The Temple of Ilmater, a beacon of hope in a dangerous world!
Hundreds come here every day, seeking healing and relief from the troubles of the world. And you are among those pilgrims, bearing powerful magic items that you hope to cleanse of a dark taint.
But as the day slowly comes to a close, and you have each seen dozens of priests, each one more experienced than the last, it is slowly becoming clear that, even in this place that serves as a beacon of hope, none possess the skill needed to free you of the burdens that you bear. Finally, when the rest of the pilgrims have departed for the night free of their afflictions, you six remain.
Standing in the massive hall, you wait with baited breathe for the High Priest to see you, your final hope of achieving respite from the darkness that you bear...
(OOC: Please introduce your characters, and feel free to describe what you do while you wait for the High Priest's arrival)
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Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
Korbastands leaning against against a pole, clearly tired. He is a drow half-elf, though those not familiar with elves and their kin might mistake him for full drow, with his skin a dark almost blue black, and shoulder length silver white hair tied back behind his head. He wears a set of chain armor, carries a shield, and has a simple cloak drapped over himself. All of this appears to be very well made, though likely has seen better days. Except a longsword in its sheath next to him. That is pristine, and almost seems to give an aura off it. Korba also wears small, but entirely black sunglasses, hiding his eyes, and where, or what, he is looking at. Though you can see by the way that he has positioned himself in the room that he will leave nothing to chance, and no way to get behind him, perhaps almost keeping a lookout for danger, though why there would be danger in a temple is hard to guess.
A beautiful, auburn-haired half-elf woman looks out from the window. Jodie wears dark leather armor and has a rapier at her side. On the ground next to her is a small harp nestled in a leather case. She hums as if in a kind of trace, trying to sort out some tune in her mind. She looks about the room, curious about the others in attendance and if their problems rival her own.
Rhaenys paces nervously around the room, wondering when the High Priest will arrive. The High Priest will surely solve everything. He has to. Though her predicament has been going on for months, it's been like ages for her.
She is tiny, really tiny. Her height spanning 3 feet at most. She's wearing a hooded cloak covering all her body, thought it definitely doesn't fit her height. That cloak is waaaay way longer than any common halfling would need. And Rhaenys has managed to wrap it at some places so it can somewhat fit her tiny figure. Under the robe a light purple gown can be seen. With a tiny hand she's holding a bronze-colored staff. It appears to be a very simple staff, which is divided into two parts at the middle that coil among themselves until they unite again at the tip.
As she paces, Rhaenys is muttering something, as if talking to herself. At a given moment she sneezes, and suddenly she's tiny no more. In the blink of the eye, a tall, enormous and ... hairy!?!... male bugbear has replaced the halfling. The cloak now only covers up to the middle of his back. It is really strange to see a male bugbear dressed in a gown.
- I HATE YOU!! - the bugbear yells to no one in particular.
"Hehehe...", a deep voice laughs in Rhaenys' mind.
Frustrated, the bugbear begins to manipulate the cloak so it falls to its full length, covering most of the tall and well built figure.
Startled by the halfling, now bugbear, Korba looks around the room to make sure he’s not the only one who just saw this display. Still keeping his back to a wall he takes a step forward, his movement betraying a feline grace as well as a strange fragility, and the asks cautiously, “need a handkerchief?” As he pulls out a small cloth that, like the rest of equipment sans the sword, is clearly well made, but just as clearly has seen better days.
- What I need is a miracle - he says, looking at the half-drow from his towering height - ... but thank you - He takes the offered handkerchief and removes a couple of tears that the sudden uncontrolled transformation has brought to his eyes. It's not the first time that happens, but Rhaenys will never grow accustomed. Once again, it's very weird to see a bugbear displaying such a delicate behaviour - My name is Rhaenys. And I'm not a bugbear. Nor a halfling. Nor a tabaxi, before that. This stupid staff makes me change shapes uncontrollably. That's why I came here, to look for help.
He returns the handkerchief and adds:
- Sorry for yelling, by the way. Nice to meet you. Are you looking for a miracle too?
- I would say, we all do look for one if we are still here. - said a human sitting with his face facing down in one of the alcoves. He sits on his heels and is rearranging his belongings, pulling some tools from backpack and putting them in a carry-around chest. - But unfortunately since we are still here i am afraid no such thing is available for us. - He proceeds to arrange his things and attaching the chest to the bottom part of the backpack. - Don't get your hopes up, but i do hope for some guidance at least, some... direction. - Packed up again he lifts his backpack with some trouble, that is a lot of weight for such a frail man, and for the first time his face begins to aim higher that the floor. - Let's pray to the Ilmater and hope for salvation... Oh and nice to meet you, my name is Tytus. - For a quick glance of his face when he showed it at last you see a half-smile on this skinny face with very simple features before it disappears along with the whole person. Ahhh... . - A sigh is heard from a place where he just stood.
