"Well that can't be right.." he mutters to himself. 'Why would they be tainted? Has something else gone wrong here?' He tries to wrack his brain for a way to possibly cleanse the structures but there's nothing within his skill set that he believes will do the trick. 'Maybe the others will have an idea.'
He continues further up to the house proper, leaving the pillars as they are for now.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
21Kora waits till the woman is out of earshot and lets out an audible sigh. She wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet. Especially about Aeolwyn. Just being back here was filling her with all different types of emotions. Ones she expected, resentment, fearfulness, foreboding... but others as well, the warmth of familiar places, curiosity as to what has happened - both with Aeolwyn as well as the town.
She finds a table and settles herself as these thoughts permeate her mind. Kora then overhears the nearby table and her brow furrows. She debates actually walking over and talking to the farmers, as far as people go, farmers were definitely not the worst of the bunch, there were actually ones she enjoyed their company. Such as Jerrod Underhill back near where she typically lived. She shakes her head, focus. Something was definitely off.
She watches as they talk in conspiratorial tones with dark expressions. No, approaching the table was definitely out, they'd for sure turn her away. She unhooks her beaten wooden shield from her pack and lays it on the table so that the woman will know where she has chosen to eat. Then, watching the group, she waits until they are definitely not looking her way and she wild shapes into a tiny lizard.
Making her way under her table and navigating around the farmer's feet, she crawls up one of the table legs on the 'inside' side of it and nestles into the crook of where the leg meets the underside of the table, and listens as best she can.
Turning his attention back to the door with a bit of a start. He's too caught off guard to do anything but stand there stiffly as someone he barely knows embraces him. "Right. Miss Rhea. Um..." Waiting for her to step back. "Not gonna lie, I wasn't sure about it myself, but no harm in paying my respects. My condolences," he adds sincerely, meeting her brown eyes with his own. Then, looking around at the grounds again. ""Nothing really seems to have changed here." She didn't even look that much older despite the long years. "You look well. How is everyone getting on? Must've been sudden.. Is everything sorted?"
Akyan lifts his eyes to meet those of the guard addressing him. Well, it's good to know that not everyone here has terribly short memories, even if they can't remember his actual name. Tch, The Drow. That's like calling Anthony That Human. Whatever, it's not like it's a false statement and it's certainly not something he hasn't heard multiple times. At least this guy didn't say it with disdain in his voice. He could say something to him, and he certainly could think of a lot of things to say to the pudgy one, but it's not worth it. Instead, he simply nods to the more composed guard, then passes a disapproving look over the cowering guard before continuing into town. That guy did look like he was about to wet his pants, if Akyan could scare him that badly just by looking at him, what would he do if a real threat confronted him? He shakes his head. At least the town has guards, even if they are cowards they can at least sound an alarm.
After his encounter at the gates, the young drow decides to change his plans. If he can invoke that kind of reaction; scaring a guard silly, and causing villagers to duck into their homes; before stepping foot in town, then perhaps it would be best to just go strait to Grymhearth. As much as he'd like to put off the inevitable, he's tired from his long journey here so if he can get a bed without having to explain himself again that would be fantastic. Mind made up, he walks strait towards his old home, trying not to look directly at any of the villagers.
Jared just nods and waits for Aoufie to finish his spell. While the spell is being cast, Jared tries to not show interest but is fascinated by magic and spells and watches intently, half-mouthing the words Aoufie uses.
Aoufie begins expertly strumming away at his lute almost effortlessly, his nimble fingers never stopping. The piece he plays starts off slow and gentle, but it gradually builds into majestic masterpiece of moving crescendos and arpeggios. As he performs, tiny motes of light begin appearing around. They flit around the harengon, almost waltzing to his music. As he nears his climatic finale, the motes begin seeping into Aoufie, infusing him with their glow. As he strums the final cord, the last mote sinks into his body, and the glow vanishes. Aoufie looks up, and he can see the Weave, the essence of magic that was woven through everything. Everything he can see glows faintly, emitting whisps of magical light like luminescent smoke curl and dissipate into the air. He looks at the pillars, and he can see that they are emitting a strong azure light, the color associated with abjuration magic. Oddly, everything inside the ring of obelisks emit no light, almost like the area ahead of you is divorced from the Weave.
----------
As Zathon steps past the pillars, he too experiences the sudden separation of his magic.
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((I rolled a six for their perception, so no worries!))
Nobody seems to notice the sudden disappearance of Kora as she becomes a nimble lizard. She scampers across the cold stone floor and dodges between the feet of the men who now seem titanic in size sitting at the table. She rushes up the leg of the table and nestles into the crook of the table unnoticed. Under the table she can pick up the scent of unwashed bodies and manure wafting from the men. She can also spot a few dusty cobwebs clinging to the other corners of the underside of table. As she strains her ears, she can pick up on the hushed conversation of the men, although it their words are slightly muffled by the table.
"...deserves what she got. That's why you don't go around messing with things that ought not be messed with," says a younger voice.
"True that," responds a gruff voice. "Strange people were always wandering through town to go speak with her. Strange things tend to follow strange people."
"Just like the mists that've been rolling around lately," pipes up an old and wheezy voice. "Ain't the time o' year for fog, and we've been gettin' it two or three times a week!"
Gruff Voice says back, "Marsha and the kids say they've seen shapes roaming around in the fog, and I didn't believe them until I had to check on the cows a few nights ago. They were making a ruckus in the middle of night, so I grabbed my pa's sword and went on to check on them when someone attacked me in the mist! It was the strangest thing; I think whatever attacked me was made out of the mist. I swung my sword at it, and it disappeared when I hit it. Must have killed the thing..."
"Right," someone says sarcastically. "You probably missed and frightened the thing off. You even told me earlier there was no blood on you blade or the ground."
"I'm telling the truth!" Gruff Voice exclaims indignantly. "I wouldn't make this kind of thing up!"
There's a few moments of awkward silence, and more than a few dirt-encrusted boots shuffle uncomfortably.
"Well, it's 'bout time I head back," says Wheezy Voice. "The wife's probably wonderin' where I'm at."
There's a general clamor of agreement and farewells as they all stand, pushing their chairs away from the table. Kora can hear the door to tavern open and then close as the collectively begin shuffling out to get on with the rest of their day.
