Cyre Red (IC)

[Bobthewizard]

Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12 Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5 Conditions: It has been an incredible honor to spend this much time in the Prince's presence, but Svek is getting nervous about maybe spending too much time here. As soon as Honor to start to leave, Svek quickly jumps up and takes the writ from the Prince. "Thank you, sirsss, we'll do our best." He gives a quick nod of a bow and then scurries off after Honor, tucking the writ into his pack as he leaves. He chases after Honor, calling out to him after they exit. "Honor, I may need your help carrying my bottles of wine. 3 of them weigh as much as I do."

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Notes

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Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome, Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath
Kellar d'Kundarak
Mialee, a Valenar elf who is training Oargev's troops
job in Kalazart (have map)
rescue salvage crew
Bring back documents
Kundarak loot can be sold to Kundarak

[Spore]

Surge the Sellsword Shifter Ranger AC: 17 HP: 44/44 PP: 15 PIv: 15 PIs: 14 Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft) Concentration: - Surge nods with acceptance. This alone was a huge sign of trust, communicated nonverbally. He does not smile, but his voice softens. So either Kundarak is really believing in us, or the papers or whatever the first team carried is vitally important. I doubt they would throw THIS kind of money around just to impress New Cyre's population. If you pardon my expression, but this refugee camp is not as important to Breland as we all feel. He turns to Aanash and Honor. Minutes likely will not matter. Aan, calm your galvanized horses. Rushing headlong into danger is YOUR thing, not OURS. I say we load a cart with replacement parts for Honor and the wagon itself, two horses, water and supplies. We should move slow and steady. Witchling takes to the skies, I take point and scout. I cannot command you to stay near the caravan, and knowing you you will probably not stay put anyhow. We should use the wine on alternating days then, starting with the first time we run into heavier trouble.

[Awful]

The Iron Witch Winged Tiefling AC: 18 HP: 38/38 THP-/- PP: 14 PIv: 15 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Misty Step 1/1 Bless 1/1 /LR Cannon: 1/1 Fireball wand 7/7 Witchling AC13 HP: 18/18 16PP

When Surge asked about the bag, she gave a minute shrug, more a rustle of her wings than anything visible on her body.
"Limited resources. The materials I used to boost my firepower. I can redo it, but it'll take me a few hours overnight, if we need the storage space."

---

Seeing as people were beginning to leave, the Witch picked up the writ and the bag for the paperwork, too. After a quick check to make sure the Witchling hadn't lost the ring already, she half-bowed towards the Prince and made her departure.

First things first: she'd get this goodberry wine.

Outside the worn-down mansion, she turned to the others.

"There's a couple of things I need to do in town here, this goodberry wine first among them. Let's meet in an hour in the square and then depart. Do whatever you need to in that time."
At Surge's words, she frowned thoughtfully.

"A cart is a big target, and I'm not sure it would handle the terrain so well. Maybe a couple of mules or donkeys would handle it better - and with the goodberry wine handling a lot of the supplies front, we're not carrying enough a wagon would be necessary."

[Archmage1]

Adam nods once, gravely, at Oargev's announcement of liquid support. "With the aid of the gods, we'll see it done."

He then looks to his companions, and then back to Oargev. "With your permission, we'll depart, and organize the expedition, with the goal to depart as soon as possible."

[RandomWombat]

Aanash Tiefling Barbarian/Wizard/Warlock AC: 19 HP: 57/57 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Conditions: Arcane Ward (5/5), Temp HP (7) Once they finish filing out of the Prince's meeting room, Aanash withdraws the block of chewing wood from his coat pocket. He snickers at Svek. "You have trouble holding your liquor, little dragon?" He holds off on his idle chewing for long enough to chip in his thoughts on the cart. "We are to be a big target either way. Honor and I are not difficult to spot from afar, and he is easier yet to hear. I say if we are to be visible either way, we may as well be visible with convenience." Setting the block of wood between his teeth, Aanash gazes out at the town and considers what he might need to pick up before they set out. For all his impulse control issues, the man is no fool. He's already well-kitted for climbing up, down and through the uneven craters and blasted terrain where mage-artillery or the Mourning itself had left the land scarred. "Do any of you know where one might find scrolls of spells?" he picks the wood back out and asks his companions, who are mostly local and more familiar with New Cyre.

[Bobthewizard]

Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12 Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5 Conditions: Svek isn't sure why Aanash decided to pick on him, but he thinks the topic Aanash chose is ridiculous. They've known each other long enough that Aanash knows Svek can outdrink him, so he just laughs at Aanash's comment. "Don't be silly, Aanash. Even at my size, you know I can drink more than you. Plus I'd like to see you drink half your weight in wine. I can hold my liquor. I'm just too small to carry all of it. Anyway, I bet the merchant where we get the goodberry wine would know where we can get scrolls. Let's go there and see."

