain, but if something out there can see her she cannot see it, despite her best efforts. Despite her cool, collected mind, even Selissa cannot stop a shiver from running up her spine, and despite the coolness of the night a single bead of sweat runs from her forehead down her cheek and slips off her face. She may be interested to know that once it leaves her body it becomes visible again. Then there is a flash of shadow ahead of her, and her mind returns to the task on hand.

Once Selissa moves within thirty feet of the fire, she can make out two shadows in the fog, both close to the source of the light. It isn't until she is fifteen feet away that she can truly make out what you all are dealing with. In the center of the road is a classic wood elf stump fire. When a fire is absolutely necessary despite adverse conditions, an old deadwood stump would be carved out of the ground and partially hollowed out, with a fire started in the heart of the tree. The stump would protect the flames from the rain, and by the time the fire burned through it would be so intense that no rain or snow would put it out. However, this practice is generally only done in dire survival situations, since dead stump wood made for excellent tools and hand crafts for decades before it began to rot. Some craftsmen would rather suffer in the cold dark than burn such a precious natural resource. Knowing this only added to the sense of desperation Selissa read coming off the two wood elves who were crouched close to the covered flame.

The smaller of the two half a head shorter than Selissa, with nut brown hair down to his shoulders. What he lacked in height he made up for in mass- many non-elves would think him half-blood for his stocky, inelegant, muscular form. His body is covered in scratches and deep thorn bites and he has dirt and mud splashed almost up to his knees. He wears simple, nondescript clothing that is torn and streaked with blood. His features are pleasant in a plain kind of way, or at least they would be if he didn't appear to be pants-****tingly terrified. On the other side of the stump is a taller wood elf woman who stands a few inches taller than Selissa. She is wearing nicer clothes, of better design if not slightly better material, and their design would indicate to Selissa that her family is of some standing within her tribe. She has blonde hair so light it is almost white done up in a bun on top of her head, and her body is also marred by scratches and cuts that one might get running through the woods at night. Her features are thin, her angles sharp, and her eyes also filled with fear. She is unarmed, while he has a hand axe on his hip and a dagger in his boot. Neither have armor to protect them, and from the looks of things they sorely wish they had. They are whispering to each other quietly, but in her undetectable state, Selissa is easily able to get close enough to listen to them.

Spoiler: In Elvish

Show

"What will we do?" Says the male as he leans closer to the fire. "Keep calm, Monague. We will stay here for the evening. It doesn't seem like they followed us this far. Tomorrow we will follow the human's road to their city and find help." The male spits and wipes at his tongue as though to get something disgusting off of it, a common elf expression to show disdain for an idea, a person, or a people. He speaks, making his opinion clear. "The mountain top has been ours since their city was a collection of hovels. If they find what we've so carefully hidden, they will only claim it for themselves. Better to let that THING have it than to surrender a lifetime's work to those bastards." The female reached across the fire and slaps Monague across the face twice, once on each cheek. "There are CHILDREN up there, or your family line AND mine, Monague. We will do what we must to see them saved, even if the humans burn the orchard to the ground!"

Quick as a snake despite his musclebound frame, the male catches the woman's wrist with one of his hands and pulls her across the stump towards him. His other hand finds her throat, a small cry escaping her as he squeezes and closes her airway.

Spoiler: In Elvish

Show

"YOUR family OWNED the orchard, Meisah! MY family is the one who cared for your trees and animals. I'll not die for your land! In fact, I think I will do what I've wanted to do every time your mouth moved faster than your mind in my presence!"

He began to drag the elven woman closer to him, his other hand reaching out to clasp her neck as well. When he shifted his grip, a scream escaped her lips that easily carried back to the stage coach for all to hear, but it was silenced quickly as his fingers began to squeeze the life out of her.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

It's an us and them initiative. All of you get a turn now, though only Selissa is close enough to do much this round, unless someone decided to follow behind her in the dark. You have to have a positive passive perception to know it isn't Selissa screaming. Normally it would be even lower, but I don't think any of you have heard Selissa scream to tell the difference.

**Spore** · 2021-07-05, 02:40 AM (ISO 8601)

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant!
Gnome Artificer/Transmuter
AC: 18 HP: 32/32
PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11
Conditions: Aid (8h; 5 mHP)
Concentration: Invisibility (Selissa, 1h)

This was not our wood elf. Prepare for trouble, friends. Ignacius says as he jumps up and out of the glorious cart Ulu was provided. Varg, you're a good choice to break up tension. Let's go! as he splashes some magic dirt on the orc's calves as well.

Spoiler

Show

advance 30 ft. after casting Longstrider on Vargath.

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

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

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

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