----------
Rhea responds to Anthony with a shrug and says, "I'm doing ok. Some of the kids are pretty sad, but this batch is all pretty young, so most of them don't quite grasp the meaning of death yet." A distant look crosses her face. "Probably a good thing..."
She takes a deep breath and paints a smile back on her face as she looks back up to you and says, "We're still working out the details of her will she left behind, but we've just about gotten everything taken care of. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go collect some eggs to make breakfast for the younglings." She reaches behind the door and procures a wicker basket presumably used for collecting eggs. She edges pass you and begins walking around the corner of the house. As she does, she says, "Your room is just the way you left it if you want it back. You're the first once back!"
As she rounds the corner, she pauses and looks back to you. A small, but genuine smile forms on her face as she says, "And Anthony, it's good to have you back." With that, she disappears around the ivy-coated corner of the house. You are left alone on the porch of Grymhearth, the door open.
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As Akyan walks through town, villagers scurry away into houses and shops like the way sheep scatter when confronted by a wolf. Akyan can feel terrified and curious looks following him as the strides through Leafbrook. The guards standing at the exit tighten their grips on their spear as you pass by, but they don't hinder you. Leaving the xenophobic town behind, he continues on to Grymhearth.
As he rounds the final corner just past the small stone bridge, he sees the familiar building of Grymhearth looming before him. Standing near two black, ten-foot tall stones jutting out of the ground on either side of the trail stand two familiar figures. You can see one of them is a harengon while the other is a human man. They both seem deeply involved in observing the stone pillars at the moment and don't notice your arrival.
Aoufie stares at the darkness and then looks to Jared "The pillars have abjuration or protective magic. What is beyond the pillars is the absence of magic. Everything in our world is laced with the Weave of magic from Mystra the goddess. Grymhearth is severed from the weave and for a wizard like Aunty Grym that means she would no longer be able to cast spells. Something grave must have happened here and I am sure this has something to do with her death. Once I pass through those pillars, I will not be able access my magic."
What by the gods happened here? Something powerful enough to sever the threads of magic itself. Aunty were you experimenting or did some vile enemy haunt your dreams? Damn. I have more questions than answers. Time to rectify that. The expression on his face is a mixture of puzzlement and anger.
He takes a deep breath and pushes onward up the hill bracing himself for that darkness to taint him once more. He resembles a man on some forced march as he clutches his lute.
As soon as the men leave the Inn, Kora the lizard scurries down the table leg and out from under the table. Reverting back to her human form, she walks over to the table she left her shield on and sits down. Replacing the shield back on her pack, she sets her pack down and sets her elbows on the table, resting her forehead on her palms.
What was going on here? What was Aeolwyn into? A monster in the mist?? None of this made sense.
She waited for her food and the woman to come back so she could see if she knew anything.
The drow silently fumes as he continues to stalk through the town. If he were a wolf, his hackles would be bristling and his teeth bared. Instead he just tightens his jaw and clenches his fists as he feels the terrified or curious eyes crawling on his back. No matter how many times he'd encountered this reaction, it never fails to make him feel like some rabid animal. This, is another reason he prefers to travel and work at night. Less people staring. He'd nearly considered a hood to avoid such stares, but he could never stand having his peripheral vision blocked by the fabric.
Rounding the final corner, the feeling of being watched finally fades. He relaxes slightly when his eyes land on Grymhearth. Home. Finally. Perhaps he can get some answers. The letter he'd received hadn't really explained the circumstances surrounding Aoelwyn's death and he still hasn't shaken the feeling that something is off. But, then again the drow is always suspicious of everything so maybe his adoptive mother really did just pass away in her sleep.
Turning his gaze back down the road he notices the two figures studying the stone pillars. He recognizes Aoufie first, to this day that rabbit-folk is still the only harengon Akyan has ever met. Then he recognizes the human. Great, it's Jared the loudmouth. Is it to much to hope that some time as an adult has made him a bit more mature? Probably. He sighs, thinking negatively about his adoptive siblings really isn't the best way to start things off. Why are they so interested in the Pillars? They aren't new or anything, if he remembers right Aoelwyn herself made those. Shrugging, he continues forward walking up behind the two other men. What should he say to them? He thinks just before overhearing the last part of Aoufie's explanation. "What about not being able to access your magic? Is something wrong?"Akyan asks, as the Aoufie steps between the pillars. He sounds concerned, though there's still a slight hint of irritation left from those villager's reactions.
Anthony steps back to give Rhea room and watches her go, scrubbing his hair for a moment. "Sure, thanks. I'll check it out." Without much coin on hand after such a long time on the road, he'd been hoping he'd be able to stay here. Mentally bracing himself, the large man finds his way through the house and limps to the bedrooms to find his.
Just as he'd left it? An odd thing to say. Anthony had never had a space that was his and had never quite gotten used to the idea. Even at the monastery, his room had been a place to sleep, not a place he occupied. The room looked exactly as it had when he'd arrived the first time. A bed, a window, a chair and small table with a calligraphy set he may have touched once out of curiosity. Clean and fresh and uncomfortably ... expectant.
He dropped his pack by the door. As a kid he'd carried his small bundle of belongings everywhere, at least he'd inched away from that habit. Baby steps, but he still felt out of place here. This had never been home to him. Home was the city. Sure, they hadn’t usually had a bed to sleep in and his mom was either working or ‘sick’ most of the time. But Anthony had been there to make sure she ate and to nod along when she’d lie to them both and say she was saving money so they could get a small piece of land out of the city. A little farm with a couple of goats or something. And he’d been there when she’d stumble back to whatever alley or flop house was home just before dawn with nothing to show for her work but glassy eyes and a vacant smile. He'd been there to clean her up, put her to bed on her side, and keep watch to make sure no one messed with her.
Then he’d left. Caught stealing, a death sentence in a city run by merchants where theft was a more serious offense than murder, Aoelwyn had generously intervened and paid a hefty ‘fine’ without batting an eye. Sure, he’d felt like he owed the woman something and having the city guard know your name was as bad as it got without coin to keep them quiet. But he’d also let himself get sucked into the fairytale, a happily ever after. He'd have a safe place to sleep, regular meals without stealing, and he could learn a trade. A little hard work and he could come back with enough money to give them a fresh start. But his child’s mind couldn’t comprehend how far it was to Neverwinter or how hard it would really be.