Hesitating only long enough to realize that someone looking for a miracle is likely not a threat, from behind his sunglasses he replies, “You may call me Korba. A miracle? I am not sure, but yes, I am hoping to find help. I am not sure if I should be grateful, or worried, that I am not the only one though.”
Earlier in the day, Hewelathan had passed the time helping some of the other pilgrims. He would help carry a sick relative from the doors up to the priests or support a crippled individual limp forward. But as the crowd thinned, he had finally settled down on the ground near a window. A bulging backpack and sack of some provisions are on the ground next to him, his plain wooden shield propped up against them. Light streamed through the window, but the clouds obscured the sky above. The view seems to depress him, so he turns back inside as the crowd thins to just six of them. He thinks that it must be his turn soon. "Perhaps these priests would be able to help," he thinks optimistically.
Hewelathan gets up as the others start to talk, eager for something to break the monotony of waiting. "Hullo there!", he says, gathering his things. He stands barely 5' tall with a slight build, but the way his easily lifts the backpack and sack seem somehow incongruous, like they weigh barely anything at all despite the contents straining at the straps.
As he approaches, you see a face that looks like a young human at first, barely in his twenties, but the slight build, high check bones, and almond-shaped eyes make you think half-elf. It's hard to tell for sure since his messy dark hair spills to his shoulders and covers his ears. He moves with an unusually light step for one carrying what must be more than 60 lbs of gear. "I say! What a long wait, huh?", he says, joining the little group.
Hewelathan looks unkempt, like someone who's been sleeping outdoors under a bush. He wears leather armor with a long traveling cloak over his shoulders, and his clothes are spattered with mud. But none of that is too unusual for someone who has been traveling on wet, muddy roads. The item that draws your eyes is his belt: it's unusually wide with a big, gaudy clasp and an ornate but outlandish design. It doesn't seem to match any of his other gear, which seems quite common and plain. You wonder why Hewelathan made the choice to wear such a belt.
He offers his hand to shake with anyone who accepts, repeating, "Hi. Nice to meet you. My name is Hewelathan," or, "Hello. I'm Hewelathan," as he shakes hands. "Are you all also awaiting the assistance of the high priest here?"
- Nice to meet you, Korba. And you too, Tyt... oh? - the bugbear, with his deep voice, exclaims while looking to one side and the other - Are you still here? Can't you control it, either? We definitely need help - As Rhaenys says this, she looks at Korba curiously, not knowing what the half-drow might need. He doesn't seem to have any problem at first glance.
When Hewelathan addresses them Rhaenys motions as if to shake his hand, but stops midway when he realizes the shape of his big furry hand. Better not to touch, he thinks. Who knows what kind of interactions the cursed staff can find amusing enough to trigger another shapechange:
- Hello. Yes, we are waiting for the High Priest. Let's hope he comes to us soon, we've been waiting for a long while now. Is there any kind of curse tormenting you too? You look fine to me, same as Korba here. Well, I don't mean to pry, sorry for my asking.
Tytus comes back to the visual word with his head pointed down again.
- i can control it most of the time, just not when it really matters. - with head still down and only slightly tilted towards Hewelathan he holds out his hand for a handshake. - Hello mister, good fortune to you. Feeling uncomfortable with his head down around other people he sets himself back down to the alcove where he was managing his gear. Not far from others, just more on the side than in center and lower to the ground. He then takes a minute to pray a little in his mind. He never was much of a faith person. However being in here fills him with hope, against the reason as he does not believes he can get off so easy, but the hope is there. It is nice to feel as that hope nests deep in his heart. Those people he met make him feel a little better, like they understand... it is a nice encounter here in Ilmater temple.
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Currently playing: DM - Dragon of Icespire Peak | Tytus Wolan - Warlock (Chronicles of the Accursed) | Biezdar Kamrazzan - Warrior (Icespire Peak)
When Hewelathan addresses them Rhaenys motions as if to shake his hand, but stops midway when he realizes the shape of his big furry hand. Better not to touch, he thinks. Who knows what kind of interactions the cursed staff can find amusing enough to trigger another shapechange:
- Hello. Yes, we are waiting for the High Priest. Let's hope he comes to us soon, we've been waiting for a long while now. Is there any kind of curse tormenting you too? You look fine to me, same as Korba here. Well, I don't mean to pry, sorry for my asking.
Hewelathan gives a curious and somewhat amused look as the furry hand drops. Having seen Rhaenys change into a bugbear as he walked over, he asks, "What's that about a curse? I wouldn't say tormented exactly. I was lucky enough to come across this belt!" He pushes back the cloak to display it proudly. "Its magic is quite powerful, believe me! But, yes, I've noticed some...um...odd things since I started wearing it. The leaders of my order suggested that I come to the priests of the One who Endures to see whether they could help."
