I want to live again, Vark. Wouldn't you, if you were in my position? I once wielded power the likes of which the world had never seen, and I lost it all. I lost everything. It was taken from me.
Vark can feel the thunderous anger behind those last words, but Matthew's spirit quickly quietens once more. The half-orc doesn't have the impression that the wizard is the kind to easily lose his temper.
I understand your reticence. If I'm honest with you, I don't want your body. I want my own. That will happen, in time. However, until then, a little freedom, now and again, when you can spare it, would be appreciated.
Vark is quiet for some time. Despite Matthew’s anger his words seem to reassure the sorcerer. “Ok. Yeah.... that could... that could be ok. Just... n-not when the others are around.” After another few minutes of walking, Vark begins making his way back to the inn. He slips inside and returns to bed hoping to get just a little more sleep
The afternoon wears on as Bründir surveys the wreckage of goblin encampments and Sheercleft's structures. Ransacked homes, more than a few boarded up or burned down, tents ripped from their anchors and torn apart. The sight of it all was enough to send him into a fury during the battle, but with no one left to receive his ire, it left him melancholy. So many on Shamleyside were known or familiar to him from work in the mines. Below the earth in dark caves and tunnels, you learned to bond with everyone as you scrambled in the dark. While he couldn't name the residents of every home, he knew they were the ones he'd toiled with in the past.
A few streets over from Ringrut's, Bründir heard a song coming from a burned down house ahead. It was sad and slow, and it sang for someone lost and gone. Despite the a capella style, there was an odd feeling of harmony and melody. A mysterious familiarity in the voice suddenly became clear when Bründir rounded the corner to see Brynja sitting atop the wreckage and staring down the street. Seeing her son, she gives a smile and waves him up.
Bründir spins over so many questions for a long minute before Brynja speaks first, "Ye did a great thing t'day. Cities come, cities go, but people're what matters. Savin'em from an army takes a whole lot o' doing, but rallyin' miners and common folk against an army? That's not somethin' ye see but once."
Bründir smiles at the obvious nod of approval, but too many other concerns take precedence, "Ye say it like ye've seen it b'fore."
Brynja smiles down the street, "Once...maybe twice."
Bründir chuckles a bit, "My stories are pro'bly small to yer's. Tell ye two o'mine fer one o'yers."
Brynja shoves Bründir's shoulder and laughs, "Are ye tryin' a bit o' mountain wisdom on me now, boy? Get me to spill secrets, then?" She shakes her head and stares at her lap, "Guess there's no helpin' it now. Take a step this way an' ye'll crave a world. What stop 'ave ye made on yer road?"
Bründir thinks back to when they left Sheercleft. The first night, they were attacked by kobolds and Vark had been cut across the mouth. He slept heavily and the fighy was done before he finally woke; best to leave that one out. "On way to th' elves, we got jumped by thugs. First time in a true fight,"
"Scary thing, innit?" Brynja interjects.
"Well...yeah, it was. Took a good hit or two, but th' real scare was doin' th' same to somebody else."
"Wise man tol' me once, takes a strong man to fight, but takin' life should be th' hardest thing 'e ever does."
"Well, they're not wrong. Shook me good till we got to Hyranatar. I think ye know, but I foun' out this ol' heirloom's pretty special." Bründir swings Dumdrengi in its sheath onto his lap. "That was somethin' I wanted to ask: Ye seemed to know already 'fore the battle got started, 'ow much do ye know? Most I know is ye gave it to me an' had it a long time." Bründir cracks a devious grin and pushes Dumdrengi to her, "Tha's two stories. Time to share."
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Brynja sighs and hefts the blade by the scabbard, holding it up in front of her to inspect.
"I've tried t'put this outa mind," she drawls, but there is a fondness in her eyes as she takes it in. "Somethin' from a chapter long past. One I've put behin' me."
She closes her eyes for a moment, as though steeling herself against something, and begins to talk.
"It was ye father's," Brynja tells him simply, although the look on her face tells Bründir that there's not one simple thing about the matter.
"He treasured tha' ol' thing. Said it was important tha' it's 'light kept shinin'', wha'ever tha' meant."
She holds the sword back out towards Bründir.
"'e'd 'ave wanted ye t'ave it."
There's the slightest of breaks in her voice. Not something Bründir is used to hearing from his mother.
Valaith stares at the weapon as the runes begin to form, first looking wildly chaotic to a point where it hurt her eyes trying to focus on them, but then something happened… Inspite of her aversion to magic she doesn’t understand Val did not drop the hammer, but rather smiled a little as the weapon seemed to speak to her. “Rook, huh?” She spots a bit of gore still stuck in the metal braces that hold the stone head in place. She removes an oiled rag from her pack and lovingly wipes Rook down. “Anything else you can say, Rook? Is that what my brother named you? Did you ever talk to him?” The runes were so strange and she wished she knew more about them. ‘Maybe Vark or Brundir would know more about them.’ She pondered the question as she spent sometime cleaning Rook and the rest of her weapons; including that sword she’d claimed from Kung.
Seid watches Val head upstairs to her room and he gets a really good look at her hammer for the first time. Something about that black metal, it seemed strangely familiar to him, but what exactly he couldn’t place… He shrugs and decides to ask her about it in the morning. As he wraps up the night of revelry Seid eventually makes his way to a room for the night and flops down onto the bed with a heavy, inebriated sigh. It had been an insane past 24 hours. Where had it all gone wrong? Not using his brain to see all writing between the lines, that’s where. ‘You’re no longer a foolish child. How many lives could have been spared if you had just the wits to see it sooner? This is not a game any longer. Real consequences for real people. If you want to be a mover, you must use your head.’