Not that there were no happy memories. Gazing out the window, Anthony remembered the first time he’d lain in grass tall enough to hide in, disappearing into a green sea and looking up at an endless blue sky, no smoke, no buildings, not even trees. It was a dizzying sight that had made him feel like he was about to fall up into the blue nothingness. He'd lost more years chasing that feeling in the worst of ways than he'd spent here.
A lot of wasted time and wasted chances.For now, he should spend some of that time washing up. He checked the stubble on his chin, and maybe a shave. Anthony wandered the house looking for soap and a washroom.
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Jared nods as Aoufie tells him about the pillars, having no idea what the Harengon is referring to. "So the pillars sucked up your magic?" he mutters back as he scratches his head.
He looks up quickly when Akyan arrives, more recognizing someone has come close rather than Akyan himself. Once he does he smiles broadly. "You still cheatin' at hide and go seek Aky?" he asks smiling at the dark elf. "Mum always told me you were a crafty one." his smile broadens. Jared moves forward and embraces Akyan. "It's so good to see you little brother!" he tells the dark elf with a broad smile. "Have Aoufie tell you how he escaped that mad wizard's hat he'd been trapped in." Jared nods towards Aoufie as he tells Akyan this. While Akyan and Aoufie chat, Jared seems a bit disinterested, looking around a bit. However, he is looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary for this place. Auofie says there is a disruption in the weave so there must be physical signs to demonstrate it.
"I've told you not to call me-- GAH!"The elf gasps when the larger man embraces him. Jared is still Jared. What a surprise. He has to catch his breath after the shifter finally lets him go. Maybe he should have just dealt with the unfriendly stares and gone to the inn first. Oh well, to late to turn back now. "And I never cheated, you're just blind. And if I weren't crafty, I' wouldn't be alive right now." Is what he would have said, if he were still a child. And what is this about a mad wizard's hat? Probably just some gibberish that Jared made up. No need to waste any brainpower on that.
"It's...good to see you too." Akyan manages to say after composing himself. His words are sincere, even if he still sounds irritated.
Turning away from the taller man, the dark elf looks down at Aoufie and listens to his explanation. He nods in understanding, then he looks back at the stones. That seems odd, whatever magic that is there's no way it was there before. Will it have the same affect on his own abilities? As a Drow, he has inherited some connection to the weave, but those powers are separate from his psychic abilities. Well, only one way to find out. Wordlessly, he steps through the pillars.
Downstairs, near the kitchens, Anthony found what he was looking for. Borrowing some of the water heated for washing and starting more boiling, he drew himself a lukewarm bath. His surcoat first. Then his mail, brushed and polished as best he could. He’d launder his clothes later, but he folded them inside out so he wouldn’t forget but they were still tidy. His hand wraps next - soft cord dyed bright red carefully unwound from his wrists and hands - revealing numerous scars that someone experienced with poisons or medicines might recognize - rinsed and hung to dry. And finally his leg brace. Ignoring his brain’s attempt to remind him of why he needed it.
A flash of waking up on cold stone after gods only knew how many days. Anthony shook his head and lowered his bulky form into the tub. Broad shouldered and heavily muscled, he’d been eating well recently, so he was more ‘farm fit’ than chiseled with a light dusting of chest hair a shade or two darker than what was on his head.
It was a thorough but efficient scrub down and rinse for the templar. Then he levered himself out of the water and stood in front of the small mirror to attempt a shave. Lathering was fine, but the tremor in his hands made it difficult to take a blade to his face without dicing himself up. He had a couple years of practice with it now though; patience was the trick. Slow, methodical, scraping the blade across his skin. After a few minutes he surveyed the results. Not bad, pretty clean and close with only a little bit of pink in the water.
“That’ll do, Brother Anthony,” He muttered to himself with a nod. He looked a little older than his years, hard living tended to do that, but he wore it well enough. Just a few more creases and a little deeper than a man his age would normally have. Working in reverse, he dressed himself, taking care with wrapping his wrists and around his thumb. Anthony paused at the armor. Something had felt off since he’d gotten here. Difficult to put his finger on it, but he’d survived this long by trusting his instincts. Manners be *****, he put his armor back, shield on his back, and flail worn on his hip. He looked more like a warrior than a priest, but he wouldn’t be the first person to blur the line between the two. Feeling, and almost certainly smelling, more presentable, he left to move outside to launder his clothes, offering as he passed through the kitchen, to help with any other washing that needed to be done, and generally get a feel for how the staff was taking the sudden loss of their employer.
As Aoufie warily crosses the threshold of the pillars, he once again is cut off from his magic as that dark pressure from before settles upon him, smothering his senses. Once at the doorstep of Grymhearth, he knocks sharply upon the painted wood and waits for someone to answer.
After being warned about the strange nature of the pillars, Akyan expected to be severed from his innate magical abilities the moment he passes the pillars, and he's right. As he steps past them, something dark grasps his soul, blocking his access to his racial abilities. He can feel a heavy pressure within him, suffocating his soul. Throughout all of this, his connection to his psychic powers is unaffected, the mental energy waiting at his fingertips. At least he still could access that if the occasion arose.
Unaffected by the monoliths' influence, Jared begins scouting out the area to find any clues about the magical disruption in the area. He doesn't notice anything wrong with the area: the plants are still green, the air is still fresh, and the house seems to be in as good of shape as ever. When Jared takes a closer look at the monoliths, however, something off catches his eye.
Looking closely at the faint silvery symbols etched into the stones, he can recognize Aoelwyn's flowing script. He recalls her teaching him to write at a young age, and he often spent hours watching her write letters and words for him to copy in order to learn how to write. He notices a few of the symbols don't match her form of writing. While her script was flowing and continuous, he sees a few arcane symbols written in a different style from the rest. These symbols have sharp edges, often appearing blocky and almost angry for lack of a better term. Untrained in the arcane arts, he doesn't quite understand what they necessarily mean, but he can put together that they don't match the original 'manuscript' of the monoliths.