Spoiler: OOC

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I don't see any poison resistance on Aanash's sheet, so with Svek's higher constitution, he would be able to outdrink Aanash.

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Spoiler: Notes

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Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome, Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath
Kellar d'Kundarak
Mialee, a Valenar elf who is training Oargev's troops
job in Kalazart (have map)
rescue salvage crew
Bring back documents
Kundarak loot can be sold to Kundarak

[purepolarpanzer]

First Sergeant Honor Warforged Paladin of Conquest AC: 19 HP: 54/54 PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d10 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Lay on Hands- 25/25 When Svek requests that Honor carry his wine for him, the warforged looks down at the small dragon and nods. "I will carry whatever gear does not slow my pace. It is only practical- I do not tire as the rest of you do." When the subject of a cart comes around, a sound like metal filings scraping against each other escapes Honor's mouth. Those who had been travelling with him for some time would know that he makes that sound when he is thinking. "I am not opposed to a cart, but we must be prepared to abandon it if it becomes broken down or too damaged. I am, however, against horses or mules. That means bringing more food and water, and adds another aspect of the plan that can fail. If there is a cart, then Aanash and I can draw it easily enough." Honor nods to the Iron Witch. "One hour then. I must go buy maintenance supplies. I will trust the purchase of supplies to those who will be consuming them. One hour." Honor turns around and heads towards whatever New Cyre can manifest for a market, looking for a blacksmith's shop, a tinkerer's shop, or, gods willing, a shop specializing in warforged.

[Amnestic]

Scrutinising the writ of purchase a little closer, the goodberry wine isn't for pickup in New Cyre - which might be for the best, since it saves you the effort of transporting it. Instead it's due for pickup at Salvation, the small salvaging outpost and gateway for many to the Mournland proper on the Brelish side.

Of the shops in town, there are two which will likely cater to your needs and desires - first is the local blacksmith simply called Cyran Metalworks, run by a friendly if somewhat eccentric warforged craftsmen named Tank, and their adopted sister Fari ir'Cosis, a displaced Cyran noble (or so they say) who spends her days either helping out the smith or scouring old battlefields nearby for discarded weapons and armour that they can repurpose. They have a full suite of non-magical arms and armour on hand as required, though you note that at least one piece used to have a Brelish colour scheme painted on which has been haphazardly removed. Still, the pieces seem to be fully functioning, despite them perhaps being second-hand.

The second is Dalsin's Wondrous Emporium, which serves as a general store, filled with three parts items for refugees, one parts mournland salvage and items of Cyre gone-by, and one part magic items. Its proprietor, Dalsin, gives off the distinct aura of a snake-oil salesman, but that seems to just be his natural aura since close scrutiny reveals all of his goods to be entirely as described and sufficient. He promises that his stock of items changes regularly, and to check back in if - when - you return.

Spoiler: Dalsin's Stock

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Dalsin has all the adventuring gear (PHB 150) on hand, along some artisans tools (if you want a specific one, roll a d4 - they have it on a 2-4), and two carts out back. He has no animals.

He also has the following magical items for sale (some from Eccentricities of Eberron):
Consumables:
Tanglefoot Bags (2 bags, 50 gp each)
Thunderstones (3 stones, 30 gp each)
Smokesticks (4 sticks, 40 gp each)
Goodberry Wine (1 bottle, 100gp)
Potions of Healing (4 bottles, 50gp each)

Scrolls:
Shield (75gp)
Wither and Bloom (200gp)
Bless (100gp)
Bane (75gp)
Hold Person, x2 (180gp)
Aid (250gp)
Call Lightning (450gp)
Elemental Weapon (350gp)

Weapons/Armour/Wondrous
Eyes of Minute Seeing (375gp)
+1 Sickle (450gp)
Archer's Standard (EoE, 250gp)
Luckstone (600gp)
Elemental Axe (EoE, 4500gp)

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm not gonna need to RP out shopping, so if you want to buy anything just note as such, otherwise give me a thumbs up to move along in a post/discord and we'll skip ahead.

[Archmage1]

Looking through the stock, the dour, plate armored cleric makes some limited purchases, picking up some rations, waterskins, and spell components. After everyone finishes shopping, Adam gathers up the group of scavengers. "Is everyone prepared? Ammunition, food, water, any magical items you might desire?"