As he lay there chastising himself Seid gets a suddenly rush of recollection. He sits up abruptly and shouts aloud. “Asmoroch!” That was it, but… the hobgoblins had weapons of asmoroch steel as well. Seid begins speaking aloud to himself as he works through the conundrum. “How can that be? There is no major source as Asmoroch steel here. Necorath is the only known exporter of Asmoroch…. I need to speak with Val about this!” He jumps out of the bed and is halfway through the door before he realizes it’s the middle of the night and she likely wouldn’t appreciate the interruption. Little did the wizard know at that very moment Valaith was pondering where exactly her brother had found this miraculous weapon.
The next morning Valaith rose slowly, enjoying the soft bed… something she hadn’t felt in what seemed like weeks. Her stomach burned something fierce and when she removes the bandage to put a clean poultice on it she frowns at the angry red flesh she spots. She sighs, Seid was right… if she was to be of any help later she would need to heal… She exits the room just as Seid bursts out of his room. “Ah, Seid…”
“Val! We need to speak! Where did you get your hammer?!”
She’s a little off-put by his almost frantic manner. “It was my brother’s. When he died, I kept it. Why?”
“Where did he get it?”
“...I don’t know. Why? What is wrong?”
Seid seems to diminish a little with that news. “Well, it’s just that this metal is extremely rare and comes from another continent. It was also the same metal used by the hobgoblins for their weapons. This cannot be a consequence. We should tell the others!”
Before Val could say anything else Seid rushes down the stairs. She follows behind feeling very confused… “Seid, perhaps you could look at my hammer? It’s doing something strange. There a runes on it and… I think it spoke to me?”
“Spoke to you?”
Valaith continues to follow, frowning a little as she was unsure how exactly to answer that. “Well, not with a voice, but… the runes moved to make a word ‘Rook’ when I sort of asked it what its name was.”
“Very interesting…” Seid rubs his jaw. “Would you allow me to examine it with a spell that can identify the magical auras and properties of the weapon? I can maybe even translate the runes.”
“Yeah, I would like that. Also, I… thought a lot about what you said last night. And I think you’re right.”
Seid was deep in thought and seemed to barely acknowledge her statement. “That’s good, Val.”
Valaith rolls her eyes a little and follows Seid down stairs to where some of the others were already waiting.
“Good morning everyone! Did anyone else experience anything strange last night? Val’s hammer apparently has some very strange properties and I realized the metal is from the distant lands of Necorath! The hobgoblins’ weapons were made from the same metal, albeit of much lesser quality. Thoughts?”
Taking the sword back, Bründir draws the base of the blade, futile hope giving him the image of its glowing blade in the afternoon sun, "Think I know what 'e means. So anyway, we meet th' elves, an' they're alright - good drinks, brought some home. One of'em is real smart an' sees somethin' special in this ol' sword. Calls this ol' wonder 'Dumdrengi', an' says it belonged to a king by name of Erik. I think there's a marker down the mountain with 'is name too? Anyway, they tell us bandits've been attackin' an' we go fin' they're 'ideout on th' side of a mountain, right? Ye've never seen such an attack. Must've been fifty of'em in there 'gainst our six of us. Never knew what hit'em, we picked off patrols, then attacked th' walls. Hard few minutes later, we're inside an' sweepin' up. Couple of crazies spoutin' stuff 'bout demons an' end of the world, but ol' Thurston - the one with the big ol' hammer an' shiny armour - changed their minds in a way." Bründir actually smiles at his own little play on words.
"So we go into this mountain, yeah, an' bandits turn to crazies in robes. We fin' this scaly dragon bit-," a hand catches the back of his head, but Brynja shows no other signs of disproval except a warning.
"Don' make yer legend into bar stories an' fish tales."
Bründir nods and rubs his head, "So this scaly lady's makin' some dark magic in this mountain. She calls up a bunch of nasty ghosts, but then Dumdrengi here lights up like ye've never seen! Well, maybe like I've never seen, at least." Bründir sheathes his sword again, "So seems this thing's special fer fightin' this not o' this world. We stomp out this cult thing, but the lizard lady gets away. That's where we meet Jex, the sneaky elf runnin' with us."
"After this whole thing, we save an elf from Hyranatar, but fin' out later he's cursed. He brings this back to the elves, an' starts a whole new mess. So then, get this, they tell us go kill some basilisks and bleed'em fer a cure." Bründir stops abruptly before continuing into the next story and looks playfully back to Brynja, "That's plenty fer a story."
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Ye know 'ow long I've known ol' Ringrut?" She asks, rhetorically. "Gettin' on f'r two-'undred an' fifty win'ers. 'E used t'work the bar wit' me ma at the 'Twin Peaks' in Kadrin. Tha's where I met Tordek."
A distant look plays across Brynja's eyes.
"'E was young, an' strong, an' we went everywhere together... f'r a time. Last time we went out, not everyone was goin'ome, an'e knew it. Saved us all, but 'imself. Neither of us knew there was a bairn on th' way. Ye only made y'self known after I packed up an' followed Ringrut to Sheercleft. This place was all tiny an' new back then."
She looks about at what the village has grown into those last one-hundred and thirty years and shrugs back her son.