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After Zathon raps his knuckles on the door, he waits for few moments out on the doorstep in the crisp air. Overheard, thunder rumbles ominously in the solemn sky, hinting at a coming storm. The gentle breeze that has been frolicking amongst the trees and grasses all day picks up slightly, causing the leaves to shake and sway, filling the air with a raspy sound as the rub against one another. He catches the scent of rain again in that excited breeze as it whips around him.
He hears muffled footsteps approaching on the other side of the door for a few seconds before Rhea opens the door. You see she is dressed much like she usually is, but she is also wearing a red apron coating in splotches of white flour. Her hands too are stained white by flour, and a few specks of it have even found their way to her smiling face. "Zathon! So good to see you again!' she squeals. A looks down sheepishly while saying, "I would give you a hug, but you caught me in the middle of making some bread and I don't want to get it all over you."
She steps to the side, gesturing for you to enter. "Come in, come in! Anthony is going to be so glad to see you!" The smell of bread and the comforting warmth of home waft out into the chill air, beckoning you inside.
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Kora reverts back to her normal form, drawing the attention of none of the remaining few of the townsfolk as they busily gulped down their food. After a few moments of waiting, the server woman brings Kora her food. Although simple, it all smells and looks very tantalizing. The woman gives you a smile and says, "This will all be 3 copper if you don't mind." As she waits for you to fish out the coins, she continues, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
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After freshening up, Anthony begins moving through familiar halls. Just like his room, not much has changed withing the halls of Grymhearth. For the most part, the walls, floor, and ceiling were all made out of polished wood. Even though the wood all gleamed the flickering lamplight and what little light suffused through the windows from the cloudy sky outside, Anthony can see the telltale marks of children all throughout the house: chipped cabinets, scratched floor, splotches of fingerpaints on walls, and many more. Grymhearth was well taken care of, but it was also well used.
As he nears the kitchen, he hears diminutive bare feet slapping against wooden floors and exuberant giggles intermingled with squealing right before flock of five children wearing white nightgowns come barreling around the corner. Looking to be all under the age of eight, they zoom past Anthony as they run through the room, laughing mirthfully all the way. As they disappear around the corner, a lone straggler appears. A little girl with long curly hair the color of pumpkins, she too runs after the other children, but she has an unsteady gait. She trips and falls to the ground, and Anthony can see that she too wears leg braces. A determined look appears on her face as she pushes herself up off the ground and continues her play chase. Undaunted, she disappears around the corner.
Anthony finds the kitchen to be a hubbub of activity. At least six people are bustling about, preparing meals for the orphans that reside her. The majority of the kitchen is made of stone rather than wood as it's usually not a good idea to let fire and wood be close to each other. The sizzling of various foods fill the air with both sound and smell. When asked if you could help, they quickly put you to work on scrubbing and dicing carrots for the supper stew. After chatting with the workers for bit, you learn that they are all saddened by the loss of Aoelwyn more than a few of them are curious about her mysterious demise. Apparently, Tom just found her body out in backyard not too far from the house early in the morning several days ago. She didn't have any noticeable wounds, nor did there seem to be any signs of trouble. A few of them also mention that the monoliths have been acting strangely since then, blocking all attempts to use magic, but they aren't sure why.
Kora thanks the woman, "The food looks delicious, thank you." and fishes out the copper from her pockets. When the woman asks if Kora needed anything else Kora gives the woman a smile and asks, "Actually, if you don't mind I have a few questions I'm hoping you can help answer?" She tucks some of her white hair behind her ear and continues, "You see, I'm here to pay my respects for the proprietor of Grymhearth. I must say I was quite shocked to hear of her death, being so young for an elf, it doesn't make sense. Please, can you tell me anything you have heard? Working at a place like this I'm sure you hear a lot. It's just... she meant a lot to me, anything you can share I'd really appreciate it."
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Hearing Jared call from the bottom of the hill Aoufie trudges back with his left long ear twitching again in irritation. "You found some of Aunty Grym's writing. Hmm... let take a look" He looks at the runes that clearly were not written by Aunty Grym and tries to decipher their meaning.
The sight of the children playing reminds him of other happy memories here. Stubbornly as he tried to avoid being seen enjoying himself at times, he'd still been a child. He was reminded of his first autumn here and feeling too grown up to carve gourd lanterns and go door to door begging for treats, but ‘suffering’ through it because Aoelwyn hadn’t wanted Akyan to go out alone. In Scornubel, no one much cared what anyone looked like as long as they had something to sell or money to spend. But here, even a little kid was looked at with suspicion for being too different. So, Anthony had endured having a hat stuck on his head and itchy straw stuck in his clothes and hair to walk around town as a lanky scarecrow with the kid who hadn’t needed to dress up to be a terrifying monster. And Anthony hadn’t been too grown up to eat sweets until he was too sick to move.
As he works, carefully and methodically ,at chopping the carrots with unsteady hands, Anthony takes in the information with the solemn grace expected of clergy, offering blessings and well wishes as well as a few words of comfort. Magic is new enough to him that it still feels rather foreign and the gods have always been fickle , following a logic that's beyond people's understanding. So he registers the loss of it as more of an inconvenience than a hardship in a personal sense. Though the strange behavior of the protective wards goes a long way to explaining what might have happened to Aoelwyn, and gives a troubling new weight to that uncomfortable feeling he'd had since arriving. He's less uncomfortable with his choice to walk around armed. He'd need to see if Tom, or anyone else had noticed anything strange... Who she'd had visiting recently or what she'd been working at.
"The gods are never without their tests for us. But it's those trials that give meaning to what we have." It's trite, yes, but delivered with the sincerity of someone who's seen the worst life has to offer from both sides. "In this we can find a small blessing. Those her generosity has touched are brought together again. Better late than never." His tone shifts and he smiles his dimpled smile and his warm brown eyes crinkle up at the corners. "So what of good news? I see there are more little ones here. Her work will continue surely?"
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"Well that can't be right.." he mutters to himself. 'Why would they be tainted? Has something else gone wrong here?' He tries to wrack his brain for a way to possibly cleanse the structures but there's nothing within his skill set that he believes will do the trick. 'Maybe the others will have an idea.'
