"Do you think I know everything? Or that you found Dragonsouls in the back courtyard of your neighbourgh? Those weapons you carry "he moves his hand pointing at Lyreis, Kyne and Seb " are no mere trinkets. And it strikes to me that you didn't have a clue of what you have. "
Seeing the confused look of the party he sighs and says
"The Dragonsouls are objects of incredible power granted by the Old Dragons, yes that Old Dragons, to some mortals to help them do their bidding and fight for them. Most are lost now, but it seems that you, somehow, have managed to get a hold in no less than three of them. I will not lie to you, that's why I called of you in the first place. Even if at that time you only had two " he smiles to Seb'riel.
"Now... I don't know where there could be more. " he takes a sip of his wine, thinking " Perhaps Old Lornack could know more. You could go and see her, if you are able to find her in Dul Zerath in Sarlona"
Kyne raises an eyebrow at the satyr's outlandish claims. However, the more he thinks, the more sense it makes. Daedagnír is an old blade, far older than him. It only wound up in his hands as a boon from the vaults of the Order.
"Dragonsouls?" The elf asks cautiously. "Do you mean fuelled by dragon shards? I always thought this was a ruby..." his fingers absentmindedly brush across the arcane focusing crystal embedded in the hilt of his sword.
"Which of the progenitor dragons were our weapons blessed by?"
The satyr srughs "That is a dragonshard. A rare, old, precious dragonshard. As well as those two " he points to the one at Seb's staff and the one emerald like gem that adorn the central hilt of Lyreis's double scimitar.
Seb'riel raises an eyebrow in surprise. "I had heard of such weapons. I always considered them mere stories though, or else that they would not have survived to now. It seems strange that they would come to us, to the same place at once. They were gifted by the dragons to mortals they deemed worthy, but surely with a plan for how they would be used over time beyond the concept of those original mortals. They must be surely more powerful than we realise if this is true though. Their abilities will run much deeper than those we have discovered. We must spend some time researching the others and perhaps finding them, this is knowledge beyond that possessed by any .library I have ever visited, we are blessed indeed."
As she speaks she speaks she remembers something and pulls some scrolls from her bag. "The new vampires mentioned research into the staff beyond what it could obviously do. I dismissed it at the time because I was more worried about my escape. But perhaps they knew something of this." Looking through the stolen pages she scans for any further information, or reference to the true nature of the staff.
"This weapon is already a legend amongst my people, I have never lived up to the greatness associated with it though I have held it for five decades. The power I feel though, even when it is merely nearby makes me believe it is unusually powerful even by the standard of these weapons." His strong, long fingers, warrior's hands, caress the hilt running across the green stone. "So you are a dragonshard? It seems to be written that I will bring you further stories to be honoured in, if the fates allow it."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
"Dragonshards..? Our most valuable export from the Marshes. Seems everyone wants to get their hands on the things." The ranger scratches his chin, then adds, "If we're looking for information on some dragons, there is one not too far from here that may shed some light on things. I don't know how old that one is though. Our vampire friend said a brass lives up in the mountains nearby."
"Looks like an Eberron-shard..." Kyne muses, half to himself, as he inspects the crystal embedded in Daedagnír's hilt.
"Although, those don't have the colouring of any dragonshards I've ever heard of," he admits, gesturing at Seb'riel's staff and Lyreis's dual blades.
"Dragonshards are borne of the three progenitor dragons," the elf adds, in response to Hurosk's thoughts. "I'm not sure how much a contemporary dragon would know of them. It wouldn't hurt to ask, but we need to consider if it's worth going to the effort of finding them at all. We might be better served by travelling to Dul Zerath."
Mathilda listens to everyone, but she can barely follow all the new information being discussed. She knows very little of dragonshards herself and little more of special, mythical weapons. As the others talk, her mind drifts and she thinks about the ball this evening and Lord Thrinderand...
The satyr seems to come back from the contemplation of his wine.
"Uh Oh? I beg your pardon? Wich dragonshard... how do you want me to know that? she is the wizard and the bookworm.." he says poiting to Seb'riel and shrugs his shoulders.
"And for if there's a signal of his cultist... last time they used to have a burning skull as their symbol... but I don't really know if that was his intention or just the symbol that followers choose. So don't take my words as certain." he replies to Moltaris.
Seb looks up briefly from her notes, "We should eventually go to Dul Zerath and speak to this wise person. But there is much to do first. We would be fools to be sent there only to immediately have to return after discovering something already written in a Library here. If we wish passage on a ship that will require a city first in any case, and so we can stop a while on route to find what we can first." She buries her face back into the notes. "There may even be something we can use here. Do not get too far ahead of yourself brother."
