The chosen adventurers and champions had arrived at the guard tower along the outer edge of Roses. A recent construction, less than a year old, and little more than a tall wooden tower on stilts. More akin to the kind of watchtowers built in the upper mountains to watch for wildfires than anything that would stop or even hinder an invading army. Similarly, about a mile further from the watchtower rose a low stone wall, no more than two or three feet high, hastily made. It seemed more to mark a specific line than as a true defensive wall. It was like the wall two farms might construct between themselves. It clearly marked the furthest edge of the curse afflicting Roses.
And, in the distance, the city itself. A massive metropolis, flanked on two sides by mountains, and seated where a path had been carved through the mountain range and down to the ocean by an ancient glacier. A host of blue and white flowers growing along the road leading to the city and all along its walls gave the city its name.
As the heroes approached, a pair of guards lounging in the shadow of the watchtower called out to the approaching adventurers, having been alerted to their presence by the guards in the tower. "Hail, travelers, and well met. You approach the plagued city of Roses. If you come not to answer His Majesty's call, then please come no further, for your own sakes."
"Aye, we come to assist the king of roses in lifting the curse from these lands" a tall golden dragonborn bellows out. he stands six feet tall, and is clad in chain mail that has been polished to a shine. on his back there's a hardened wooden shield with numerous dings and scratches, and a sheathed long sword. He looks over the group, and they notice he has a long scar over his left eye, and in place of his eye you see a strange copper ball, with a stylized iris carved into it, that seems to move independently of the other.
“As per the call for aid y’all put out,” says an aging crimson tiefling, slowly stepping forward to stand beside the dragonborn. “Seems as though we’ve got our work cut out for us, if the rumors ‘bout this curse are true.”
He stands a few inches shorter than the gold-scaled warrior and lacks for proper armor; dressed instead in a long brown duster, a worn leather vest over an ordinary cotton shirt, dusty travel pants and boots, and a wide-brimmed that conceals much of his face as he tilts his head downward, but leaves his backwards-curving horns prominently on display. A set of bandoliers crisscross his chest, their loops filled with vials of ink in various shades and hues; matching those of several hastily scrawled notes scribbled across his bare forearms. A heavy leather belt rests upon his waist, supporting two thickly bound books in holsters on either hip; both mostly concealed by the folds of his coat. He leans heavily on a weathered steel cane and walks with a noticeable limp in his right leg.
Even smaller the Tiefling and the Dragonborn, a gnome wearing leather armor and a bat holding onto her shoulder smiles excitedly,"I'm excited. This seems fun!"
The guards, both human, dressed identically in chain shirts and matching white surcoats embroidered with a Blue Rose over their heart, looked at each other with relief, noticeably relaxing their hold on their spears. They each slung their shields on their backs, and invited the group to join them in the shade. Aside from the tower, nothing higher than two feet was visible for miles in any direction. The heat of the midday sun pounded down but, with a slight breeze, it was just tolerable in the shade. Above, in the tower itself, a guard released a bird that raced towards the city, a message tied to its leg.
The older guard below, leaned on his spear and sniffed. His grey hair ruffling slightly in the wind as he pulled his coif down. He glanced in the direction of the bird. "Be a few minutes, that." He said in a rough voice.
The younger guard smiled tiredly, his blond hair just peeking out from his mail coif, matching a thin beard and mustache. He was clearly the voice that had called out. "You must forgive, Fescue here. His idea of manners is to piss downwind. I am Galingale, welcome to Roses. What my friend here is trying to say, is that it'll take a few minutes for the bird to reach the Archmage. He'll want to come to discuss things with you himself." He looked back to Roses. "If any of you have been here before, I doubt you'll recognize her now. Don't know how much you've heard of the curse, but I'll tell you anyways. Forgive me if I talk too much, but the company here leaves something to be desired!" He said with a laugh and a wink at Fescue, who merely grunted in reply.