He continues further up to the house proper, leaving the pillars as they are for now.
21Kora waits till the woman is out of earshot and lets out an audible sigh. She wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet. Especially about Aeolwyn. Just being back here was filling her with all different types of emotions. Ones she expected, resentment, fearfulness, foreboding... but others as well, the warmth of familiar places, curiosity as to what has happened - both with Aeolwyn as well as the town.
She finds a table and settles herself as these thoughts permeate her mind. Kora then overhears the nearby table and her brow furrows. She debates actually walking over and talking to the farmers, as far as people go, farmers were definitely not the worst of the bunch, there were actually ones she enjoyed their company. Such as Jerrod Underhill back near where she typically lived. She shakes her head, focus. Something was definitely off.
She watches as they talk in conspiratorial tones with dark expressions. No, approaching the table was definitely out, they'd for sure turn her away. She unhooks her beaten wooden shield from her pack and lays it on the table so that the woman will know where she has chosen to eat. Then, watching the group, she waits until they are definitely not looking her way and she wild shapes into a tiny lizard.
Making her way under her table and navigating around the farmer's feet, she crawls up one of the table legs on the 'inside' side of it and nestles into the crook of where the leg meets the underside of the table, and listens as best she can.
stealth 15
Turning his attention back to the door with a bit of a start. He's too caught off guard to do anything but stand there stiffly as someone he barely knows embraces him. "Right. Miss Rhea. Um..." Waiting for her to step back. "Not gonna lie, I wasn't sure about it myself, but no harm in paying my respects. My condolences," he adds sincerely, meeting her brown eyes with his own. Then, looking around at the grounds again. ""Nothing really seems to have changed here." She didn't even look that much older despite the long years. "You look well. How is everyone getting on? Must've been sudden.. Is everything sorted?"
Akyan lifts his eyes to meet those of the guard addressing him. Well, it's good to know that not everyone here has terribly short memories, even if they can't remember his actual name. Tch, The Drow. That's like calling Anthony That Human. Whatever, it's not like it's a false statement and it's certainly not something he hasn't heard multiple times. At least this guy didn't say it with disdain in his voice. He could say something to him, and he certainly could think of a lot of things to say to the pudgy one, but it's not worth it. Instead, he simply nods to the more composed guard, then passes a disapproving look over the cowering guard before continuing into town. That guy did look like he was about to wet his pants, if Akyan could scare him that badly just by looking at him, what would he do if a real threat confronted him? He shakes his head. At least the town has guards, even if they are cowards they can at least sound an alarm.
After his encounter at the gates, the young drow decides to change his plans. If he can invoke that kind of reaction; scaring a guard silly, and causing villagers to duck into their homes; before stepping foot in town, then perhaps it would be best to just go strait to Grymhearth. As much as he'd like to put off the inevitable, he's tired from his long journey here so if he can get a bed without having to explain himself again that would be fantastic. Mind made up, he walks strait towards his old home, trying not to look directly at any of the villagers.
Jared just nods and waits for Aoufie to finish his spell.
While the spell is being cast, Jared tries to not show interest but is fascinated by magic and spells and watches intently, half-mouthing the words Aoufie uses.
Aoufie begins expertly strumming away at his lute almost effortlessly, his nimble fingers never stopping. The piece he plays starts off slow and gentle, but it gradually builds into majestic masterpiece of moving crescendos and arpeggios. As he performs, tiny motes of light begin appearing around. They flit around the harengon, almost waltzing to his music. As he nears his climatic finale, the motes begin seeping into Aoufie, infusing him with their glow. As he strums the final cord, the last mote sinks into his body, and the glow vanishes. Aoufie looks up, and he can see the Weave, the essence of magic that was woven through everything. Everything he can see glows faintly, emitting whisps of magical light like luminescent smoke curl and dissipate into the air. He looks at the pillars, and he can see that they are emitting a strong azure light, the color associated with abjuration magic. Oddly, everything inside the ring of obelisks emit no light, almost like the area ahead of you is divorced from the Weave.
----------
As Zathon steps past the pillars, he too experiences the sudden separation of his magic.
----------
((I rolled a six for their perception, so no worries!))
Nobody seems to notice the sudden disappearance of Kora as she becomes a nimble lizard. She scampers across the cold stone floor and dodges between the feet of the men who now seem titanic in size sitting at the table. She rushes up the leg of the table and nestles into the crook of the table unnoticed. Under the table she can pick up the scent of unwashed bodies and manure wafting from the men. She can also spot a few dusty cobwebs clinging to the other corners of the underside of table. As she strains her ears, she can pick up on the hushed conversation of the men, although it their words are slightly muffled by the table.
"...deserves what she got. That's why you don't go around messing with things that ought not be messed with," says a younger voice.
"True that," responds a gruff voice. "Strange people were always wandering through town to go speak with her. Strange things tend to follow strange people."
"Just like the mists that've been rolling around lately," pipes up an old and wheezy voice. "Ain't the time o' year for fog, and we've been gettin' it two or three times a week!"
Gruff Voice says back, "Marsha and the kids say they've seen shapes roaming around in the fog, and I didn't believe them until I had to check on the cows a few nights ago. They were making a ruckus in the middle of night, so I grabbed my pa's sword and went on to check on them when someone attacked me in the mist! It was the strangest thing; I think whatever attacked me was made out of the mist. I swung my sword at it, and it disappeared when I hit it. Must have killed the thing..."
"Right," someone says sarcastically. "You probably missed and frightened the thing off. You even told me earlier there was no blood on you blade or the ground."
"I'm telling the truth!" Gruff Voice exclaims indignantly. "I wouldn't make this kind of thing up!"
There's a few moments of awkward silence, and more than a few dirt-encrusted boots shuffle uncomfortably.
"Well, it's 'bout time I head back," says Wheezy Voice. "The wife's probably wonderin' where I'm at."
There's a general clamor of agreement and farewells as they all stand, pushing their chairs away from the table. Kora can hear the door to tavern open and then close as the collectively begin shuffling out to get on with the rest of their day.
----------
Rhea responds to Anthony with a shrug and says, "I'm doing ok. Some of the kids are pretty sad, but this batch is all pretty young, so most of them don't quite grasp the meaning of death yet." A distant look crosses her face. "Probably a good thing..."
