As Tusk makes his way to the sea, Famh gazes after him with eyes equally misty with weariness and pride. Her steading had been a little inland from Brymstone, but she is essentially a sea-bred woman who feels far more comfortable dealing with sea lions than stone demons. She had moved to the side as he emerged, then drifted back in front of the hole before turning to gaze farewell one last time. But her eyes are undeniably misty. She is therefore in a perfect position to be swept off her feet and down the ramp when... just as the sea lion is beginning to scrabble up the sea wall in his desperate quest to find the sea ... the sea spares him the trouble by sending a rogue comber washing through a gap in the seawall to surge about his feet and then pour down steadily upon the heads of all below as if Noah had been reborn into the world, bringing Famh with it. All the work it took to prepare the ramp has left plenty of cracks in the floor for the water to drain away before it imperils anyone or floods the rest of the catacombs, but the result is decidedly uncomfortable.
Her wandering upbringing in the wilds, alas, has left Famh with ... shall we say ... a slightly less instinctive and immediate grasp of conventional proprieties than the average member of the retinue. Or, in some cases, any proprieties. In her current soaked and freezing state, it takes her conscious mind an instant to remember that she is among mixed company and not alone upon the moors. In her past life, where she would have given Gatanades' eye teeth for a chance at any better towel than to wring out her sopping wet plaid until it was slightly less sopping wet and use it to dry her still completely sopping wet self, it was often much more effective and simpler to remove her clothing entirely and spread it out on a rock for wind and sun to dry at the same time it was drying her skin off. And back then, when there were no witnesses but the beasts and birds, there was no problem with that. Now, however ... ;) In her sodden discomfort, her hand unthinkingly flies to her shoulder and begins to unfasten the pins that hold on her earasaid -- luckily, at both shoulders ... and then her eyes fly to Cainneach. The rest of the company, after, but Cainneach first foremost and fastest. And the blush that explodes over not only her entire face but, you suspect, most of the rest of her body as well surpasses all her previous efforts in that direction. You suspect also, that if Cainneach remains around her much longer to give her the opportunity to practice, she will develop into quite an expert in her chosen field of artistic expression. For there is no denying that her blushes, whether by art or chance, lend her pale face the fire that her hair foreshadows and transform her from simply charming to absolutely ravishing. Her fingers hesitate a moment after redoing her pins, and then quickly ... much too quickly ... instead remove her outer plaid and begin assiduously wringing it out. Then, as she slowly regains a small measure of composure and the simple need for warmth mercifully diverts her attention to thinking of ways to meet the present challenge, it occurs to her to summon her magic fire into a corner of the room for all to dry their garments at (create bonfire).
. "And perhaps a bite of something hot might not go amiss.," she suggests brightly to everyone in particular, obviously hoping that certain subjects will be passed lightly over until she's had time to regain a little more of her composure. "If ye could bring me some pieces of that door to feed it, I can save the magic after that for a greater need." A moment later, Sir Almeric's question provides her with the distraction she sought and she turns to him with obvious relief. "Who knows where those wands would float to if we hurled them into the sea? Or even if they sank, there are evil creatures in the sea the demons in them might use. I still think we ought to ask Myrddin's advice how to handle them and perhaps cleanse them of evil, and I think if we warn him what happened to Fergus he could keep himself safe from it. We'd only need to bring them safe as far as the beach. Well, I've already handled one by my faerie hand and taken no harm by it. The beings within have already tried to possess Fergus when he touched one with his fleshly hand, but I don't know about his sorcerous one. But if they weren't able to touch him so, then we could each carry two gripped together. The other thought is to wrap them up in blankets and carry them on a litter we could make with cloaks and staves."
===========================
(sorry, just couldn't resist this one. I started writing and it all came pouring in upoh me like, well, a tidal wave LOL. And we could probably all use a short rest or so after that stone demon and then all the exertions of Dayne Retinue LLC Construction getting Tusk out of here)
Almeric will leave Famh and Fergus to discuss their plans for the Moon Wands, while he searches the remaining rooms in this corridor. He will check the two doors in the western wall first, starting with the southern door that is slightly ajar. Bolstered by his new found confidence, Almeric is fearless and indefatigable in his belief in his own success, kicking the door in with sword drawn and shield raised.
A fire is lit, a repast of scavenged periwinkles and limpets to be had as some go to inspect the three other doors at this end of the corridor.
Between Almeric and Cainneach the three remaining rooms are breached in short order-
Western door- The door stands ajar now. Within you find the rotted remnants of clothing and furniture. A large iron-bound chest stands in one corner of the room, a quick inspection by Thatch finds an ancient trap rusted to uselessness and the lid crumbles as it is lifted, the majority of the contentslong ago succumbed to mold and damp but in one corner is a solitary silver cloak pin engraved with a stylised serpent.
NNW door- This room contains the remains of spades, buckets and other tools. In the midst of the debris lies a skeleton with a corroded spear through its ribs.
Nortern door- destroyed, this is where the sealion was trapped.
Eastern door- Broken demonic looking masks and sundered ceremonial staves and adjuncts are strewn across the floor here. There are further signs of looting, and the bones of defenders and despoilers lie intertwined. One skeleton wears fragments of a silvered head-dress, and on its finger is a white gold ring in which is set a chip of jade.
It's surreal for Cainneach to witness this lumbering beast make its way up the makeshift ramp the party had come together to assemble. This was a beautiful change from the darkness, the undead, and the profane experiences the party had been battered with. Even Almeric was moved by the majesty of the sea lion finding freedom, although the Capellar's attribution for the success of their rescue was very different from Cainneach's. Salt seemed happy enough to have played a role, but the yip he sounded after dashing back to Cainneach did carry a note of questioning, perhaps wondering where his new friend had gone and would the strange, giant dog thing come back from the sea?
All of this pondering is derailed as Cainneach's gaze drifts back to Famh, only to see her in an absentminded act of disrobing. The forester's jaw drops, rendering him unable to call out any kind of remonstration, and a blush hotly floods his face as well. It's unclear, even to Cainneach, whether he is in this moment embarrassed for her or by her indiscretion. Regardless, Cainneach is a chivalrous fellow and averts his gaze (almost) immediately. Fortunately, as Famh begins speaking again, he realizes that disaster has been averted!
Or at least it seems that way, until Cainneach notices their now extremely fearless leader has elected to kick in a door, throwing caution to the wind. Cainneach draws his shortsword and runs toward the door in case things go sideways yet again.
(And, as has happened so many times, I've taken too long to compose a post ...)
... and thankfully, all is well despite the brash approach. Cainneach helps Almeric, Thatch, and the rest sift through the contents of the remaining rooms in this area. Seeing that they're all clear, Cainneach hesitantly states, "So it seems that we've cleared this level of the temple ... there is one last place to visit, or do we think we've done enough in this place? The Baron may grow cross if we tarry too long."
Fergus nods in agreement with Famh. "Myrddin's advice would be the best, though we must take care that he is warned of what we know."
Fergus helps gather wood for the fire as the others clear out the last few rooms. In response to Cainneach and looking to Almeric.
"The Baron may be more peeved if we were to leave the greatest danger or worse lead it back to the ship. If there is more to explore, should we rest and then make one last push before returning?"
Fergus nods in agreement with Famh. "Myrddin's advice would be the best, though we must take care that he is warned of what we know."
Fergus helps gather wood for the fire as the others clear out the last few rooms. In response to Cainneach and looking to Almeric.
"The Baron may be more peeved if we were to leave the greatest danger or worse lead it back to the ship. If there is more to explore, should we rest and then make one last push before returning?"