The party began to realize that Galingale was the kind of person who liked to hear himself speak, and rarely used two words to say something if he could instead say seven. "A few years ago, during the Upheaval--you'll remember that, unless you were very far away from here. When the very elements themselves turned against us, and the plague came from the north. The mass of aberrations and demons that came. I was just a boy then, and happened to be visiting my cousins in Blackwatch, or else I would've been in the city at the time... But I'm getting off topic. You see, a powerful dragon came and attacked the city, they say it was Ashardalon himself. And while the Archmage was distracted defending the city, a powerful warlock snuck into the city and corrupted the mythal wards. He reversed the protections somehow... there's a lot that happened that I don't know, but now, if you stray past that line," here he nodded towards the small stone wall, "you start to die, and if you stay past that line for more than a few hours, you rise again as an undead. And if you leave the mythal, you lose your mind." Here, he looked down, and his tone became sad, "Me Ma's in there... still knows who she is, I think, but they hide themselves from us living." He broke off for a moment. Then, he almost shook himself, and his small smile returned. " There do seem to be a few immune to the curse. His Majesty of course, the Archmage. There's even a small sect of priests of some sort that care for the dead as best they can... Anyway, we'll all be quite glad when you break the curse."
As he stopped to catch his breath, he finally seemed to actually see the party of heroes. He blinked at the dragonborn. They were exceedingly rare in this area. In fact, the only other dragonborn most citizens of Roses had ever seen was His Majesty, King Felix, a green dragonborn who had been a citizen of Roses for as long as any could remember, but had only recently become King following the curse and the death of the ruling council. Tieflings were uncommon, but not so exceedingly rare that their appearance occasioned comment. The other members of the party seemed almost boring in comparison to the young human.
“‘Quite glad’... yes, I’d imagine. Your city’s known suffering I doubt we could even begin to comprehend. But, for what little it’s worth, just know that you have our sympathy. And know that we WILL do whatever we can to help.” The tiefling adjusts himself a bit as he speaks, using his tail to hold his cane in place while he fishes around in his pockets and pouches for a quill and some ink. Once found, he begins taking down a few notes on what the guard has been saying. Brief, quick, to-the-point notes. He could already tell this Galingale was going to be just the sort he liked having dealings with. Folks who enjoyed hearing themselves talk often let things slip that their betters would prefer to keep a tight seal on.
“If I might, Sir Galingale, is there anything you could tell us about these folks that ain’t been affected by the curse? Anything that connects them in some way? Even if it’s just a passing thing. Some reason why they, in particular, might be immune? If not, I of course understand... but anything you might know could be helpful with the work that’s ahead of us.”
The blond guard turned away from staring at the dragonborn, and towards the tiefling. "What? Oh, um... well, I'm no knight, it's just Galingale... but, um, well, there seem to be two different kind of priests that still live in Roses. The one group call themselves the Archivists. I say priests, but they ain't like any priests I know. They don't preach, nor try to convert folks. They don't seem to care much about folks at all, either the living or the dead... well, not the undead at least. I remember them from when I lived in Roses as just a lad. Haven't seem much of them since, except the monthly trip they come here to collect their food from Tolm--that's the traveling merchant what used to live here too. They're sages, of a sort, I think. My Pa used to tell me about 'em. He said, they keep a warehouse of skulls. These skulls are old Archivists who live on in order to pass their knowledge on to younger Archivists. Pa said, you could get almost any question answered by them if'n you had the coin."
"The other priests are just the opposite." He continued, warming to the tale, "They come from Lux to the north, all gold eyes and tattoos, glowing like the sun... They'd be pretty if they weren't so judgmental. I suppose some of them are okay, but most of them just come and tell you that you're in danger of eternal damnation, and that you need to repent. To worship the Light. That this curse can only be broken if we worship the Light and obey them." He laughs, "Just like every other priest I've ever known."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Yes, well...there is something to be said towards seeking deific assitance in curse breaking. But to my experience most of the times the gods can't be bothered unless you particularly have their favor."
A small halfling fellow with dark eyes and a thick bushy red beard has joined the waiting group.
"Sorry for butting in, but I think I am supposed to be here too right? The fortellings are a little cloudy on the subject...but it seems like me going on this little journey will be beneficial for all. Name's Zenver. Arcanist and Reader, if there is some knowledge that you seek if I do not know it now I can likely find an answer beyond the mists."
The halfling gives a slight bow to the group. "There are individuals I saw to expect that are not yet present but are they past or future? Pray, for whom do we wait?"
OOC: Some quick bookkeeping, since it is effectively the beginning of the day I need 2 portent rolls for today.
22
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Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
“Well then, let’s hope someone here has the ear of one god or another.“ The tiefling turns about to acknowledge the new halfling. Then to the rest of the gathered group as well. “Seems the journey here’s taken a bit of a toll on my manners. Zenver, you called yourself? I’m Xanktus. A ‘seeker of knowledge,’ as it would happen; so You and I’ll certainly need to have some words on that subject later on.”
