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

[purepolarpanzer]

In the Orchard at the Top of Mount Beldrin

Before the cremation can begin, Vargath and Selissa each begin a search. Both are extensive and thorough, but they are looking for completely different things, even when they are looking in the same place. Inside the tree they both find relics of the elves who claimed and cultivated the orchard around you. Vargath stumbles upon a storage barrel that is stuffed full of six bolts of silk in different colors that would probably fetch a fair price in market. Moving that aside, he finds a large chest the proves to be unlocked. Inside, he finds what presumably is the life's savings of the family who owned the orchard. Selissa finds a small shrine to the Green Faith carved into the wood of the tree, with the contents upended and smashed. Searching through the wreckage, she finds a number of trinkets of varying value- a rabbit fur talisman that has the words "Brother Rabbit" in elvish sewn into it, a fanciful iron chime with four sides, each etched to reveal the orchard in a different season, a matching set of cold iron bracelets with the words "humility" and "strength" built into the weave of their construction, and a necklace of small, silver apple charms that look easily removed from the chain they are on. She also finds an entire room of smashed ceramics and pottery, likely a studio of some sort. There is one pitcher that somehow survived the destruction with an image of a lake scene sculpted into it.

In the wider orchard, both the hunters find that there was a basement, abandoned when the tree stood up and marched to war. Inside is an extensive wine cellar with dozens of bottles in it. Each one is labeled with only a year, and all of them are older than two hundred years. One entire rack is filled with smaller bottles, six of which are glowing slightly with an internal light. Finally, there is a sickle hanging on the basement wall- a small, elegant curve of bronze metal jutting out of an intricately carved rosewood handle. Thankfully, Selissa finds no additional bodies, though she does find her untainted tree- a wicked, twisted but completely natural tree bearing green apples and, more importantly, several ancient skulls, presumably the family cemetery tree.

With the area thoroughly searched, Maus and Kagiso conscious and bandaged, though still oddly quiet after their experience together, it comes time to burn the corrupted tree. Oil is spread, along with gathered branches and brush. Within a half hour the entire pit is wreathed in flames that spit and sizzle with the moisture of the living wood. Sparks fly high into the early morning darkness of a long day of travel and combat. There is a sliver of light on the horizon as the flames reach their apex, almost as though you sparked the very sun with your blaze. There is something cathartic about watching your enemies incinerate before you, and as the morning sun rises in the east you find yourselves with the option of encouraging the fires to spread to the rest of the orchard and putting the entire corruption to the flame, or heading back to your stage coach to rest. Maus, for his part, barks out as loathfull "Burn it all down.". Kagiso simply watches, tipping back a bottle of wine on a rock wall as he watches you all commit cleansing arson.

Spoiler: OOC

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Vargath finds 2300 cp, 1200 sp, 40 gp. The relics are worth varying values depending on who you sell them too.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 28/49 PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT, Longstrider Concentrating: -- It's not a minor haul, but the thousands of coins recovered turn out to amount to very little when he mentally condenses the number down to gold: Less than 200 in total, all told, and split so many ways...he sighs quietly as he hauls the accumulated coinage in sacks over his back. Thousands of coins wasn't light. Maybe the relics they'd looted would be worth more once they got to someone to sell them to. "Don't suppose there's anything magical among all this stuff?" He asks. With a day he could probably find out himself, but if any of his companions could do it quicker it'd at least give them something to go on.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 38/38 PP: 12 PIv: 13 PIs: 9 Conditions: Exhaustion Level 2 (Concussion), Mal's Aid (+5 max hp, 8 hrs), Iumenta Pox (-8 max hp) Concentration: Detect Magic Set looks over the accumulated pile, swallowing fatigue as the sun rises. "<Residual.>" He closes one eye, rubbing it and then refocusing as the world reveals any magic around him. As methodical as Vargath has been so far, Set is unable to proceed with as much discipline. His eyes are drawn to the strongest aura wherever it might lie, haphazardly making his way through the pile, but describing what he finds to anyone in earshot. Between any discoveries, he describes what he'd seen and heard within the tree, providing Vargath with something of a report. "...but I don't think I managed more than a scratch on the root-mind before all nine hells broke loose. What even happened out here?" Set pauses his search for a second, staring off in the distance as he tries to remember, but it's a struggle with his head still pounding. "From inside it felt like the damn tree got picked up and thrown back into the pit," Set says, snorting at how ridiculous that sounds as he resumes picking through the pile. "One second I had both feet planted on the ground, the next it felt like I was upside down in the eye of a sandstorm." Spoiler: OOC Show Cast Detect Magic

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Artificer/Transmuter AC: 18 HP: 21/32 PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11 Conditions: Aid (8h; 5 mHP), Longstrider (1h) Concentration: Dragon's Breath (3rd level, 6/10 rounds) Ignacius checks the monetary haul and leaves Set to scan the innate arcane abilities of the relics. He was not mad they weren't going to be rich, and in contrast to the half-orc he was glad of the haul. Look at the positive side, there's enough silver in it to coat a dozen or more weapons. I could transmute the copper into silver too, but you probably wouldn't want to trick a poor merchant, right? Ignacius was joking of course, he would not pull such upstanding people into tricking others. Adressing Mal's intent, he lowers his hand in an appeasing fashion. Before we destroy anything I would like to learn the reason why this orchard exists in the first place. The question of the what has been answered, but why and how remains. Finally he turns to Set and smirks: Well, you see our dear friend Vargath over there was a very good boy and wasn't barking up the wrong tree. He fetched our titanic enemy, unrooting them and tumbling it down into the trap. Then he broke the mongrel creature, you see? Every ... uh man has his day, and this was his. Like yesterday. And the day before. Ignacius looks around for any swings coming his way from Vargath.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 28/49 PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT, Longstrider Concentrating: -- He holds back a growl, it would only play into the gnome's demeaning words. "The doctor is correct. With some assistance I grabbed the tree and pushed it into the pit. It seemed the fastest way to end the threat." Vargath makes no apology for the pain or injuries that the fall inflicted on Set and Mal. There was no need, in his mind. Danger was part and parcel of fighting, and whatever injuries they'd incurred would be recovered. Eradicating the totality of the threat had been the priority given how dangerous it had been to those outside, and he'd executed it the best way he knew how.

[purepolarpanzer]

In the Orchard at the Top of Mount Beldrin

As Set's eyes look over the relics, he senses auras of magic on several of them. Ulu thinks for a moment before responding "I am an enemy of the beings known as Inevitable as well, but that should never come up. If it does, it is more likely my response will be a tactical retreat rather than enraged attacks. They have... they no longer come here." Ignacius begins puzzling how the corruption spread to the orchard, and finds a possible answer.

