asher eats the food offered grumbling about baths , he sniffs himself and grimness " gess i better , some one of my scholarly background cant be seen as a savage "
asher eats the food offered grumbling about baths , he sniffs himself and grimness " gess i better , some one of my scholarly background cant be seen as a savage "
A scent of soap fills the air, and steam from warm water as well. It's now or never. Chescha's domineering voice calls down,"If thine tail hath not found itself into thy bath soon, me son will assist."Her son is almost as scary as her. He'd best hurry, lest he be washed like a hatchling.
Korbiña has options to prepare. The woods around the village are full of natural resources, as Quartz was quick to surmise. Restorative herbs, materials, etc may be marginally easier to acquire, with the Firbolg's help.
The fog and its mysteries may be best revealed by a scholarly source. Asher's been perusing their archives for study since they arrived, so he and the archivist may be her best lead.
Serescal is the village elder, and appears knowledgeable of the people threatening them, as does Sceilie. Lelantus is recovering at the elders' hall, so maybe he can help her convince the old scale to spill some information. Her alternative is to butter up Sceilie instead, coax information on who she was afraid of. But that may take Korbiña's own charm to accomplish...
Korbiña sighs thinking of her options and looks at Sceilie as they are having breakfast and sits real close to her, speaking soft and a little hushed "Sceilie... I'm afraid the day of departure is drawing neigh. May I ask you some questions about this island and the village?" Under the table she takes Sceilie's hand and squeezes it gently and reassuring Sceilie of Korbiña's presence "maybe we could take a walk?"
Rising from his slumber among the trees, Quartz sniffs rhe air. The enticing aroma of breakfast rouses him and he makes his way i to the building where it is being prepared.
On his way, he sees Lelantus, stumbling back his dwelling. "The sun's barely risen and already he's there sheet." The giant mutters, shaking his head.
After he grabs bite and thanks his hosts for their hospitality, Quartz sets off in search fir the village elder, whom, he is told, can be found in his study.
Quartz knocks gently at the door, but at the touch of the giant's knuckles, the sound is anything but subtle.
"A-as it's m-my imperative unto t-thee to lend a-aid, I s-shall. I plead thee j-just afford m-me a m-moment to tend the f-f-fire."she stammers profusely, trying to remain coherent. The two quietly excuse themselves from the table, proceeding outside to the smithy.
Korbiña was surprised when it was initially mentioned that the timid young woman was the village smith. With such a meek frame and slender arms, free of burns or ash, it wasn't until she had picked up the hammer and begun casting nails that her talent had taken form. The girl rolls her sleeves and throws her hood back, peering into the forge, assessing the heat.
As she does so, the Sorceress hears footsteps behind her. Already, she knows. The tiefling turns to find her would-be suitor, Kreas. One of the village hunters, he's a bit older than either Korbiña or Seilie. Today, he approaches in his hunter's garb, a vest fashioned from hide and leaves, with a decorated fur kilt. His scales are matte, patterned with flecks of green and brown camouflage pressed from old leaves and grass. His snout is slightly wider than Seilie's, but still thinner and longer than Ashers. Standing taller than most in the village, he's still only an inch or two taller than Korbiña herself. His horns, wider than they are long, curl around like a ram's, jutting forward. His eyes are his typical warm green as he bows before her.
"M'lady. I come unto thee, calling once more." [OoC: A chivalrous notion, a formal means by which men used to ask a lady out, albeit those were typically chaperoned]
after the bath asher goes over the notes he took from his recent research , drawing up questions to ask the towns archivist, " i dont like this talk of blood descendants and sacrifices, especially when it comes to dragon folk ," asher shakes his head to banish the dark memories echoing in his mind "not agin" he whispers to himself . now off to the archivist and to find where they keep there stockpile of magical things. as he starts moving , the sent of soap coming from him causes him to give a slight smile
Rising feom hus slumber among the trees, Quartz sniffs rhe air. The enticing aroma of breakfast rouses him and he makes his way i to the building where it is being prepared.
On his way, he sees Lelantus, stumbling back his dwelling. "The sun's barely risen and already he's there sheet." The giant mutters, shaking his head.
After he grabs bite and thanks his hosts for their hospitality, Quartz sets off in search fir the village elder, whom, he is told, can be found in his study.
Quartz knocks gently at the door, but at the touch of the giant's knuckles, the sound is anything but subtle.
Nevertheless, Serescal answers. He greets the giantkin by taking his finger in hand and giving a deep bow.
"Ah, but I hath wondered when thoust would arrive."