[Spore]

Surge the Sellsword Shifter Ranger AC: 17 HP: 44/44 PP: 19 PIv: 15 PIs: 13 Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft) Concentration: - Surge joins the group to Salvation. There and in the shops, he starts to hover up any arrows he can find, and the general store catches his eye. There were a lot of oddities interesting. Thinking silently and aloud, the shifter finally settled on a package of items. A bit grumpy, the now broke ranger joins the group waiting to depart. Lousy moneygrubbers. They took every last sovereign, didnt even let me haggle on the arrows. In truth, the socially inept archer did not even try to ask for a bonus. Spoiler: Shopping List Show Dagger 2gp Luckstone 600gp Bedroll 1gp Thieves Tools 25gp Money I have: 620 Sale: Fine clothes (15 gp, so 7,5 gold) I owe someone 5 silver but I hope the shopkeep cuts me the slack

[Bobthewizard]

Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12 Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5 Conditions: Svek looks through the store, but there is nothing he thinks he really needs. He'd normally try to carry a couple potions of healing, but he knows they won't work where we are going, so he'd rather just keep his ruby and diamond for now. When Surge tries to sell his fine clothes at a huge discount, Svek stops him. "Don't sell your clothes. Here, take this and pay me back when you can. I know you're good for it." He hands Surge a pouch containing 100gp.

Spoiler: OOC

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One of my ideals is "I help the people that help me."
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Spoiler: Notes

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Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome, Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath
Kellar d'Kundarak
Mialee, a Valenar elf who is training Oargev's troops
job in Kalazart (have map)
rescue salvage crew
Bring back documents
Kundarak loot can be sold to Kundarak
In New Cyre - Cyran Metalworks for armor and weapons
Dalsin's Wondrous Emporium - some magic items

[purepolarpanzer]

First Sergeant Honor Warforged Paladin of Conquest AC: 19 HP: 54/54 PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d10 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Lay on Hands- 25/25 Honor spends little time in the shop in Cyran Metalworks, neither haggling or idling. To be honest, he felt more than a little uncomfortable around the warforged aping a civilian profession. He felt a similar unease once upon seeing a mannequin in a shop window at Sharn- a distinct feeling that something had been perverted for a task that it was ill suited for. A being like Tank should not be hammering out armor and horse shoes and weapons, it should be armed, armored, and charging a warhorse into combat. But it would not be productive or polite to make a point of it. Instead Honor simply ordered the supplies he desired, waited silently for them to be accumulated, paid the fee, and left. The remainder of the hour he spent people watching throughout New Cyre, taking in the misery and desperation of his adopted people. He felt it strengthened his sense of purpose, but a dark part of him wondered if he just liked to drink in suffering. Several minutes before the hour was up, Honor arrived in the square, his pack adding an entire new dimension of clank and clunk to his jangling chains as he walked. He'd picked up everything a warforged could need for self maintenance, or at least what could be managed in the field without a forge fire. When Adam asked if his needs were met, he simply nodded and vaguely gestured at the loud back pack. While he waited for the others, Honor naturally gravitated towards Adam and Svek. He was under the firm belief that veterans should stick together, and besides that the mercenary nature of Surge and Aanash was distasteful to him. He was undecided on the nature of the Iron Witch so far- she seemed committed to the cause of New Cyre, but from what he'd been able to gather she was a civilian during the conflict. Despite this uncertainty, he was warming up to the Witchling as a matter of simple brotherhood- he also felt artificial beings should stick together, and the creature's antics would sometimes bring a smile to Honor's face. If his face could smile, that is. "The time is almost upon us. I hope the others come soon. I am eager to return to work."

[Awful]

The Iron Witch Winged Tiefling AC: 18 HP: 38/38 THP-/- PP: 14 PIv: 15 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Misty Step 1/1 Bless 1/1 /LR Cannon: 1/1 Fireball wand 7/7 Witchling AC13 HP: 18/18 16PP

The Witch didn't have much of a shopping list. As the wine wasn't to be gathered here, on inspection, she merely bought a few things - a small cask of water, a fresh packet of smokeleaf, and a little steel mirror - her last one had be sacrificed for the purpose of artifice.

She spent the last thirty minutes doing something just as important. In front of one of the little shrines to the lost, she stood a while in silence. Without a word, she reached into a pocket and pulled out a little carved flower. She placed it down in front of the names written on the parchment there, touched her lips, and pressed her fingers to the paper.

She smiled, softly, without any joy to it, and turned away.

---

At the appointed time, the Witch and her companion appeared from the desolute crowds. She nodded to the gathered adventurers.

"Everyone ready to depart?"