Spoiler: OOC

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Rabbit fur talisman- Moderate Aura of Divination Magic
Cold Iron Bracelets (Humility and Strength)- Moderate Aura of Enchantment Magic
10 Silver Apple Charms- Minor Enchantment Magic
Six Potions- 3 with a Minor Evocation Aura, 2 with a Moderate Evocation Aura, and 1 with a Major Aura of Necromancy. All are in clouded glass that does much to hide their contents.

EDIT for Ignacius- It stands to reason that if the Root was supercharged off angel blood enough to control so many minions, it may have been strong enough to cause some ambient abyssal mutations in the surrounding plant life, including but not limited to the mix of fruit and meat.

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: --/38 -> 30/43 PP: 16 Conditions: Aid Concentrating: -- Selissa laid the dead elves for their cremation with as much respect as she was able. She whispered the few of the old Green Faith she remembered. It was less than they deserved perhaps, after what they had suffered, but their souls would have to be content with it. As she searched around, she looked at the money with a curious sort of disquiet, or perhaps contempt. This was a shallowtree tribe, she told herself. Of course their ways would be different, not the hunter-gatherer ways of the deepwoods, where one had little need for gold and tamed orchards. Logically, the deepwoods tribes rarely if ever mined or smelted; what metal they had mostly came from trade with the shallowtree peoples. Even so, it felt very... human of them. The elf sighed and put it out of mind. "From Green shrine," she said as she displayed the things she'd thought. "Treat with care. Might be useful. Might not. Not sure yet." She watched as the pyre was made. Sparks danced upward to the skies as smoke beseeched the clouds. "The inevitables. Know of them. Never seen them," she said, staring stoically into the fire. She had to wait, until she could pull the skulls from the ashes for their final rest in the cemetary tree. "Didn't sound easy to banish. Our world seems cut off from everything but evil. Don't know how to undo it, though."

[purepolarpanzer]

In the Soon to Be Burning Orchard on top of Mount Beldrin

Ulu perks up, and her and Kagiso exchange a long look with one another. When the moment awkwardly passes, Ulu speaks up. "I see that Selissa is more aware of the situation than most of the people in this part of the world. Tell me, how many of you are familiar with the concept of the Great Abandonment? Most of your people are... ignorant to the truth of our planar situation." Kagiso speaks in Common for the first time since you have met him. He is heavily accented, speaking slowly, but it is easy to understand him. "We are all ****ed."

Spoiler: Religion DC 10 on Inevitables

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Inevitable? That sounds... concerning. That means unstoppable or certain, right?

Spoiler: DC 15

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Inevitables are the mythical servants of a plane called Mechanus that seeks to bring order to the multiverse.

Spoiler: DC 20

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Inevitables are created from strange flesh, stone, porcelain, and clockwork, tailor made for the purpose of enforcing certain laws in every corner of the multiverse. They enforce concepts such as death, continuity, and justice with enforcers that are built expressly for that purpose. But no one has seen one on this plane for... well, practically in forever. Something caused them to leave this plane, along with lots of other extraplanar beings, a long time ago in something rumored to be called the Great Abandonment. But it's just an outlandish academic theory, or an ancient legend. Everything is... well not fine but functional.

Spoiler: DC 25

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Things are not functional or fine. Angels, Inevitables, Celestials, even a lot of Gods- these things are considered mythical creatures and beings here, but in other planes they are active forces that change the course of fate for mortals. But the truth is that this world has been Abandoned to the forces of evil. At least, that's the nearest our most knowledgeable sages who have not already fled the plane can figure. This secret is known as the Quiet Lie- most people on this plane do not realize that their prayers to good gods are not answered like those of other worlds, and on other worlds there exist forces that fight against the darkness of demons and the machinations of devils. Clerics still get spells, and the Fey are ever-present, but for some reason the planar forces of pure good, fastidious law, and noble freedom simply don't come here anymore. Moreover, people who talk to much or too loudly about it have a tendency to disappear. Forever.

Spoiler: DC 30

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If you roll this high you know this plane could be overwhelmed by the forces of darkness, death, and evil at any point and you must roll a DC 20 Sanity Check, but you do it advantage because you're kind of used to the concept.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 38/38 PP: 12 PIv: 13 PIs: 9 Conditions: Exhaustion Level 2 (Concussion), Mal's Aid (+5 max hp, 8 hrs), Iumenta Pox (-8 max hp) Concentration: Detect Magic Set stops examining the pile, the vial in his hand forgotten as he looks up sharply at Vargath. A moment passes in silence before Set finally laughs, the stress bleeding off as he's overcome with amusement. "You pushed a tree," he says slowly, unable to continue without another chuckle. "You pushed a tree and you won. With your hands." Set looks down at his boots for a second, face scrunched up in thought, but with a small smile still on his face. Finally he just shakes his head. "Never occurred to me to try that, Vargath, but I think I'll leave that to you anyway." Nodding to the vial in his hands, Set hands it over to the half-orc. "This is a potion of some kind. Evocation magic, like the rest of these. All except for that one," Set says, toeing a clouded bottle. "Heavy with the stuff of soul-binders. Necromancy." Set examines the items brought over by Selissa, continuing to list off the different schools of magic, though that's where his abilities end. He could see the their nature clear as day, but discerning their purpose is well beyond him. "Any idea what they do?" he asks the assembled group. Inevi-what-now? The Great Abandonment? "Never heard of them, or it," Set says, eyes darting back and forth between Selissa and Ulu, with a quick glance at Kagiso. If Ulu was willing to attack an angel, what the hell kind of being would she retreat from?

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Artificer/Transmuter AC: 18 HP: 21/32 PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11 Conditions: Aid (8h; 5 mHP), Longstrider (1h) Concentration: - Sorry, doesn't ring a bell. Otherworldly forces are unreliable and I do not deem them trustworthy. But if that is true, and the angel was some kind of planar being, it is likely he WAS the source of all the evil in this orchard. And we freed it. Not saying it should not have been done, but this is certainly not comforting. Still, we have a part of its body, there is much we can do with the arcane when it comes to it. We can call it, yes. But maybe we can find and ambush it if the time is nigh. Ignacius shrugs, then moves his attention to things more presently an issue. Even if synthesis is not possible during travel, we will have ample time to discern the vial's contents via experimentation. I would however give the other trinkets we found to Master Hubrecht, who is a paragon both in mind and body. For our next trick, we should ruin this orchard for future generations.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 28/49 PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT, Longstrider Concentrating: -- "Is the corrupting influence not..." He gestures to the burning remnants of the evil treehouse. "...permanently indisposed? If the corruption is gone I don't see a need to remove the rest of the orchard. It's presumably someone's livelihood, we should be a bit less eager to stomp and burn all over that." Left unsaid is that he doesn't want to destroy the heartapples that called to him softly, silently. "The corruption is removed, an Angel - untrustworthy though they may be - in our debt, and treasure recovered. I say we be rid of this place and don't look back. I could do with a good rest either way."