She takes a deep breath and paints a smile back on her face as she looks back up to you and says, "We're still working out the details of her will she left behind, but we've just about gotten everything taken care of. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go collect some eggs to make breakfast for the younglings." She reaches behind the door and procures a wicker basket presumably used for collecting eggs. She edges pass you and begins walking around the corner of the house. As she does, she says, "Your room is just the way you left it if you want it back. You're the first once back!"
As she rounds the corner, she pauses and looks back to you. A small, but genuine smile forms on her face as she says, "And Anthony, it's good to have you back." With that, she disappears around the ivy-coated corner of the house. You are left alone on the porch of Grymhearth, the door open.
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As Akyan walks through town, villagers scurry away into houses and shops like the way sheep scatter when confronted by a wolf. Akyan can feel terrified and curious looks following him as the strides through Leafbrook. The guards standing at the exit tighten their grips on their spear as you pass by, but they don't hinder you. Leaving the xenophobic town behind, he continues on to Grymhearth.
As he rounds the final corner just past the small stone bridge, he sees the familiar building of Grymhearth looming before him. Standing near two black, ten-foot tall stones jutting out of the ground on either side of the trail stand two familiar figures. You can see one of them is a harengon while the other is a human man. They both seem deeply involved in observing the stone pillars at the moment and don't notice your arrival.
Aoufie stares at the darkness and then looks to Jared "The pillars have abjuration or protective magic. What is beyond the pillars is the absence of magic. Everything in our world is laced with the Weave of magic from Mystra the goddess. Grymhearth is severed from the weave and for a wizard like Aunty Grym that means she would no longer be able to cast spells. Something grave must have happened here and I am sure this has something to do with her death. Once I pass through those pillars, I will not be able access my magic."
What by the gods happened here? Something powerful enough to sever the threads of magic itself. Aunty were you experimenting or did some vile enemy haunt your dreams? Damn. I have more questions than answers. Time to rectify that. The expression on his face is a mixture of puzzlement and anger.
He takes a deep breath and pushes onward up the hill bracing himself for that darkness to taint him once more. He resembles a man on some forced march as he clutches his lute.
Zathon stops just after passing the pillars fully as his head clears and his magic leaves him. "I can not tell whether to be horrified or not.."
He continues forward, more perturbed, and knocks on the door of childhood home.
As soon as the men leave the Inn, Kora the lizard scurries down the table leg and out from under the table. Reverting back to her human form, she walks over to the table she left her shield on and sits down. Replacing the shield back on her pack, she sets her pack down and sets her elbows on the table, resting her forehead on her palms.
What was going on here? What was Aeolwyn into? A monster in the mist?? None of this made sense.
She waited for her food and the woman to come back so she could see if she knew anything.
The drow silently fumes as he continues to stalk through the town. If he were a wolf, his hackles would be bristling and his teeth bared. Instead he just tightens his jaw and clenches his fists as he feels the terrified or curious eyes crawling on his back. No matter how many times he'd encountered this reaction, it never fails to make him feel like some rabid animal. This, is another reason he prefers to travel and work at night. Less people staring. He'd nearly considered a hood to avoid such stares, but he could never stand having his peripheral vision blocked by the fabric.
Rounding the final corner, the feeling of being watched finally fades. He relaxes slightly when his eyes land on Grymhearth. Home. Finally. Perhaps he can get some answers. The letter he'd received hadn't really explained the circumstances surrounding Aoelwyn's death and he still hasn't shaken the feeling that something is off. But, then again the drow is always suspicious of everything so maybe his adoptive mother really did just pass away in her sleep.
Turning his gaze back down the road he notices the two figures studying the stone pillars. He recognizes Aoufie first, to this day that rabbit-folk is still the only harengon Akyan has ever met. Then he recognizes the human. Great, it's Jared the loudmouth. Is it to much to hope that some time as an adult has made him a bit more mature? Probably. He sighs, thinking negatively about his adoptive siblings really isn't the best way to start things off. Why are they so interested in the Pillars? They aren't new or anything, if he remembers right Aoelwyn herself made those. Shrugging, he continues forward walking up behind the two other men. What should he say to them? He thinks just before overhearing the last part of Aoufie's explanation. "What about not being able to access your magic? Is something wrong?" Akyan asks, as the Aoufie steps between the pillars. He sounds concerned, though there's still a slight hint of irritation left from those villager's reactions.
Aoufie takes the time to explain what he discovered and experienced when going past those pillars to Akyan.
Anthony steps back to give Rhea room and watches her go, scrubbing his hair for a moment. "Sure, thanks. I'll check it out." Without much coin on hand after such a long time on the road, he'd been hoping he'd be able to stay here. Mentally bracing himself, the large man finds his way through the house and limps to the bedrooms to find his.
Just as he'd left it? An odd thing to say. Anthony had never had a space that was his and had never quite gotten used to the idea. Even at the monastery, his room had been a place to sleep, not a place he occupied. The room looked exactly as it had when he'd arrived the first time. A bed, a window, a chair and small table with a calligraphy set he may have touched once out of curiosity. Clean and fresh and uncomfortably ... expectant.
He dropped his pack by the door. As a kid he'd carried his small bundle of belongings everywhere, at least he'd inched away from that habit. Baby steps, but he still felt out of place here. This had never been home to him. Home was the city. Sure, they hadn’t usually had a bed to sleep in and his mom was either working or ‘sick’ most of the time. But Anthony had been there to make sure she ate and to nod along when she’d lie to them both and say she was saving money so they could get a small piece of land out of the city. A little farm with a couple of goats or something. And he’d been there when she’d stumble back to whatever alley or flop house was home just before dawn with nothing to show for her work but glassy eyes and a vacant smile. He'd been there to clean her up, put her to bed on her side, and keep watch to make sure no one messed with her.
Then he’d left. Caught stealing, a death sentence in a city run by merchants where theft was a more serious offense than murder, Aoelwyn had generously intervened and paid a hefty ‘fine’ without batting an eye. Sure, he’d felt like he owed the woman something and having the city guard know your name was as bad as it got without coin to keep them quiet. But he’d also let himself get sucked into the fairytale, a happily ever after. He'd have a safe place to sleep, regular meals without stealing, and he could learn a trade. A little hard work and he could come back with enough money to give them a fresh start. But his child’s mind couldn’t comprehend how far it was to Neverwinter or how hard it would really be.