[RandomWombat]

Aanash Tiefling Barbarian/Wizard/Warlock AC: 19 HP: 57/57 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Conditions: Arcane Ward (5/5), Temp HP (7) Eyes lighting up like yellow-orange circles of candlelight, Aanash throws his arms to the side and grins down at Svek, "That sounds like a challenge!" Though his enthusiasm deflates when leveler heads impose upon them a timeframe. With a roll of his eyes and a heavy sigh he relents, "Maahn, we shall have our drinking contest upon our victorious return." Exploring the magic item shop, he plucks out the Shield scroll - never hurt to have a backup handy - and then stopped to look over the bannerman's standard. Resting his hands on his hips, his expression grows into one of deep, mischievous satisfaction in his own cleverness. This too will be coming with him. As he returns to the party, he is twirling the refurbished battle standard around his arms and behind his back. Not gracefully, mind. Frequently he drops it into the dirt of the road, picks it up, dusts it off, and returns to his goofing off. When he arrives, he sets the standard against the ground and looks over his companions, letting a pause hang in the air for effect. "Friends! Comrades! You are about to witness my vast and unchained intellect!" Stepping forward, he takes up the standard in both hands and offers it up to the Witchling as if crowning a monarch. "A gift, for our littlest bannerwoman!" Spoiler: Shopping Show Scroll of Shield (75 gp) Archer's Standard (250 gp)

[Amnestic]

With your shopping completed, you track down your carriage back north to Starilaskur, then east on the lightning rail to Varithrond, and then again via carriage to the edge of the dreaded Mournland. In total, it's four days of travel between New Cyre and Salvation, and that's only thanks to House Kundarak footing the travel bill. Had they skimped on the lightning rail tickets, it would be a much more arduous journey – but then, they're the ones hiring you, so it's only right they pay the bill. Whether he negotiated with them ahead of time or not, Oargev also, somehow, managed to get them to shell out first class tickets for you instead of standard travel fare, so you get a day of comfort speeding on the backbone of Orien's power before you're back in the horse-drawn carriage for the last leg of the journey.

No matter how many times you may have crossed into the Mournland, it's unlikely seeing its border ever gets any easier. A wall of ever shifting, ever silently screaming faces made up of darkened cloud, reaching high into the sky beyond that which even Lyrandar's airships feel comfortable flying. From Varithrond, the faces are too indistinct to see clearly and it appears a mass of grey, but as you get closer the shapes become clear. No matter how indistinct, there always seems to be a face at the edge of your vision that appears to take the shape of someone you knew.

Salvation is the largest outpost this side of the Mournland border, but that doesn't mean it's big – smaller even than New Cyre. With perhaps a dozen buildings at most, no major transport links aside from carriages like the one you ride in, and a population that fluctuates based upon which salvagers kicked the bucket lately, Salvation is a wild town sustained solely by luck and people driven so far to despair they're willing to risk it all on the hopes of finding a big score. In many ways, earning the attention of a patron is a golden ticket, one that some salvagers might just kill you for, if they thought it might earn them your position.

A swift trip to the tavern in town has you pick up the requisite 40 bottles of Goodberry Wine from the local vendor (one of the few things they always have ample stock of – most Goodberry Wine from the western side of Khorvaire travels to Salvation, one way or the other, and for some Ghallanda establishments it's a source of tidy, regular profit), and then you're back on foot for the final step.

A chill passes through you when you touch the wall of silent screams, one that urges the weakwilled to lay down and die, but you push through, and a moment later you're inside the fog.

Crossing into the Mournland Music

The first true hazard of the Mournland is not the mutated denizens, the Lord of Blades and his warforged cultists, or the wild magic and living spells that cover the blighted land, but rather passing through the screaming mists into the Mournland proper. A maddening place, the befaced clouds swarm around you and threaten to throw you off your desired path, to draw you from each other and to drive you mad. For some, this leads them in circles until they die of thirst, but you've crossed before – and though overconfidence can kill, it's unlikely you'll suffer such a fate, but the picked-clean bodies you pass by are a stark reminder that it can happen to anyone.

Spoiler: OOC

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Pick a navigator (whoever has the highest Survival modifier, I'm guessing) and give me a survival roll, with advantage (either because of helping each other or your own experience, fluff it how you like), DC15.

Only one person gets to roll - you're not following different people in different directions, after all.

[Archmage1]

During the mix of carriages, lightning rails, and more carriages, Adam mostly sits in a corner, his fingers working over a small holy symbol, and a tiny locket.

When the border comes into sight, his face twists, a mix of sorrow, anger, frustration, and rage, but almost as quickly as it appears, it fades away, buried by his iron self control.

After the passing of the goodberry wine, Adam follows along the way to the Mournland, pausing, briefly, just before the Mournland truly begins, to say a brief prayer.
"May Arawai return to the Mourning, Aureon reveal those responsible, Balinor guide us, Boldrei protect us, Dol Arrah see that we do not fail, Dol Dorn see that we can fight, Kol Korran guide the way, Olladra stand with us, and Onatar ensure we succeed."