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: --/38 -> 30/43 PP: 16 Conditions: Aid Concentrating: -- "Humans have short lives. Easy for things to be forgotten. Not as much for elves." Selissa didn't look away from the pyre, her tone its normal flat statement. "Didn't help here, though. My people are... fewer. Loss is greater for each life." She was silent for a moment longer, then spoke again, almost too quiet to hear. "<Not even names to remember.>" At Ig's statement, the forest elf shook her head. "Doubt its responsible," she said in response to the gnome. "Was still an angel. Opposed to evil. Not inclined to work with demons. Oil and water. Could have fought us if it wanted. Didn't have trouble with the paladin." Finally, as Vargath spoke, she made a soft snort. Finay she looked away from the fire, her green eyes catching the light as they glanced towards the lyncanthropic half-orc. "No one's livelihood anymore, half-blood. Better burnt than a taint left. Leave ashes for new growth."

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 28/49 PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT, Longstrider Concentrating: -- "And I'm sure the half decade of poverty they'll suffer from us recklessly burning their entire orchard down will be soothed by that knowledge. It'll be just fine for us though, since this'll be the last we see of it!" He replies sardonically. So quick to dismiss the entire land as written off, apparently caring not a whit for those they'd hurt with the proposed destruction. He glances around. "Speaking of, we appear to have lost an elf along the way."

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Artificer/Transmuter AC: 18 HP: 21/32 PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11 Conditions: Aid (8h; 5 mHP), Longstrider (1h) Concentration: - Ignacius knew this rhethoric but he did not realize his new allies though this way. Humans always thought themselves superior due to their size and political dominance. Now Selissa started with longevity of elves as a mark of superiority. He took a deep breath, ready to start a discussion with the wild elf, but exhaled, as he knew that this would only sow distrust and anger between them. Besides he wasn't sure if she was capable of enough common tongue to defend herself properly. Short-lived Vargath cut the conversation short. If there is no one to move into here, does it really matter if we destroy a livelihood or not? Vargath is right, where is the maiden. The thrice-blessed alchemist sent up his trusty mechanical avian along with a very obvious cantrip to be found more easily.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 38/38 PP: 12 PIv: 13 PIs: 9 Conditions: Exhaustion Level 2 (Concussion), Mal's Aid (+5 max hp, 8 hrs), Iumenta Pox (-8 max hp) Concentration: Set looks from Selissa, to Vargath, to Ignacius, and back again. Eyes furrowed, Set pushes down the desire to just rest. Some of the others hadn't watched Evergreen lay her cousins to rest. They certainly hadn't seen the elf maiden's body wrapped in corruption in the heart of the tree. "The elf was a phantom," Set says, looking to Vargath and Ignacius. With a practiced motion Set tugs at his shadow, swirling it into the air and reforming it into the image he'd seen in the tree's depths. Pictured in front of them is the elf maiden wrapped in roots, hollow eyes staring up at nothing. Another gesture and Set's shadow vibrates, repeating a sound everyone is familiar with. The angel's booming voice returns, speaking elvish and sending a shiver down Set's spine. Shaking his head, Set begins an imperfect translation: "The forest people who lived here were long ago captured by the demons who sought to imprison me here. They were fed to the Root, a demon plant that perverts flora with flesh, as was I. Their spirits rebelled against their imprisonment, however, and manifested as specters- specters that got you involved, led you here, in hopes that you would free us from this wicked warden. I strongly suspect that they would wish their bodies burned with their home, to send them on to whatever afterlife they earned in life." Set bites the inside of his cheek once the angel's voice dissipates, his translation finished. "Selissa already saw to her kin," Set says, keeping his eyes on Vargath. The elf maiden and her family are gone. There's no one left among these people to work the orchard or lose their livelihood." Set shakes his head in confusion as the Mighty seemed near to losing his cool. "What's eating you?" He isn't sure the idiom translates well to common, but asks regardless. Spoiler: OOC Show Cast Minor Illusion a couple times

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: --/38 -> 30/43 PP: 16 Conditions: Aid Concentrating: -- Selissa had given Vargath a sharp look. Before she could reply, both the gnome and then the cursed one chimed in. "Yes, " she said with exaggerated, icy patience. "Poverty for bones. All dead, half blood." Besides, even if any had lived - they were forest elves in woods. Not one worthy of the name should starve. Pah. Even so, her mind roiled at the tragedy here. The last wood elf she'd talked to was a statue now, and these ones were ghosts and ashes.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 28/49 PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy), -1 INT, Longstrider Concentrating: -- "Ah!" Vargath scoffs. "Your keen senses detecting all life for miles around truly are an envy, Selissa. It's a shame they were apparently indisposed when it came to the ambush. Mayhap next time you'll be able to warn us in advance, instead of claiming total knowledge after the fact. Fine then, fine. Let us torch the entire orchard to the ground. Let us scorch this grand funeral pyre as a precursor to what I can only assume is your intended goal should we find a mote of corruption in the capital. Better burnt than a taint left. Leave ashes for new growth." He echoes her words back at her. It seems a mite odd to him that he was more interested in preserving trees than the woodswoman, but he pushes the thought from his mind. "What's eating me, Set, is that we've dealt with the problem, we've cut out the corruption - much as we did back at Dam'ess - and yet further destruction seems to be the order of the day. Maybe I'm tired. Maybe I'm still uncomfortable from being sprayed with acidic pink goo. Maybe I'm just concerned that you'll all take this a hop, skip and jump, farther next time as well." And maybe he was hungry and didn't want to see the apples destroyed, a truth that almost passes his lips but holds back at the last moment. "There's a thin line between justice and zealotry. Someone here needs to mention that." He was dressing it up in false justifications that still held just enough truth to pass muster. Both the stated and unstated motivations could be true, after all. Nevertheless he stands back, gesturing for them to begin their burning. He concedes the point and position, even if he'd not actively participate.