Almeric nods as Fahm and Fergus give sound advice. "Tactically, your advice is sound. Please make the Wands ready for safe transportation."
"Strategically, things have changed. We are many leagues from Gorham and the temple is no real threat once the Linden is sea worthy. We have banished the Moon Demon and finished the work started by the Highlanders. This morale of the Retinue has been damaged and should be repaired before our next battle. Lastly, this could a Temple to the Blue Moon Magi, reason enough for us never to have come here in the first place. For these reasons I fell we are almost done. We will take a short repast then leave."
Religion = 7
Almeric leaves Fahm and Fergus to organise the cursed wands. The knight systematically worked trough the remaining rooms, searching for items of note or value. In the room to the west, he examines the silver serpent cloak pin, expecting it to have the same evil taint as everything else here. Once done, it will be tucked safe away in his pack with the other treasure.
EDITED
When Almeric enters the East room, he tries to find any items of value that have been left after the looting.
Perception = 8.
If Cainneach is still with him, he will encourage the Forester to search too. Almeric's attention is ultimately drawn to the white gold ring with the jade chip. This is carefully examined by the Capellar, before it is secreted in his pouch. Once and only one he is sure there is no more treasure, he will join the others at the fire pit.
A fire is lit, a repast of scavenged periwinkles and limpets to be had as some go to inspect the three other doors at this end of the corridor.
Between Almeric and Cainneach the three remaining rooms are breached in short order-
Western door- The door stands ajar now. Within you find the rotted remnants of clothing and furniture. A large iron-bound chest stands in one corner of the room, a quick inspection by Thatch finds an ancient trap rusted to uselessness and the lid crumbles as it is lifted, the majority of the contents long ago succumbed to mold and damp but in one corner is a solitary silver cloak pin engraved with a stylised serpent.
NNW door- This room contains the remains of spades, buckets and other tools. In the midst of the debris lies a skeleton with a corroded spear through its ribs.
Nortern door- destroyed, this is where the sealion was trapped.
Eastern door- Broken demonic looking masks and sundered ceremonial staves and adjuncts are strewn across the floor here. There are further signs of looting, and the bones of defenders and despoilers lie intertwined. One skeleton wears fragments of a silvered head-dress, and on its finger is a white gold ring in which is set a chip of jade.
Famh's plaid is dry enough by now to bunch up into a kind of bag. As Sir Almeric and Cainneach return and describe what they've found in the other cells, she pulls her improvised holdall forth and points to it. You see that she has cut off a good bight of the hempen rope from her pack and tied it about the neck. Judging by the long trailing ends that are left, she has allowed at least five feet of rope.
"We should play it safe and put all the ritual trappings and such, or anything to do with the moon or serpents, into this bag and carry it on the same litter we put the staves on. And we should take them whether they're broken or whole, and leave Myrddinto sort out what's perilous or no and what's useful or no. I'll be glad to come with you and help gather them up. Best we not miss anything like that, so the more eyes looking the better. When we're done, I'll wrap the loose rope around and tie it tight." She goes with whoever else will come and, starting with the newly explored rooms, systematically retraces the Dayne retinue's path through this level. If the Capellar agrees with her plan, all small items that fit the description she gave are gathered up by her mage hand, or by Fergus' if he wants to risk taking a ... hand ... in the matter, and deposited in the improvised sack. The only exception is the white gold ring set with jade. This she looks at uncertainly for a moment as her floating green-tinged extremity holds it delicately before her eyes; then holds a small pouch beneath and has her spell drop it in. "I'm not sure about this. I'll keep it separate until we can talk to Myrddin."
Once all is done, she turns to Cainneach once more.
(And, as has happened so many times, I've taken too long to compose a post ...)
... and thankfully, all is well despite the brash approach. Cainneach helps Almeric, Thatch, and the rest sift through the contents of the remaining rooms in this area. Seeing that they're all clear, Cainneach hesitantly states, "So it seems that we've cleared this level of the temple ... there is one last place to visit, or do we think we've done enough in this place? The Baron may grow cross if we tarry too long."
"Do ye think you and Ori between ye might contrive a litter like the one we brought that poor Harald out on, a ghraid? We could load it with this and the staves and then leave it in a by corner near the way out while we check the rest of the place. I'm worried about those stairs down to the north too. Why would they put stairs unless there were more there that we don't know about yet? The Baron would be more cross if we missed a moon demon or so, and it came to our camp tonight to take vengeance for its fellows."
Almeric nodded in silent agreement to Fahm's complicated plan. He was now beginning to understand the nature of the leadership required to get the best out the Retinue. He had treated them like a military unit at the beginning, as disciplined soldiers to be ordered about. This is what he had been trained to do and it came naturally to him. That tactic had worked very well in Hob's Dell, where 1 mistake could have easily led to all their death's at the hands of Tuannon Dur. It had worked very well during their escape and evasion from Beorn and his Men-at-Arms, where they were but foxes in the hunt. Since their time within Aldred's Household, it was ever clear that this tactic had very limited uses. To allow each person to express themselves, utilise their skills in their own way, develop their own bonds of trust and loyalty, would certainly be best in the long run.
Almeric did not entirely agree with Fahm's plan, but had shut her down before and did not want to do that again, so quickly. He would have to moderate his thoughts and deeds from now on.
"Thank you for the thoughtful plan Fahm. I have handled all the tainted gold and silver items myself, without harm and believe that only the wands pose a serious risk. The wands should be covered somehow, to prevent accidental contact. With mud maybe? If you will allow me to keep the gold ring for now. I have read about such things and do not believe it is of the Blue Moon Cult. This treasure is very valuable, once purified, and will be distributed evenly, after the Baron has taken his tribute of course."
"Fergus, perhaps you could document these items as Fahm packs them (during the Short Rest). You still have the chalice, don't you? I have the drum and will take the white gold ring. We can keep these high value items separate, as I do not think they are dangerous and I wouldn't want to keep all the treasure in one place."
Almeric takes the opportunity of taking a short rest to check his kit. Stripping off some equipment, he checks the straps, buckles and rivets while warming by the fire. Cleaning his sword and wiping down his shield, Almeric reflects on his 'new' direction. He would need to return to the Capellar Citadel at Meore soon, to take his Paladin Oath, which will define his entire life. At the end of their repaste, Almeric will re-equip and take a short walk to the sea shore.
Taking out the Sliver-Chased Black Wood Drum, he instinctively starts to play it. This instrument of war, used on a longship, to beat out the stokes to battle, seems so familiar and comfortable to Almeric.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Famh smiles as she returns Sir Almeric's nod. Being still half a creature of instinct, she had not yet consciously begun to resent the Capellar's former utilitarian view of her. But ever since her rather pert reply to him just before Tusk burst upon the scene she's begun to feel the first stirrings of unease on the subject. And of given her past, it always warms her heart when another treats her with dignity and respect, and she is more than ready to respond in kind. "With all the things ye saw on the Crusades, Sir, you'd know more than we about these things. I was but feared that since the ring was on an evil priest's finger, it might be accursed too. As for the rest, I suppose that makes it but a matter of the most convenient way of carrying them." She has curled herself up in a cozy corner near the fire, and as her mind drifts back to the knight's suggestion about protecting the staves she looks around at the broken-up floor and walls. "I don't suppose we can hope for some marine clay in the soil, this near the sea? But it might be mostly silt and sand ..."