"Tha' was an 'ard time, but 'ere we are. Tha's yer burden t' bear now," Brynja tells him, nodding at the blade Bründir clutches in his hands. "Not ye father's, or 'Erik's'. So, what are ye gonna do wit' it? Hm?"
Hurrig wakes up just before morning as the sun began to peak around the moon. The cool mountain air blowing in through the window. Hurrig cleans himself up, brushing through his beard and putting in new braids and brushes through his hair. He makes his way over to the Temple of Moradin, walking slowly and taking in the chaos of the aftermath. Broken out windows of houses once beaming with life, bloodstained cobblestone lining the streets. Hurrig with his head held high, looks to the future. The strong people of Sheercleft won’t let something like this happens again.
Hurrig arrives at the ornate dwarvish doors of the temple. The doors are ajar with a little bit of the morning light shining through. Hurrig steps through the arch and a look of shock flashes across his face followed by sadness. His eyes begin to well up with anger. Griffiti covers the walls. Seats are ransacked and windows shattered. Hurrig quickly makes his way to the alter and begins setting things straight. Eventually over burdened by the amount of damage, he slumps down. Hurrig picks up a piece of glass, with an image of a fiery anvil on it. A light begins to shine on the glass, coming from his holy symbol. Hurrig begins to pray. Hurrig is as much a part of Sheercleft as anyone else. He begins to pray and his holy symbol begins to glow stronger.
After a while of praying and moving rubbish, Hurrig walks to the doorway he came in from. As he leaves he pauses and looks behind him, “I’ll make this right” the symbol around his neck glows once more.
He makes his way back to the inn for breakfast.
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Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
"Well..." Bründir started hesitantly, "I s'pose I'm gonna go stick it up every arse who tried takin' over Sheercleft. We got a good idea o' where to start, but we need to start in th' mines below. No one knows where Quinton went, an' Vark says 'e saw some kinda magic bein' done below too."
Brynja gives a smile and hops down from her perch, "Best ye come with me, then. Got a lot to show an' teach. Been years since I needed th' ol' tricks, but I still remember a few." The pair return to Ringrut's and Brynja's private room upstairs. Several books are pulled from an old chest, "If we 'ad time, I could spen' a month jus' in these. Fer now, ye get th' short version."
Bründir's eyes go wide as he flips through a few pages of the first book, "Ne'er been one fer books an' writin'. Still, I'll come back fer more later. Anymore ye can tell me 'bout dad's ol' sword? 'Ow'd he get to carryin' an ol' king's sword an' not a prince or somethin'? Does it do anythin' else but turn ghosts an' devils to dust?"
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Tordek wasn't a Drakebeard, or anythin' like tha'. 'E was from an old clan though. 'E didn't like to talk about 'is folks, but I've seen that there blade hit like a claymore an' send the foul things runnin'!"
She hesitates for a moment.
"Ye do what ye gotta do, but keep safe. Ye 'ear me?" and she wraps her arms around him like only a mother can.
"Don' know who's to blame, but I'm not stoppin' till I fin' out about dad an' Dumdrengi." Bründir returns the hug and lingers for a moment, "Like I said, ne'er been one fer books an' such. Pro'bly be a while 'fore I'm done, so ye may wan'a buy Ringrut a drink fer 'is good side. I'm minin' 'is ol' brain next fer more stories."
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Having risen early, Jex is sitting in the tavern eating a large breakfast and waiting for the arrival of his companions. Unlike the others he has no roots here and so nobody and nowhere to visit. As Seid enters followed quickly be Val he gives a cheeky smile and a wink. "Good morning my friends. Arriving together and in such a good mood with questions about the night before." It isn't phrased as a question rather as though he is narrating the situation, but he gives a chuckle. He shrugs at Seid's words though. "I had no strange experiences, aside from a pleasant night's sleep. Which come to think of it has become quite strange of itself lately. Perhaps it was just the slumber of one with a light conscience?" He smiles again, clearly in good spirits and his tone is mirthful rather than laced with spite as it was at points the night before. He sees the serious look on the wizard's face though and he wipes the smile from his face and leans forwards, speaking with calmness and a level-headedness that was rare to see from him "Honestly though. Does it seem too much a coincidence? I am sure if we all went through our equipment we would find other work of the same mine or smith if one had a good enough eye to spot it. Do they export so little to be alarmed? If they have fitted out a whole goblin army in poor grades of this material I would guess not, and a different smith clearly worked the hammer if it is of such a higher quality. Having seen the effectiveness of both up close, I would not draw much suggestion of similarity in their workmanship." He gestures at the seats opposite him. "Come, sit down and eat. We have a long day ahead and it does not do to stress over a minor coincidence, before heading into the mines at least." He grins again at the pun and is back to his lighthearted self. "Still, interesting place, Necorath. Cold and hostile. Come to think of it, not that interesting. More boring and unpleasant. If the goblins came from there, no wonder they wanted to find a home here to conquer and settle on instead. No doubt the owner of that hammer thought the same. Smart people. Well, not stupid at least. Probably chased out by the elves there, I hear they are not exactly welcoming or tolerant. Even teh elves here would hardly let the goblins have their own bit of land, let alone those harder ones from across there in Necorath." He pauses. "Met one once. Horrible guy. Had to kill him. I mean, there were three of them." He looks at Val and Seid and realises he changed his story too fast and shuts up. Instead going back to his eggs.