He ushers Quartz through the narrow door. Entryway aside, the Firbolg finds the room quite spacious. As he moves to sit, the old man hands him a sizeable wrapped package.
"'Tis but a small token, friend. Thy affinity for the earth bears lauding, even in this hollow facade of the world"
As he opens his gift, Quartz finds himself put off. The elder's last few words seem a tad ominous. Facade?
Removing the last of the simple wrapping, Quartz finds himself holding a surprisingly strong vellum book. The cover is aged black leather, intricately singed to resemble an array of vines growing across it. A buckled clasp secures it shut and a small gold chain hangs from the spine. The words on the spine are written in similarly golden stenciling, reading only "flora" in small ornate letters. It appears to be a compendium of local plants.
"Dear Kreas. And once more though findest me in a situation in which I cannot accept and thydelf in a situation in which though breakest the protocol by interrupting a converstation of some import.
So once again I have to decline."
She turns back to Sceilie and produces a leather bound book from her bag. "Would it be posdible for you to create an iron fitting for the book to make it more sturdy against damage and to clasp it shut so tight that water does not even get a chance to damage the pages?"
"Dear Kreas. And once more though findest me in a situation in which I cannot accept and thydelf in a situation in which though breakest the protocol by interrupting a converstation of some import.
So once again I have to decline."
She turns back to Sceilie and produces a leather bound book from her bag. "Would it be posdible for you to create an iron fitting for the book to make it more sturdy against damage and to clasp it shut so tight that water does not even get a chance to damage the pages?"
He gives a tight bow of his head, turns on his heel and steps off. Sceilie looks confusedly at Korbiña. "Did thee not request a word? Thy fitting is but a small task."
Quartz accepts the book, "thank you, I don't know what to say. Everyone has shown such tremendous hospitality. I really am taken aback. This is a most extravagant gift." the firbolg pauses, thinking csrefully hoe to say what he must ask, "I am very grateful, and forgive my ignorance, but what did you mean by 'hollow facade'?"
"Thou art keen to ask. Yet me secret is only thine if thou sweareth unto yon life ye will not speak it until yon party is far beyond the horizon. Our... situation is our own. Thine pity does nothing and our salvation is beyond thy aid."
His draws a deep sigh and awaits the giant's affirmation.
Korbiña smiles at Sceilie "I indeed would like a word with you and the fitting was simply the quickest way to see you alone again" she giggles a bit. "I need to admit, I have been slightly worried since tge day we met... especially you pleadind for your life and more time, mistaking us for the emissiaries of someone... I would like to understand your situation better so it does not constantly hover over us like the sword of Damocles."
"Please" she holds Sceilie's hand "I beg of thee. Please share with me."
A strange sadness crosses Seilie's face. She quietly nods, uttering but a single word."Come."She leads Korbiña out the front gate, then around the rear of the village. The familiar sounds of crickets fill the air, and fireflies blink in and out between the gaps on the trees.
Korbiña is led around 100 feet from the rear of the village. The two follow a small path winding down a light slope. At the bottom, in a small clearing, Seilie lights a small lantern, bathing the area in soft yellow light. Before the two stands a massive stone tablet, easily 20 ft. tall. Depicted on it is a figure of a shining Dragonborn painted in gold. Around the two are several dozen round stones, arranged in a concise circle around the tablet. Everything seems well-tended to.
Seilie steps before the tablet and kneels. She bows her head."This is our lord, Apfelßodt."
The name rings familiar. One of the kobolds uttered something very similar during the ambush. She can't help but feel there's something very significant in that.
Korbiña kneads her chin looking deeply troubled. And kneels next to Seilie, taking her hands in her own.
"Maybe we have our own dealings with that, but please continue. How do you feel about the situation... and what is the connection of your village to this... Apfelßodt?"
"He is... our patron. He is at once the precursor of this village and our ancestor. And now, He is as our jailer as well."
Seilie turns and stares deeply into the tiefling's eyes. She smiles weakly and embraces her. It feels... nice, warm. Her next words, however, stop Korbiña cold.
"...And now, as thou art trapped here, He is also thine jailer as well."
after the bath asher goes over the notes he took from his recent research , drawing up questions to ask the towns archivist, " i dont like this talk of blood descendants and sacrifices, especially when it comes to dragon folk ," asher shakes his head to banish the dark memories echoing in his mind "not agin" he whispers to himself . now off to the archivist and to find where they keep there stockpile of magical things. as he starts moving , the sent of soap coming from him causes him to give a slight smile
Asher finds Chescha in her room. He's surprised how much it resembles his own makeshift study downstairs in the archives. Papers litter the floor and stacks of books pile every corner. Even the room's windows are obscured, covered by a menagerie of pinned ciphers and ancient languages the likes of which even a seasoned researcher like Asher is unsure of. Chescha herself, however sits in the corner, her back to Asher, reading a large leather-bound tome in the farthest corner. If she is aware of Asher's presence, she gives no indication.