===========================
Investigation 22
(OOC: apologies, Bonivant, didn't read your post closely enough. Famh doesn't really want the thing with any great fervor except for the reason she said and maybe a bit of a magpie kender nature of 'Oooooh, shiny-sparkly!! I want!' . Long as she believes Almeric and Fergus can keep them safe, and that they'll be safe from them, she has no problem with their taking custody of the items he's mentioned)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
... and thankfully, all is well despite the brash approach. Cainneach helps Almeric, Thatch, and the rest sift through the contents of the remaining rooms in this area. Seeing that they're all clear, Cainneach hesitantly states, "So it seems that we've cleared this level of the temple ... there is one last place to visit, or do we think we've done enough in this place? The Baron may grow cross if we tarry too long."
"Do ye think you and Ori between ye might contrive a litter like the one we brought that poor Harald out on, a ghraid? We could load it with this and the staves and then leave it in a by corner near the way out while we check the rest of the place. I'm worried about those stairs down to the north too. Why would they put stairs unless there were more there that we don't know about yet? The Baron would be more cross if we missed a moon demon or so, and it came to our camp tonight to take vengeance for its fellows."
Cainneach works alongside Almeric, applying all the powers of observation he can muster to keep a close eye on their surroundings, the bits of treasure, and their fearless leader, lest any of the three trigger or become a threat to himself and the rest of the party. Watching Almeric, he could tell the Capellars' mind was churning over something as they carefully picked through the detritus of the years which remained in these abandoned rooms. But what could it be?
After returning to their makeshift camp and speaking with Famh, he of course agreed to the very reasonable request for a litter and quickly fashioned one from his spear, quarterstaff, and blanket. Cainneach didn't always know why he carried such a variety of things, but living like a hermit for so long meant striking a balance between packing light enough to move on quickly and having the right gear for any situation. He then dutifully assists in making sure the staves are handled carefully by the two mages and everything is bundled up to Famh's satisfaction.
While that all passes very pleasantly, Cainneach is surprised to find himself aligned with Almeric in wishing to leave the temple now, especially since Famh and Fergus espouse the opposing view and advocate for continuing this descent into darkness, so to speak. He can understand their rationale, but his inner voice is practically begging him to leave this unholy site and return to a more natural area. Even the thought of spending a few hours for the party to recover seems nearly abhorrent to the forester. Yet, he is part of this assembly and all voices have some say, not just his occasionally overly cautious inner one. And there was no question of abandoning Famh in a place like this. In spite of her fire and magical abilities, he worried that she might get carried away and take too great a risk. In any case, he'd spoken his piece, so all that was left was to see what the others wished to do. The fire was warm and welcoming, especially with the highland girl nestled up nearby, but Cainneach and Salt pace the cracked and ancient floors, alert for anything out of place.
OOC = Although these are Almeric's thoughts below (and controlled under META gaming conventions) Almeric HAS discussed most in small chats and encounters with every member of the retinue over the last few weeks. Both PLAYERS and CHARACTERS should be in possession of this information, more or less.
Almeric sat by a crumbled wall, within this ancient citadel, watching the sea as the tide changed. He beat on the black wood silver chased drum as his mind was drawn back to his military training at the Abbey od Saint Rocheval in Meore. This monolithic building dominates the city, looking more like a fortress, and protects the octagonal chapter house within. This monumental miniature cathedral is the Order's seat of power in the Western Lands. He had joined the Capellar's as a penniless soldier. As the son of a landless country knight, subservient to a northern Baron, his career choices were limited. He could have trained as a soldier, always having instinctive warrior gift. He could have been placed under a steward like Sir Beorn, rising to the top of his martial craft. In another life he could have even been part of the conspiracy to usurp Aldred. He might have even killed the Retinue at Hob's Dell, when they discovered the treason and he might be sitting in Aldred's castle right now, a traitor and turn coat. He could have joined the church, having received an education and always having a strong faith. There were many Abbeys nearby, and Almeric could be an established Monk by now, a scholar, craftsman or even selected for the Priesthood. He could be ranting against the occult that Fergus, Tana and Fahm represent. Neither Soldiering or Preaching would have truly satisfied his righteous heart though.
Instead, the Knight's Capellars offered him a blend, the best of both worlds as it were. The Capellars offered work as a man-at-arms, supplying him with full raiment - Maille, Sword, Shield and Horse and martial training. As he was Gentry, educated and of the True Faith, Almeric was selected for the Elite Cadre of the Capella's known as Templar Knights (a Paladin in everything but name) and promoted him to ‘Freelance’ status. Capellar Knights are respected throughout the lands of the True Faith, but that respect is more than a little tainted with fear. No-one wishes to provoke the wrath of the Capellars. A Capellar who can convince his superiors that a particular quest or military action is in the interests of the Order as a whole, may be able to call upon almost any amount of military and economic power, especially in regions where the Capellar's are particularly strong. This allowed Almeric, and anyone with him, to move around freely, ignoring normal restrictions on such activity set by local lords.
This religious fighting order was formed when the Holy Realm was wrested from the Ta’ashim, during the Crusades. It is the sworn duty of the Capellars to guard pilgrims on the road to Ibrahim, the sacred city. They originally called themselves “the worshipful Knights of St Wythan on Barada”, but acquired their better-known name through their habit of blessing their swords before a battle in the chapel (or capella) where St Wythan’s remains are venerated. St Rocheval is also venerated among the Capellar's, being the first ever Paladin to receive his blessed gifts from The Saviour.
Although Almeric had gained the entitled honorific of a knight, this was only a probationary rank within the Capellar’s, that was not permanent. Capellar Knighthood required a lifelong, total commitment, with a permanent bond to the Order by sworn oaths. Knights are required to put the interests of the order first in all cases, growing its wealth and influence wherever they can. In theory, personal wealth is frowned upon, but in practice the distinction between being rich, and being an influential member of a very rich organization, is minimal. All Capellars are sworn to secrecy about the religious and other practices of their order, on pain of death. Capellars keep their head shaved, and dress accordingly, wearing the surcoat and bearing the sword of the order. Almeric's probation would soon be over and he would have to return to the Abbey at Meore, to Swear an Oath or leave the Order as a penniless soldier.
A “Knight” Capellar may not actually be a true Knight though. It’s worth bearing in mind that the Capellars will happily recruit from other Professions, too, in a support or skirmishing role, or as ‘men-at-arms’, working for a Knight Capellar. Some might eventually be accepted as full Knights of the Order. Being a member of a knightly order is, if anything, significantly more restrictive than being a knight in service to a local lord. Almeric had initially hoped to groom and recruit skilled and loyal people into his own Capellar cadre. To lift them out of their own situations and offer them social mobility, wealth, status, influence and more. Almeric had sent out subtle feelers to all the Retinue, with only Fergus seemingly receptive to this.
Now, after getting to know the Retinue a bit more, having his behaviours and belief's challenged, he was questioning his own leadership skills. He was due to return to Meore within a year, to take his final Capellar Oath and has arrived at an intellectual crossroads. Almeric has been thrown by recent events. The unexpected 'divine intervention' through the discovery and use of the Relic of St Ambrosius, in the destruction of the Blue Moon Demon. Relics were real and the power of the saints through The Saviour, just as potent as the scriptures described. The revelation of Beorn's treachery of Aldred. The secret political war taking place between Baron Aldred and Baron Grissaille. The potential power and influence of the Dayne Retinue, a small group from an insignifcant Demense in Albion. Almeric can see that the current Retinue has the potential to be an incredible force for good, with wisdom, knowledge, strength, speed, martial prowess and arcane abilities who can meet any challenge, accomplish any mission and achieve any goal. Almeric believes that it could be his destiny to lead such a group, but to be a great leader he needs to learn and adapt quickly.
Almeric is suddenly brought out of his meditation by a sound of crashing waves. He looks up to see something breaching the water off-shore...