"Oh! Does that mean you are cursed with shape-changing? That would be lucky! I've always been fascinated by creatures whose spirit is strong enough to change the shell that it wears. Or...did you make that other fellow disappear somehow?"
Tytus comes back to the visual word with his head pointed down again.
- i can control it most of the time, just not when it really matters. - with head still down and only slightly tilted towards Hewelathan he holds out his hand for a handshake. - Hello mister, good fortune to you.
"And to you, good fellow! Tytus?", Hewelathan says, shaking Tytus's hand vigorously with a surprisingly strong grip for such a little half-elf.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Jodie smiles as she sees the once stranger begin to exchange words and sing a few words
Gather round and be still your mirth Hear the chronicles of thee accursed. Reshape the body or rend the mind Break the curse if there's time...
Jodie pops up from her spot and bounds over to the group, "Hey, the name's Jodie. Looks like we're in a similar situation, of sorts. I'd introduce you my curse, but eh... I just don't know how that might go." Jodie bites her lip sheepishly and smiles and looks around to change the conversation.
Jodie leans in to get a closer look at Hewelathan's belt, "Say, that is fancy! It helps draw attention away from your face."Persuasion18
(Jodie: Who are you trying to persuade, and what are you trying to persuade them of?)
You stand around chatting for a few minutes, before you hear a door creak open. You all turn to see a tall elvish man with a beard dressed in white.
"May Ilmater's blessing be upon you, friends," he tells you all with a kindly smile. "I am High Priest Alaion Grewynn. Come, dear friends, tell me what troubles you all so..."
As he stands before you, you can feel an otherworldly presence about him. But a warm and inviting one. Though you have only just met him, it feels as if you have known this man for your entire life.
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Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
Entering the temple at this late hour walks a young human, wearing a heavy suit of armor that looks pretty clean and new, as if it hasn't seen a single fight. Tyr's symbol is engraved in the chest of it, as well as in the cloak the human wears. He has blond, ondulated and long hair just to his shoulders and has a four days old beard. Strapped on his right shoulder is a shinny polished shield and on his left hip he wears a longsword of excellent craftmanship. He walks in, looking around as if he was looking for something or someone, he then sees the people gather there and starts talking.
"Oh Wellmet I am... oh my Godness!! a bugbear!! in here??!" he takes a step back, the rest couldn't say if he was surprised or scared or both. As he looked around he exclaims "And a DROW?!" he now definetly seems to start running " Someone call for help!" he yells and inmediatly he talks with another voice, deeper, commanding.
"You idiot! YOU are the help!! Don't you dare to run away!!" He stops and slowly his right hand grabs the hilt of his sword as he turned around. "Now say something to reassure the others!"He looks around and with his first voice he says "Do.. don't you worry we... I... I will save you..."but the look on his face is that he is not really sure of what he is doing.
"A drow that speaks with one voice at least. But do not worry young knight, I am not a threat. We are all here seeking help it seems," Korba says looking at the schizophrenic newcomer. Then seeing the human's equipment notes, "And you I perhaps have similar training. We might not be as different as you think."
Looking then to the priest, Korba says quietly, "As you can see, my kind are not as welcome here as some. But I am in need of assistance. And my search has led me to Ilmater as perhaps the only one who can provide this."
"Oh! Does that mean you are cursed with shape-changing? That would be lucky! I've always been fascinated by creatures whose spirit is strong enough to change the shell that it wears. Or...did you make that other fellow disappear somehow?"
Hearing this, Rhaenys replies:
- Oh no no, I didn't cause him to disappear! And I am cursed with uncontrolled shapeshifting - He stops for a moment and seems though he seems to want to say more, he doesn't do it. Should he say that he is a changeling? People don't find them trustworthy, but then again, this group that seems to be in similar predicaments as him would perhaps be more welcoming.
As he's thinking this, a voice interrupts him.
"Ohh, poor baby Rhaenys is afraid of disclosing their true nature? Weren't you so proud of it? Are you a scaredy little one?"
- Shut up! - the bugbear says suddenly, and turning to Hewelathan adds - Sorry, that wasn't for you. You see I'm a ... I'm a changeling. But since I got this staff, I can't shapeshift at will. The staff controls my shapeshifting when it wishes. That is my curse. That is why I'm here. And I can't just throw it away because it keeps coming back to me. Well, and also, it's powerful indeed!! I would like the curse to be removed and keep the staff if possible. I can deal with it's constant talking in my head. I think - Deep inside, Rhaenys doubts that last part.
When Jodie joins them, Rhaenys turns to address her, but then a shout comes from behind:
- Oh my Goodness!! a bugbear!! in here??!
