Valen will behead the dead creature and drag the body outside and about fifty yards behind the tower. This creature is an unknown adversary, and it was fitting to understand it. The eye seemed powerful, but upon examination post mortem, it was null. The claws were terribly effective, though upon examination, they were no more special than a bear or wolf. It also seemed enraged by light...maybe...(he casts a Sacred Flame to elicit a response).
With his examination complete, he returns to the tower before Daheme'dre seals the entrance. He offers prayers of martial protection for the seemingly powerful soul living within.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Facilius moves around the room with shuffling steps, but the confidence of one who knows where every inch of every piece of furniture lies. From a strand of bush on the east wall, he takes a handful of leaves and crumples them into a battered pot he heats with a soft incantation. With reverence and care, he pours the resulting tea into mismatched vessels which appear to be petrified hollow fruits of varying sizes and shapes. Carefully, he delivers one to each of you before sitting down himself and taking a long sip.
He smiles, "You have my eternal gratitude friends, and that of my family," he says with an expressive shrug around the room. "It has been over a year since T'kranir D'arx Hloth Kriinat destroyed my home in Traveler's Haven and drove me down here." He pauses, taking another long sip, "I can feel the sun in the sky, even as I cannot see it or feel its heat on my skin, or I would have lost track of time completely."
Looking up at the ceiling he explains, "I came to Traveler's Haven almost three decades ago, when the Withering had already cast down all order and broken the fragile bonds of society." He smiles sadly, "In that dark time, my order took it upon ourselves to emerge from our seclusion in the wild places and offer what succor we could to the shattered souls of this crumbling empire."
Indicating the walls around him he says, "Traveler's Haven was my gift to those weary or lost on the roads. All could come here, provided they came in peace and without malice for man or tree, and rest in safety for a time." He nods to the fruit vessels you carry, "In better days, my family could provide me and those who passed through with all they required for peaceful lodgings and full bellies, and as I was dependent on no one and no organisation, the Withering held no terrors for my Waystation."
Dahme'dre listens to the old man's tale, and while she sees no reason to distrust him, she sees no reason to take any risk given her injured state. She hums a song as she traces the edge of her container, a song of purity of body and spirit (Purify Food and Drink). She sips from the hollowed fruit and smiles, enjoying the aroma. "What changed?" she asks.
Facilius offers you (Dahme'dre), a sad knowing smile and a not of acceptance as you invoke your purifying magic but does not comment on it further, only taking another sip of his own tea.
Your question seems to snap him back into focus somewhat, his mind having wandered. "I can only speculate about their motives, but eighteen months ago a group of toughs appeared at my doors and told me in no uncertain terms the Haven would no longer be tolerated, here or elsewhere in the Empire," he says with resignation in his voice. "I was stronger then, my family too," he continues, sadness and regret evident in his tone. "When they would not take 'no' for an answer, I responded in kind."
A single firefly lands on his beard, but he does not appear to notice, lost in memories and his tale. "That was not the end of it however..." he continues.
((Posting conversation in chunks so people in different timezones have a chance to jump in/comment/do things if they want to. ))
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Definately not the sort of thing you usually find helping common ruffians. Maybe a more powerful master..."Dahme'dre has some familiarity with foul monstrosities. She offers what knowledge she has of the creature. (Arcana or History: 6, 8)
(I know the thing, but does Dee? If so...)
"A nothic, they feed on death and decay. They try to avoid notice until they feel they have an advantage. I've heard of them acting as guards on behalf of stronger foes in exchange for opportunities to be fed.
They stalk their pray, until they are ready, and it's said they can learn your weaknesses by watching you."
"The eye was the worst of it, it seems," Valen notes brusquely, "I examined it out back and there doesn't seem to be anything extraordinary aside from that damnable gaze."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Erdan, looking carefully you see signs of wasting and fading everywhere. The trees and branches which make up the underground lair look thin and faded, barely clinging to life. There are no flowers in evidence, and the few leaves to be found on the thin stalks droop listlessly downward.
Facilius nods to Dahme'dre, acknowledging your words. "Yes, a damnable Nothic," he says with a shudder of disgust, "rotting my family around me and trapping us in this damnable hole where the sun's shine cannot reach."