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: --/38 -> 30/43 PP: 16 Conditions: Aid Concentrating: -- "You mock, half-blood," Selissa hissed. Her eyes were narrowed to green slits, her posture all sharp, irate angles. "Think I burn it without care? Stupid. Wolf-gnawed brain. Want to have saved them. Want to be able to leave this forest intact. But this-" She paced over to the nearest apple tree and snatched down one of the swollen fruit. She stalked back over, tossed it up, and with a sharp gesture called the Student's Sabre and sliced it in two. The halves fell to the ground, leaking unnatural viscera. They puddled redly on the sodden soil. "Demon cancer. Rot in the forest's heart," she said, almost spat, her expression hard with pent up stress and anger. The wild elf dug the point of the sabre into one half of the fruit, grinding it so the blood of the corrupted apple leaked out in ruddy rivulets. "Demons rot and ruin. All they are. Already murdered this tribe. Won't let it linger to get another." She let the sabre disappear and, for a moment, almost said more. But after a long second, Selissa shook her head in a tiny motion to herself and stalked away to prepare the burn.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Artificer/Transmuter AC: 18 HP: 21/32 PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11 Conditions: Aid (8h; 5 mHP), Longstrider (1h) Concentration: - The gnome interposes himself between the warring parties, not necessarily to stop their blades or snark, but at least to make it more difficult to hurt each other without injuring the gnome they hopefully both do NOT want to hurt. How about we do what we can to improve the situation. We do however need answers, and badly. If our assumptions about interplanar theories are correct, our world is indeed barreling towards a dark future. No amount of fire will cleanse that. But for now, we prevent anything coming back to bite us, and if it were the reanimated corpses of those elves or any more treehouses of horror. Not a judgmental thing, just something for OUR safety. Next we advance to the capital, and I try to find a library, a temple or an exile, a hermit, something or someone with more information. Aside from the vampire thing. Or maybe including. The undead can be veritable repositories for knowledge. That is until they loose their minds. Ignacius hoped he had at least given the group some sort of goal to work towards. With more knowledge, it was easier to judge the current situation. For now, he closely stayed by and tended to the still very shaken Mal. The tiefling's thoughts weren't fully ordered, and he would need some attention before his state would stabilize.

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 41/41 THP: 11/11 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 1/4 2nd - 1/3 3rd - 1/2 Fey Touched: 1st - 0/1 2nd - 0/1 Masquerade Tattoo: 1st - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: Armor of Agathys - 0/1 Darkness - 0/1 Bardic Inspiration: 0/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Mal Conditions: Concussed (Level 2 Exhaustion) Mal Concentrating: --- Diodorus Ancient Companion: Healer Companion HP: 0/30 Companion AC: 16 Companion PP: 18 PIv: 12 PIs: 12 Back from the Abyss Maledictus stood on the rim of the discussion, focused on the statue of his departed guide. His mind only could hold one thought at the moment, and that thought fixated on getting back stability. He ached for a rest, for this place to become ash, and to move on from the foul swollen grove. So he fumbled through the rite, albeit with a swollen tongue and stiff gait that lent ambiguity to his otherwise precise conduct. At length, a breeze crept among the trees and stirred the statue. The overlapping books separated. One formed into a satchel with a sigil of a tower crowned with a star. Stone relief of vines twisted around the hammer's handle, blossoming with bas icons of stars and fruit on the weapon's head. Similar sigils tattooed the bald plate of the stone man who rose, collecting the tablet that now contained mysteries of medicine. The figure inspected Mal and remarked, "I have seen boils caked in manure on a horse's hoof that looked haler than you, inquisitor Maledictus." The bard gave a cold grin, "It is a pleasure to see you again, Maestro Diodorus." The sentinel of stone raised a hand with the palm tattooed with the image of a pearl within a lotus. Starburst lines limned the pearl. Radiance filled these reliefs briefly, temporarily tracing across Mal's brow. The scholar bowed stiffly at the blessing and turned his attention to the others conversation. Mal declared, "The towns of Avellino once suffered a great destruction as fiends tore open a portal to their realm, casting great clouds of stone and flaming waves upon the helpless people. The fires and floods of ash buried the cities in a day. Two generations passed and the land became fertile again, sprouting new cities whose wines make hearts merry the world over." "Let us raze this fiendish rot, and allow the ashes to heal their soiled land."

Spoiler: OOC

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Bind Healer spirit to statue.
Healing Light to Mal: 11 THP. Nothing mechanically helpful, per se, but the healer seemed appropriate to the situation.

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...
Tree-house horror: elven make. Demon infested.

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]

In the Burning Orchard on Top of Mount Beldrin

With an accord struck between members of the party (or at least a begrudging acknowledgement), lamp oil is spread amongst the trees and splashed over the fallen tree, sparks are struck, and soon the entire closely packed orchard is up in flames. Generations upon generations of long lived elves put blood, sweat, and tears into the apple trees, and it took a demon only a short time to pervert, corrupt, and pollute something that was once good and pure. And now it is rendered unto flame. The pyre is intense and massive, covering the entire top of Mount Beldrin, quickly spreading from tree to tree until the mountain is topped with a halo of fire that can probably be seen as far away as Dam'ess, perhaps even Harumburg. As the party escapes the flames through the forest, with soot and cinders licking at their backs, their silhouettes cast before them like a harbinger of apocalyptic destruction. The fire is just behind them as they come back to the road and the stage coach, and without further ado they mount up and begin their journey again, with a forest fire burning in their wake to signal their coming to everyone for miles around. Sleep comes hesitantly and in infrequent bursts as bumps in the road rock the occupants of the coach between groggy wakefulness and tired slumber, the light of the rising sun filtering in through the windows like an unwelcome guest. Kagiso, just as exhausted as the rest of you, still pushes on, occasionally taking pulls from his silver flask as Maus sleeps awkwardly beside him.

Spoiler: OOC

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Rolled Set's disease Con Save for him. With Dr. Madaras presumably aiding him the Abydossian passes, curing the disease and removing the penalty to his max HP. Anyone suffering from Madness can roll their saves to recover their damaged stats. You can in fact roll them 4 times for 4 day's long rest, since we're heading for a bit of a time skip. Anyone who wants to roleplay some drinking from your jug of enchanted shine can take advantage on their roll.

Three Day's Ride Later

Harumsvale is not a large territory, so it does not take long to go from the proverbial backwoods of Dam'ess to the kingdom's capital of Harumsburg. The journey is, thankfully, peaceful and uneventful, with warm summer nights and blistering summer days making the coach ride uncomfortable for all. Maus and Kagiso fair a bit better at the front of the coach, and one evening as you are camped next to a bridge everyone has the opportunity for a pleasant night swim to bathe the sweat away and relax a bit. After the harrowing time at the orchard, the disturbing and disgusting leavings of the Horror, and your monster hunting excursions in Dam'ess, some time rolling down the road with nothing but idle time is a welcome respite for some. But not for all.

Vargath's days are agonizingly stifling in the coach, with every muscle in his body yearning to run free, find a dark place, and sleep. His nights are no better, with intense, sudden urges to flee into the countryside to hunt, kill, and bathe in blood and devour meat. No food can satiate his hunger, and no liquid can quench his thirst. He finds himself irritable, with the slightest noise or inconvenience bringing waves of rage that makes his hair stand on end. Hair that seems to be growing in greater and greater patches with every day that passes. He also finds that his fingernails grow long and sharp, even if he cuts them back. Similarly, his teeth ache as his canines seem to lengthen and grow more pronounced until the half-orc has sharpened fangs alongside his normal tusks. His predatory instinct is sharpened like a blade on a stone, and he finds himself studying his companions in a new light- looking for weaknesses in their defenses, studying their throats, and scrutinizing them so closely that he swears he can pick out the individual beatings of their hearts.