The bugbear jumps in surprise, turns to look at whoever has said this and takes a few steps back...
"Oh, the newcomer doesn't appreciate your current form? Dully noted".
... and suddenly, the bugbear is no more. In his place, a young human child appears, looking no more than ten years in age. Short blond hair, hazel eyes and face covered in freckles. The cloak and gown now are so large that it looks like the kid has taken her mamma's clothes to play adult.
- Fantastic - is all Rhaenys says, with a female child's voice. And noticing that the High Priest has been standing there for a while, she tells him - This is what troubles me! This f*cker here - she says, showing him the staff - has cursed me and makes me change according to its whims! I can control my shapeshifting no longer. And everytime I've tried to throw the staff away, it simply returns to my hand.
The kid takes a long breath, trying to calm herself - as an adult would do - and adds:
- Sorry for my swearing. This gets on my nerves all the time.
Tytus comes waits a bit for the ruckus to settle down, then proceeds to approach the high priests. With his head facing the floor he is now not sure how to greet properly, he initially wanted to give a slight bow, but with his head constantly bowed he ends up making a weird looking deeper bow with his upper body.
- Thank you mr. High Priest for making time to meet us. I would like to ask for your assistance in my problem. I have a ring /Tytus presents his left hand with a ring on his ring finger/ that was forced on my hand. I do not know the origins of that item, all i know is that it was in possession of some cultists. Ring has the ability to make me invisible along with everything that i have on myself. I can usually decide when to use that power, but it also does activates by itself. It happens when i want to make eye contact and connect to somebody. I think it wants me to be lonely. It won't always activate when i am roaming the streets and have an accidental eye contact with a passer-by, but if i wanted to ask that mentioned passer-by for some directions, it would make me disappear. Oh, and i can not take it off.
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Currently playing: DM - Dragon of Icespire Peak | Tytus Wolan - Warlock (Chronicles of the Accursed) | Biezdar Kamrazzan - Warrior (Icespire Peak)
Jodie listens wide-eyed to the tales of the others, grimacing at Rhaenys's abrupt shaping-changing. She waits on Tytus's tale, keen on getting a look at an actual ring of invisibility. When the moment presents itself, she adds her story.
"Those sound inconvenient, yes. But mister High Priest, I have a rather unique situation. There's an evil fey eladrin spirit bound to this harp. If the wrong note is played, it weakens the abjuration that binds him... kinda like the top of a soap bubble." Jodie flicks her fingers in a kind of popping motion
"I've seen him visit twice. The first time, we were performing for a barbarian tribe and he made them all crazy. It was a slaughter. All I remember is him laughing he ridiculed our former lead and the barbarians slew the troupe. I was the only one to escape. I instinctually grabbed the harp. He looked at me and said 'Smiler is listening'. When I attuned myself to it, I immediately sensed the souls Smiler is carrying in 7 soul coins. I think somehow I need to free the souls to break the curse."
Jodie leans in to get a closer look at Hewelathan's belt, "Say, that is fancy! It helps draw attention away from your face."Persuasion14
She continues to smile.
"Yes, yes. Just as well. My face has never been much to look at," Hewelathan replies. His tone is friendly, and he has a relaxed, easy manner, but his expression shows some doubt or suspicion.
"You idiot! YOU are the help!! Don't you dare to run away!!" He stops and slowly his right hand grabs the hilt of his sword as he turned around. "Now say something to reassure the others!"He looks around and with his first voice he says "Do.. don't you worry we... I... I will save you..."but the look on his face is that he is not really sure of what he is doing.
Standing near the bugbear, who suddenly turns into an adolescent, is a half-elf wearing a mud-spattered cloak and a gaudy, outlandish-looking belt. He lets out a laugh at the newcomer's words, "Ho ho ho! Come-come, brave knight! There's no danger: we're all supplicants here."
He beckons you toward the group, apparently unworried and still chuckling silently. "Come! Join us! Maybe Ilmater's priests can help you settle your argument?", he says, referencing the apparent argument the knight was having with himself.
When I attuned myself to it, I immediately sensed the souls Smiler is carrying in 7 soul coins. I think somehow I need to free the souls to break the curse."
Hearing these other curses, Hewelathan says, "Well, now I feel a little silly. I wouldn't say that I'm battling a curse, really. It's just, you see, I have recently taken possession of this powerful, magical belt. Understand: I do not want to get rid of it. I'm sure that I could--whenever I wanted! But I'd like to keep it and use its power in service of Mielikki and Selûne. It's just that I've noticed some odd things since I started wearing. For example, it seems like I'm always hungry! I've been eating twice as much as did before." Hewelathan finally drops to a more regular "indoor voice" volume. He sounds nervous and much less certain as he says,"And there have been some other...um...some...I guess you could say say 'bad events.' Catastrophes even? Now, I'm not sure whether they're related to the belt, but--well, I'd like to be sure before it happens again."