Hurosk shrugs. "Well, I'm up for wherever. You all seem to know more about all this business than me. So if this Dul Zerath is our best option, then let's get a move on."
The half-orc then looks down to examine his attire. "Do we need to blow off some steam first?" he asks looking to Mathilda.
"I am more than ready for the party!" says the satyr and seems to finish the wine of his cup in one big sip. He jumps to his hooves and suddenly he is dressed with an elegant suit of green and brown silk, with leaves motifs embroided on it.
Kyne sighs and runs a weary hand back through his auburn locks, shaking his head at Seb's cautioning.
"Either way, we need a plan for when we leave. Ships go back and forth across Lake Galifar all the time. It shouldn't be any trouble to get a ride on one to Passage. We need to head in that direction to reach Dul Zerath anyway, and the way east could take us right through Flamekeep. Those are both much larger cities, where you should be able to find more than you can here."
He lets himself flop backwards onto Moltaris's bed with a resounding PLOOF.
"What time does the ball start? I need a drink and a dance."
"Then we should head in that direction, but later. First I need writing supplies and some time with these books. It appears Morlainne had many interesting spells here that I would like to copy, and it will take me some time to read her research, it is quite comprehensive." Seb'riel doesn't seem to acknowledge any mention of the party, and makes no move to stand with the others.
Mathilda snaps out of her reverie and smiles. "I've never been to a fancy ball, I can't wait to see what it's like!" Looking between Seb'riel and Moltaris, neither of whom seem to be experts at braiding, she asks a little timidly: "Could either of you help me with my hair? I don't want to stand out..."
"I find myself very much ready to relax with music and wine and dance. It sounds as though we may not have many opportunities to enjoy them in the near future, so I will revel as if the world is ending, just in case it is." Lyreis smiles at the others warmly "And I am glad to do it with such excellent company, ....and you as well." He adds to the satyr, albeit with a smile in his eyes.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
"Then what are we waiting for?" ask the satyr and heads to the door and opens it inviting them to go out.
When Mathilda is crossing in front of him he says "Oh! yes.. your hair don't you worry..."he makes a simple gesture with his fingers like swirling something and Mathilda's hair is magically combed into a bun with half of it still loos over her shoulders and her back. The bun itslef is adorned with some flowers the same color of the belt at her waist. "there you are." he says smilig.
As they walk out he gives them a mask. From where is he taking them, none can tell but they look more stilized that the ones they wore last time.
A tiger for Lyreis, an eagle for Hurosk, a cat for Mathilda, a hawk for Kyne and a Jackal for Moltaris.
Just before closing the door he looks at Seb'riel "Are you sure you don't want to come with us? last chance..." he says with a singing tone, still shaking an owl mask for her.
Even before reaching the bottom of the stairs that leads to main ball room they hear the music. A rythmic yet happy tone that sounds promising.
As they approach the double doors that lead to the great saloon they open by themselves and the ball room unfolds before them.
During all the nights that Mathilda worked at the Golden Sphynx, she thought that every night a party was held, but the truth was that those nights, like two nights ago when the rest of them entered for the first time the Sphynx, was just a regular night. But not tonight. Tonight all the beatiful chandeliers are up and lit with magical lights that gives the ball room and splenderous illumination, highlighting the golden decoration of the windows frames and the reliefs that run alongside the cieling. None of them had noticed the awesome painting in the slightly vaulted ceiling, depicting a great desert. Camels roam the distand dunes that wave along the ceiling towards a square temple of terracotta, and above its columns a great shpynx rest there sitting with her wings unfold. Its golden eyes seems to look down directly at them, the androgynous face has a serious and noble expresion painted on it. Imposing but not intimidating. It is not after a few moments that Lyreis notice that there is another figure in the painting. A grey, slender and gracile cat that seems to be talking to the sphynx from the bottom of the steps that lead to the temple. The calid illumination of the lamps, orange with some hints of yellow and red makes them fill that it's the very sun at sunset wich gives light to the hall. Still the effect is so subtle, the spell that fuel the lamps so well crafted, that doesn't overload the senses.
On the ball room there are numerous couples already dancing at the sound of a group of bards. The bards are all dressed with white skirts, with a golden belt and open, white lynen vest, their hairs covered by a piece of white lynen fixed with golden straps. They wear a simple black mask just covering their eyes and the upper part of their noses.
Dozen of servants, dressed much like the bards, attend the guests of the event, and they can even see a couple of trays moving around on their own.