Korbiña gives a strange chuckle. "I had a hunch... an intuition about that... so I'm not so very surprised by your words." She holds Sceilie tight and reassuringly, Korbiña is weak in strength compared to the smaller village smith, but her inner determination is like a giant.
"And I intend to break this jail ... for myself... for my companions... and... most importantly... for you, Seilie..."
... leaning back a bit... to tenderly rub her nose withg her Seilie's snoot, letting her feel all her compassion and determination.
"Thou art keen to ask. Yet me secret is only thine if thou sweareth unto yon life ye will not speak it until yon party is far beyond the horizon. Our... situation is our own. Thine pity does nothing and our salvation is beyond thy aid."
His draws a deep sigh and awaits the giant's affirmation.
"Sounds serious," intones the firbolg, "I was never one to pity another, but you may find in me some sympathy for the fate you confide in me now. I admit, I had wondered how came to be this village in such a state and many dark questions linger over the events of our initial meeting. Of course yiu have my word, I will hold your tale in confidence."
[Note: This lore dump is for only Quartz to understand. The rest of your characters are not privy to this information until told so by Quartz himself or your own confidant. Feel free to read it, if you the Player are curious.]
Serescal begins the tale to Quarz as Asher has only just come to understand it in his own research. It started as a fell prophecy, a seer of a recluse Draconic clan receiving a terrifying prophecy: leathery wings, gnashing fangs, piercing eyes and a land bathed in blue lightning -- a definite Hell from the heavens. Worry and discord spread throughout the people, prompting a will to flee. But the clan's chieftain, obstinate in the strength of his champions, instead chose to prepare in earnest.
So it was that the clan was thrown into turmoil, an impending disaster driving it's most desperate masses to flee. One such group was led by none other than one of the chieftain's own champions, spurred to action by his concern for the innocent over the arrogance of his chosen Lord. This champion was supposedly called Apfelßud, though in time his true name is all but lost in a list of variations.
Though the clan sought peace in other realms, it was not a peaceful time to seek it. War, plague, banditry, savagery -- wherever the people went, death and conflict found them. And with every death, their hope slowly died with it. Only their Champion, ever vigilant, urged them to hold fast, push on, survive. And so they did. Eventually, however, only a handful remained, the few strong enough to persevere all other hardship, albeit at the cost of so many lost. Then, when even the Champion found cause to falter, a beacon appeared on their path: a rumor among treasure hunters -- an ancient forest, a haven for the wayward and the broken, shrouded in a sacred veil from the rest of the world. It was as divine providence.
The elder takes a moment to sip his tea, before continuing.
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asher eats the food offered grumbling about baths , he sniffs himself and grimness " gess i better , some one of my scholarly background cant be seen as a savage "
A scent of soap fills the air, and steam from warm water as well. It's now or never. Chescha's domineering voice calls down, "If thine tail hath not found itself into thy bath soon, me son will assist." Her son is almost as scary as her. He'd best hurry, lest he be washed like a hatchling.
Korbiña has options to prepare. The woods around the village are full of natural resources, as Quartz was quick to surmise. Restorative herbs, materials, etc may be marginally easier to acquire, with the Firbolg's help.
The fog and its mysteries may be best revealed by a scholarly source. Asher's been perusing their archives for study since they arrived, so he and the archivist may be her best lead.
Serescal is the village elder, and appears knowledgeable of the people threatening them, as does Sceilie. Lelantus is recovering at the elders' hall, so maybe he can help her convince the old scale to spill some information. Her alternative is to butter up Sceilie instead, coax information on who she was afraid of. But that may take Korbiña's own charm to accomplish...
Korbiña sighs thinking of her options and looks at Sceilie as they are having breakfast and sits real close to her, speaking soft and a little hushed "Sceilie... I'm afraid the day of departure is drawing neigh. May I ask you some questions about this island and the village?" Under the table she takes Sceilie's hand and squeezes it gently and reassuring Sceilie of Korbiña's presence "maybe we could take a walk?"