Thurston is really happy to see the elves and by the time they reach the town he has told them the full account of the battle. His companions note that he speaks more of them and the men and women of Sheercleft that of himself, but he uses great exclamations and gestures to emphatize his words. Is incredible how he can have still the energy to jump back and forward and swing his hammer while explaining things to the elves.
Late that night he walks again towards the nearby hills, to the point where they spotted the city before going down and, beign close to the dawn, he sees how the city starts to come back to life.
Despite the scars of the recent battle, and the great loss of life, Thurston feels an attachment to this place. A place where he had found courage and bravery and great warriors, is a place he can relate to. Still he feels a little bit homesick and sits for a while there, remembering his home. He produces a small drum and hitting it with a slow beat. Then he start to sing a song in his native language. A song that talks of the passing of the dead.As the music progress the beat increases and the tone, despite the foreign language, becames more hopeful for those who had departed. His song can be heard in the valley by those who are already awake.
The inconsistencies in Jex’s story go over Vark’s head, and instead the boy focuses in drawing any possible connection or conclusion he can. “Are the wizards from Neco... n-necorath? Where even is that? Oh! Uhm when I saw the wizards the the uh the ritual they were doing was on some slab of metal... is that stuff from Necorath?”
Hurrig walks in as everyone is gathering in the inn, catching the end of Vark’s sentence.
“In the time I’ve been in them mines there, I ‘ave never seen a slab of metal! Only ore, and even then! It’s mostly rock anyway.”
Hurrig takes a seat at the table, with a large pint of ale and whatever meats the kitchen had left. Hurrig staring at his plate the whole time,
“I’ve had a long morning already. I’m ready to get after them wizards though. They brought these beasts into our home, into MY temple. I want them out of my mines and away from my mountains.”
Seid shakes his head. "No, they are not from Necorath. At least none that I know are from there; it's a continent to the south, on the far side of the ice. That metal you describe does not sound like the same metal, what you describe sounds more like adamantine to me. I am very keen to see this area and what these wizards uncovered." He stops and glances at Val, noticing her awkward quietness. "Val, you said you had something you wished to tell me this morning?"
Val nods as she glances at Jex. "Yes, I thought a lot about what you and Jex said last night about having to fight smarter. While I made it through that battle without taking much more injury, my wound continues to get worse. Dorno has told me that I need rest and lots of it to let that heal. It seems clear that if I keep pushing myself the way I have been, it will never fully heal and it will get... what did you call it, Seid? Gangrene? That does not sound like something I would want. Seid talked some sense into me last night and suggested I remain topside to rest and heal while you all go below. I thought perhaps I could help the survivors prepare themselves for another possible incursion and set up defenses around the city and the mines to prevent another such event." She looks at the floor. "I am not happy about this and I feel a coward for not coming with you, but I also realize I am a more of a liability than anything." She goes quiet for a moment, then looks directly at Jex. "Get your shots in now. I'll only allow this once."
"You are not coward and I will punch anyone saying that. Even you!"he says looking her in the eye "You hear me?. But Dorno and Seid are right. You need to rest to heal that wound. We will need you on your top to fight what's lies ahead all this Morrigan and Magobiari and Necrothings... so you start organizing the defenses here and take it easy. We will bring you some ugly wizard's heads!"
Jex smirks very briefly, in the blink of an eye he has himself fully composed and even looking a little hurt. In his head he has already gone through fifty responses, each meaner than the last. Perhaps standing out there taking javelins is more stupid than brave after all. No. Too direct. I'm sure there is some need for a brave sweeper to help clean up here, some of the goblin mess would turn a coward to running. No, too long winded... Hypocracy thy name is you. No that could never catch on. Wait I've got it. Nothing would confuse that big head more...
""Val, how could you suggest such a thing? I am sorry things got out of hand last night, but nothing was supposed to be so deeply wounding. I know this must have been a very difficult decision for you, and I think you are very brave for making it."
He reaches over to pat her shoulder and gives a sympathetic look.
Of all his disguises and assumed persons, 'The Bigger Man' was one of his most intricate and important works. Subtle and powerful, he usually employed it to allow a target to think they had won and to remove attention from him. To look weak and submissive. Using it to score emotional points was a new idea and one he was quite proud of.
Val smiles at Thurston and nods her appreciation, but the smile fades as Jex speaks. She frowns a bit as she tries to work out if there was a hidden meaning behind his words. “Thanks… Jex…” She clearly was wary of his words, but couldn’t quite figure out his intent if any. “All you be safe down there. I hate not coming with you.”
Jex gives Val a kind smile as he gives her shoulder a slight squeeze. "We know you do. I'll kill some wizards for you. Don't worry, we'll be safe." He stands from the table. "Shall we then? Many a foe to strike down and they aren't sleeping down there I tell you that. No time for sitting around." He tightens his sword belts and raises the hood on his cloak. His tone has lost its lighthearted, charming notes and is now more serious and gruff. "Perhaps we should have some archers line the canyon top incase somebody tries to prevent our decent, or prepare an ambush for our arrival? Also, we will need somebody to lower us down and be ready to bring us back up when required."
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Matthew's answer is simple and to the point.
I want to live again, Vark. Wouldn't you, if you were in my position? I once wielded power the likes of which the world had never seen, and I lost it all. I lost everything. It was taken from me.
Vark can feel the thunderous anger behind those last words, but Matthew's spirit quickly quietens once more. The half-orc doesn't have the impression that the wizard is the kind to easily lose his temper.