The Temple of Ilmater, a beacon of hope in a dangerous world!
Hundreds come here every day, seeking healing and relief from the troubles of the world. And you are among those pilgrims, bearing powerful magic items that you hope to cleanse of a dark taint.
But as the day slowly comes to a close, and you have each seen dozens of priests, each one more experienced than the last, it is slowly becoming clear that, even in this place that serves as a beacon of hope, none possess the skill needed to free you of the burdens that you bear. Finally, when the rest of the pilgrims have departed for the night free of their afflictions, you six remain.
Standing in the massive hall, you wait with baited breathe for the High Priest to see you, your final hope of achieving respite from the darkness that you bear...
(OOC: Please introduce your characters, and feel free to describe what you do while you wait for the High Priest's arrival)
Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
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Korba stands leaning against against a pole, clearly tired. He is a drow half-elf, though those not familiar with elves and their kin might mistake him for full drow, with his skin a dark almost blue black, and shoulder length silver white hair tied back behind his head. He wears a set of chain armor, carries a shield, and has a simple cloak drapped over himself. All of this appears to be very well made, though likely has seen better days. Except a longsword in its sheath next to him. That is pristine, and almost seems to give an aura off it. Korba also wears small, but entirely black sunglasses, hiding his eyes, and where, or what, he is looking at. Though you can see by the way that he has positioned himself in the room that he will leave nothing to chance, and no way to get behind him, perhaps almost keeping a lookout for danger, though why there would be danger in a temple is hard to guess.
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
A beautiful, auburn-haired half-elf woman looks out from the window. Jodie wears dark leather armor and has a rapier at her side. On the ground next to her is a small harp nestled in a leather case. She hums as if in a kind of trace, trying to sort out some tune in her mind. She looks about the room, curious about the others in attendance and if their problems rival her own.

Fargen Hill Dwarf Cleric/Barbarian - Hoard of the Dragon Queen, Jodie Olwen Half-Elf Bard- Chronicles of the Accursed
Rhaenys paces nervously around the room, wondering when the High Priest will arrive. The High Priest will surely solve everything. He has to. Though her predicament has been going on for months, it's been like ages for her.
She is tiny, really tiny. Her height spanning 3 feet at most. She's wearing a hooded cloak covering all her body, thought it definitely doesn't fit her height. That cloak is waaaay way longer than any common halfling would need. And Rhaenys has managed to wrap it at some places so it can somewhat fit her tiny figure. Under the robe a light purple gown can be seen. With a tiny hand she's holding a bronze-colored staff. It appears to be a very simple staff, which is divided into two parts at the middle that coil among themselves until they unite again at the tip.
As she paces, Rhaenys is muttering something, as if talking to herself. At a given moment she sneezes, and suddenly she's tiny no more. In the blink of the eye, a tall, enormous and ... hairy!?!... male bugbear has replaced the halfling. The cloak now only covers up to the middle of his back. It is really strange to see a male bugbear dressed in a gown.
- I HATE YOU!! - the bugbear yells to no one in particular.
"Hehehe...", a deep voice laughs in Rhaenys' mind.
Frustrated, the bugbear begins to manipulate the cloak so it falls to its full length, covering most of the tall and well built figure.
It's only forever, not long at all ♫ Nessa | Saxa | Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Aisling
Startled by the halfling, now bugbear, Korba looks around the room to make sure he’s not the only one who just saw this display. Still keeping his back to a wall he takes a step forward, his movement betraying a feline grace as well as a strange fragility, and the asks cautiously, “need a handkerchief?” As he pulls out a small cloth that, like the rest of equipment sans the sword, is clearly well made, but just as clearly has seen better days.
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
The bugbear flinches and lets out a gasp.
- What I need is a miracle - he says, looking at the half-drow from his towering height - ... but thank you - He takes the offered handkerchief and removes a couple of tears that the sudden uncontrolled transformation has brought to his eyes. It's not the first time that happens, but Rhaenys will never grow accustomed. Once again, it's very weird to see a bugbear displaying such a delicate behaviour - My name is Rhaenys. And I'm not a bugbear. Nor a halfling. Nor a tabaxi, before that. This stupid staff makes me change shapes uncontrollably. That's why I came here, to look for help.
He returns the handkerchief and adds:
- Sorry for yelling, by the way. Nice to meet you. Are you looking for a miracle too?
It's only forever, not long at all ♫ Nessa | Saxa | Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Aisling
- I would say, we all do look for one if we are still here. - said a human sitting with his face facing down in one of the alcoves. He sits on his heels and is rearranging his belongings, pulling some tools from backpack and putting them in a carry-around chest.