Famh finds herself in a reminiscent mood as the present calm begins to soothe itself into her soul. She quickly eases from brief, flickering memories of her bad old days as a shunned and feared wanderer to the happy time when she found, first acceptance and then the small group of companions who have since become her favorite people in the world. Which leads her by a quite natural chain of reasoning -- for Famh -- to the young forester who has become her very MOST favorite person among them. Most things naturally do tend to lead Famh's mind to that particular subject these days, though she is trying to restrain herself as she begins to sense that perhaps the rest of the retinue would tire of the discussion far sooner than she or Cainneach. Besides ...
She looks around and mentally shakes her head, as she has done often since she finally realized that what she was feeling for him was no mere close friendship but this wonderful and terrifying mystery she'd heard of so often called 'love'. That might be all very well, but this was certainly no fit place for a courting hearth. Why, even Dierdre's heart was broken in nicer surroundings than THIS!... It would just have to wait till they got outside, she once again concludes. Anyone who expects her to wait any longer than that, however, had better bring a direct order from Baron Aldred; and might find it advisable to add a couple of men-at-arms to back it up by their burly presence. And if they were less burly than Cainneach she might not give a grave gaunt's hoot even then.
Until then, however, she is feeling more at peace than she has since the Dayne retinue overthrew Karvala's stone hounds and then began its descent into horror. Her simple satisfaction at the good deed all the companions had worked together to accomplish for Tusk without even having to fight any unnatural monstrosities first blended with a quiet but very deep pride. For the first time in her life, it had been a plan she herself had proposed which had helped another creature in need; and those she was with had trusted and respected her enough to risk it without question. That last also gives her a sudden new insight into what it must be like for Sir Almeric and the Baron, which she carefully squirrels away to be considered not too long after she resolves the first matter she'd been considering. It was terrifying to think of all the things that could have gone wrong with her plan, and all the people she cared about -- not just Cainneach -- who might have been hurt if they had. If that wave had come while the men were still working to move the last stones, for instance ... She shudders, and then takes a calming breath. One thing she senses immediately is the fine balance between not thinking of things one needs to consider, and driving oneself mad thinking about them too much. The plan had worked, she was going to have that conversation with her forester lad, and in the meanwhile there would be chances to get to know him better in more innocent chats as they marched along. Only they were going to have to decide where to march to. She certainly could understand Cainneach and Thatch's visceral reluctance to step one ell farther into this evil place; she just wasn't sure they could trust its evil to have any similar reluctance about pursuing them out ...
"A foe at your back is worth a thousand to your face.," she says absently before realizing she'd spoken aloud. She looks about at the group. Sir Almeric was missing, but she can hear the hollow pulse of his strange drum echoing from above and guesses he was engaged in some Capellar ceremony invoking Gatanades' blessing upon their remaining enterprise. All the rest seem to be sitting by or within earshot, and she waves them over. "Well, it seems to come down to this. Sir Almeric is our laird, and in the end he has the final word on whether we turn back now or no. But he's asked us to counsel him when there's doubt, and so we need to decide between us what our counsel will be while he's above praying for our success. Myself, I think the peril of missing a demon and having it chase us back to camp is the greater risk, and we ought to go on. But I'll follow what the common counsel settles upon."
Almeric sat on the plaza on a raised stone staring out at the waves, as he tapped on the drum....
Over the last hour or so Almerics playing on the drum had become almost subconcious as his hands took on a life of their own. The drums notes almost became an almost unheard low frequency drone which merged with the crashing of the waves.
As Almeric stared out to sea he saw the prow of a dragon-prowed longship crest over the waves....no.....from beneath the waves! And still it kept coming rising to the surface with oars pulling hard against the grey waters to bring it to shore......
Almeric is amazed by the sight of the longship breaching the waves like a whale. He is not entirely surprised though, given the nature of the instrument and the location that it was retrieved from. Spending the short rest attuning to the instrument, he had gained an insight into it's maker and the materials used in its construction. Karvala, known as Blue Moon by many scholars, was one of the lost Magi of Krarth. Not one of the 5 Starts, but powerful enough. Everything in this place had identified it's master as such, but none of the Retinue were scholars of ancient history. The realisation had dawned upon the Capellar and his suspicions were confirmed, that they needed to leave this place now. No further investigations would take place until he could report this to the Chapter House at Meore. The Order would certainly be most interested in the location of this Temple and want to investigate it themselves.
The drum itself, represented a final act of defiance of those that had tried to destroy this place, combined with Karvala's total contempt for them. The longship ploughing through the waves towards the ruined citadel was commanded by the Mercanian Jarl, Hagr Grimulv. Almeric could see the Draugr Huscarls pulling at their oars, with Hagr standing by the dragon. The drum was created by Karvala as a sick trophy to remember his victory. Almeric did not have a close understanding of the Mercanian's, but he knew they were brave and proud warriors, even in death. Perhaps in the destruction of the Moon Demon and the 'rescue' of the ship and crew, these men might find a new purpose. Almeric knew that he was their new Captain until they could be finally put to rest.
Almeric turned from his perch, still beating the stroke as the ship approached. "We are leaving! Gather up your belongings, all the treasure and stand by me! Can anyone speak Mercanian? I might need a translator." Almeric jumped down and strode towards the waterline.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
While pacing the perimeter of the small area in which they found themselves, Cainneach listened to the others discuss the situation, including Famh's reasoned assessment. In this case, it was becoming increasingly difficult for the forester to determine what was the right course of action. It seemed like how to act in self-preservation was determined by what one thought of the relative risks. Stay and finish off whatever evil remained, intentionally exposing the party to whatever fell presence lurked deeper in the temple? Or avoid that danger, but leave ourselves vulnerable to an attack from a pursuing evil. At this point, we had no idea in what shape the Linden was in or if it would be able to depart upon our return. That could allow a window in which the remaining inhabitants of the temple might emerge, but we'd likely have time to arrange a defense and would have better numbers to face them. Cainneach sighs, glad that he wasn't in charge of this show. Speaking of which, what was Almeric doing up there, tapping away on that drum?
Just as that thought passed through Cainneach's mind, the Capellar's voice rang out from above them. Salt and Cainneach both note the urgency, the edge in his voice. It wasn't the first time they'd heard it, as the party had been in many difficult situations, but it was unexpected now, with threats anticipated from below, not above. Salt looks to Cainneach and gives a little bark, while Cainneach looks to the rest of the party. "You heard the man, something's gone wrong up there! Let's get moving!" The forester scans the area to make sure nothing dangerous was in their midst, then attempts to shepherd everyone else up the ramp.
Salt - Perception18 (listen and sniff for anything amiss)
Upon cresting the ramp, Cainneach finds Almeric standing, drum still in hand, peering out into the sea. Following his gaze, Cainneach is stunned to see what he could only guess was an ancient longship, otherworldly in appearance, with its full crew bearing down on their location. "Almeric, what is this? We must get back to the Linden!"
Tana glances up as Almeric returns, tipping her head in his direction.
"While I do not speak Mercanian, I have other methods for communication...should it be necessary." She looks over the rest of her companions. "Though it probably would be best if we could simply speak to them. My methods tend to be received poorly by most folk."
Almeric climbed down from his perch and strode towards the surf, beating the stroke on the drum, slowing the tempo as the longship ploughed towards land and stopping the beat when the ship was 30' from shore. As the ship glided onto the beach, the Capellar briefed Cainneach, Tana and anyone else who had followed.
"After playing the drum for an hour, it began to speak to me. It told me the saga of Jarl Hagr Grimulv. He and his huscarls died assaulting this citadel. Before they could voyage to Valhalla, they were cursed by Karvala to rise as Draugr and row their ghostly dragonship for eternity. This drum controls them. We can travel anywhere, with speed and in safety, while I possess the drum. The drum also told me how to break the curse and release the warriors to eternal rest. We cannot do that now, so instead we will return to the Linden by sea."