I understand your reticence. If I'm honest with you, I don't want your body. I want my own. That will happen, in time. However, until then, a little freedom, now and again, when you can spare it, would be appreciated.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
Vark is quiet for some time. Despite Matthew’s anger his words seem to reassure the sorcerer. “Ok. Yeah.... that could... that could be ok. Just... n-not when the others are around.” After another few minutes of walking, Vark begins making his way back to the inn. He slips inside and returns to bed hoping to get just a little more sleep
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
The afternoon wears on as Bründir surveys the wreckage of goblin encampments and Sheercleft's structures. Ransacked homes, more than a few boarded up or burned down, tents ripped from their anchors and torn apart. The sight of it all was enough to send him into a fury during the battle, but with no one left to receive his ire, it left him melancholy. So many on Shamleyside were known or familiar to him from work in the mines. Below the earth in dark caves and tunnels, you learned to bond with everyone as you scrambled in the dark. While he couldn't name the residents of every home, he knew they were the ones he'd toiled with in the past.
A few streets over from Ringrut's, Bründir heard a song coming from a burned down house ahead. It was sad and slow, and it sang for someone lost and gone. Despite the a capella style, there was an odd feeling of harmony and melody. A mysterious familiarity in the voice suddenly became clear when Bründir rounded the corner to see Brynja sitting atop the wreckage and staring down the street. Seeing her son, she gives a smile and waves him up.
Bründir spins over so many questions for a long minute before Brynja speaks first, "Ye did a great thing t'day. Cities come, cities go, but people're what matters. Savin'em from an army takes a whole lot o' doing, but rallyin' miners and common folk against an army? That's not somethin' ye see but once."
Bründir smiles at the obvious nod of approval, but too many other concerns take precedence, "Ye say it like ye've seen it b'fore."
Brynja smiles down the street, "Once...maybe twice."
Bründir chuckles a bit, "My stories are pro'bly small to yer's. Tell ye two o'mine fer one o'yers."
Brynja shoves Bründir's shoulder and laughs, "Are ye tryin' a bit o' mountain wisdom on me now, boy? Get me to spill secrets, then?" She shakes her head and stares at her lap, "Guess there's no helpin' it now. Take a step this way an' ye'll crave a world. What stop 'ave ye made on yer road?"
Bründir thinks back to when they left Sheercleft. The first night, they were attacked by kobolds and Vark had been cut across the mouth. He slept heavily and the fighy was done before he finally woke; best to leave that one out. "On way to th' elves, we got jumped by thugs. First time in a true fight,"
"Scary thing, innit?" Brynja interjects.
"Well...yeah, it was. Took a good hit or two, but th' real scare was doin' th' same to somebody else."
"Wise man tol' me once, takes a strong man to fight, but takin' life should be th' hardest thing 'e ever does."
"Well, they're not wrong. Shook me good till we got to Hyranatar. I think ye know, but I foun' out this ol' heirloom's pretty special." Bründir swings Dumdrengi in its sheath onto his lap. "That was somethin' I wanted to ask: Ye seemed to know already 'fore the battle got started, 'ow much do ye know? Most I know is ye gave it to me an' had it a long time." Bründir cracks a devious grin and pushes Dumdrengi to her, "Tha's two stories. Time to share."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Brynja sighs and hefts the blade by the scabbard, holding it up in front of her to inspect.
"I've tried t'put this outa mind," she drawls, but there is a fondness in her eyes as she takes it in. "Somethin' from a chapter long past. One I've put behin' me."
She closes her eyes for a moment, as though steeling herself against something, and begins to talk.
"It was ye father's," Brynja tells him simply, although the look on her face tells Bründir that there's not one simple thing about the matter.
"He treasured tha' ol' thing. Said it was important tha' it's 'light kept shinin'', wha'ever tha' meant."
She holds the sword back out towards Bründir.
"'e'd 'ave wanted ye t'ave it."
There's the slightest of breaks in her voice. Not something Bründir is used to hearing from his mother.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
Valaith stares at the weapon as the runes begin to form, first looking wildly chaotic to a point where it hurt her eyes trying to focus on them, but then something happened… Inspite of her aversion to magic she doesn’t understand Val did not drop the hammer, but rather smiled a little as the weapon seemed to speak to her. “Rook, huh?” She spots a bit of gore still stuck in the metal braces that hold the stone head in place. She removes an oiled rag from her pack and lovingly wipes Rook down. “Anything else you can say, Rook? Is that what my brother named you? Did you ever talk to him?” The runes were so strange and she wished she knew more about them. ‘Maybe Vark or Brundir would know more about them.’ She pondered the question as she spent sometime cleaning Rook and the rest of her weapons; including that sword she’d claimed from Kung.
Seid watches Val head upstairs to her room and he gets a really good look at her hammer for the first time. Something about that black metal, it seemed strangely familiar to him, but what exactly he couldn’t place… He shrugs and decides to ask her about it in the morning. As he wraps up the night of revelry Seid eventually makes his way to a room for the night and flops down onto the bed with a heavy, inebriated sigh. It had been an insane past 24 hours. Where had it all gone wrong? Not using his brain to see all writing between the lines, that’s where. ‘You’re no longer a foolish child. How many lives could have been spared if you had just the wits to see it sooner? This is not a game any longer. Real consequences for real people. If you want to be a mover, you must use your head.’