He looks about at the others present. “Since it would appear we’re still short a body or two, according to your estimation, it might do us well to at least get to know one another that are here already. Usually better to have some idea who the folks you’re heading into a life-or-death situation with are before your in the thick of it...”
the Dragonborn raises his head in interest in hearing about the dragon and also the King Felix being of dragon blood "I'm sorry young Galingale, but I don't believe I've ever heard of the dragon Ashardalon, If we still have a few minutes", he looks back to the road and sky, scanning for adventurers and birds, "I'd like to hear about this dragon, if you don't mind, of course"
The heavily armored apparently-human woman strides her way up to the tower where everyone was gathered, smoke wisping off of her plate as she walks, and a helmet in her left hand. Upon reaching where the rest stood, she nodded. "...Apologies for the delay." She said, and makes no further comment on her tardiness as she looks over those gathered. A dragonborn, a tiefling... She herself... What a ragtag group. It would make sense for such exotic people to seek their fortunes. A halfling as well. How unusual.
"...Sylzet Dawnbloom. I do not expect you to remember or care for my name, but know that my role here is two-fold. To stand against our enemies so our task may be completed, and to earn the land offered by the king." She says. ...the amount of ego dripping from her words. It's palpable. She brushes some of her hair over her ear.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Formerly Devan Avalon.
Trying to get your physical content on Beyond is like going to Microsoft and saying "I have a physical Playstation disk, give me a digital Xbox version!"
The young guard looked down at the halfling. "Oh, the Archmage said to expect six heroes. By my count there are just five here now."
He glanced askance at the armored woman, as she proudly made her declaration. He stood for a second with his mouth open, seeming unsure of how to respond and then closed his mouth with an audible clack. He decided that politely not responding was the best method. Instead, he turned back at towards the towering dragonborn.
The guard did his best to pretend that he wasn't distracted by the massive scar and magic eye. "Umm... well, Sir. The legends of Ashardalon are as old as time. They say he was as big as a castle, as evil as any creature from the Abyss, and as powerful as a god. He was Ba'al's most powerful Captain in the Chaos War, and could slay the most powerful army all by himself. Legend has it that a holy knight, Sir Goron, accompanied by a powerful wizard, by the name of Vetiver, was able to slay the beast. Ah, but Ashardalon were too evil to stay dead. He went to the Abyss and replaced his heart with a demon, and returned to rampage, more powerful now than before! But, just when all hope was lost and Ba'al's army was on the edge of victory, his own Captains turned against him, each wanting to usurp Ba'al in his moment of triumph. This allowed a group of heroes to defeat Ashardalon and bind him deep in the mountains. According to legend, it was those mountains over there in point of fact." Here he pointed over at the southern mountains. "'S'why we call 'em the Dragon's Teeth."
"But then, a few years ago, somethin' happened to waken and release the monster. As I said, I was in Blackwatch when it happened. But they say Ashardalon's wings blacked out the sky when he came to try to destroy Roses." Here he leaned in conspiratorially and said, with a mix of awe and pride, "But he was not expecting the Archmage. Fought him off single-handedly he did. Protected the city from destruction, and drove the demon off." He broke off, looking down and sad.
"Well, 'twas that fight that distracted him, and allowed the warlock to curse the city. Anyway, you'll meet him soon. You'll see. I'm sure he's just waiting for the final member of your group to join us."
Zenver looks into the middle distance, staring at a blank space on the nearby wall.
"There are several fate chains that could be followed that make the answer to your question imprecise fair lady...but then that is often the case when attempting to peer through the mist. Based on their groupings and bindings though, I should think our final compatriot will be joining us within the next 10 minutes or perhaps on the quarter moon after the next new moon. Certainly one of the two...or somewhere inbetween."
He nods and smiles as if he had said something wise and helpful, instead of uselessly vague.
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Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Sylzet listens to the story Galingale tells and nods gently. She always appreciated a good tale, and bonus points for it probably being true. Roses being the way it currently is is certainly proof enough of that.
...And then the halfling says something that tries to wax as useful, and she shakes her head. "...What are you on about?" She asks, not even bothering to make her distaste for the halfling 'seer' less than obvious. "If you are going to play at predictions, at least make them specific and useful." She snorts, walking past the group a bit to turn her gaze over the land of Roses... Surveying her future empire, as the wisps of smoke rise dramatically from her armor.