Spoiler: OOC

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Writing it now so I don't forget- when the first night of the full moon comes Vargath will have to make a DC 13 Madness Save or else he'll suffer a bit of lunacy. This save will be repeated the next night at DC 14 and the last night of the full moon at DC 15. Failure will result in a post by me and some fun roleplay stuff to deal with, but we'll cross that werebridge when we come to it.

Like any other decently sized city, the outskirts of Harumburg are filled with homes and traveler's rests, a suburb of upper middle class people who have just enough money to live outside the city but live just meanly enough that that their homes have a makeshift and semi-permanent look to them that makes them appear to be a bit shoddy. The city walls loom close as Kagiso pulls the stage coach to a halt in front of a large stable- the southern stage line's central hub. He dismounts and comes around to open the door for Ulu, who converses with him for a few moments before turning to all of you. "Kagiso says the horses must be traded out, so this is where the stage coach will wait for us till we are done our business in the city. We walk from here. Kagiso will stay to guard our things and take care of the horses." She climbs down and turns to her manservant, speaks to him in their shared language, and kisses him on each cheek before turning to you all. "Should our business turn bloody and I fall, then Kagiso will be leaving. Any of you who wish can journey with him out of Harumsvale to the nearest port."

Maus clambers down from the driver's seat and stretches, his spine giving several pops and crackles. He reaches up on top of the coach and begins unstrapping everyone's gear for them and passing them down. There are advantages to having a man as tall as a mountain in your party. "There is an inn in the city within easy walking distance of the university and the largest library in the Vale. I lived there for years during my pilgrimage and student years. If no one is opposed, I suggest we stay there. I can do research at the college while you all search for evidence in a more hands on sense." Maus says. Ulu then speaks up. "Do you mean the Writ and the Raven?" Maus nods, and Ulu gives a nod. "Serendipity is kind to us. My master is staying at this inn, precisely due to it's proximity to the college and the library. She has rented the diplomat's suite on the top floor. Such a waste... there will be plenty of room for you all to stay there, or for you to rent your own rooms if you desire privacy. Is anyone opposed to this?" She raises an eyebrow, as if this question was some sort of test of character. A luxurious stay in a lavish suite, or a more modest room below? Or do you seek your own accommodations within the city?

Nearby, a young man in stained clothes leans up against the stable wall. When he sees you all discussing what your plans are within the city, he gives a whistle and waves. "Ifn ya'll need a guide through the city, I'm your buddy! Harumburg can be a confuddling place for the uninitiated! You'll find no cheaper rates than mine! Come on, send a little work my way, chummers, and I'll take ya anywhere ya want to go!" He keeps his distance for now, perhaps observing the large amounts of weapons being unloaded from your coach, but he gives a warm and welcoming smile.

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Artificer/Transmuter AC: 18 HP: 27/27 PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11 Conditions: - Concentration: - Entering the bustling city, Ignacius could feel the change in the air. He was more at home here, and less. Opportunity and risk at every corner, glory and demise waiting all the same. It was much different from Harumburg, where you could just switch from finding the proverbial honey tree or the bear already breaking into it. Here people were made, careers started and ended. Ignacius was flabbergasted by the offer of not using the royal suite. Of course he would do so. Enough time for his ramblings, and he was sure his paranoid friend Set would make sure the room is not filled with divinations. Finally a bit of grandeur befitting his grandiose personality, even if the grand doctor Madaras was more of a figure in his mind. When they exited, and Ulu of all people offered to research in the library, Ignacius gave her a bit of a look. But the crippled woman was more than she let on, so she might be a capable scholar after all. Surprise was not all that was waiting at the stables. A greasy young man greeted them and offered a chance to get to know the city. Ignacius knew them. Adventurers in the broadest sense, more akin to soldiers of fortune they tried to add themselves to a successful group in order to leech a bit of money off of them. The less reputable beings led their charges into traps, or into business ventures that were doomed. Regardless, Ignacius smiles. My name is Doctor Madaras, Extravagante Medicus. I have elixirs and more to sell, and I would need a place to do so. My business is obstructed by the heavy burden of these unfortunate plague victims. Look at their measly faces. Down on their luck, suffering from a wide variety of ailments, they all came to my bosom, to suckle on the sweet teet of alchemy. Mayhaps even the lords of the city would like to see my wares. As an advance to your vast knowledge here, mayhaps tell us where official and inofficial markets are, who is currently ruling officially and inofficially. He throws the man his last gold coin.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 49/49 PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy) Concentrating: -- Vargath spends much of his time against the encroaching full moon puzzling over the magic items they recovered. It helps keeps his mind off the pulsing blood in everyone else's throats, the scent of their flesh, and the hunger gnawing at his belly. Distraction through repetition in the mind. Focusing on other things. Even as he recognises the curse is getting worse there's what the mind knows and what the mind feels, and for Vargath those two things are distinctly at odds with one another. "I will room alone." His response to Ulu isn't necessarily rude, but it is a declarative statement absent invitation otherwise. Perhaps a bit forceful, owing to his predicament though he doesn't elaborate on why. Hopefully they had strong locks in this inn. He should also invest in some shackles, just in case Fixer's elixir wasn't all it was talked up to be. "I'd look to confirm the inn room first, then I..." He tunes out Ignacius' sales pitch. "I also need to make some purchases."

Spoiler: Arcana Rolls from Discord

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Rabbit Fur Talisman - 22
Cold Iron Bracelets - 24
Apple Charms - 11

[purepolarpanzer]

During the Coach Trip To Harumburg

One night, while Selissa is trancing, the stern elvish woman who manifested from the Student's Bow appears in her mind's eye and gives her a stern, cold look. "You have done well, student, but the true tests begin now. For your next challenge, you must strike a foe who hides from your sight. Whether you arc a shot and hit a target that hides behind a wall or manage to strike a target that moves unseen, succeed in this and no one will be able to hide from your wrath again." Just like that the phantom fades and Selissa feels her mind returning to her mental exercises.

In the Outskirts of Harumburg

The dirty man catches the gold piece in one hand, putting it between his teeth and giving it a light bite before polishing it on his filthy shirt and pocketing it. "Official market is at Jonan's Square west of the center of the city. UNofficial markets are by invite only, but ifn you know what yer in the market fer I can make the proper introductions. King is Lionel Daravont, third of his name and Chalice Holder of the Blood of Harum, while UNofficially Grand Arbiter Myrus Malkaav is the one who gives the orders and pays the guard, so he calls the shots. But he's out of town on business, so ain't nothin getting done with the Ol' Lion givin the orders. If yer in town to make mischief of an under the table kinda deal, nows the time to do it, my friends." The dirty man shoots you a brown grin that is missing more than a few teeth while chuckling with a voice that sounds like river stones being shaken in a tin cup.