[Bobthewizard]

Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12 Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5 Conditions: Svek is his usual chatty self on the ride to Salvation, talking about the weather, the company, and especially how cool it was to have a meeting with the Prince. He comes back to that topic several times. At one point, someone mentions Breland and Svek is unable to hide his disgust. "Pigs. I bet you they caused the Mourning." Once they gather the Goodberry wine and start to enter the Mournlands, he becomes quiet. He's done this a few times but he always hates the entrance. He hates being in the Mournland too, but the entrance is especially hard. He goes with the others, though, knowing that this could be important, and potentially lucrative.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spoiler: Notes

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Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome, Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath
Kellar d'Kundarak
Mialee, a Valenar elf who is training Oargev's troops
job in Kalazart (have map)
rescue salvage crew
Bring back documents
Kundarak loot can be sold to Kundarak
In New Cyre - Cyran Metalworks for armor and weapons
Dalsin's Wondrous Emporium - some magic items

[purepolarpanzer]

First Sergeant Honor Warforged Paladin of Conquest AC: 19 HP: 54/54 PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d10 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Lay on Hands- 25/25 The carriage ride back to the Mournland was, again, cramped and mildly annoying. It wasn't until they hit the lightning rail at Starilaskur that Honor began to feel a bit more comfortable. Most of the amenities of the first class tickets were lost on him, but he appreciated having some space to spread out, and the fact that he could keep his weapons on his person while he rode. Honor watches out the window as the lightning rail carries them faster than any horse ever could. The rhythmic thump... thump... thump... of the train stirred a memory in him. It reminded him of the work crews he'd been on, digging trenches in the mud alongside his fellow soldiers. They would hum a beat to keep them all working in tandem, avoiding anyone taking an unexpected shovel to the face. Honor could almost hear the sound of dirt yielding to metal, of steel bodies creaking in unison as they worked in the pouring rain. Hmmm hmmmm hmmmm hmmmmmmmm. Honor was distant for most of the journey, but the humming was near constant. Varithrond When the idea of a long carriage ride, cramped in with everyone again, weapons stored away from him comes up, Honor's eye lights shut off and he shakes his head. "It's time I exercised my own mount. I'll follow up behind the carriage, running escort. This close to the Mournlands, you never know what threats you may meet." Truly he just didn't want to be squished into a wooden box with Aanash again. Honor enacted the ritual he'd been shown by a fellow paladin of Dol Arrah, arranging the nuts, bolts, gears, and mechanisms into a perfect circle on the ground. Infusing the power of his will and his oaths into the circle, he sprinkled dirt into the air, raising his hand and letting the soil spread further and further as he went. The mechanical parts rose into the air, and as the soil passed through them a being formed around them. It was part flesh, part mechanical, an elk that easily topped most natural specimens of Eberron, even without the mechanical reinforcements to it's legs and musculature. "Welcome, denizen of Daanvi. Welcome, Aldruarch. Thank you for your service." Honor mounted up, and wordlessly mount and master began to follow the carriage, ever moving closer to the storm that marked the Mournlands. Salvation Honor waited outside while his companions sorted out the Goodberry wine situation. He brought Aldruarch to a stable, payed a pittance for some food and water, then watched, mildly fascinated, as the hybrid organism from another plane indulged in hay and water. It was not long until Honor's observations were interrupted, and he led his mount outward, facing the storm. Honor saw the faces of those he recognized, those he fought alongside, civilians that he fought for. He remembered all the wounds he'd had to fill with molten metal, the dents he'd banged out, the distant pain of his more living parts suffering from wounds. All that for nothing. For ruin. For purest loss. Honor got off his elk long enough to salute the storm, whisper "Good to see you again, General." before mounting up and following the others into the Mournlands. He distantly wondered if this would be his last trip. Shrugging that thought away as he'd shrugged off the immanent feeling of doom so many times before, he fell in behind and trusted Surge to lead them true.

[Awful]

The Iron Witch Winged Tiefling AC: 18 HP: 38/38 THP-/- PP: 14 PIv: 15 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Misty Step 1/1 Bless 1/1 /LR Cannon: 1/1 Fireball wand 7/7 Witchling AC13 HP: 18/18 16PP

During the travel the tinkerer began to carve again. The whittling knife made smooth movements under her fingers; she occasionally glanced Under her ministrations, a figure emerged from the knob of wood of a familiar-looking shifter, the smooth face of it marked with furrows representing scars. It was frozen in movement, leaping back on the base eternally as if dodging, perhaps. The Witchling made herself useful by gathering up the shavings, then less useful by offering them up to Aanash like it was snuff, tiny hands full of wood curls as it thrust them triumphantly towards the other tiefling.