Several groups of wealthy gusets, all wearing animal masks chat, drink and eat the datils, honey rolls with pistachio over it, lamb spiced with peppermint, trout, humus, frutis cutted in small pieces and other delicatessen that the servants offers to the attendants. There is also a big table at one side with more food. Hurosk's attention is caught by the great black scoprion that is at the center of the table, made of differnt kinds of fruits to ressemble it.
"Who would had say " says the satyr his features now hidden under a fox mask of hte same style of the ones they have " that this pearl would be hidden in such a fishers city... "he chuckles " Let's mingle " he says and darts into the ball room. Even from behind him the friends can feel his mischevious grin.
Seb'riel looks up in surprise and mild amusement. "oh, you are actually going? I thought it was a joke. I have far more important things to do. If you get in trouble or need somebody to dance with, do let me know, I would hate for anyone to feel lonely or awkward. Otherwise..." She pauses clearly trying to articulate the right farewell "Do enjoy yourself, but not too much." The rising inflection indicates a measure of uncertainty still as she speaks, but the satisfied smile shows she thinks she hit the mark.
"Now... I don't know where there could be more. " he takes a sip of his wine, thinking " Perhaps Old Lornack could know more. You could go and see her, if you are able to find her in Dul Zerath in Sarlona"
Moltaris falls silent after the satyr utters these words. Her skin takes on a pallor even lighter than her usual pale shade, and a haunted glow shimmers around her eyes.
Dul Zerath.
The conversation ebbs and flows around her, but she is completely oblivious, lost in her reverie as the name of the city pulses in her mind.
Dul Zerath. Dal Quor. The Dreaming Dark. The Thousand Eyes.
It would be madness to go there, sheer madness. How will they even get passports? Elves aren't allowed in, and we are executed on sight. She looks at her elven companions and laughs at the prospect of them even considering disguising their nature.
Her hands move on their own to accept the jackal mask and don it over her unsettled features, and she makes her way with her typical silence to the party with the rest of the group, but the name never stops its thrum of terror in her thoughts.
Dul Zerath. Riedra. The Inspired. The War.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid,Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions! I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...
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The satyr look at them
"Do you think I know everything? Or that you found Dragonsouls in the back courtyard of your neighbourgh? Those weapons you carry " he moves his hand pointing at Lyreis, Kyne and Seb " are no mere trinkets. And it strikes to me that you didn't have a clue of what you have. "
Seeing the confused look of the party he sighs and says
"The Dragonsouls are objects of incredible power granted by the Old Dragons, yes that Old Dragons, to some mortals to help them do their bidding and fight for them. Most are lost now, but it seems that you, somehow, have managed to get a hold in no less than three of them. I will not lie to you, that's why I called of you in the first place. Even if at that time you only had two " he smiles to Seb'riel.
"Now... I don't know where there could be more. " he takes a sip of his wine, thinking " Perhaps Old Lornack could know more. You could go and see her, if you are able to find her in Dul Zerath in Sarlona"
PbP Character: A few ;)
Kyne raises an eyebrow at the satyr's outlandish claims. However, the more he thinks, the more sense it makes. Daedagnír is an old blade, far older than him. It only wound up in his hands as a boon from the vaults of the Order.
"Dragonsouls?" The elf asks cautiously. "Do you mean fuelled by dragon shards? I always thought this was a ruby..." his fingers absentmindedly brush across the arcane focusing crystal embedded in the hilt of his sword.
"Which of the progenitor dragons were our weapons blessed by?"
He clearly has one in mind.
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
The satyr srughs "That is a dragonshard. A rare, old, precious dragonshard. As well as those two " he points to the one at Seb's staff and the one emerald like gem that adorn the central hilt of Lyreis's double scimitar.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Seb'riel raises an eyebrow in surprise. "I had heard of such weapons. I always considered them mere stories though, or else that they would not have survived to now. It seems strange that they would come to us, to the same place at once. They were gifted by the dragons to mortals they deemed worthy, but surely with a plan for how they would be used over time beyond the concept of those original mortals. They must be surely more powerful than we realise if this is true though. Their abilities will run much deeper than those we have discovered. We must spend some time researching the others and perhaps finding them, this is knowledge beyond that possessed by any .library I have ever visited, we are blessed indeed."
As she speaks she speaks she remembers something and pulls some scrolls from her bag. "The new vampires mentioned research into the staff beyond what it could obviously do. I dismissed it at the time because I was more worried about my escape. But perhaps they knew something of this." Looking through the stolen pages she scans for any further information, or reference to the true nature of the staff.