- But unfortunately since we are still here i am afraid no such thing is available for us. - He proceeds to arrange his things and attaching the chest to the bottom part of the backpack.
- Don't get your hopes up, but i do hope for some guidance at least, some... direction. - Packed up again he lifts his backpack with some trouble, that is a lot of weight for such a frail man, and for the first time his face begins to aim higher that the floor.
- Let's pray to the Ilmater and hope for salvation... Oh and nice to meet you, my name is Tytus. - For a quick glance of his face when he showed it at last you see a half-smile on this skinny face with very simple features before it disappears along with the whole person.
Ahhh... . - A sigh is heard from a place where he just stood.
Currently playing: DM - Dragon of Icespire Peak | Tytus Wolan - Warlock (Chronicles of the Accursed) | Biezdar Kamrazzan - Warrior (Icespire Peak)
Hesitating only long enough to realize that someone looking for a miracle is likely not a threat, from behind his sunglasses he replies, “You may call me Korba. A miracle? I am not sure, but yes, I am hoping to find help. I am not sure if I should be grateful, or worried, that I am not the only one though.”
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Earlier in the day, Hewelathan had passed the time helping some of the other pilgrims. He would help carry a sick relative from the doors up to the priests or support a crippled individual limp forward. But as the crowd thinned, he had finally settled down on the ground near a window. A bulging backpack and sack of some provisions are on the ground next to him, his plain wooden shield propped up against them. Light streamed through the window, but the clouds obscured the sky above. The view seems to depress him, so he turns back inside as the crowd thins to just six of them. He thinks that it must be his turn soon. "Perhaps these priests would be able to help," he thinks optimistically.
Hewelathan gets up as the others start to talk, eager for something to break the monotony of waiting. "Hullo there!", he says, gathering his things. He stands barely 5' tall with a slight build, but the way his easily lifts the backpack and sack seem somehow incongruous, like they weigh barely anything at all despite the contents straining at the straps.
As he approaches, you see a face that looks like a young human at first, barely in his twenties, but the slight build, high check bones, and almond-shaped eyes make you think half-elf. It's hard to tell for sure since his messy dark hair spills to his shoulders and covers his ears. He moves with an unusually light step for one carrying what must be more than 60 lbs of gear. "I say! What a long wait, huh?", he says, joining the little group.
Hewelathan looks unkempt, like someone who's been sleeping outdoors under a bush. He wears leather armor with a long traveling cloak over his shoulders, and his clothes are spattered with mud. But none of that is too unusual for someone who has been traveling on wet, muddy roads. The item that draws your eyes is his belt: it's unusually wide with a big, gaudy clasp and an ornate but outlandish design. It doesn't seem to match any of his other gear, which seems quite common and plain. You wonder why Hewelathan made the choice to wear such a belt.
He offers his hand to shake with anyone who accepts, repeating, "Hi. Nice to meet you. My name is Hewelathan," or, "Hello. I'm Hewelathan," as he shakes hands. "Are you all also awaiting the assistance of the high priest here?"
- Nice to meet you, Korba. And you too, Tyt... oh? - the bugbear, with his deep voice, exclaims while looking to one side and the other - Are you still here? Can't you control it, either? We definitely need help - As Rhaenys says this, she looks at Korba curiously, not knowing what the half-drow might need. He doesn't seem to have any problem at first glance.
When Hewelathan addresses them Rhaenys motions as if to shake his hand, but stops midway when he realizes the shape of his big furry hand. Better not to touch, he thinks. Who knows what kind of interactions the cursed staff can find amusing enough to trigger another shapechange:
- Hello. Yes, we are waiting for the High Priest. Let's hope he comes to us soon, we've been waiting for a long while now. Is there any kind of curse tormenting you too? You look fine to me, same as Korba here. Well, I don't mean to pry, sorry for my asking.
It's only forever, not long at all ♫ Nessa | Saxa | Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Aisling
Tytus comes back to the visual word with his head pointed down again.
- i can control it most of the time, just not when it really matters. - with head still down and only slightly tilted towards Hewelathan he holds out his hand for a handshake.
- Hello mister, good fortune to you.
Feeling uncomfortable with his head down around other people he sets himself back down to the alcove where he was managing his gear. Not far from others, just more on the side than in center and lower to the ground. He then takes a minute to pray a little in his mind. He never was much of a faith person. However being in here fills him with hope, against the reason as he does not believes he can get off so easy, but the hope is there. It is nice to feel as that hope nests deep in his heart. Those people he met make him feel a little better, like they understand... it is a nice encounter here in Ilmater temple.