Vargath's insight into the magical relics you received are extensive. He has heard of some of them during his time in university, and the rest he manages to figure out through educated trial and error.

Spoiler: Magic Item Identification

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Rabbit Fur Talisman- Brother Rabbit's Foot. This classical good luck charm of the Green Faith features the words "Brother Rabbit" sewn into the fur. It is actually a magically preserved rabbit's foot. It passively gives a +1 bonus to ability checks, skill checks, and saving throws. In addition, as a reaction once per long rest you can rub the charm and whisper "Help me, Brother Rabbit", and your next d20 roll is treated as a roll of 20. However, Brother Rabbit is fickle, and on a future d20 roll the DM can change a roll to a 1 and force a randomly determined critical fumble. If a long rest passes before the natural 1 is forced, Brother Rabbit forgets the debt of luck and the charm functions again as normal.

Silver Apple Charms- Granny's Apples of Greed. These silver charms are fascinating to behold, and it is easy to lose track of time staring into their mirror sheen. As an object interaction on your turn you may remove a charm from their chain and roll it for 30 feet across the ground. Any creature that the apple passes within 10 feet of (except the thrower) must make a DC 11 Wisdom saving throw or spend their next turn chasing after the apple, ending their turn as close to it as possible. This forced movement cannot force a creature into a deadly situations (running over a cliff, into an obvious trap, etc). If a creature reaches the apple and both their hands are occupied they must drop an object in their hand to pick the apple up. Once it has been picked up, the apple quickly tarnishes and becomes worthless, and the creature that picks it up throws it in disgust. Once a full turn has gone by or a creature has picked up and discarded the thrown apple the charm effect ends for anyone who failed their save.

Cold Iron Bracers- Bracers of Humility and Strength (Requires Attunement)- These matched bracers do nothing unless they are both worn on opposite arms. Once worn, the humility bracer becomes heavier, while the strength bracer becomes lighter. They can be activated a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus. When activated as a bonus action, you choose either humility or strength. If you choose humility, the bracers become incredibly heavy and your next attack roll is made at disadvantage, and the attack roll after that they become lighter than air and the roll is made at advantage. If you choose strength, you get advantage and then disadvantage. In addition, any attacks made while under the effect of humility or strength are considered magical and deal an extra 1d6 of force damage, and any weapon you hold while wearing the bracers appears to be layered with cold iron while you wield it, dealing an extra d6 damage to any fey it strikes and forcing disadvantage on any concentration checks caused by damage regardless of the species of the target.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 41/41 PP: 12 PIv: 13 PIs: 9 Conditions: Concentration: During the Coach Trip To Harumburg Set spends a fair amount of time bouncing along inside the stagecoach, silently fretting over the rift that had appeared between the Mighty and Evergreen on the mountain's peak. He steers clear of Vargath as much as he can, for what its worth in the enclosed space, though Set is quick to find excuses for Vargath's short temper of late. Sirus could be much the same way when he witnessed an injustice, even if Sythpen only did what she knew was right. A day comes during their travels when Set regards Mal and flips his coin. When the ankh appears in Set's palm he hesitates, but follows through. Seeking out Mal when his Ancient Companion is otherwise occupied, Set tries to pry into the tiefling's origin, hoping he'll either open up about his own Patron or let something slip. Unsatisfied at first, he presses further while reaching for his shadow, idly pulling a fragment into his palm. "Tell me about your Elder," Set asks, carefully watching Mal for an overt reaction. After a moment's pause he nods towards the scholar's statue, if only to give him cover to pretend they were speaking about Mal's Companion rather than his Patron. "No doubt one so old has much to teach." The statue was likely just another power gifted by Mal's Patron, but it made for a useful diversion. If Mal insisted on keeping the secret of his Patron close to his chest, Set wouldn't push him further, but he had to learn more if he could. In the Outskirts of Harumburg When Vargath declares his intent to room alone, Set looks askance at him, offering up a quick question in return. "Strength in numbers, right?" Hadn't the Mighty always recognized the benefits of a pack? As willing as Set is to make up excuses in his head for Vargath, something about the impracticality of splitting up at night in a strange city at extra cost makes him double-take. "Some supplies wouldn't hurt, especially if we might need to leave the city in a hurry. Rooms first, though. I've no problem staying with your master, Ulu." A thirsty man in the desert takes the water that's offered.

[Amnestic]

Vargath Hubrecht Half-Orc Rune Knight Fighter AC: 19 HP: 49/49 PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Infected (Lycanthropy) Concentrating: -- "An inn is safe enough, it's not like it's a separate building." Vargath rumbles, annoyed at the question. 'Since when was privacy a vice?' is the reasonable explanation. Unspoken, of course, is the continued preying of the curse on his mind. He shifts uncomfortably against his chafing silver armour. "Anything that would threaten one of us in the inn will no doubt attract the rest soon enough."

[Theophilus]