He takes a moment to gather himself, clearly distraught. He lets out a long, weary breath before continuing, "As you correctly surmise, T'kranir, is not the kind of enforcer accessible to your average gangboss." He indicates his surroundings, "Not only was he a potent foe, but one carefully chosen to best strike at a Druid of the Fallen Leaves." A grateful smile plays across his wasted features for a moment, "Were it not for your arrival, he would in time have starved me out, and even in death he has succeeded. This way-station will welcome strangers no more."
Dahme'dre sips her tea. "The grip of The Withering has faded. Criminals and fiends in these lands benefit as much as the innocent, if not more." She looks to Facilius, "What will you and your family do now? There will be many strangers, refuges, traveling this road in the coming days and weeks. They would benefit from your aid. Maybe you can benefit as well, from their presence... and ours." She glances around at her allies. Would they wish to stop this threat to those who will be following? "Those who flee the city will find safety in Salvadar. This is our mission. No one will find safety there who isn't able to make it. It may be wise to protect their journey as well as their destination."
Facilius looks surprised, "The Withering... faded?" He seems to consider this for long moments. "This will change much and little," he says with a sigh. "If the curse has faded, as you say, it will still take years for people to believe and perhaps lifetimes to restore any semblance of order to this land."
He seems to consider your offer carefully, stroking his long beard while absently running his fingers along a withered stem, causing it to perk up with new life. "This tower, indeed this entire region can no longer sustain my work as it once did, but I could perhaps maintain the Waystation for a short time yet if there were need."
"Tell me of Salvadar, you believe you can make it a place of safety?" he asks, thoughtful.
"We were contracted to protect a noble looking to return to her birthright in Salvadar, but she met with an unfortunate end too soon." Valen seems lucid in speech, but his eyes retrace the flight from that damnable city. "In her memory, we want to restore order and peace to the land. Salvadar will be a beacon of hope amidst the wastelands."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Her dying act was to grant us the legal authority to do so. Though legal authority holds little sway in the broken lands." Dahme'dre's cup continues to steam as time passes. She continues to warm the liquid within. "Will the men who've troubled you abandon their course? What can you tell us about them?"
"What you have been doing is a noble task indeed. Perhaps, once we have conquered Salvadar, there will be a place for you there."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Horatio Hirschfeld - Squire imbued with fae powers, in the Coliseum of Conquest (W2/L1) DM for Reavers of Harkenwold, and sometimes The Fighting Grounds of the Coliseum
Facilius listens to Valen intently, clearly interested. "A beacon of hope?" he repeats, not really asking the question but rather allowing the words to roll around the inside of his mouth, savoring them. "That's something this land could badly use, though I fear it would be a lonely flame in an overcast sky..."
At Dahme'dre's words he frowns thoughtfully, snapped back to the reality of the current situation by your reminder of his enemies. "Not for a time, I should think," he says slowly. "I have been pent up down here with that monster above for months, and they seemed content to let me slowly wither away rather than intervening," he continues, "if I am circumspect in my running of the way-station and do not linger too long, they may not even realize their servant has been felled before I am away."
His answer to your second question is less certain. "Of those behind T'kranir, I can tell you little and what little I can say is largely deduction or based on the extended name he would hiss at me through my door." He raises a hand, extending thin, knobbly fingers and beginning to tick them off, "One, he spoke undercommon exclusively, suggesting his masters speak it also. Two, he was a being of considerable potency, and no mere thug and yet was left besieging a weary old man for many months, suggesting they have resources to spare. Three, their first attempt was made with mortal minions, suggesting a prime material plane organisation and fourth, perhaps most significantly, the creatures last name, 'Kriinat,' could denote a connection to the Drow Elven House of the same name."
That speech concluded, he finishes the rest of his tea before turning to Erdan, "I am afraid I know of no Fallen Leaves havens between here and Salvadar, at least none which still stand. We are largely an independent order and do not keep in frequent contact, so I cannot be certain, but I believe it to be so."
Turning to Kuori, he bows at the waist with a creak of weary bones. "You do me too much honor, Lady," he says. Reaching behind him, he rummages in the bows of a large tree which makes up part of his underground home and emerges with a large brown acorn. Brushing soil reverently off its surface, he hands it to you. It sits in your hands, the size of an apple and slightly warm to the touch. "Take this, Lady Goliath, and plant it in the soil when you have found your new home." He smiles, "It is my grove-heart, without it, this tower will eventually wither and return to the dust but when it is planted anew, the grove will spring forth. When those plants form, I will come."