Currently playing: DM - Dragon of Icespire Peak | Tytus Wolan - Warlock (Chronicles of the Accursed) | Biezdar Kamrazzan - Warrior (Icespire Peak)
Hewelathan gives a curious and somewhat amused look as the furry hand drops. Having seen Rhaenys change into a bugbear as he walked over, he asks, "What's that about a curse? I wouldn't say tormented exactly. I was lucky enough to come across this belt!" He pushes back the cloak to display it proudly. "Its magic is quite powerful, believe me! But, yes, I've noticed some...um...odd things since I started wearing it. The leaders of my order suggested that I come to the priests of the One who Endures to see whether they could help."
"Oh! Does that mean you are cursed with shape-changing? That would be lucky! I've always been fascinated by creatures whose spirit is strong enough to change the shell that it wears. Or...did you make that other fellow disappear somehow?"
"And to you, good fellow! Tytus?", Hewelathan says, shaking Tytus's hand vigorously with a surprisingly strong grip for such a little half-elf.
Jodie smiles as she sees the once stranger begin to exchange words and sing a few words
Gather round and be still your mirth
Hear the chronicles of thee accursed.
Reshape the body or rend the mind
Break the curse if there's time...
Jodie pops up from her spot and bounds over to the group, "Hey, the name's Jodie. Looks like we're in a similar situation, of sorts. I'd introduce you my curse, but eh... I just don't know how that might go." Jodie bites her lip sheepishly and smiles and looks around to change the conversation.
Jodie leans in to get a closer look at Hewelathan's belt, "Say, that is fancy! It helps draw attention away from your face." Persuasion 18
She continues to smile.
Fargen Hill Dwarf Cleric/Barbarian - Hoard of the Dragon Queen, Jodie Olwen Half-Elf Bard- Chronicles of the Accursed
(Jodie: Who are you trying to persuade, and what are you trying to persuade them of?)

You stand around chatting for a few minutes, before you hear a door creak open. You all turn to see a tall elvish man with a beard dressed in white.
"May Ilmater's blessing be upon you, friends," he tells you all with a kindly smile. "I am High Priest Alaion Grewynn. Come, dear friends, tell me what troubles you all so..."
As he stands before you, you can feel an otherworldly presence about him. But a warm and inviting one. Though you have only just met him, it feels as if you have known this man for your entire life.
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Entering the temple at this late hour walks a young human, wearing a heavy suit of armor that looks pretty clean and new, as if it hasn't seen a single fight. Tyr's symbol is engraved in the chest of it, as well as in the cloak the human wears. He has blond, ondulated and long hair just to his shoulders and has a four days old beard. Strapped on his right shoulder is a shinny polished shield and on his left hip he wears a longsword of excellent craftmanship.
He walks in, looking around as if he was looking for something or someone, he then sees the people gather there and starts talking.
"Oh Wellmet I am... oh my Godness!! a bugbear!! in here??!" he takes a step back, the rest couldn't say if he was surprised or scared or both. As he looked around he exclaims "And a DROW?!" he now definetly seems to start running " Someone call for help!" he yells and inmediatly he talks with another voice, deeper, commanding.
"You idiot! YOU are the help!! Don't you dare to run away!!" He stops and slowly his right hand grabs the hilt of his sword as he turned around. "Now say something to reassure the others!" He looks around and with his first voice he says "Do.. don't you worry we... I... I will save you..." but the look on his face is that he is not really sure of what he is doing.
PbP Character: A few ;)
"A drow that speaks with one voice at least. But do not worry young knight, I am not a threat. We are all here seeking help it seems," Korba says looking at the schizophrenic newcomer. Then seeing the human's equipment notes, "And you I perhaps have similar training. We might not be as different as you think."
Looking then to the priest, Korba says quietly, "As you can see, my kind are not as welcome here as some. But I am in need of assistance. And my search has led me to Ilmater as perhaps the only one who can provide this."
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Hearing this, Rhaenys replies:
- Oh no no, I didn't cause him to disappear! And I am cursed with uncontrolled shapeshifting - He stops for a moment and seems though he seems to want to say more, he doesn't do it. Should he say that he is a changeling? People don't find them trustworthy, but then again, this group that seems to be in similar predicaments as him would perhaps be more welcoming.
As he's thinking this, a voice interrupts him.
"Ohh, poor baby Rhaenys is afraid of disclosing their true nature? Weren't you so proud of it? Are you a scaredy little one?"
- Shut up! - the bugbear says suddenly, and turning to Hewelathan adds - Sorry, that wasn't for you. You see I'm a ... I'm a changeling. But since I got this staff, I can't shapeshift at will. The staff controls my shapeshifting when it wishes. That is my curse. That is why I'm here. And I can't just throw it away because it keeps coming back to me. Well, and also, it's powerful indeed!! I would like the curse to be removed and keep the staff if possible. I can deal with it's constant talking in my head. I think - Deep inside, Rhaenys doubts that last part.