Mal Levistus Tiefling Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 41/41 THP: 11/11 PP: 11 PIv: 13 PIs: 11 Spell Slots: 1st - 1/4 2nd - 1/3 3rd - 1/2 Fey Touched: 1st - 0/1 2nd - 0/1 Masquerade Tattoo: 1st - 1/1 Levistus Legacy: Armor of Agathys - 0/1 Darkness - 0/1 Bardic Inspiration: 0/4 Healer's Kit: 20/20 Mal Conditions: Concussed (Level 2 Exhaustion) Mal Concentrating: --- Diodorus Ancient Companion: Healer Companion HP: 0/30 Companion AC: 16 Companion PP: 18 PIv: 12 PIs: 12 Back from the Abyss The road to town Maledictus rode the first half of the trip in an induced fog. As this miasma lifted, he roused more and noted the transition of his companions more starkly than perhaps he might if he had not wandered lost in his half-formed reveries. Vargath seemed to itch with anticipation for some rabid purpose. The scholar caught him staring when the tiefling glanced over the rim of his book that required arcane inducement to chew through its dry contents. Due to this stirring suspicion, the bard found himself making unconscious choices. He excluded Vargath from the dome of force on the pretense that the half-orc appeared more alert in the outdoor air. In the lonesome hours of watch, he whispered to Diodorus, "Master Physician, what is your opinion of the Master-at-arm's condition?" The statue replied, "His heart bays for a bloody hunt. These woods lack wolfsbane, which you would find helpful in the long hours of moonlight." The bard answered, "Perhaps the concoctions of the snake oilers and the silver harness shall subdue the darker effects of his condition." Diodorus merely frowned at the remark. Mal enjoyed a bathe in the waters, while the statue stood watch for chance encounters. He sought to cleanse the grime of battle and travel away. However, the taste of the apple lingered rancid on his lips for several days. The iron taste soured his travel provisions, but he ate determinedly and drank liquor with gusto. When Set sought a privy counsel, Maledictus listened attentively. His golden irises searched the man over and sifted to what ends the warrior sought to delve. He acknowledged the spearman's grasp of shadow and the nod. At length, Mal responded cordially, "The council of the venerable masters sustains the instruction of our disciplines. They require a great deal from their students, and we in turn entrust ourselves to the rigors of the compact. Few can claim to have an aeon of wisdom instructed by living voices from each era. Fewer can do so without regretting the voice that whispers to them." The scholar fixed his gaze upon Set and asked nonchalantly, "What of your patron, umbral magus? Who taught you to pluck the strings lurking behind everything?" Spoiler: The minutiae of the minutes between the beacon and the stable Show During the evenings, when Mal held vigil with his guardian, the tiefling set himself to song. He played upon his viol, exacting notes of exquisite quality. He seemed harmonized to the instrument, moving its bow with secure grace. This ethereal song at once promoted rest in the living and capable of rousing the dead. Spoiler: A little retcon Show If Mal could discreetly secure the heads of the dead elves while the more adroit sacked the place, he would have stowed them wrapped in his satchel. This done, his enhanced performance (per the spell) would focus on meditating on their demise a la Yorick. Spoiler: A quiet interlude Show His labors complete, he descended the chords to a low cue that masked his speech from anything but the closest observation, speaking with the dead. He asked of elven secrets from the departed. He sought to understand the fey ways, the green magic, and the means to generate such useful boons and boughs of rest. The town proper Prior to disembarking, the statue stirred and blessed each person by raising its hand and pronouncing a benediction. The statue chanted, "Resolve to face the unknown with courage. Resolve to conduct oneself in the face of the known with cunning." The urban sprawl roused a hunger, which the whispers of a library further induced. He gladly answered, "Your master's refuge would be a delightful privilege to partake. I, too, would enjoy casing this hall of scrolls." At the word of the town rogue, he smirked and asked, "Pray tell, what would be the rates of a street scout?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Healing Light to each person from the Healer. To be rolled and tagged in Discord.
Comprehend Languages ritual throughout trip to read more of the onerous book on bardic instruments.

Sending Stone message: "Demonic foothold in elven grove. Razed with great effort. Pressing toward the city with posthaste, though not with exact subterfuge. Shall convey if suspicion arises."

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...
Tree-house horror: elven make. Demon infested.

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.

[Awful]

Selissa Betula Wood Elf Scout Rogue AC: 16 HP: 38/38 THP: 7 PP: 16 Conditions: Aid Concentrating: -- The Party Wagon Vargath had not been the only one feeling cooped up. Like the steady tick of nuclear decay, the amount of time Selissa spent inside the wagon decreased as the days trotted by with the canter of horses. By the evening of the first day of the ride, Selissa had taken to staying on the outside of the wagon, perched on the roof. By the second, she had nimbly leapt from it and disappeared into the undergrowth, catching up at dusk when the carriage stopped with a fresh deer hoisted over her shoulder, already gutted. The elf's wildness was different from the beasthood sprouting teeth within the Bloodwolf, but it still couldn't be tamed by a wooden box, no matter how comfy the seats. It was... restful, there in the wilds. Alone, surrounded by vegetation, able to breathe in the smells of leaves and bark and solitude, she found a measure of peace for her turmoiled soul. It wouldn't last; too soon, they were rolling into the human hive of Harumburg. Beneath, somewhere, dark things lurked. The City She could smell it long before they arrived. Thousands and thousands of humans, crammed in their walls of stone and timber. Sewage and sweat, smoke and heavy heat. It clung to her senses,almost overloading, as the air thrummed with dogs barking, carts clattering, feet stomping, laughter, crying, talk, talk, talk- She could never love the city, any city, but the thought of a nest of monsters preying on all these people was sickening. She gave a tight nod of thanks to the statue for the blessing. It was a new one again, she thought. The tie fling had an endless array of spirits to enhouse in stone. "Can stay with your master, " she said in reply to Ulu, not really caring overmuch. As an elf, she didn't have many intentions of sleeping, and with danger so close she was smart enough to take precautions seriously. "Been here before. Know some people who might know things about tunnels. Maybe even help. Not..." she hesitated as she thought of the words. "Gentle people. Thieves. Underhanded. But need that. Going to go talk." She regarded the rogue thoughtfully, and then said flatly, "Shinewise? Right mood for a chuckle, aye? Real doghound, aye." In Selissa's flat tones, the words seemed almost nonsensical, even close to comedic, but they had meaning. Who's your boss? If you trick us, you'll regret it. I'm good at finding people. His answer would determine if this was just a grifter or someone they could at least rely on to be - well, not reliable, but genuine in being a street rogue. Anything more than a two-bit thug would speak the Thief's Cant. - - - She had things to do. First, a message. She remembered, down this street, was it? No, that corner - ah, yes. The cooing of birds drew her in. She pushed open the door to the bird couriers'. She had a message to send, and good gold to pay it with. Even a series of horses couldn't match a bird on the wing. Soon, she had a sheet of parchment with her untidy scrawl messily across it. It was in Elvish, which Gnarl knew, though she'd never known why. She'd enjoyed speaking to him most in Sylvan, though, with his steady, sonorous tones. Gnarl Yu are in dangar. Their is a conspear conspiracy of darc thinggs in Harum. Undeade and daemons. Thy r tageting yu. B carefull. Die an ill kill yew. Still need to thnc yew again. Invescigating neath capital for vampire nest. Hope two meat soon. Yor friend SEL Also arm grew good. She let the ink dry before rolling it up and placing it on the counter. A messenger pigeon would carry it to its destination, and from there a courier would be able to take it to Gnarl - and if they couldn't find him, at least then the enemy might have difficulty too. She wished she could do more, but necessity pulled her in a dozen directions. --- Her next stop was to buy a cloak. It was old, and shabby, wool browned by time and wear as much as any dyer's craft. It was itchy, but the place she was going did not encourage being highly identifiable, and there were limited numbers of tall, pale skinned, green-haired elves with a wooden arm in the locale. She did her best to keep her features hidden, though her sabre was left visible, and she rested her left hand on the hilt as if ready. She walked away from the nicer districts, to where the buildings were tight and packed together. They loomed claustrophobically over the street, giving a feel like a rat nest. The streets were unevenly cobbled, thick with filth and trash. Rough-looking men and women watched her pass from doorways or alleys, glancing at her sword and measuring the risk vs the potential of her coin purse. Several had red cloth tied around their right ankle. It was a good sign. Here was the so-called tumbletown, the slums where the poor and the unwanted were forced to gather, out of sight of those in the halls of power. Scratches on one of the walls drew her attention. It was next to the sign of a run-down pub, the sort of place where the furniture was bolted to the floor so it couldn't be thrown. The pattern of scratches made her frown thoughtfully. She stepped past the pub entrance, picking past pools of vomit and a man either too drunk on rotgut or concussed to stand. A barefoot child was rummaging through his pockets, and glared at Selissa until she was past. Within their pocket, they had clutched something, probably a knife, until the elf was round the corner. Down the side of the pub, in a cramped little alley stinking of urine, was a door, much thicker than the front doors of the pub. Reinforced with iron, too, with a little sliding grill so someone inside could peer out. "Het het," she called, knocking three times, then three times again. The grill slid open, and a pair of suspicious eyes looked out, set into a scarred, meaty face. "Aye?" the goon grunted. "Lookwise Cruel? Still shine? Gleamwise busy, thinking." I'm looking for Cruel. Are they still the boss? I might have work I'll pay for. Thief's Cant. Almost a language of its own, with meaning depending on context. She'd learned it in places like this, slumming drinks in the bars Jonath had preferred and Sara had loathed, swapping tricks with underhanded rogues - knife throwing and even a few stealth techniques, though she had only ever shown they techniques she'd seen humans use - not for any common cutpurse were the Ways of Leaf and Beast. Jonath had always like those bars, mostly for the chance of a bar fight. With Sara and Gnarl both typically going elsewhere, Selissa had stayed to watch his back when the fists, stools, and teeth were flying and earned more than her share of bruises. There had been one woman in particular Selissa had met in her adventuring days in a pub much like this one. That woman had, in truth, despite a friendly face and easy nature, frightened Selissa a little. Conchita Cruel had not been the name they had been born with, no doubt, but she had been ambitious, cunning and entireless merciless when Selissa knew her as the second-in-charge of the Red Brothers. Selissa had suspected that it would not be long before she had been running the show, and the cant-sign on the wall had proved it. The eyes squinted at her for a moment longer, before there was the sounds of bolts being drawn back. The door opened to reveal a mountain of muscled - not as big as Maus, but still an absolute unit of a man. Other guards crowded the corridor, wearing knives and cudgels openly. She was gestured in with a sharp jerk of the head and ushered to a cramped room. The light in here was low, with nothing but an oil lamp shedding greasy smoke into the air from a table surrounded by chairs. The goon took up position in front of the door. With a small sigh, Selissa took a seat, wondering if she'd made a mistake.