With that, he indicates his home, "You may rest here for the night, and re-provision from what stocks I have, and if there are other hardships you anticipate, upon your journey or at your destination, speak them now and I shall consider how I can be of assistance to my rescuers."
((It's just past midnight. If you choose to rest, let me know when you'd like to be awake and moving. ))
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Thank you" Dahme'dre responds accepting the offer. "Our reasons for pressing on through the late hours were for the lack of a secure lodging. I see know reason to press on further tonight" as Dahme'dre prepares a bed she asks some final questions to fill in any holes in her knowledge.
She'll ask, though she may know already, about the Driinat house (History: 8)
Likewise, she'll ask, and may know, what to expect in Arion. Knowing Facilius has not been out of this tower for many months the party's knowledge of the town, and any recent events there, will likely be more useful than his. (History: 13)
She sleeps lightly for a bit over 6 hours, though we will leave after we've rested fully (presumably after 8 hours).
(Though we could leave sooner if everyone wishes. I'd recover damage I believe I'm the only damaged party member (again =P ) but the others will have spell slots to recover.)
Valen gives a bow at Facillus' remark, "I come from an Order of healers and defenders which saves souls harmed in battle. I would gladly plant a banner upon an islad against a hostile sea if it meant haven for those lost upon the waves."
After the gift is presented to Kuori, "You do us a great honor in your trust. We would be honored to dedicate lands in your name to allow your mission to flourish. In time, I would also gladly assist in providing branches of your waystation to grow from the central haven you establish at Salvadar."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Valen will behead the dead creature and drag the body outside and about fifty yards behind the tower. This creature is an unknown adversary, and it was fitting to understand it. The eye seemed powerful, but upon examination post mortem, it was null. The claws were terribly effective, though upon examination, they were no more special than a bear or wolf. It also seemed enraged by light...maybe...(he casts a Sacred Flame to elicit a response).
With his examination complete, he returns to the tower before Daheme'dre seals the entrance. He offers prayers of martial protection for the seemingly powerful soul living within.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Dahme'dre moves into the room and sits on a chair woven of living vines. "So Facilius Tan, tell us of your time here at Traveler's Rest."
Extended Signature
Facilius moves around the room with shuffling steps, but the confidence of one who knows where every inch of every piece of furniture lies. From a strand of bush on the east wall, he takes a handful of leaves and crumples them into a battered pot he heats with a soft incantation. With reverence and care, he pours the resulting tea into mismatched vessels which appear to be petrified hollow fruits of varying sizes and shapes. Carefully, he delivers one to each of you before sitting down himself and taking a long sip.
He smiles, "You have my eternal gratitude friends, and that of my family," he says with an expressive shrug around the room. "It has been over a year since T'kranir D'arx Hloth Kriinat destroyed my home in Traveler's Haven and drove me down here." He pauses, taking another long sip, "I can feel the sun in the sky, even as I cannot see it or feel its heat on my skin, or I would have lost track of time completely."
Looking up at the ceiling he explains, "I came to Traveler's Haven almost three decades ago, when the Withering had already cast down all order and broken the fragile bonds of society." He smiles sadly, "In that dark time, my order took it upon ourselves to emerge from our seclusion in the wild places and offer what succor we could to the shattered souls of this crumbling empire."
Indicating the walls around him he says, "Traveler's Haven was my gift to those weary or lost on the roads. All could come here, provided they came in peace and without malice for man or tree, and rest in safety for a time." He nods to the fruit vessels you carry, "In better days, my family could provide me and those who passed through with all they required for peaceful lodgings and full bellies, and as I was dependent on no one and no organisation, the Withering held no terrors for my Waystation."
Dahme'dre listens to the old man's tale, and while she sees no reason to distrust him, she sees no reason to take any risk given her injured state. She hums a song as she traces the edge of her container, a song of purity of body and spirit (Purify Food and Drink). She sips from the hollowed fruit and smiles, enjoying the aroma. "What changed?" she asks.
Extended Signature
Facilius offers you (Dahme'dre), a sad knowing smile and a not of acceptance as you invoke your purifying magic but does not comment on it further, only taking another sip of his own tea.