As he lay there chastising himself Seid gets a suddenly rush of recollection. He sits up abruptly and shouts aloud. “Asmoroch!” That was it, but… the hobgoblins had weapons of asmoroch steel as well. Seid begins speaking aloud to himself as he works through the conundrum. “How can that be? There is no major source as Asmoroch steel here. Necorath is the only known exporter of Asmoroch…. I need to speak with Val about this!” He jumps out of the bed and is halfway through the door before he realizes it’s the middle of the night and she likely wouldn’t appreciate the interruption. Little did the wizard know at that very moment Valaith was pondering where exactly her brother had found this miraculous weapon.
The next morning Valaith rose slowly, enjoying the soft bed… something she hadn’t felt in what seemed like weeks. Her stomach burned something fierce and when she removes the bandage to put a clean poultice on it she frowns at the angry red flesh she spots. She sighs, Seid was right… if she was to be of any help later she would need to heal… She exits the room just as Seid bursts out of his room. “Ah, Seid…”
“Val! We need to speak! Where did you get your hammer?!”
She’s a little off-put by his almost frantic manner. “It was my brother’s. When he died, I kept it. Why?”
“Where did he get it?”
“...I don’t know. Why? What is wrong?”
Seid seems to diminish a little with that news. “Well, it’s just that this metal is extremely rare and comes from another continent. It was also the same metal used by the hobgoblins for their weapons. This cannot be a consequence. We should tell the others!”
Before Val could say anything else Seid rushes down the stairs. She follows behind feeling very confused… “Seid, perhaps you could look at my hammer? It’s doing something strange. There a runes on it and… I think it spoke to me?”
“Spoke to you?”
Valaith continues to follow, frowning a little as she was unsure how exactly to answer that. “Well, not with a voice, but… the runes moved to make a word ‘Rook’ when I sort of asked it what its name was.”
“Very interesting…” Seid rubs his jaw. “Would you allow me to examine it with a spell that can identify the magical auras and properties of the weapon? I can maybe even translate the runes.”
“Yeah, I would like that. Also, I… thought a lot about what you said last night. And I think you’re right.”
Seid was deep in thought and seemed to barely acknowledge her statement. “That’s good, Val.”
Valaith rolls her eyes a little and follows Seid down stairs to where some of the others were already waiting.
“Good morning everyone! Did anyone else experience anything strange last night? Val’s hammer apparently has some very strange properties and I realized the metal is from the distant lands of Necorath! The hobgoblins’ weapons were made from the same metal, albeit of much lesser quality. Thoughts?”
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
Taking the sword back, Bründir draws the base of the blade, futile hope giving him the image of its glowing blade in the afternoon sun, "Think I know what 'e means. So anyway, we meet th' elves, an' they're alright - good drinks, brought some home. One of'em is real smart an' sees somethin' special in this ol' sword. Calls this ol' wonder 'Dumdrengi', an' says it belonged to a king by name of Erik. I think there's a marker down the mountain with 'is name too? Anyway, they tell us bandits've been attackin' an' we go fin' they're 'ideout on th' side of a mountain, right? Ye've never seen such an attack. Must've been fifty of'em in there 'gainst our six of us. Never knew what hit'em, we picked off patrols, then attacked th' walls. Hard few minutes later, we're inside an' sweepin' up. Couple of crazies spoutin' stuff 'bout demons an' end of the world, but ol' Thurston - the one with the big ol' hammer an' shiny armour - changed their minds in a way." Bründir actually smiles at his own little play on words.
"So we go into this mountain, yeah, an' bandits turn to crazies in robes. We fin' this scaly dragon bit-," a hand catches the back of his head, but Brynja shows no other signs of disproval except a warning.
"Don' make yer legend into bar stories an' fish tales."
Bründir nods and rubs his head, "So this scaly lady's makin' some dark magic in this mountain. She calls up a bunch of nasty ghosts, but then Dumdrengi here lights up like ye've never seen! Well, maybe like I've never seen, at least." Bründir sheathes his sword again, "So seems this thing's special fer fightin' this not o' this world. We stomp out this cult thing, but the lizard lady gets away. That's where we meet Jex, the sneaky elf runnin' with us."
"After this whole thing, we save an elf from Hyranatar, but fin' out later he's cursed. He brings this back to the elves, an' starts a whole new mess. So then, get this, they tell us go kill some basilisks and bleed'em fer a cure." Bründir stops abruptly before continuing into the next story and looks playfully back to Brynja, "That's plenty fer a story."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Brynja rolls her eyes.
"Ye know 'ow long I've known ol' Ringrut?" She asks, rhetorically. "Gettin' on f'r two-'undred an' fifty win'ers. 'E used t'work the bar wit' me ma at the 'Twin Peaks' in Kadrin. Tha's where I met Tordek."
A distant look plays across Brynja's eyes.
"'E was young, an' strong, an' we went everywhere together... f'r a time. Last time we went out, not everyone was goin'ome, an'e knew it. Saved us all, but 'imself. Neither of us knew there was a bairn on th' way. Ye only made y'self known after I packed up an' followed Ringrut to Sheercleft. This place was all tiny an' new back then."
She looks about at what the village has grown into those last one-hundred and thirty years and shrugs back her son.
"Tha' was an 'ard time, but 'ere we are. Tha's yer burden t' bear now," Brynja tells him, nodding at the blade Bründir clutches in his hands. "Not ye father's, or 'Erik's'. So, what are ye gonna do wit' it? Hm?"