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Formerly Devan Avalon.
Trying to get your physical content on Beyond is like going to Microsoft and saying "I have a physical Playstation disk, give me a digital Xbox version!"
As if out of nowhere, an exceedingly tall, statuesque woman, her blue-grey skin contrasting with her flame-red hair. "Sorry to be late, is this where the heroes are needed?" "
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Liarin: Against the Cult of the Reptile God Adewild: Shadows and Light 2 Brother Thaddeus: Rime of the Frostmaiden.
Sylzet lets out an audible groan as she rolls her eyes. "...This is going to be a long trip." She says, before nodding to the newcomer and turning her attention back to Galingale.
"...Would you mind giving some details on the nature of the undead curse? Do those who fall under the curse keep returning, even if they are felled after their initial turning? Does divine power stop them from rising again? Do we have to burn them to ash?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Formerly Devan Avalon.
Trying to get your physical content on Beyond is like going to Microsoft and saying "I have a physical Playstation disk, give me a digital Xbox version!"
“And,” Xanktus cuts in curtly, picking up Sylzet’s momentum, “are there any we should be concerned about sparing as we make our way through? You mentioned several, like your dear mother, still have their minds, or at the very least their memories. I’m not going to pretend carving and burning our way through wouldn’t be the easiest solution, but I suspect it may not be the most prudent option if some of the citizens are still themselves underneath all that undeath.”
He added much of what had transpired to the notes, stuffing the first slip of parchment between several marked pages in a book he slipped out of its holster on his right hip. Producing a second torn sheet of parchment, he began making not of the strange company he’d be tackling this job with. Stoicism. Strength. Cheerfulness. Eccentricity. Curiosity. Mistrust. A little bit of everything was present here, really. They seemed a fairly well-rounded bunch. Much could be accomplished with a group like this...
(OOC: Sorry, I'm fairly inactive over the weekend as I'm mostly on my phone and not my computer. So I can read things, but writing them is a little more difficult).
The young guard seemed somewhat flustered by the rapid succession of questions, just as he was about to answer one, someone else asked another question. Finally, just as he was about to answer the party's questions, a voice called out from above in the watchtower, a dark female face peered down from the watchtower window, framed in maille. "Oi, look alive down there, His Eminence approaches!"
"Yes, sergeant!" The two guards responded immediately. They transitioned from lazing about in the shade to preparing for action with the efficiency of professional soldiers. In the distance, just barely visible could be seen a giant bird approaching from the city. As it came closer, it appeared to be a simple grey messenger pigeon, but was almost the size of a roc. Seated upon its back, was a figured clothed in dark grey and red robes, trimmed in cloth of gold and silver.
The two guards stood at attention a few feet outside the tower, as the bird landed, and the figure slid off gracefully, slowly floating to the ground. Now that he was closer, he appeared human, with a neatly trimmed beard. But his eyes glowed alternating colors as he looked around at the party. The more insightful members would be able to see that while he held a smile on his face, there was a sadness and anger underlying his mood. In his right hand he held a staff that appeared to be made from one solid piece of amethyst, each finger on the hand wearing a different ring. His left hand, seemed almost empty with a simple band of gold on his ring finger. Several ioun stones circled his head.
Fescue stepped forward and took hold of a simple rope that had been tied around the bird's neck, while Galingale stood at stiff attention and announced to the gathered heroes. "Heroes of the Realm, I present His Eminence, Archmage Gilead Fein, first of the Arcane Eye."
The Archmage stepped forward, and smiled, nodding at the two guards. As he moved away from the bird, it shrank down to a normal size and Fescue scooped up the bird. Power seemed to radiate from the Archmage; as he came nearer, the adventurers could feel their hair rise up slightly, the way it might just before a lightning strike, and the faint smell of ozone surrounded the man. By comparison, his voice, though a deep baritone, was almost disappointing in its normality.
"Thank you, Fescue, please return the bird to your cages above. Thank you, Galingale, you may return to your ease." He turned back to the party, his eyes glowing a light blue color. "Ahh, Heroes, what an interesting band that have gathered here." As his eyes passed over them, one could almost physically feel his scrutiny, assessing, weighing them. His eyes turned a dark purple color. "I am glad you have come to answer His Majesty's call. I will be happy to answer any questions you have in my tower. Worry not, most of its rooms are in my own demiplane that are not subject to the Curse. Please, follow me."