Your question seems to snap him back into focus somewhat, his mind having wandered. "I can only speculate about their motives, but eighteen months ago a group of toughs appeared at my doors and told me in no uncertain terms the Haven would no longer be tolerated, here or elsewhere in the Empire," he says with resignation in his voice. "I was stronger then, my family too," he continues, sadness and regret evident in his tone. "When they would not take 'no' for an answer, I responded in kind."
A single firefly lands on his beard, but he does not appear to notice, lost in memories and his tale. "That was not the end of it however..." he continues.
((Posting conversation in chunks so people in different timezones have a chance to jump in/comment/do things if they want to. ))
((Sorry, had a hectic day yesterday. ))
Erdan will take take a sip from his tea, with a nod of approval to Facilius.
Erdan will say "A few toughs are one thing, but that creature was definitely not a tough!"
Erdan will look around the area while talking with him, just to see what is down here that he didn't notice before. perception 17
Aio sat down on some of the odd furniture and listened to the old man speak, letting her eyes slowly close as she rested.
Pit of Vipers: Watl Wiggins - Halfling Rogue(10)
League of Improbable Adventurers: Alan Quatermain - Human Fighter(3)
"Definately not the sort of thing you usually find helping common ruffians. Maybe a more powerful master..." Dahme'dre has some familiarity with foul monstrosities. She offers what knowledge she has of the creature. (Arcana or History: 6, 8)
(I know the thing, but does Dee? If so...)
"A nothic, they feed on death and decay. They try to avoid notice until they feel they have an advantage. I've heard of them acting as guards on behalf of stronger foes in exchange for opportunities to be fed.
They stalk their pray, until they are ready, and it's said they can learn your weaknesses by watching you."
Extended Signature
"The eye was the worst of it, it seems," Valen notes brusquely, "I examined it out back and there doesn't seem to be anything extraordinary aside from that damnable gaze."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Erdan, looking carefully you see signs of wasting and fading everywhere. The trees and branches which make up the underground lair look thin and faded, barely clinging to life. There are no flowers in evidence, and the few leaves to be found on the thin stalks droop listlessly downward.
Facilius nods to Dahme'dre, acknowledging your words. "Yes, a damnable Nothic," he says with a shudder of disgust, "rotting my family around me and trapping us in this damnable hole where the sun's shine cannot reach."
He takes a moment to gather himself, clearly distraught. He lets out a long, weary breath before continuing, "As you correctly surmise, T'kranir, is not the kind of enforcer accessible to your average gangboss." He indicates his surroundings, "Not only was he a potent foe, but one carefully chosen to best strike at a Druid of the Fallen Leaves." A grateful smile plays across his wasted features for a moment, "Were it not for your arrival, he would in time have starved me out, and even in death he has succeeded. This way-station will welcome strangers no more."
Dahme'dre sips her tea. "The grip of The Withering has faded. Criminals and fiends in these lands benefit as much as the innocent, if not more." She looks to Facilius, "What will you and your family do now? There will be many strangers, refuges, traveling this road in the coming days and weeks. They would benefit from your aid. Maybe you can benefit as well, from their presence... and ours." She glances around at her allies. Would they wish to stop this threat to those who will be following? "Those who flee the city will find safety in Salvadar. This is our mission. No one will find safety there who isn't able to make it. It may be wise to protect their journey as well as their destination."
Extended Signature
Facilius looks surprised, "The Withering... faded?" He seems to consider this for long moments. "This will change much and little," he says with a sigh. "If the curse has faded, as you say, it will still take years for people to believe and perhaps lifetimes to restore any semblance of order to this land."
He seems to consider your offer carefully, stroking his long beard while absently running his fingers along a withered stem, causing it to perk up with new life. "This tower, indeed this entire region can no longer sustain my work as it once did, but I could perhaps maintain the Waystation for a short time yet if there were need."
"Tell me of Salvadar, you believe you can make it a place of safety?" he asks, thoughtful.
"We were contracted to protect a noble looking to return to her birthright in Salvadar, but she met with an unfortunate end too soon." Valen seems lucid in speech, but his eyes retrace the flight from that damnable city. "In her memory, we want to restore order and peace to the land. Salvadar will be a beacon of hope amidst the wastelands."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Her dying act was to grant us the legal authority to do so. Though legal authority holds little sway in the broken lands." Dahme'dre's cup continues to steam as time passes. She continues to warm the liquid within. "Will the men who've troubled you abandon their course? What can you tell us about them?"