When they had arrived and alighted from the wagon, the Iron Witch pushed the little figure into Surge's hands.

"Here," was all she said, without particular interest, and stepped towards the mists.

---

The mists bubbled in front of her, a boiling kettle of souls upended over the land. Infinite faces stretched and screamed, wordless, relentless, without possibility of succour or salvation.

Were those the actual souls of the dead, the Witch had long wondered. Had there truly been so many in old Cyre that they could cover from earth to sky?

With a rustle of wings the Witchling alighted on her shoulder and hugged the side of her head. The little construct knew how maudlin the sight - understandably - could make her.

"...Thank you," she said quietly, smiling faintly, and felt the Witchling nod against her temple.

She stepped with the others into the fog, keeping contact with the person in front. Normally she'd fly in the mournland, but passing through the fog was no place to seperate yourself from companions.

[Spore]

Surge the Sellsword Shifter Ranger AC: 17 HP: 44/44 PP: 16 PIv: 15 PIs: 13 Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft) Concentration: - Riding the Orien Express gave Surge time to think. Something he tried not to dabble on for too long. After all, there was no sane reason he would search the Mournlands other than helping Cyre to new glory. But there were so many better ways. Still, the House did put him into this mission to increase their leverage with Oargev, and now he even had the possibility to get his nose into confidential Kundarak notes. The following weeks would be interesting. Not that his illustrious group made things less interesting. Aanash gifted the tiny construct some decorations. Adam prayed to gods that had clearly forsaken the Cyran people. Honor summoned a weird amalgam of flesh and steel. And Svek was a dragon that shared its hoard. And now the witch approached with a tiny adorable but useless gift? It confused but excited Surge. He never before got a gift from just being around. This was a new concept. Thanks? he says as she leaves him. At the fogs: Surge always hated the fog. Passing it was not his favorite pastime, but he felt his distance to the subject matter - other than the actual Last War - made it easier for him to resist the faces. He could not have known them. They might have died here, but they had no connection to the shifter. Guiding ahead he knew the way even though the lands did their best to ruin their advance. This time he did not need help nor did his companions aid his endeavor. Did the lands want to be conquered this time? Maybe the banner was helping. The archer did imagine being able to shoot farther than before. Did the mists part for his arrows?

[Amnestic]

With some effort, Surge leads the party through the mists and after a few distinctly unpleasant hours you emerge on the far side into a twisted land - though this one seems to be twisted straight, rather than curled. While the sky above is undoubtedly the eternally twilight grey of the Mournland, the area around as a mishmash of the damaged and scarred terrain you've come to know and perfectly normal land - the sort you might have seen on the Brelish side of the wall, but on a closer look, it's too perfect.

The land, when it's not bearing the mark of Mourning, is entirely too neat. A forest of trees to your left is not a haphazard grouping grown naturally, but instead perfectly in lines and rows, and each tree appears to have grown identically, as if copied from a single template. A river flowing by it is perfectly straight, as if carved by mortal hands rather than nature, and instead of the land bearing gradients and hills, it is instead perfectly flat and horizontal. What stones do seem to stick up from the flat land is arranged in perfect geometrical patterns.

Adam spots a creature lurking among the neatly forested area, and then another, and when the third appears the rest of you see them. They're roughly the size of Svek, though far less sturdy looking. Creatures of metal rather than flesh, their core is a spherical body bearing a single eye, tiny wings, and four spindly limbs that seem exceptionally fragile. These creatures flit among the trees, apparently ignoring you, and tending to the land, ensuring - apparently - that all is in its proper place.

Spoiler: Int (Arcana or Religion)

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Spoiler: DC5

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This is a manifest zone, though you aren't sure for which plane.

Spoiler: DC10

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The straight rivers, identical trees and flat plains indicate this is a manifest zone of Daanvi, the plane of order. As far as manifest zones to find yourself in, this is one of the better ones.

Spoiler: DC15

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The creatures - monodrones - are typically non-hostile so long as they are not disturbed in their work, but excessively chaotic actions could cause them to view you as something to be "repaired".

Spoiler: OOC

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Should you try to lie, for whatever reason, you find yourself unable to. Every word you speak inside the manifest zone must be something you believe to be true.

[Awful]

The Iron Witch Winged Tiefling AC: 18 HP: 38/38 THP-/- PP: 14 PIv: 15 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Misty Step 1/1 Bless 1/1 /LR Cannon: 1/1 Fireball wand 7/7 Witchling AC13 HP: 18/18 16PP

The perfect orderliness of this place made it too easy to figure out, even before she saw the little construct-creatures tending to the grove.