"This weapon is already a legend amongst my people, I have never lived up to the greatness associated with it though I have held it for five decades. The power I feel though, even when it is merely nearby makes me believe it is unusually powerful even by the standard of these weapons." His strong, long fingers, warrior's hands, caress the hilt running across the green stone. "So you are a dragonshard? It seems to be written that I will bring you further stories to be honoured in, if the fates allow it."
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
"you see?" says the satyr poiting to Seb'riel " I've already made her happy with our association..." he smiles and drinks to it.
Lyreis feels a pulsing energy, a warmth when he touches the hilt, specially the gem. It's like the weapon were answering him.
Seb'riel will need some time reviewing Morlainne's notes about the staff.
PbP Character: A few ;)
"Dragonshards..? Our most valuable export from the Marshes. Seems everyone wants to get their hands on the things." The ranger scratches his chin, then adds, "If we're looking for information on some dragons, there is one not too far from here that may shed some light on things. I don't know how old that one is though. Our vampire friend said a brass lives up in the mountains nearby."
"Looks like an Eberron-shard..." Kyne muses, half to himself, as he inspects the crystal embedded in Daedagnír's hilt.
"Although, those don't have the colouring of any dragonshards I've ever heard of," he admits, gesturing at Seb'riel's staff and Lyreis's dual blades.
"Dragonshards are borne of the three progenitor dragons," the elf adds, in response to Hurosk's thoughts. "I'm not sure how much a contemporary dragon would know of them. It wouldn't hurt to ask, but we need to consider if it's worth going to the effort of finding them at all. We might be better served by travelling to Dul Zerath."
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
Mathilda listens to everyone, but she can barely follow all the new information being discussed. She knows very little of dragonshards herself and little more of special, mythical weapons. As the others talk, her mind drifts and she thinks about the ball this evening and Lord Thrinderand...
The satyr seems to come back from the contemplation of his wine.
"Uh Oh? I beg your pardon? Wich dragonshard... how do you want me to know that? she is the wizard and the bookworm.." he says poiting to Seb'riel and shrugs his shoulders.
"And for if there's a signal of his cultist... last time they used to have a burning skull as their symbol... but I don't really know if that was his intention or just the symbol that followers choose. So don't take my words as certain." he replies to Moltaris.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Seb looks up briefly from her notes, "We should eventually go to Dul Zerath and speak to this wise person. But there is much to do first. We would be fools to be sent there only to immediately have to return after discovering something already written in a Library here. If we wish passage on a ship that will require a city first in any case, and so we can stop a while on route to find what we can first." She buries her face back into the notes. "There may even be something we can use here. Do not get too far ahead of yourself brother."
Hurosk shrugs. "Well, I'm up for wherever. You all seem to know more about all this business than me. So if this Dul Zerath is our best option, then let's get a move on."
The half-orc then looks down to examine his attire. "Do we need to blow off some steam first?" he asks looking to Mathilda.
"I am more than ready for the party!" says the satyr and seems to finish the wine of his cup in one big sip. He jumps to his hooves and suddenly he is dressed with an elegant suit of green and brown silk, with leaves motifs embroided on it.
"Are you ready?"
PbP Character: A few ;)
Kyne sighs and runs a weary hand back through his auburn locks, shaking his head at Seb's cautioning.
"Either way, we need a plan for when we leave. Ships go back and forth across Lake Galifar all the time. It shouldn't be any trouble to get a ride on one to Passage. We need to head in that direction to reach Dul Zerath anyway, and the way east could take us right through Flamekeep. Those are both much larger cities, where you should be able to find more than you can here."
He lets himself flop backwards onto Moltaris's bed with a resounding PLOOF.
"What time does the ball start? I need a drink and a dance."
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
"Then we should head in that direction, but later. First I need writing supplies and some time with these books. It appears Morlainne had many interesting spells here that I would like to copy, and it will take me some time to read her research, it is quite comprehensive." Seb'riel doesn't seem to acknowledge any mention of the party, and makes no move to stand with the others.
Mathilda snaps out of her reverie and smiles. "I've never been to a fancy ball, I can't wait to see what it's like!" Looking between Seb'riel and Moltaris, neither of whom seem to be experts at braiding, she asks a little timidly: "Could either of you help me with my hair? I don't want to stand out..."
"I find myself very much ready to relax with music and wine and dance. It sounds as though we may not have many opportunities to enjoy them in the near future, so I will revel as if the world is ending, just in case it is." Lyreis smiles at the others warmly "And I am glad to do it with such excellent company, ....and you as well." He adds to the satyr, albeit with a smile in his eyes.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
"Then what are we waiting for?" ask the satyr and heads to the door and opens it inviting them to go out.