Extended Signature
Erdan will listen, nodding along with the others.
He will add "Are there other waystations your order setup along our way to Salvadar?"
"What you have been doing is a noble task indeed. Perhaps, once we have conquered Salvadar, there will be a place for you there."
Horatio Hirschfeld - Squire imbued with fae powers, in the Coliseum of Conquest (W2/L1)
DM for Reavers of Harkenwold, and sometimes The Fighting Grounds of the Coliseum
Facilius listens to Valen intently, clearly interested. "A beacon of hope?" he repeats, not really asking the question but rather allowing the words to roll around the inside of his mouth, savoring them. "That's something this land could badly use, though I fear it would be a lonely flame in an overcast sky..."
At Dahme'dre's words he frowns thoughtfully, snapped back to the reality of the current situation by your reminder of his enemies. "Not for a time, I should think," he says slowly. "I have been pent up down here with that monster above for months, and they seemed content to let me slowly wither away rather than intervening," he continues, "if I am circumspect in my running of the way-station and do not linger too long, they may not even realize their servant has been felled before I am away."
His answer to your second question is less certain. "Of those behind T'kranir, I can tell you little and what little I can say is largely deduction or based on the extended name he would hiss at me through my door." He raises a hand, extending thin, knobbly fingers and beginning to tick them off, "One, he spoke undercommon exclusively, suggesting his masters speak it also. Two, he was a being of considerable potency, and no mere thug and yet was left besieging a weary old man for many months, suggesting they have resources to spare. Three, their first attempt was made with mortal minions, suggesting a prime material plane organisation and fourth, perhaps most significantly, the creatures last name, 'Kriinat,' could denote a connection to the Drow Elven House of the same name."
That speech concluded, he finishes the rest of his tea before turning to Erdan, "I am afraid I know of no Fallen Leaves havens between here and Salvadar, at least none which still stand. We are largely an independent order and do not keep in frequent contact, so I cannot be certain, but I believe it to be so."
Turning to Kuori, he bows at the waist with a creak of weary bones. "You do me too much honor, Lady," he says. Reaching behind him, he rummages in the bows of a large tree which makes up part of his underground home and emerges with a large brown acorn. Brushing soil reverently off its surface, he hands it to you. It sits in your hands, the size of an apple and slightly warm to the touch. "Take this, Lady Goliath, and plant it in the soil when you have found your new home." He smiles, "It is my grove-heart, without it, this tower will eventually wither and return to the dust but when it is planted anew, the grove will spring forth. When those plants form, I will come."
With that, he indicates his home, "You may rest here for the night, and re-provision from what stocks I have, and if there are other hardships you anticipate, upon your journey or at your destination, speak them now and I shall consider how I can be of assistance to my rescuers."
((It's just past midnight. If you choose to rest, let me know when you'd like to be awake and moving. ))
"Thank you" Dahme'dre responds accepting the offer. "Our reasons for pressing on through the late hours were for the lack of a secure lodging. I see know reason to press on further tonight" as Dahme'dre prepares a bed she asks some final questions to fill in any holes in her knowledge.
She'll ask, though she may know already, about the Driinat house (History: 8)
Likewise, she'll ask, and may know, what to expect in Arion. Knowing Facilius has not been out of this tower for many months the party's knowledge of the town, and any recent events there, will likely be more useful than his. (History: 13)
She sleeps lightly for a bit over 6 hours, though we will leave after we've rested fully (presumably after 8 hours).
(Though we could leave sooner if everyone wishes. I'd recover damage I believe I'm the only damaged party member (again =P ) but the others will have spell slots to recover.)
Extended Signature
(Always good with the long rest!)
Valen gives a bow at Facillus' remark, "I come from an Order of healers and defenders which saves souls harmed in battle. I would gladly plant a banner upon an islad against a hostile sea if it meant haven for those lost upon the waves."
After the gift is presented to Kuori, "You do us a great honor in your trust. We would be honored to dedicate lands in your name to allow your mission to flourish. In time, I would also gladly assist in providing branches of your waystation to grow from the central haven you establish at Salvadar."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Aio was already asleep and had heard none of the conversation. A slightly squeaky snore escaped her beak as the others spoke.
Pit of Vipers: Watl Wiggins - Halfling Rogue(10)
League of Improbable Adventurers: Alan Quatermain - Human Fighter(3)