"Modrons," she said, stowing her longarm. "This is a manifest of Daanvi. Order to its utmost."
She began walking again, paying little heed to the creatures. They were interesting, up to a point - but in the Mournlands, it paid not to let yourself get sidetracked too often.
"These monodrones should leave us be, as long as you don't start messing things up too much."

[purepolarpanzer]

First Sergeant Honor Warforged Paladin of Conquest AC: 19 HP: 54/54 PP: 11 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d10 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 2/2 2nd Lay on Hands- 25/25 Honor nodded at the Iron Witch's assessment. "They are creatures of pure order, much like my mount Aldruarch. I have no doubt that they see the entire Mournland as disarray to be quelled. We should leave them be. If we distract them from their purpose needless conflict may arise, and while I am sure we'd have no difficulties against them, they can call in reinforcements that could be quite fatal to us." Honor considered approaching the drones to seek intelligence, but he knew himself well enough that his internal quandaries may set these axiomatic creatures off just as easily as Aanash' tomfoolery.

[Archmage1]

Following Surge through the mist for what seemed like several hours, Adam almost lets out a sigh of relief as the mists fade, and the Mournland becomes visible. But then he looks, and takes in the sights. Order. Perfect order. Our entry into the Mournland, and we end up in perfect order? Is this a sign that we are doing the right thing? A sign that the Mourning won't end until the world is put into order? A sign that order can break the Mourning? As he thinks, he almost unconsciously clutches his worn holy symbol, before his attention is drawn to the slight movement of metal within the forest. He pauses, and points them out
"There, in the trees. Monodrones. Remember the procedures for dealing with creatures of order: Don't disturb their order, and follow the proper procedures. Be careful where you step, and if you kick a stone or stick out of the way, put it back. There is no reason for hostility. We have our task, and they have theirs."
Looking around, Adam tries to identify some familiar landmark, and attempt to identify the way to Kalazart.

Spoiler: Rolls

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(1d20+8)[25] perception(Landmarks)
(1d20+5)[12] Survival(Find the way?)

[Bobthewizard]

Svek, Kobold Sorcerer | AC: 16 HP: 52/52 | PP: 15 PIv: 10 PIs: 12 Spell Points: 27/27 Sorcery Points: 5/5 Conditions: Svek walks through the mists to enter the Mournland, staying right next to the others so he doesn't get lost. He's not sure how they manage to find the way each time, and he's sure he would just be wandering around in the dark forever if he had to go through it by himself. He's seen strange, horrible things in the Mournland. While this isn't the most horrible, it might be the strangest. This is so different from anything he ever saw as a kobold. There was almost no order in his childhood, just fear of those more powerful. The straight lines and concentric circles are new to him, but they seem oddly calming, sort of like the rules in the military. Once you learned them you knew what to do. "Monodrones, huh? I think I like them." However, he is afraid that if he upsets this balance, these creatures won't be as friendly. Despite exiting the mist, he stays close to the others and tries not to disturb anything.

Spoiler: OOC

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Action:
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Movement:
Object:
Concentration:

Spoiler: Notes

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Duvi (Duvamil Sparklegem) gnome, Majordomo for Prince Oargev.
Haydith ir'Wynarn, Princess of Karnnath
Kellar d'Kundarak
Mialee, a Valenar elf who is training Oargev's troops
job in Kalazart (have map)
rescue salvage crew
Bring back documents
Kundarak loot can be sold to Kundarak
In New Cyre - Cyran Metalworks for armor and weapons
Dalsin's Wondrous Emporium - some magic items

[RandomWombat]

Aanash Tiefling Barbarian/Wizard/Warlock AC: 19 HP: 57/57 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Conditions: Arcane Ward (5/5), Temp HP (6) The Lightning Rail The doldrums of travel is always the worst part. When he catches sight of the great wall of faces from the window of the lightning rail, however, Aanash lights up with excitement and presses against the glass. He'd never seen something of such magnitude before he came here. It still holds him in awe, despite all of its ominous gravitas. The despair and loss it represents is lost on him. The Wall When the time comes to cross, he steps in confidently, feeling the crackling sensation of the energy in him reacting to the energy in there. It makes his heart beat a little faster, the wardrums of Shavarath pounding in his ears. Aanash wants too much to close his eyes and let it take him, to see what glorious wonders it leads him to. But the most beautiful things can hold deadly poison. Taking shallow breaths and trying not to hyperventilate in giddy excitement, he chews the wood chips he gratefully accepted from the Witchling during their travels, distracting his fidgeting body so that he can stay on task and follow Surge. Present "Ooh, monodrones. Who wants to go mess with them?" Aanash asks his companions with a wide grin. He has nothing against them, of course. It's just fun to topple their little projects and watch them sputter and flail about like angry bees. The others aren't so keen on bullying the mods, so he blows a breath out of his nose and shrugs. "Alright. I will keep it on my pants." He pats the warhammer hanging from a loop on his belt. His hand remains near in case of danger, but he doesn't aggress the monodrones.