Not that there were no happy memories. Gazing out the window, Anthony remembered the first time he’d lain in grass tall enough to hide in, disappearing into a green sea and looking up at an endless blue sky, no smoke, no buildings, not even trees. It was a dizzying sight that had made him feel like he was about to fall up into the blue nothingness. He'd lost more years chasing that feeling in the worst of ways than he'd spent here.
A lot of wasted time and wasted chances. For now, he should spend some of that time washing up. He checked the stubble on his chin, and maybe a shave. Anthony wandered the house looking for soap and a washroom.
Jared nods as Aoufie tells him about the pillars, having no idea what the Harengon is referring to.
"So the pillars sucked up your magic?" he mutters back as he scratches his head.
He looks up quickly when Akyan arrives, more recognizing someone has come close rather than Akyan himself.
Once he does he smiles broadly.
"You still cheatin' at hide and go seek Aky?" he asks smiling at the dark elf. "Mum always told me you were a crafty one." his smile broadens.
Jared moves forward and embraces Akyan.
"It's so good to see you little brother!" he tells the dark elf with a broad smile. "Have Aoufie tell you how he escaped that mad wizard's hat he'd been trapped in." Jared nods towards Aoufie as he tells Akyan this.
While Akyan and Aoufie chat, Jared seems a bit disinterested, looking around a bit. However, he is looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary for this place. Auofie says there is a disruption in the weave so there must be physical signs to demonstrate it.
Perception: 18
Investigation: 15
"I've told you not to call me-- GAH!" The elf gasps when the larger man embraces him. Jared is still Jared. What a surprise. He has to catch his breath after the shifter finally lets him go. Maybe he should have just dealt with the unfriendly stares and gone to the inn first. Oh well, to late to turn back now. "And I never cheated, you're just blind. And if I weren't crafty, I' wouldn't be alive right now." Is what he would have said, if he were still a child. And what is this about a mad wizard's hat? Probably just some gibberish that Jared made up. No need to waste any brainpower on that.
"It's...good to see you too." Akyan manages to say after composing himself. His words are sincere, even if he still sounds irritated.
Turning away from the taller man, the dark elf looks down at Aoufie and listens to his explanation. He nods in understanding, then he looks back at the stones. That seems odd, whatever magic that is there's no way it was there before. Will it have the same affect on his own abilities? As a Drow, he has inherited some connection to the weave, but those powers are separate from his psychic abilities. Well, only one way to find out. Wordlessly, he steps through the pillars.
Downstairs, near the kitchens, Anthony found what he was looking for. Borrowing some of the water heated for washing and starting more boiling, he drew himself a lukewarm bath. His surcoat first. Then his mail, brushed and polished as best he could. He’d launder his clothes later, but he folded them inside out so he wouldn’t forget but they were still tidy. His hand wraps next - soft cord dyed bright red carefully unwound from his wrists and hands - revealing numerous scars that someone experienced with poisons or medicines might recognize - rinsed and hung to dry. And finally his leg brace. Ignoring his brain’s attempt to remind him of why he needed it.
A flash of waking up on cold stone after gods only knew how many days. Anthony shook his head and lowered his bulky form into the tub. Broad shouldered and heavily muscled, he’d been eating well recently, so he was more ‘farm fit’ than chiseled with a light dusting of chest hair a shade or two darker than what was on his head.
It was a thorough but efficient scrub down and rinse for the templar. Then he levered himself out of the water and stood in front of the small mirror to attempt a shave. Lathering was fine, but the tremor in his hands made it difficult to take a blade to his face without dicing himself up. He had a couple years of practice with it now though; patience was the trick. Slow, methodical, scraping the blade across his skin. After a few minutes he surveyed the results. Not bad, pretty clean and close with only a little bit of pink in the water.
“That’ll do, Brother Anthony,” He muttered to himself with a nod. He looked a little older than his years, hard living tended to do that, but he wore it well enough. Just a few more creases and a little deeper than a man his age would normally have.
Working in reverse, he dressed himself, taking care with wrapping his wrists and around his thumb. Anthony paused at the armor. Something had felt off since he’d gotten here. Difficult to put his finger on it, but he’d survived this long by trusting his instincts. Manners be *****, he put his armor back, shield on his back, and flail worn on his hip. He looked more like a warrior than a priest, but he wouldn’t be the first person to blur the line between the two.
Feeling, and almost certainly smelling, more presentable, he left to move outside to launder his clothes, offering as he passed through the kitchen, to help with any other washing that needed to be done, and generally get a feel for how the staff was taking the sudden loss of their employer.
As Aoufie warily crosses the threshold of the pillars, he once again is cut off from his magic as that dark pressure from before settles upon him, smothering his senses. Once at the doorstep of Grymhearth, he knocks sharply upon the painted wood and waits for someone to answer.
After being warned about the strange nature of the pillars, Akyan expected to be severed from his innate magical abilities the moment he passes the pillars, and he's right. As he steps past them, something dark grasps his soul, blocking his access to his racial abilities. He can feel a heavy pressure within him, suffocating his soul. Throughout all of this, his connection to his psychic powers is unaffected, the mental energy waiting at his fingertips. At least he still could access that if the occasion arose.
Unaffected by the monoliths' influence, Jared begins scouting out the area to find any clues about the magical disruption in the area. He doesn't notice anything wrong with the area: the plants are still green, the air is still fresh, and the house seems to be in as good of shape as ever. When Jared takes a closer look at the monoliths, however, something off catches his eye.
Looking closely at the faint silvery symbols etched into the stones, he can recognize Aoelwyn's flowing script. He recalls her teaching him to write at a young age, and he often spent hours watching her write letters and words for him to copy in order to learn how to write. He notices a few of the symbols don't match her form of writing. While her script was flowing and continuous, he sees a few arcane symbols written in a different style from the rest. These symbols have sharp edges, often appearing blocky and almost angry for lack of a better term. Untrained in the arcane arts, he doesn't quite understand what they necessarily mean, but he can put together that they don't match the original 'manuscript' of the monoliths.