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
Hurrig wakes up just before morning as the sun began to peak around the moon. The cool mountain air blowing in through the window. Hurrig cleans himself up, brushing through his beard and putting in new braids and brushes through his hair. He makes his way over to the Temple of Moradin, walking slowly and taking in the chaos of the aftermath. Broken out windows of houses once beaming with life, bloodstained cobblestone lining the streets. Hurrig with his head held high, looks to the future. The strong people of Sheercleft won’t let something like this happens again.
Hurrig arrives at the ornate dwarvish doors of the temple. The doors are ajar with a little bit of the morning light shining through. Hurrig steps through the arch and a look of shock flashes across his face followed by sadness. His eyes begin to well up with anger. Griffiti covers the walls. Seats are ransacked and windows shattered. Hurrig quickly makes his way to the alter and begins setting things straight. Eventually over burdened by the amount of damage, he slumps down. Hurrig picks up a piece of glass, with an image of a fiery anvil on it. A light begins to shine on the glass, coming from his holy symbol. Hurrig begins to pray. Hurrig is as much a part of Sheercleft as anyone else. He begins to pray and his holy symbol begins to glow stronger.
After a while of praying and moving rubbish, Hurrig walks to the doorway he came in from. As he leaves he pauses and looks behind him, “I’ll make this right” the symbol around his neck glows once more.
He makes his way back to the inn for breakfast.
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
"Well..." Bründir started hesitantly, "I s'pose I'm gonna go stick it up every arse who tried takin' over Sheercleft. We got a good idea o' where to start, but we need to start in th' mines below. No one knows where Quinton went, an' Vark says 'e saw some kinda magic bein' done below too."
Brynja gives a smile and hops down from her perch, "Best ye come with me, then. Got a lot to show an' teach. Been years since I needed th' ol' tricks, but I still remember a few." The pair return to Ringrut's and Brynja's private room upstairs. Several books are pulled from an old chest, "If we 'ad time, I could spen' a month jus' in these. Fer now, ye get th' short version."
Bründir's eyes go wide as he flips through a few pages of the first book, "Ne'er been one fer books an' writin'. Still, I'll come back fer more later. Anymore ye can tell me 'bout dad's ol' sword? 'Ow'd he get to carryin' an ol' king's sword an' not a prince or somethin'? Does it do anythin' else but turn ghosts an' devils to dust?"
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Brynja shakes her head.
"Tordek wasn't a Drakebeard, or anythin' like tha'. 'E was from an old clan though. 'E didn't like to talk about 'is folks, but I've seen that there blade hit like a claymore an' send the foul things runnin'!"
She hesitates for a moment.
"Ye do what ye gotta do, but keep safe. Ye 'ear me?" and she wraps her arms around him like only a mother can.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
"Don' know who's to blame, but I'm not stoppin' till I fin' out about dad an' Dumdrengi." Bründir returns the hug and lingers for a moment, "Like I said, ne'er been one fer books an' such. Pro'bly be a while 'fore I'm done, so ye may wan'a buy Ringrut a drink fer 'is good side. I'm minin' 'is ol' brain next fer more stories."
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Having risen early, Jex is sitting in the tavern eating a large breakfast and waiting for the arrival of his companions. Unlike the others he has no roots here and so nobody and nowhere to visit. As Seid enters followed quickly be Val he gives a cheeky smile and a wink. "Good morning my friends. Arriving together and in such a good mood with questions about the night before." It isn't phrased as a question rather as though he is narrating the situation, but he gives a chuckle. He shrugs at Seid's words though. "I had no strange experiences, aside from a pleasant night's sleep. Which come to think of it has become quite strange of itself lately. Perhaps it was just the slumber of one with a light conscience?" He smiles again, clearly in good spirits and his tone is mirthful rather than laced with spite as it was at points the night before. He sees the serious look on the wizard's face though and he wipes the smile from his face and leans forwards, speaking with calmness and a level-headedness that was rare to see from him "Honestly though. Does it seem too much a coincidence? I am sure if we all went through our equipment we would find other work of the same mine or smith if one had a good enough eye to spot it. Do they export so little to be alarmed? If they have fitted out a whole goblin army in poor grades of this material I would guess not, and a different smith clearly worked the hammer if it is of such a higher quality. Having seen the effectiveness of both up close, I would not draw much suggestion of similarity in their workmanship." He gestures at the seats opposite him. "Come, sit down and eat. We have a long day ahead and it does not do to stress over a minor coincidence, before heading into the mines at least." He grins again at the pun and is back to his lighthearted self. "Still, interesting place, Necorath. Cold and hostile. Come to think of it, not that interesting. More boring and unpleasant. If the goblins came from there, no wonder they wanted to find a home here to conquer and settle on instead. No doubt the owner of that hammer thought the same. Smart people. Well, not stupid at least. Probably chased out by the elves there, I hear they are not exactly welcoming or tolerant. Even teh elves here would hardly let the goblins have their own bit of land, let alone those harder ones from across there in Necorath." He pauses. "Met one once. Horrible guy. Had to kill him. I mean, there were three of them." He looks at Val and Seid and realises he changed his story too fast and shuts up. Instead going back to his eggs.
Thurston is really happy to see the elves and by the time they reach the town he has told them the full account of the battle. His companions note that he speaks more of them and the men and women of Sheercleft that of himself, but he uses great exclamations and gestures to emphatize his words. Is incredible how he can have still the energy to jump back and forward and swing his hammer while explaining things to the elves.