Rising from his slumber among the trees, Quartz sniffs rhe air. The enticing aroma of breakfast rouses him and he makes his way i to the building where it is being prepared.
On his way, he sees Lelantus, stumbling back his dwelling. "The sun's barely risen and already he's there sheet." The giant mutters, shaking his head.
After he grabs bite and thanks his hosts for their hospitality, Quartz sets off in search fir the village elder, whom, he is told, can be found in his study.
Quartz knocks gently at the door, but at the touch of the giant's knuckles, the sound is anything but subtle.
Sceilie looks at the tiefling's hand in hers.
"A-as it's m-my imperative unto t-thee to lend a-aid, I s-shall. I plead thee j-just afford m-me a m-moment to tend the f-f-fire." she stammers profusely, trying to remain coherent. The two quietly excuse themselves from the table, proceeding outside to the smithy.
Korbiña was surprised when it was initially mentioned that the timid young woman was the village smith. With such a meek frame and slender arms, free of burns or ash, it wasn't until she had picked up the hammer and begun casting nails that her talent had taken form. The girl rolls her sleeves and throws her hood back, peering into the forge, assessing the heat.
As she does so, the Sorceress hears footsteps behind her. Already, she knows. The tiefling turns to find her would-be suitor, Kreas. One of the village hunters, he's a bit older than either Korbiña or Seilie. Today, he approaches in his hunter's garb, a vest fashioned from hide and leaves, with a decorated fur kilt. His scales are matte, patterned with flecks of green and brown camouflage pressed from old leaves and grass. His snout is slightly wider than Seilie's, but still thinner and longer than Ashers. Standing taller than most in the village, he's still only an inch or two taller than Korbiña herself. His horns, wider than they are long, curl around like a ram's, jutting forward. His eyes are his typical warm green as he bows before her.
"M'lady. I come unto thee, calling once more." [OoC: A chivalrous notion, a formal means by which men used to ask a lady out, albeit those were typically chaperoned]
after the bath asher goes over the notes he took from his recent research , drawing up questions to ask the towns archivist, " i dont like this talk of blood descendants and sacrifices, especially when it comes to dragon folk ," asher shakes his head to banish the dark memories echoing in his mind "not agin" he whispers to himself . now off to the archivist and to find where they keep there stockpile of magical things. as he starts moving , the sent of soap coming from him causes him to give a slight smile
Nevertheless, Serescal answers. He greets the giantkin by taking his finger in hand and giving a deep bow.
"Ah, but I hath wondered when thoust would arrive."
He ushers Quartz through the narrow door. Entryway aside, the Firbolg finds the room quite spacious. As he moves to sit, the old man hands him a sizeable wrapped package.
"'Tis but a small token, friend. Thy affinity for the earth bears lauding, even in this hollow facade of the world"
As he opens his gift, Quartz finds himself put off. The elder's last few words seem a tad ominous. Facade?
Removing the last of the simple wrapping, Quartz finds himself holding a surprisingly strong vellum book. The cover is aged black leather, intricately singed to resemble an array of vines growing across it. A buckled clasp secures it shut and a small gold chain hangs from the spine. The words on the spine are written in similarly golden stenciling, reading only "flora" in small ornate letters. It appears to be a compendium of local plants.
Korbiña turns to half face the hunter
"Dear Kreas. And once more though findest me in a situation in which I cannot accept and thydelf in a situation in which though breakest the protocol by interrupting a converstation of some import.
So once again I have to decline."
She turns back to Sceilie and produces a leather bound book from her bag. "Would it be posdible for you to create an iron fitting for the book to make it more sturdy against damage and to clasp it shut so tight that water does not even get a chance to damage the pages?"
He gives a tight bow of his head, turns on his heel and steps off. Sceilie looks confusedly at Korbiña. "Did thee not request a word? Thy fitting is but a small task."
The girl almost seems... disappointed.
Quartz accepts the book, "thank you, I don't know what to say. Everyone has shown such tremendous hospitality. I really am taken aback. This is a most extravagant gift." the firbolg pauses, thinking csrefully hoe to say what he must ask, "I am very grateful, and forgive my ignorance, but what did you mean by 'hollow facade'?"
The old Dragonborn elicits a sad smile.
"Thou art keen to ask. Yet me secret is only thine if thou sweareth unto yon life ye will not speak it until yon party is far beyond the horizon. Our... situation is our own. Thine pity does nothing and our salvation is beyond thy aid."
His draws a deep sigh and awaits the giant's affirmation.