When Mathilda is crossing in front of him he says "Oh! yes.. your hair don't you worry..." he makes a simple gesture with his fingers like swirling something and Mathilda's hair is magically combed into a bun with half of it still loos over her shoulders and her back. The bun itslef is adorned with some flowers the same color of the belt at her waist. "there you are." he says smilig.
As they walk out he gives them a mask. From where is he taking them, none can tell but they look more stilized that the ones they wore last time.
A tiger for Lyreis, an eagle for Hurosk, a cat for Mathilda, a hawk for Kyne and a Jackal for Moltaris.
Just before closing the door he looks at Seb'riel "Are you sure you don't want to come with us? last chance..." he says with a singing tone, still shaking an owl mask for her.
Even before reaching the bottom of the stairs that leads to main ball room they hear the music. A rythmic yet happy tone that sounds promising.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3ORBn4YLw0
As they approach the double doors that lead to the great saloon they open by themselves and the ball room unfolds before them.
During all the nights that Mathilda worked at the Golden Sphynx, she thought that every night a party was held, but the truth was that those nights, like two nights ago when the rest of them entered for the first time the Sphynx, was just a regular night. But not tonight. Tonight all the beatiful chandeliers are up and lit with magical lights that gives the ball room and splenderous illumination, highlighting the golden decoration of the windows frames and the reliefs that run alongside the cieling. None of them had noticed the awesome painting in the slightly vaulted ceiling, depicting a great desert. Camels roam the distand dunes that wave along the ceiling towards a square temple of terracotta, and above its columns a great shpynx rest there sitting with her wings unfold. Its golden eyes seems to look down directly at them, the androgynous face has a serious and noble expresion painted on it. Imposing but not intimidating. It is not after a few moments that Lyreis notice that there is another figure in the painting. A grey, slender and gracile cat that seems to be talking to the sphynx from the bottom of the steps that lead to the temple. The calid illumination of the lamps, orange with some hints of yellow and red makes them fill that it's the very sun at sunset wich gives light to the hall. Still the effect is so subtle, the spell that fuel the lamps so well crafted, that doesn't overload the senses.
On the ball room there are numerous couples already dancing at the sound of a group of bards. The bards are all dressed with white skirts, with a golden belt and open, white lynen vest, their hairs covered by a piece of white lynen fixed with golden straps. They wear a simple black mask just covering their eyes and the upper part of their noses.
Dozen of servants, dressed much like the bards, attend the guests of the event, and they can even see a couple of trays moving around on their own.
Several groups of wealthy gusets, all wearing animal masks chat, drink and eat the datils, honey rolls with pistachio over it, lamb spiced with peppermint, trout, humus, frutis cutted in small pieces and other delicatessen that the servants offers to the attendants. There is also a big table at one side with more food. Hurosk's attention is caught by the great black scoprion that is at the center of the table, made of differnt kinds of fruits to ressemble it.
"Who would had say " says the satyr his features now hidden under a fox mask of hte same style of the ones they have " that this pearl would be hidden in such a fishers city... " he chuckles " Let's mingle " he says and darts into the ball room. Even from behind him the friends can feel his mischevious grin.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Seb'riel looks up in surprise and mild amusement. "oh, you are actually going? I thought it was a joke. I have far more important things to do. If you get in trouble or need somebody to dance with, do let me know, I would hate for anyone to feel lonely or awkward. Otherwise..." She pauses clearly trying to articulate the right farewell "Do enjoy yourself, but not too much." The rising inflection indicates a measure of uncertainty still as she speaks, but the satisfied smile shows she thinks she hit the mark.
Moltaris falls silent after the satyr utters these words. Her skin takes on a pallor even lighter than her usual pale shade, and a haunted glow shimmers around her eyes.
Dul Zerath.
The conversation ebbs and flows around her, but she is completely oblivious, lost in her reverie as the name of the city pulses in her mind.
Dul Zerath. Dal Quor. The Dreaming Dark. The Thousand Eyes.
It would be madness to go there, sheer madness. How will they even get passports? Elves aren't allowed in, and we are executed on sight. She looks at her elven companions and laughs at the prospect of them even considering disguising their nature.
Her hands move on their own to accept the jackal mask and don it over her unsettled features, and she makes her way with her typical silence to the party with the rest of the group, but the name never stops its thrum of terror in her thoughts.
Dul Zerath. Riedra. The Inspired. The War.
Eshuvenniel Kazander Ravid, Valor Bard and Acolyte of the Goddess of Luck
Caradoc Langham, Halfling Rogue - Lost Magics - Epic of Pre-made Proportions!
I'm not looking for heaven or hell... just someone to listen to stories I tell...