----------
After Zathon raps his knuckles on the door, he waits for few moments out on the doorstep in the crisp air. Overheard, thunder rumbles ominously in the solemn sky, hinting at a coming storm. The gentle breeze that has been frolicking amongst the trees and grasses all day picks up slightly, causing the leaves to shake and sway, filling the air with a raspy sound as the rub against one another. He catches the scent of rain again in that excited breeze as it whips around him.
He hears muffled footsteps approaching on the other side of the door for a few seconds before Rhea opens the door. You see she is dressed much like she usually is, but she is also wearing a red apron coating in splotches of white flour. Her hands too are stained white by flour, and a few specks of it have even found their way to her smiling face. "Zathon! So good to see you again!' she squeals. A looks down sheepishly while saying, "I would give you a hug, but you caught me in the middle of making some bread and I don't want to get it all over you."
She steps to the side, gesturing for you to enter. "Come in, come in! Anthony is going to be so glad to see you!" The smell of bread and the comforting warmth of home waft out into the chill air, beckoning you inside.
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Kora reverts back to her normal form, drawing the attention of none of the remaining few of the townsfolk as they busily gulped down their food. After a few moments of waiting, the server woman brings Kora her food. Although simple, it all smells and looks very tantalizing. The woman gives you a smile and says, "This will all be 3 copper if you don't mind." As she waits for you to fish out the coins, she continues, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
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After freshening up, Anthony begins moving through familiar halls. Just like his room, not much has changed withing the halls of Grymhearth. For the most part, the walls, floor, and ceiling were all made out of polished wood. Even though the wood all gleamed the flickering lamplight and what little light suffused through the windows from the cloudy sky outside, Anthony can see the telltale marks of children all throughout the house: chipped cabinets, scratched floor, splotches of fingerpaints on walls, and many more. Grymhearth was well taken care of, but it was also well used.
As he nears the kitchen, he hears diminutive bare feet slapping against wooden floors and exuberant giggles intermingled with squealing right before flock of five children wearing white nightgowns come barreling around the corner. Looking to be all under the age of eight, they zoom past Anthony as they run through the room, laughing mirthfully all the way. As they disappear around the corner, a lone straggler appears. A little girl with long curly hair the color of pumpkins, she too runs after the other children, but she has an unsteady gait. She trips and falls to the ground, and Anthony can see that she too wears leg braces. A determined look appears on her face as she pushes herself up off the ground and continues her play chase. Undaunted, she disappears around the corner.
Anthony finds the kitchen to be a hubbub of activity. At least six people are bustling about, preparing meals for the orphans that reside her. The majority of the kitchen is made of stone rather than wood as it's usually not a good idea to let fire and wood be close to each other. The sizzling of various foods fill the air with both sound and smell. When asked if you could help, they quickly put you to work on scrubbing and dicing carrots for the supper stew. After chatting with the workers for bit, you learn that they are all saddened by the loss of Aoelwyn more than a few of them are curious about her mysterious demise. Apparently, Tom just found her body out in backyard not too far from the house early in the morning several days ago. She didn't have any noticeable wounds, nor did there seem to be any signs of trouble. A few of them also mention that the monoliths have been acting strangely since then, blocking all attempts to use magic, but they aren't sure why.
"Hey" Jared calls out to Aoufie & Akyan. "Doesn't this look like mum's writing?" he asks.
Kora thanks the woman, "The food looks delicious, thank you." and fishes out the copper from her pockets. When the woman asks if Kora needed anything else Kora gives the woman a smile and asks, "Actually, if you don't mind I have a few questions I'm hoping you can help answer?" She tucks some of her white hair behind her ear and continues, "You see, I'm here to pay my respects for the proprietor of Grymhearth. I must say I was quite shocked to hear of her death, being so young for an elf, it doesn't make sense. Please, can you tell me anything you have heard? Working at a place like this I'm sure you hear a lot. It's just... she meant a lot to me, anything you can share I'd really appreciate it."
Hearing Jared call from the bottom of the hill Aoufie trudges back with his left long ear twitching again in irritation. "You found some of Aunty Grym's writing. Hmm... let take a look" He looks at the runes that clearly were not written by Aunty Grym and tries to decipher their meaning.
Arcana Check
14
The sight of the children playing reminds him of other happy memories here. Stubbornly as he tried to avoid being seen enjoying himself at times, he'd still been a child. He was reminded of his first autumn here and feeling too grown up to carve gourd lanterns and go door to door begging for treats, but ‘suffering’ through it because Aoelwyn hadn’t wanted Akyan to go out alone. In Scornubel, no one much cared what anyone looked like as long as they had something to sell or money to spend. But here, even a little kid was looked at with suspicion for being too different. So, Anthony had endured having a hat stuck on his head and itchy straw stuck in his clothes and hair to walk around town as a lanky scarecrow with the kid who hadn’t needed to dress up to be a terrifying monster. And Anthony hadn’t been too grown up to eat sweets until he was too sick to move.
As he works, carefully and methodically ,at chopping the carrots with unsteady hands, Anthony takes in the information with the solemn grace expected of clergy, offering blessings and well wishes as well as a few words of comfort. Magic is new enough to him that it still feels rather foreign and the gods have always been fickle , following a logic that's beyond people's understanding. So he registers the loss of it as more of an inconvenience than a hardship in a personal sense. Though the strange behavior of the protective wards goes a long way to explaining what might have happened to Aoelwyn, and gives a troubling new weight to that uncomfortable feeling he'd had since arriving. He's less uncomfortable with his choice to walk around armed. He'd need to see if Tom, or anyone else had noticed anything strange... Who she'd had visiting recently or what she'd been working at.
"The gods are never without their tests for us. But it's those trials that give meaning to what we have." It's trite, yes, but delivered with the sincerity of someone who's seen the worst life has to offer from both sides. "In this we can find a small blessing. Those her generosity has touched are brought together again. Better late than never." His tone shifts and he smiles his dimpled smile and his warm brown eyes crinkle up at the corners. "So what of good news? I see there are more little ones here. Her work will continue surely?"