Korbiña smiles at Sceilie "I indeed would like a word with you and the fitting was simply the quickest way to see you alone again" she giggles a bit. "I need to admit, I have been slightly worried since tge day we met... especially you pleadind for your life and more time, mistaking us for the emissiaries of someone... I would like to understand your situation better so it does not constantly hover over us like the sword of Damocles."
"Please" she holds Sceilie's hand "I beg of thee. Please share with me."
A strange sadness crosses Seilie's face. She quietly nods, uttering but a single word. "Come." She leads Korbiña out the front gate, then around the rear of the village. The familiar sounds of crickets fill the air, and fireflies blink in and out between the gaps on the trees.
Korbiña is led around 100 feet from the rear of the village. The two follow a small path winding down a light slope. At the bottom, in a small clearing, Seilie lights a small lantern, bathing the area in soft yellow light. Before the two stands a massive stone tablet, easily 20 ft. tall. Depicted on it is a figure of a shining Dragonborn painted in gold. Around the two are several dozen round stones, arranged in a concise circle around the tablet. Everything seems well-tended to.
Seilie steps before the tablet and kneels. She bows her head. "This is our lord, Apfelßodt."
The name rings familiar. One of the kobolds uttered something very similar during the ambush. She can't help but feel there's something very significant in that.
Korbiña kneads her chin looking deeply troubled. And kneels next to Seilie, taking her hands in her own.
"Maybe we have our own dealings with that, but please continue. How do you feel about the situation... and what is the connection of your village to this... Apfelßodt?"
"He is... our patron. He is at once the precursor of this village and our ancestor. And now, He is as our jailer as well."
Seilie turns and stares deeply into the tiefling's eyes. She smiles weakly and embraces her. It feels... nice, warm. Her next words, however, stop Korbiña cold.
"...And now, as thou art trapped here, He is also thine jailer as well."
Asher finds Chescha in her room. He's surprised how much it resembles his own makeshift study downstairs in the archives. Papers litter the floor and stacks of books pile every corner. Even the room's windows are obscured, covered by a menagerie of pinned ciphers and ancient languages the likes of which even a seasoned researcher like Asher is unsure of. Chescha herself, however sits in the corner, her back to Asher, reading a large leather-bound tome in the farthest corner. If she is aware of Asher's presence, she gives no indication.
Korbiña gives a strange chuckle. "I had a hunch... an intuition about that... so I'm not so very surprised by your words." She holds Sceilie tight and reassuringly, Korbiña is weak in strength compared to the smaller village smith, but her inner determination is like a giant.
"And I intend to break this jail ... for myself... for my companions... and... most importantly... for you, Seilie..."
... leaning back a bit... to tenderly rub her nose withg her Seilie's snoot, letting her feel all her compassion and determination.
"Sounds serious," intones the firbolg, "I was never one to pity another, but you may find in me some sympathy for the fate you confide in me now. I admit, I had wondered how came to be this village in such a state and many dark questions linger over the events of our initial meeting. Of course yiu have my word, I will hold your tale in confidence."
[Note: This lore dump is for only Quartz to understand. The rest of your characters are not privy to this information until told so by Quartz himself or your own confidant. Feel free to read it, if you the Player are curious.]
Serescal begins the tale to Quarz as Asher has only just come to understand it in his own research. It started as a fell prophecy, a seer of a recluse Draconic clan receiving a terrifying prophecy: leathery wings, gnashing fangs, piercing eyes and a land bathed in blue lightning -- a definite Hell from the heavens. Worry and discord spread throughout the people, prompting a will to flee. But the clan's chieftain, obstinate in the strength of his champions, instead chose to prepare in earnest.
So it was that the clan was thrown into turmoil, an impending disaster driving it's most desperate masses to flee. One such group was led by none other than one of the chieftain's own champions, spurred to action by his concern for the innocent over the arrogance of his chosen Lord. This champion was supposedly called Apfelßud, though in time his true name is all but lost in a list of variations.
Though the clan sought peace in other realms, it was not a peaceful time to seek it. War, plague, banditry, savagery -- wherever the people went, death and conflict found them. And with every death, their hope slowly died with it. Only their Champion, ever vigilant, urged them to hold fast, push on, survive. And so they did. Eventually, however, only a handful remained, the few strong enough to persevere all other hardship, albeit at the cost of so many lost. Then, when even the Champion found cause to falter, a beacon appeared on their path: a rumor among treasure hunters -- an ancient forest, a haven for the wayward and the broken, shrouded in a sacred veil from the rest of the world. It was as divine providence.
The elder takes a moment to sip his tea, before continuing.