As the others arrived with their kit and the treasure, wrapped in blankets and tied to the litter, Almeric explains his reasoning. "This is the Temple of the Blue Moon, of Karvala, a Magi of Krarth. The Demon we destroyed but a Guardian. Whatever lies beneath is evil beyond imagination and we cannot challenge it. To venture below would be certain death. We have neutralised it for now and I estimate we have a phase of the moon to react. I will contact the Abbey of St Rocheval, in Meore. where I was trained. They possess ancient wisdom and skill to resolve this themselves."
Almeric steps forward to greet Jarl Hagr with a salute. "Jarl Hagr, I, Almeric Dayne, request transport for myself and my Retinue, along the coast to the beached vessel, the Linden."
After the pleasantries, where Tana's intervention may or may not be needed, Almeric boards the longship and encourages the others to join him.
As Tusk makes his way to the sea, Famh gazes after him with eyes equally misty with weariness and pride. Her steading had been a little inland from Brymstone, but she is essentially a sea-bred woman who feels far more comfortable dealing with sea lions than stone demons. She had moved to the side as he emerged, then drifted back in front of the hole before turning to gaze farewell one last time. But her eyes are undeniably misty. She is therefore in a perfect position to be swept off her feet and down the ramp when... just as the sea lion is beginning to scrabble up the sea wall in his desperate quest to find the sea ... the sea spares him the trouble by sending a rogue comber washing through a gap in the seawall to surge about his feet and then pour down steadily upon the heads of all below as if Noah had been reborn into the world, bringing Famh with it. All the work it took to prepare the ramp has left plenty of cracks in the floor for the water to drain away before it imperils anyone or floods the rest of the catacombs, but the result is decidedly uncomfortable.
Her wandering upbringing in the wilds, alas, has left Famh with ... shall we say ... a slightly less instinctive and immediate grasp of conventional proprieties than the average member of the retinue. Or, in some cases, any proprieties. In her current soaked and freezing state, it takes her conscious mind an instant to remember that she is among mixed company and not alone upon the moors. In her past life, where she would have given Gatanades' eye teeth for a chance at any better towel than to wring out her sopping wet plaid until it was slightly less sopping wet and use it to dry her still completely sopping wet self, it was often much more effective and simpler to remove her clothing entirely and spread it out on a rock for wind and sun to dry at the same time it was drying her skin off. And back then, when there were no witnesses but the beasts and birds, there was no problem with that. Now, however ... ;) In her sodden discomfort, her hand unthinkingly flies to her shoulder and begins to unfasten the pins that hold on her earasaid -- luckily, at both shoulders ... and then her eyes fly to Cainneach. The rest of the company, after, but Cainneach first foremost and fastest. And the blush that explodes over not only her entire face but, you suspect, most of the rest of her body as well surpasses all her previous efforts in that direction. You suspect also, that if Cainneach remains around her much longer to give her the opportunity to practice, she will develop into quite an expert in her chosen field of artistic expression. For there is no denying that her blushes, whether by art or chance, lend her pale face the fire that her hair foreshadows and transform her from simply charming to absolutely ravishing. Her fingers hesitate a moment after redoing her pins, and then quickly ... much too quickly ... instead remove her outer plaid and begin assiduously wringing it out. Then, as she slowly regains a small measure of composure and the simple need for warmth mercifully diverts her attention to thinking of ways to meet the present challenge, it occurs to her to summon her magic fire into a corner of the room for all to dry their garments at (create bonfire).
. "And perhaps a bite of something hot might not go amiss.," she suggests brightly to everyone in particular, obviously hoping that certain subjects will be passed lightly over until she's had time to regain a little more of her composure. "If ye could bring me some pieces of that door to feed it, I can save the magic after that for a greater need." A moment later, Sir Almeric's question provides her with the distraction she sought and she turns to him with obvious relief. "Who knows where those wands would float to if we hurled them into the sea? Or even if they sank, there are evil creatures in the sea the demons in them might use. I still think we ought to ask Myrddin's advice how to handle them and perhaps cleanse them of evil, and I think if we warn him what happened to Fergus he could keep himself safe from it. We'd only need to bring them safe as far as the beach. Well, I've already handled one by my faerie hand and taken no harm by it. The beings within have already tried to possess Fergus when he touched one with his fleshly hand, but I don't know about his sorcerous one. But if they weren't able to touch him so, then we could each carry two gripped together. The other thought is to wrap them up in blankets and carry them on a litter we could make with cloaks and staves."
===========================
(sorry, just couldn't resist this one. I started writing and it all came pouring in upoh me like, well, a tidal wave LOL. And we could probably all use a short rest or so after that stone demon and then all the exertions of Dayne Retinue LLC Construction getting Tusk out of here)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Almeric will leave Famh and Fergus to discuss their plans for the Moon Wands, while he searches the remaining rooms in this corridor. He will check the two doors in the western wall first, starting with the southern door that is slightly ajar. Bolstered by his new found confidence, Almeric is fearless and indefatigable in his belief in his own success, kicking the door in with sword drawn and shield raised.
A fire is lit, a repast of scavenged periwinkles and limpets to be had as some go to inspect the three other doors at this end of the corridor.
Between Almeric and Cainneach the three remaining rooms are breached in short order-
Western door- The door stands ajar now. Within you find the rotted remnants of clothing and furniture. A large iron-bound chest stands in one corner of the room, a quick inspection by Thatch finds an ancient trap rusted to uselessness and the lid crumbles as it is lifted, the majority of the contentslong ago succumbed to mold and damp but in one corner is a solitary silver cloak pin engraved with a stylised serpent.
NNW door- This room contains the remains of spades, buckets and other tools. In the midst of the debris lies a skeleton with a corroded spear through its ribs.
Nortern door- destroyed, this is where the sealion was trapped.
Eastern door- Broken demonic looking masks and sundered ceremonial staves and adjuncts are strewn across the floor here. There are further signs of looting, and the bones of defenders and despoilers lie intertwined. One skeleton wears fragments of a silvered head-dress, and on its finger is a white gold ring in which is set a chip of jade.
It's surreal for Cainneach to witness this lumbering beast make its way up the makeshift ramp the party had come together to assemble. This was a beautiful change from the darkness, the undead, and the profane experiences the party had been battered with. Even Almeric was moved by the majesty of the sea lion finding freedom, although the Capellar's attribution for the success of their rescue was very different from Cainneach's. Salt seemed happy enough to have played a role, but the yip he sounded after dashing back to Cainneach did carry a note of questioning, perhaps wondering where his new friend had gone and would the strange, giant dog thing come back from the sea?
All of this pondering is derailed as Cainneach's gaze drifts back to Famh, only to see her in an absentminded act of disrobing. The forester's jaw drops, rendering him unable to call out any kind of remonstration, and a blush hotly floods his face as well. It's unclear, even to Cainneach, whether he is in this moment embarrassed for her or by her indiscretion. Regardless, Cainneach is a chivalrous fellow and averts his gaze (almost) immediately. Fortunately, as Famh begins speaking again, he realizes that disaster has been averted!
Or at least it seems that way, until Cainneach notices their now extremely fearless leader has elected to kick in a door, throwing caution to the wind. Cainneach draws his shortsword and runs toward the door in case things go sideways yet again.
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(And, as has happened so many times, I've taken too long to compose a post ...)