When Jodie joins them, Rhaenys turns to address her, but then a shout comes from behind:
- Oh my Goodness!! a bugbear!! in here??!
The bugbear jumps in surprise, turns to look at whoever has said this and takes a few steps back...
"Oh, the newcomer doesn't appreciate your current form? Dully noted".
... and suddenly, the bugbear is no more. In his place, a young human child appears, looking no more than ten years in age. Short blond hair, hazel eyes and face covered in freckles. The cloak and gown now are so large that it looks like the kid has taken her mamma's clothes to play adult.
- Fantastic - is all Rhaenys says, with a female child's voice. And noticing that the High Priest has been standing there for a while, she tells him - This is what troubles me! This f*cker here - she says, showing him the staff - has cursed me and makes me change according to its whims! I can control my shapeshifting no longer. And everytime I've tried to throw the staff away, it simply returns to my hand.
The kid takes a long breath, trying to calm herself - as an adult would do - and adds:
- Sorry for my swearing. This gets on my nerves all the time.
It's only forever, not long at all ♫ Nessa | Saxa | Auriel | Chase | Shenua | Aisling
Tytus comes waits a bit for the ruckus to settle down, then proceeds to approach the high priests. With his head facing the floor he is now not sure how to greet properly, he initially wanted to give a slight bow, but with his head constantly bowed he ends up making a weird looking deeper bow with his upper body.
- Thank you mr. High Priest for making time to meet us. I would like to ask for your assistance in my problem. I have a ring /Tytus presents his left hand with a ring on his ring finger/ that was forced on my hand. I do not know the origins of that item, all i know is that it was in possession of some cultists. Ring has the ability to make me invisible along with everything that i have on myself. I can usually decide when to use that power, but it also does activates by itself. It happens when i want to make eye contact and connect to somebody. I think it wants me to be lonely. It won't always activate when i am roaming the streets and have an accidental eye contact with a passer-by, but if i wanted to ask that mentioned passer-by for some directions, it would make me disappear. Oh, and i can not take it off.
Currently playing: DM - Dragon of Icespire Peak | Tytus Wolan - Warlock (Chronicles of the Accursed) | Biezdar Kamrazzan - Warrior (Icespire Peak)
Jodie listens wide-eyed to the tales of the others, grimacing at Rhaenys's abrupt shaping-changing. She waits on Tytus's tale, keen on getting a look at an actual ring of invisibility. When the moment presents itself, she adds her story.
"Those sound inconvenient, yes. But mister High Priest, I have a rather unique situation. There's an evil fey eladrin spirit bound to this harp. If the wrong note is played, it weakens the abjuration that binds him... kinda like the top of a soap bubble." Jodie flicks her fingers in a kind of popping motion
"I've seen him visit twice. The first time, we were performing for a barbarian tribe and he made them all crazy. It was a slaughter. All I remember is him laughing he ridiculed our former lead and the barbarians slew the troupe. I was the only one to escape. I instinctually grabbed the harp. He looked at me and said 'Smiler is listening'. When I attuned myself to it, I immediately sensed the souls Smiler is carrying in 7 soul coins. I think somehow I need to free the souls to break the curse."
Fargen Hill Dwarf Cleric/Barbarian - Hoard of the Dragon Queen, Jodie Olwen Half-Elf Bard- Chronicles of the Accursed
"Yes, yes. Just as well. My face has never been much to look at," Hewelathan replies. His tone is friendly, and he has a relaxed, easy manner, but his expression shows some doubt or suspicion.
Standing near the bugbear, who suddenly turns into an adolescent, is a half-elf wearing a mud-spattered cloak and a gaudy, outlandish-looking belt. He lets out a laugh at the newcomer's words, "Ho ho ho! Come-come, brave knight! There's no danger: we're all supplicants here."
He beckons you toward the group, apparently unworried and still chuckling silently. "Come! Join us! Maybe Ilmater's priests can help you settle your argument?", he says, referencing the apparent argument the knight was having with himself.
Hearing these other curses, Hewelathan says, "Well, now I feel a little silly. I wouldn't say that I'm battling a curse, really. It's just, you see, I have recently taken possession of this powerful, magical belt. Understand: I do not want to get rid of it. I'm sure that I could--whenever I wanted! But I'd like to keep it and use its power in service of Mielikki and Selûne. It's just that I've noticed some odd things since I started wearing. For example, it seems like I'm always hungry! I've been eating twice as much as did before." Hewelathan finally drops to a more regular "indoor voice" volume. He sounds nervous and much less certain as he says, "And there have been some other...um...some...I guess you could say say 'bad events.' Catastrophes even? Now, I'm not sure whether they're related to the belt, but--well, I'd like to be sure before it happens again."