[Riggdgames]

Set Al-Sayyid Changeling Fighter/Hexblade AC: 17 HP: 41/41 THP: 11/11 PP: 12 PIv: 13 PIs: 9 Conditions: Concentration: During the Coach Trip To Harumburg Set listens carefully as Mal reveals an entire council of masters, as well as his fellow students that accepted a pact despite the consequences. It's unclear to Set, however, just how similar or different Mal's circle of Elders is to his own patron. He tries to pierce the veil, but his mind is sluggish trying to keep up with the tiefling's words. "Are you one of the few, Mal? Do you not regret the voice that whispers to you?" The shadow of a laugh echoes in Set's mind. "No doubt you understood the cost before you agreed to such a bond, but did you seek out the compact or did it find you?" "What of your patron, umbral magus? Who taught you to pluck the strings lurking behind everything?" Set hesitates a moment, his stomach flipping as the attention turns back on him, but trading information was the only way he could hope to learn something useful. If only he hadn't eaten so much venison earlier, he might've been able to do so more comfortably. "He calls himself the Shadowkeeper." It felt good to speak without an audience, without a voice taunting and cackling at him from within. It had been almost a week since his patron had vanished with a vague promise to seek out one called Darkest, whoever that might be. "I live in His shadow, and I've only ever seen Him as a shape in mine. I wish I knew more, but even after all this time, He is still largely a mystery to me." Set pauses, staring off into a night revealed by darkvision and adds, "though in the past few days He's shown me more than ever before." Another pause as Set looks back to Iceblood, catching those golden eyes. "He's gone for the moment, seeking council with one called Darkest. Is either name familiar to you?" In the Outskirts of Harumburg "Anything that would threaten one of us in the inn will no doubt attract the rest soon enough." Set nods slowly, biting the inside of his cheek, but accepting Vargath's statement at face value. It was true, they could still lend each other support from within the tavern if the worst came to pass. "Fair enough, Vargath." They'd fought more together in the past week than Set had in the past year before that, and the Mighty had always put himself between harm and the rest of them. No doubt he'd be there again if the need arose. Glancing at Maus, Set regards the mountain for a moment as his words finally sink in. Not two minutes into Harumburg and Maus already wanted to go off on his own for 'research.' It was probably the truth, but they couldn't keep an eye on him this way even if they wanted to without taking drastic measures. Set stands idle a moment longer before pulling out the coin and flipping it. Decision made, he airs his suspicion immediately. "I'm sure research is all you're doing, Maus," Set says, an edge to his voice. "It's only natural you'd want to help us after that business with the tree, never mind your other reasons for being here." Set steps in closer so only the Chief can hear him. "Just don't think I've forgotten how easily you betray those closest to you," Set whispers slapping Maus on the back. "Be watching you." Stepping past Maus, Set pays the rogue no mind as the others engage with him, though he can't help glancing back as Evergreen starts spouting gibberish. For a moment he wonders if he's just mis-translating her words in his head, or if they're not really speaking trade. Shaking his head, Set resolves to ask Selissa later. In the meantime, he steps up to Ulu and asks, "which way to the Writ and the Raven?"

[Spore]

Doctor Ignacius Madaras, Medicus Extravagant! Gnome Artificer/Transmuter AC: 18 HP: 27/27 PP: 11 PIv: 17 PIs: 11 Conditions: - Concentration: - Ignacius nods in agreement to the burly scholar. I agree with Master Hubrecht. Privacy and private dealings can still occur, even if we are bound by duty and goals. His features darken a bit. I do not think we agree on all moral decisions and it would be naive to try and align ourselves perfectly in that way. If we can agree that no one willingly will obstruct our common goal nor endanger the other, I am happy. I would advise you to assist Maus in his research anyhow. I would aid him but I am afraid I would take a bit of our funds to secure a few magical scrolls that aid us in the upcoming trials, be they physical mental or of the eldritch variety. He looks at Vargath's shoulder, unable to pat him on it, and slaps him on the forearms instead. I feel fate has more dangerous tasks for us. We need to be prepared. With these words, Ignacius is off. Trailing the streets, he looks for a professional scribe.