... and thankfully, all is well despite the brash approach. Cainneach helps Almeric, Thatch, and the rest sift through the contents of the remaining rooms in this area. Seeing that they're all clear, Cainneach hesitantly states, "So it seems that we've cleared this level of the temple ... there is one last place to visit, or do we think we've done enough in this place? The Baron may grow cross if we tarry too long."
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Fergus nods in agreement with Famh. "Myrddin's advice would be the best, though we must take care that he is warned of what we know."
Fergus helps gather wood for the fire as the others clear out the last few rooms. In response to Cainneach and looking to Almeric.
"The Baron may be more peeved if we were to leave the greatest danger or worse lead it back to the ship. If there is more to explore, should we rest and then make one last push before returning?"
REPOST
Almeric nods as Fahm and Fergus give sound advice. "Tactically, your advice is sound. Please make the Wands ready for safe transportation."
"Strategically, things have changed. We are many leagues from Gorham and the temple is no real threat once the Linden is sea worthy. We have banished the Moon Demon and finished the work started by the Highlanders. This morale of the Retinue has been damaged and should be repaired before our next battle. Lastly, this could a Temple to the Blue Moon Magi, reason enough for us never to have come here in the first place. For these reasons I fell we are almost done. We will take a short repast then leave."
Religion = 7
Almeric leaves Fahm and Fergus to organise the cursed wands. The knight systematically worked trough the remaining rooms, searching for items of note or value. In the room to the west, he examines the silver serpent cloak pin, expecting it to have the same evil taint as everything else here. Once done, it will be tucked safe away in his pack with the other treasure.
EDITED
When Almeric enters the East room, he tries to find any items of value that have been left after the looting.
Perception = 8.
If Cainneach is still with him, he will encourage the Forester to search too. Almeric's attention is ultimately drawn to the white gold ring with the jade chip. This is carefully examined by the Capellar, before it is secreted in his pouch. Once and only one he is sure there is no more treasure, he will join the others at the fire pit.
Athletics = 23,
Famh's plaid is dry enough by now to bunch up into a kind of bag. As Sir Almeric and Cainneach return and describe what they've found in the other cells, she pulls her improvised holdall forth and points to it. You see that she has cut off a good bight of the hempen rope from her pack and tied it about the neck. Judging by the long trailing ends that are left, she has allowed at least five feet of rope.
"We should play it safe and put all the ritual trappings and such, or anything to do with the moon or serpents, into this bag and carry it on the same litter we put the staves on. And we should take them whether they're broken or whole, and leave Myrddin to sort out what's perilous or no and what's useful or no. I'll be glad to come with you and help gather them up. Best we not miss anything like that, so the more eyes looking the better. When we're done, I'll wrap the loose rope around and tie it tight." She goes with whoever else will come and, starting with the newly explored rooms, systematically retraces the Dayne retinue's path through this level. If the Capellar agrees with her plan, all small items that fit the description she gave are gathered up by her mage hand, or by Fergus' if he wants to risk taking a ... hand ... in the matter, and deposited in the improvised sack. The only exception is the white gold ring set with jade. This she looks at uncertainly for a moment as her floating green-tinged extremity holds it delicately before her eyes; then holds a small pouch beneath and has her spell drop it in. "I'm not sure about this. I'll keep it separate until we can talk to Myrddin."
Once all is done, she turns to Cainneach once more.
"Do ye think you and Ori between ye might contrive a litter like the one we brought that poor Harald out on, a ghraid? We could load it with this and the staves and then leave it in a by corner near the way out while we check the rest of the place. I'm worried about those stairs down to the north too. Why would they put stairs unless there were more there that we don't know about yet? The Baron would be more cross if we missed a moon demon or so, and it came to our camp tonight to take vengeance for its fellows."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Almeric nodded in silent agreement to Fahm's complicated plan. He was now beginning to understand the nature of the leadership required to get the best out the Retinue. He had treated them like a military unit at the beginning, as disciplined soldiers to be ordered about. This is what he had been trained to do and it came naturally to him. That tactic had worked very well in Hob's Dell, where 1 mistake could have easily led to all their death's at the hands of Tuannon Dur. It had worked very well during their escape and evasion from Beorn and his Men-at-Arms, where they were but foxes in the hunt. Since their time within Aldred's Household, it was ever clear that this tactic had very limited uses. To allow each person to express themselves, utilise their skills in their own way, develop their own bonds of trust and loyalty, would certainly be best in the long run.
Almeric did not entirely agree with Fahm's plan, but had shut her down before and did not want to do that again, so quickly. He would have to moderate his thoughts and deeds from now on.
"Thank you for the thoughtful plan Fahm. I have handled all the tainted gold and silver items myself, without harm and believe that only the wands pose a serious risk. The wands should be covered somehow, to prevent accidental contact. With mud maybe? If you will allow me to keep the gold ring for now. I have read about such things and do not believe it is of the Blue Moon Cult. This treasure is very valuable, once purified, and will be distributed evenly, after the Baron has taken his tribute of course."
"Fergus, perhaps you could document these items as Fahm packs them (during the Short Rest). You still have the chalice, don't you? I have the drum and will take the white gold ring. We can keep these high value items separate, as I do not think they are dangerous and I wouldn't want to keep all the treasure in one place."
Almeric takes the opportunity of taking a short rest to check his kit. Stripping off some equipment, he checks the straps, buckles and rivets while warming by the fire. Cleaning his sword and wiping down his shield, Almeric reflects on his 'new' direction. He would need to return to the Capellar Citadel at Meore soon, to take his Paladin Oath, which will define his entire life. At the end of their repaste, Almeric will re-equip and take a short walk to the sea shore.
Taking out the Sliver-Chased Black Wood Drum, he instinctively starts to play it. This instrument of war, used on a longship, to beat out the stokes to battle, seems so familiar and comfortable to Almeric.
Famh smiles as she returns Sir Almeric's nod. Being still half a creature of instinct, she had not yet consciously begun to resent the Capellar's former utilitarian view of her. But ever since her rather pert reply to him just before Tusk burst upon the scene she's begun to feel the first stirrings of unease on the subject. And of given her past, it always warms her heart when another treats her with dignity and respect, and she is more than ready to respond in kind. "With all the things ye saw on the Crusades, Sir, you'd know more than we about these things. I was but feared that since the ring was on an evil priest's finger, it might be accursed too. As for the rest, I suppose that makes it but a matter of the most convenient way of carrying them." She has curled herself up in a cozy corner near the fire, and as her mind drifts back to the knight's suggestion about protecting the staves she looks around at the broken-up floor and walls. "I don't suppose we can hope for some marine clay in the soil, this near the sea? But it might be mostly silt and sand ..."
===========================
Investigation 22
(OOC: apologies, Bonivant, didn't read your post closely enough. Famh doesn't really want the thing with any great fervor except for the reason she said and maybe a bit of a magpie kender nature of 'Oooooh, shiny-sparkly!! I want!' . Long as she believes Almeric and Fergus can keep them safe, and that they'll be safe from them, she has no problem with their taking custody of the items he's mentioned)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Cainneach works alongside Almeric, applying all the powers of observation he can muster to keep a close eye on their surroundings, the bits of treasure, and their fearless leader, lest any of the three trigger or become a threat to himself and the rest of the party. Watching Almeric, he could tell the Capellars' mind was churning over something as they carefully picked through the detritus of the years which remained in these abandoned rooms. But what could it be?
After returning to their makeshift camp and speaking with Famh, he of course agreed to the very reasonable request for a litter and quickly fashioned one from his spear, quarterstaff, and blanket. Cainneach didn't always know why he carried such a variety of things, but living like a hermit for so long meant striking a balance between packing light enough to move on quickly and having the right gear for any situation. He then dutifully assists in making sure the staves are handled carefully by the two mages and everything is bundled up to Famh's satisfaction.