[Amnestic]

With your deduction and knowledge of Daanvi, the party manages to rein in their more chaotic urges (Aanash, mostly) and you keep moving, eventually leaving the heavily ordered manifest zone of Order behind. The healthy plants and ordered rivers fall away being replaced by the same dull brown-grey mud and sand that is the more familiar territory of the Mournland. A dull, dusty wasteland bereft of life. Thankfully navigating isn't difficult - with the wall of mist at your back, and the occasional indication of where Conductor Stones used to be, you have little difficulty orienting yourself to where Kalazart should be, assuming it hasn't moved.

Eventually your drudgery brings you upon the remains of an old battlefield that seems to have been fought across a lightning rail line. Line of wooden spikes to hold advances at bay surround you, great gouges have been torn from the ground by explosions, and scattered armaments rusted and dessicated by exposure to the Mournland's energies surround you. More notably though, this section seem to have a section of mostly intact Conductor Stones that stretch on for at least a mile ahead of you. Some of them are damaged, but most appear fine, having somehow escaped true destruction during the battles fought here.

Spoiler: Int (History) DC15

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House Orien has a standing bounty for the locations of intact Conductor Stones of 500gp per mile in the Mournland, with payouts changing depending on their state and distance from the Mournland border.

As you pick your way along the lightning rail tracks - following them being one of the easiest and most direct routes to Kalazart - you note that one begins to crackle with electricity as you pass by it, then another further forward, and then a third beyond that. Cracks appear in their exterior as barely constrained lightning emerges in jolts and bolts, and in a moment, three elementals of pure lightning appear before you. Any hope that they would be as passive as the monodrones is quickly tossed aside as they begin moving towards you, their legs sending up towers of sparks whenever the set foot on the ground, and your nostrils fill with the scent of quick-fired glass as the sand beneath their 'feet' is immediately superheated.

Spoiler: Int (Arcana) DC14

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Casting Dispel Magic on the conductor stone will instantly free the bound elemental from this plane, effectively banishing it permanently.

Spoiler: Map

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Initiative order:
Surge: [22]

East Lightning Elemental: [19]

Aanash: [18]

Adam: [14]
Iron Witch: [11]

West Elemental 1: [11]
Centre Elemental 2: [5]

Honor: (1d20)[3]
Svek: (1d20)[3]

Surge is up first.


In addition, whenever you cast a spell roll a d12 for me please.

[Spore]

Surge the Sellsword Shifter Ranger AC: 17 HP: 44/44 PP: 16 PIv: 15 PIs: 13 Conditions: Devil Panther's Sight (120 ft) Concentration: - Very surprised Surge is not, but his archery skills have deteriorated during the long stay in New Cyre. He shoots at the eastern elemental twice. More accurate than any novice archer, but the results are horrible for his high expectations. Spoiler Show 1st attack: Either a crit for 24 damage or a grazing hit (14 to hit) for a "mere" 16 damage 2nd attack: nat 1.

[RandomWombat]

Aanash Tiefling Barbarian/Wizard/Warlock AC: 19 HP: 57/57 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Conditions: Arcane Ward (5/5), Temp HP (6) "Oh!" for once, Aanash remembers something from their business dealings. "Remember that one time we saw a posting about how the Orien want intact stones from their rail!" He waves his hands at the intact obelisks. "Payday, boys! And ladies," he quickly corrects. The celebrations are interrupted, but the interruption does not quell his cheer. "I suppose I would not be so happy to be enslaved, either," he comments on seeing their furious disposition. "Alas, sweet child of aakaash. All I can offer you is entertainment after your long imprisonment!" He spins his warhammer out of its loop.

[Archmage1]

Faced with an imminently shocking death, Adam ensures that his shield and the banner are ready, before he intones a short prayer. "May we maintain our vigil against the coming dark."

As he concludes his prayer, the light seems to dim, but in a comforting sort of way.
Moments later, a spectral war hammer forms in front of the center elemental, and swings at it.

Spoiler: Actions

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Adam will use Twilight Sanctuary.
Cast Spiritual hammer, swinging at the Center elemental.(Rolled a 4 on the d12)
Rolled 17 to hit.
(1d8+5)[9] Damage

Gain (1d6+5)[8] Temporary HP