Late that night he walks again towards the nearby hills, to the point where they spotted the city before going down and, beign close to the dawn, he sees how the city starts to come back to life.
Despite the scars of the recent battle, and the great loss of life, Thurston feels an attachment to this place. A place where he had found courage and bravery and great warriors, is a place he can relate to. Still he feels a little bit homesick and sits for a while there, remembering his home. He produces a small drum and hitting it with a slow beat. Then he start to sing a song in his native language. A song that talks of the passing of the dead.As the music progress the beat increases and the tone, despite the foreign language, becames more hopeful for those who had departed. His song can be heard in the valley by those who are already awake.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD65K4VR6Lw
When the others awake they find him ready at the inn.
"Good morning my friends. I think we have some wizards to hunt down..."
PbP Character: A few ;)
The inconsistencies in Jex’s story go over Vark’s head, and instead the boy focuses in drawing any possible connection or conclusion he can. “Are the wizards from Neco... n-necorath? Where even is that? Oh! Uhm when I saw the wizards the the uh the ritual they were doing was on some slab of metal... is that stuff from Necorath?”
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Hurrig walks in as everyone is gathering in the inn, catching the end of Vark’s sentence.
“In the time I’ve been in them mines there, I ‘ave never seen a slab of metal! Only ore, and even then! It’s mostly rock anyway.”
Hurrig takes a seat at the table, with a large pint of ale and whatever meats the kitchen had left. Hurrig staring at his plate the whole time,
“I’ve had a long morning already. I’m ready to get after them wizards though. They brought these beasts into our home, into MY temple. I want them out of my mines and away from my mountains.”
Mavi Göz Mal - Half Orc Monk Level 1 Not Another Lost Mine of Phandelver
Drita - Aasimar Hexblade Warlock Lvl 3 Tomb of Annhilation
Iznik Sylnithas - Half Drow Blood Hunter Level 2 Precipice of Voids
Seid shakes his head. "No, they are not from Necorath. At least none that I know are from there; it's a continent to the south, on the far side of the ice. That metal you describe does not sound like the same metal, what you describe sounds more like adamantine to me. I am very keen to see this area and what these wizards uncovered." He stops and glances at Val, noticing her awkward quietness. "Val, you said you had something you wished to tell me this morning?"
Val nods as she glances at Jex. "Yes, I thought a lot about what you and Jex said last night about having to fight smarter. While I made it through that battle without taking much more injury, my wound continues to get worse. Dorno has told me that I need rest and lots of it to let that heal. It seems clear that if I keep pushing myself the way I have been, it will never fully heal and it will get... what did you call it, Seid? Gangrene? That does not sound like something I would want. Seid talked some sense into me last night and suggested I remain topside to rest and heal while you all go below. I thought perhaps I could help the survivors prepare themselves for another possible incursion and set up defenses around the city and the mines to prevent another such event." She looks at the floor. "I am not happy about this and I feel a coward for not coming with you, but I also realize I am a more of a liability than anything." She goes quiet for a moment, then looks directly at Jex. "Get your shots in now. I'll only allow this once."
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
Thurston puts a hand over Val's shoulder.
"You are not coward and I will punch anyone saying that. Even you!"he says looking her in the eye "You hear me?. But Dorno and Seid are right. You need to rest to heal that wound. We will need you on your top to fight what's lies ahead all this Morrigan and Magobiari and Necrothings... so you start organizing the defenses here and take it easy. We will bring you some ugly wizard's heads!"
PbP Character: A few ;)
Jex smirks very briefly, in the blink of an eye he has himself fully composed and even looking a little hurt. In his head he has already gone through fifty responses, each meaner than the last. Perhaps standing out there taking javelins is more stupid than brave after all. No. Too direct. I'm sure there is some need for a brave sweeper to help clean up here, some of the goblin mess would turn a coward to running. No, too long winded... Hypocracy thy name is you. No that could never catch on. Wait I've got it. Nothing would confuse that big head more...
""Val, how could you suggest such a thing? I am sorry things got out of hand last night, but nothing was supposed to be so deeply wounding. I know this must have been a very difficult decision for you, and I think you are very brave for making it."
He reaches over to pat her shoulder and gives a sympathetic look.
Of all his disguises and assumed persons, 'The Bigger Man' was one of his most intricate and important works. Subtle and powerful, he usually employed it to allow a target to think they had won and to remove attention from him. To look weak and submissive. Using it to score emotional points was a new idea and one he was quite proud of.
Val smiles at Thurston and nods her appreciation, but the smile fades as Jex speaks. She frowns a bit as she tries to work out if there was a hidden meaning behind his words. “Thanks… Jex…” She clearly was wary of his words, but couldn’t quite figure out his intent if any. “All you be safe down there. I hate not coming with you.”
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
Jex gives Val a kind smile as he gives her shoulder a slight squeeze. "We know you do. I'll kill some wizards for you. Don't worry, we'll be safe." He stands from the table. "Shall we then? Many a foe to strike down and they aren't sleeping down there I tell you that. No time for sitting around." He tightens his sword belts and raises the hood on his cloak. His tone has lost its lighthearted, charming notes and is now more serious and gruff. "Perhaps we should have some archers line the canyon top incase somebody tries to prevent our decent, or prepare an ambush for our arrival? Also, we will need somebody to lower us down and be ready to bring us back up when required."