While that all passes very pleasantly, Cainneach is surprised to find himself aligned with Almeric in wishing to leave the temple now, especially since Famh and Fergus espouse the opposing view and advocate for continuing this descent into darkness, so to speak. He can understand their rationale, but his inner voice is practically begging him to leave this unholy site and return to a more natural area. Even the thought of spending a few hours for the party to recover seems nearly abhorrent to the forester. Yet, he is part of this assembly and all voices have some say, not just his occasionally overly cautious inner one. And there was no question of abandoning Famh in a place like this. In spite of her fire and magical abilities, he worried that she might get carried away and take too great a risk. In any case, he'd spoken his piece, so all that was left was to see what the others wished to do. The fire was warm and welcoming, especially with the highland girl nestled up nearby, but Cainneach and Salt pace the cracked and ancient floors, alert for anything out of place.
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OOC = Although these are Almeric's thoughts below (and controlled under META gaming conventions) Almeric HAS discussed most in small chats and encounters with every member of the retinue over the last few weeks. Both PLAYERS and CHARACTERS should be in possession of this information, more or less.
Almeric sat by a crumbled wall, within this ancient citadel, watching the sea as the tide changed. He beat on the black wood silver chased drum as his mind was drawn back to his military training at the Abbey od Saint Rocheval in Meore. This monolithic building dominates the city, looking more like a fortress, and protects the octagonal chapter house within. This monumental miniature cathedral is the Order's seat of power in the Western Lands. He had joined the Capellar's as a penniless soldier. As the son of a landless country knight, subservient to a northern Baron, his career choices were limited. He could have trained as a soldier, always having instinctive warrior gift. He could have been placed under a steward like Sir Beorn, rising to the top of his martial craft. In another life he could have even been part of the conspiracy to usurp Aldred. He might have even killed the Retinue at Hob's Dell, when they discovered the treason and he might be sitting in Aldred's castle right now, a traitor and turn coat. He could have joined the church, having received an education and always having a strong faith. There were many Abbeys nearby, and Almeric could be an established Monk by now, a scholar, craftsman or even selected for the Priesthood. He could be ranting against the occult that Fergus, Tana and Fahm represent. Neither Soldiering or Preaching would have truly satisfied his righteous heart though.
Instead, the Knight's Capellars offered him a blend, the best of both worlds as it were. The Capellars offered work as a man-at-arms, supplying him with full raiment - Maille, Sword, Shield and Horse and martial training. As he was Gentry, educated and of the True Faith, Almeric was selected for the Elite Cadre of the Capella's known as Templar Knights (a Paladin in everything but name) and promoted him to ‘Freelance’ status. Capellar Knights are respected throughout the lands of the True Faith, but that respect is more than a little tainted with fear. No-one wishes to provoke the wrath of the Capellars. A Capellar who can convince his superiors that a particular quest or military action is in the interests of the Order as a whole, may be able to call upon almost any amount of military and economic power, especially in regions where the Capellar's are particularly strong. This allowed Almeric, and anyone with him, to move around freely, ignoring normal restrictions on such activity set by local lords.
This religious fighting order was formed when the Holy Realm was wrested from the Ta’ashim, during the Crusades. It is the sworn duty of the Capellars to guard pilgrims on the road to Ibrahim, the sacred city. They originally called themselves “the worshipful Knights of St Wythan on Barada”, but acquired their better-known name through their habit of blessing their swords before a battle in the chapel (or capella) where St Wythan’s remains are venerated. St Rocheval is also venerated among the Capellar's, being the first ever Paladin to receive his blessed gifts from The Saviour.
Although Almeric had gained the entitled honorific of a knight, this was only a probationary rank within the Capellar’s, that was not permanent. Capellar Knighthood required a lifelong, total commitment, with a permanent bond to the Order by sworn oaths. Knights are required to put the interests of the order first in all cases, growing its wealth and influence wherever they can. In theory, personal wealth is frowned upon, but in practice the distinction between being rich, and being an influential member of a very rich organization, is minimal. All Capellars are sworn to secrecy about the religious and other practices of their order, on pain of death. Capellars keep their head shaved, and dress accordingly, wearing the surcoat and bearing the sword of the order. Almeric's probation would soon be over and he would have to return to the Abbey at Meore, to Swear an Oath or leave the Order as a penniless soldier.
A “Knight” Capellar may not actually be a true Knight though. It’s worth bearing in mind that the Capellars will happily recruit from other Professions, too, in a support or skirmishing role, or as ‘men-at-arms’, working for a Knight Capellar. Some might eventually be accepted as full Knights of the Order. Being a member of a knightly order is, if anything, significantly more restrictive than being a knight in service to a local lord. Almeric had initially hoped to groom and recruit skilled and loyal people into his own Capellar cadre. To lift them out of their own situations and offer them social mobility, wealth, status, influence and more. Almeric had sent out subtle feelers to all the Retinue, with only Fergus seemingly receptive to this.
Now, after getting to know the Retinue a bit more, having his behaviours and belief's challenged, he was questioning his own leadership skills. He was due to return to Meore within a year, to take his final Capellar Oath and has arrived at an intellectual crossroads. Almeric has been thrown by recent events. The unexpected 'divine intervention' through the discovery and use of the Relic of St Ambrosius, in the destruction of the Blue Moon Demon. Relics were real and the power of the saints through The Saviour, just as potent as the scriptures described. The revelation of Beorn's treachery of Aldred. The secret political war taking place between Baron Aldred and Baron Grissaille. The potential power and influence of the Dayne Retinue, a small group from an insignifcant Demense in Albion. Almeric can see that the current Retinue has the potential to be an incredible force for good, with wisdom, knowledge, strength, speed, martial prowess and arcane abilities who can meet any challenge, accomplish any mission and achieve any goal. Almeric believes that it could be his destiny to lead such a group, but to be a great leader he needs to learn and adapt quickly.
Almeric is suddenly brought out of his meditation by a sound of crashing waves. He looks up to see something breaching the water off-shore...
( And with that we need to make a decision on delving further or heading back....)
Famh finds herself in a reminiscent mood as the present calm begins to soothe itself into her soul. She quickly eases from brief, flickering memories of her bad old days as a shunned and feared wanderer to the happy time when she found, first acceptance and then the small group of companions who have since become her favorite people in the world. Which leads her by a quite natural chain of reasoning -- for Famh -- to the young forester who has become her very MOST favorite person among them. Most things naturally do tend to lead Famh's mind to that particular subject these days, though she is trying to restrain herself as she begins to sense that perhaps the rest of the retinue would tire of the discussion far sooner than she or Cainneach. Besides ...
She looks around and mentally shakes her head, as she has done often since she finally realized that what she was feeling for him was no mere close friendship but this wonderful and terrifying mystery she'd heard of so often called 'love'. That might be all very well, but this was certainly no fit place for a courting hearth. Why, even Dierdre's heart was broken in nicer surroundings than THIS!... It would just have to wait till they got outside, she once again concludes. Anyone who expects her to wait any longer than that, however, had better bring a direct order from Baron Aldred; and might find it advisable to add a couple of men-at-arms to back it up by their burly presence. And if they were less burly than Cainneach she might not give a grave gaunt's hoot even then.
Until then, however, she is feeling more at peace than she has since the Dayne retinue overthrew Karvala's stone hounds and then began its descent into horror. Her simple satisfaction at the good deed all the companions had worked together to accomplish for Tusk without even having to fight any unnatural monstrosities first blended with a quiet but very deep pride. For the first time in her life, it had been a plan she herself had proposed which had helped another creature in need; and those she was with had trusted and respected her enough to risk it without question. That last also gives her a sudden new insight into what it must be like for Sir Almeric and the Baron, which she carefully squirrels away to be considered not too long after she resolves the first matter she'd been considering. It was terrifying to think of all the things that could have gone wrong with her plan, and all the people she cared about -- not just Cainneach -- who might have been hurt if they had. If that wave had come while the men were still working to move the last stones, for instance ... She shudders, and then takes a calming breath. One thing she senses immediately is the fine balance between not thinking of things one needs to consider, and driving oneself mad thinking about them too much. The plan had worked, she was going to have that conversation with her forester lad, and in the meanwhile there would be chances to get to know him better in more innocent chats as they marched along. Only they were going to have to decide where to march to. She certainly could understand Cainneach and Thatch's visceral reluctance to step one ell farther into this evil place; she just wasn't sure they could trust its evil to have any similar reluctance about pursuing them out ...
"A foe at your back is worth a thousand to your face.," she says absently before realizing she'd spoken aloud. She looks about at the group. Sir Almeric was missing, but she can hear the hollow pulse of his strange drum echoing from above and guesses he was engaged in some Capellar ceremony invoking Gatanades' blessing upon their remaining enterprise. All the rest seem to be sitting by or within earshot, and she waves them over. "Well, it seems to come down to this. Sir Almeric is our laird, and in the end he has the final word on whether we turn back now or no. But he's asked us to counsel him when there's doubt, and so we need to decide between us what our counsel will be while he's above praying for our success. Myself, I think the peril of missing a demon and having it chase us back to camp is the greater risk, and we ought to go on. But I'll follow what the common counsel settles upon."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Almeric sat on the plaza on a raised stone staring out at the waves, as he tapped on the drum....
Over the last hour or so Almerics playing on the drum had become almost subconcious as his hands took on a life of their own. The drums notes almost became an almost unheard low frequency drone which merged with the crashing of the waves.
As Almeric stared out to sea he saw the prow of a dragon-prowed longship crest over the waves....no.....from beneath the waves! And still it kept coming rising to the surface with oars pulling hard against the grey waters to bring it to shore......
( Almeric has now attuned to https://www.dndbeyond.com/magic-items/7950890-drum-of-the-deep )
Almeric is amazed by the sight of the longship breaching the waves like a whale. He is not entirely surprised though, given the nature of the instrument and the location that it was retrieved from. Spending the short rest attuning to the instrument, he had gained an insight into it's maker and the materials used in its construction. Karvala, known as Blue Moon by many scholars, was one of the lost Magi of Krarth. Not one of the 5 Starts, but powerful enough. Everything in this place had identified it's master as such, but none of the Retinue were scholars of ancient history. The realisation had dawned upon the Capellar and his suspicions were confirmed, that they needed to leave this place now. No further investigations would take place until he could report this to the Chapter House at Meore. The Order would certainly be most interested in the location of this Temple and want to investigate it themselves.
The drum itself, represented a final act of defiance of those that had tried to destroy this place, combined with Karvala's total contempt for them. The longship ploughing through the waves towards the ruined citadel was commanded by the Mercanian Jarl, Hagr Grimulv. Almeric could see the Draugr Huscarls pulling at their oars, with Hagr standing by the dragon. The drum was created by Karvala as a sick trophy to remember his victory. Almeric did not have a close understanding of the Mercanian's, but he knew they were brave and proud warriors, even in death. Perhaps in the destruction of the Moon Demon and the 'rescue' of the ship and crew, these men might find a new purpose. Almeric knew that he was their new Captain until they could be finally put to rest.
Almeric turned from his perch, still beating the stroke as the ship approached. "We are leaving! Gather up your belongings, all the treasure and stand by me! Can anyone speak Mercanian? I might need a translator." Almeric jumped down and strode towards the waterline.
While pacing the perimeter of the small area in which they found themselves, Cainneach listened to the others discuss the situation, including Famh's reasoned assessment. In this case, it was becoming increasingly difficult for the forester to determine what was the right course of action. It seemed like how to act in self-preservation was determined by what one thought of the relative risks. Stay and finish off whatever evil remained, intentionally exposing the party to whatever fell presence lurked deeper in the temple? Or avoid that danger, but leave ourselves vulnerable to an attack from a pursuing evil. At this point, we had no idea in what shape the Linden was in or if it would be able to depart upon our return. That could allow a window in which the remaining inhabitants of the temple might emerge, but we'd likely have time to arrange a defense and would have better numbers to face them. Cainneach sighs, glad that he wasn't in charge of this show. Speaking of which, what was Almeric doing up there, tapping away on that drum?
Just as that thought passed through Cainneach's mind, the Capellar's voice rang out from above them. Salt and Cainneach both note the urgency, the edge in his voice. It wasn't the first time they'd heard it, as the party had been in many difficult situations, but it was unexpected now, with threats anticipated from below, not above. Salt looks to Cainneach and gives a little bark, while Cainneach looks to the rest of the party. "You heard the man, something's gone wrong up there! Let's get moving!" The forester scans the area to make sure nothing dangerous was in their midst, then attempts to shepherd everyone else up the ramp.
Perception 20
Salt - Perception 18 (listen and sniff for anything amiss)
Upon cresting the ramp, Cainneach finds Almeric standing, drum still in hand, peering out into the sea. Following his gaze, Cainneach is stunned to see what he could only guess was an ancient longship, otherworldly in appearance, with its full crew bearing down on their location. "Almeric, what is this? We must get back to the Linden!"
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Tana glances up as Almeric returns, tipping her head in his direction.
"While I do not speak Mercanian, I have other methods for communication...should it be necessary." She looks over the rest of her companions. "Though it probably would be best if we could simply speak to them. My methods tend to be received poorly by most folk."
Noire Havensong | Harengon Archfey Warlock 6/Lore Bard 4 | Westmarch - Guild of the Phoenix (Discord)
Tanatari Crelieu | Kalashtar Druid 2 | Damian_May's Sleeping Gods
Jynx Starrkeep | Changling GOO Warlock 2 | Astien's Tyranny of Dragons
DM | Eberron Eternal (Discord)
Almeric climbed down from his perch and strode towards the surf, beating the stroke on the drum, slowing the tempo as the longship ploughed towards land and stopping the beat when the ship was 30' from shore. As the ship glided onto the beach, the Capellar briefed Cainneach, Tana and anyone else who had followed.
"After playing the drum for an hour, it began to speak to me. It told me the saga of Jarl Hagr Grimulv. He and his huscarls died assaulting this citadel. Before they could voyage to Valhalla, they were cursed by Karvala to rise as Draugr and row their ghostly dragonship for eternity. This drum controls them. We can travel anywhere, with speed and in safety, while I possess the drum. The drum also told me how to break the curse and release the warriors to eternal rest. We cannot do that now, so instead we will return to the Linden by sea."
As the others arrived with their kit and the treasure, wrapped in blankets and tied to the litter, Almeric explains his reasoning. "This is the Temple of the Blue Moon, of Karvala, a Magi of Krarth. The Demon we destroyed but a Guardian. Whatever lies beneath is evil beyond imagination and we cannot challenge it. To venture below would be certain death. We have neutralised it for now and I estimate we have a phase of the moon to react. I will contact the Abbey of St Rocheval, in Meore. where I was trained. They possess ancient wisdom and skill to resolve this themselves."
Almeric steps forward to greet Jarl Hagr with a salute. "Jarl Hagr, I, Almeric Dayne, request transport for myself and my Retinue, along the coast to the beached vessel, the Linden."
After the pleasantries, where Tana's intervention may or may not be needed, Almeric boards the longship and encourages the others to join him.