He stepped back and drew a wide circle in the grass with the bottom of his staff, as one might draw with a stick in the sand. Where his staff drew, a glowing purple line remained floating inches above the ground. At different points on the circle he drew sigils, demarcating, in some arcane manner, a specific teleportation circle to which it would be linked. A shimmering portal opened in the middle of the circle like a door splitting the air. Gilead looked back at the group, smiled and said, "This way please," before stepping through the portal and disappearing.
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
"Aye, we come to assist the king of roses in lifting the curse from these lands" a tall golden dragonborn bellows out. he stands six feet tall, and is clad in chain mail that has been polished to a shine. on his back there's a hardened wooden shield with numerous dings and scratches, and a sheathed long sword. He looks over the group, and they notice he has a long scar over his left eye, and in place of his eye you see a strange copper ball, with a stylized iris carved into it, that seems to move independently of the other.
Torrin Delmirev - Into the Abyss
Krusk - Rime of the Frost Maiden
“As per the call for aid y’all put out,” says an aging crimson tiefling, slowly stepping forward to stand beside the dragonborn. “Seems as though we’ve got our work cut out for us, if the rumors ‘bout this curse are true.”
He stands a few inches shorter than the gold-scaled warrior and lacks for proper armor; dressed instead in a long brown duster, a worn leather vest over an ordinary cotton shirt, dusty travel pants and boots, and a wide-brimmed that conceals much of his face as he tilts his head downward, but leaves his backwards-curving horns prominently on display. A set of bandoliers crisscross his chest, their loops filled with vials of ink in various shades and hues; matching those of several hastily scrawled notes scribbled across his bare forearms. A heavy leather belt rests upon his waist, supporting two thickly bound books in holsters on either hip; both mostly concealed by the folds of his coat. He leans heavily on a weathered steel cane and walks with a noticeable limp in his right leg.
“...But I’d say this group looks up to the task.”
Even smaller the Tiefling and the Dragonborn, a gnome wearing leather armor and a bat holding onto her shoulder smiles excitedly, "I'm excited. This seems fun!"
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
“‘Quite glad’... yes, I’d imagine. Your city’s known suffering I doubt we could even begin to comprehend. But, for what little it’s worth, just know that you have our sympathy. And know that we WILL do whatever we can to help.” The tiefling adjusts himself a bit as he speaks, using his tail to hold his cane in place while he fishes around in his pockets and pouches for a quill and some ink. Once found, he begins taking down a few notes on what the guard has been saying. Brief, quick, to-the-point notes. He could already tell this Galingale was going to be just the sort he liked having dealings with. Folks who enjoyed hearing themselves talk often let things slip that their betters would prefer to keep a tight seal on.
“If I might, Sir Galingale, is there anything you could tell us about these folks that ain’t been affected by the curse? Anything that connects them in some way? Even if it’s just a passing thing. Some reason why they, in particular, might be immune? If not, I of course understand... but anything you might know could be helpful with the work that’s ahead of us.”
The blond guard turned away from staring at the dragonborn, and towards the tiefling. "What? Oh, um... well, I'm no knight, it's just Galingale... but, um, well, there seem to be two different kind of priests that still live in Roses. The one group call themselves the Archivists. I say priests, but they ain't like any priests I know. They don't preach, nor try to convert folks. They don't seem to care much about folks at all, either the living or the dead... well, not the undead at least. I remember them from when I lived in Roses as just a lad. Haven't seem much of them since, except the monthly trip they come here to collect their food from Tolm--that's the traveling merchant what used to live here too. They're sages, of a sort, I think. My Pa used to tell me about 'em. He said, they keep a warehouse of skulls. These skulls are old Archivists who live on in order to pass their knowledge on to younger Archivists. Pa said, you could get almost any question answered by them if'n you had the coin."
"The other priests are just the opposite." He continued, warming to the tale, "They come from Lux to the north, all gold eyes and tattoos, glowing like the sun... They'd be pretty if they weren't so judgmental. I suppose some of them are okay, but most of them just come and tell you that you're in danger of eternal damnation, and that you need to repent. To worship the Light. That this curse can only be broken if we worship the Light and obey them." He laughs, "Just like every other priest I've ever known."
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
"Yes, well...there is something to be said towards seeking deific assitance in curse breaking. But to my experience most of the times the gods can't be bothered unless you particularly have their favor."
A small halfling fellow with dark eyes and a thick bushy red beard has joined the waiting group.
"Sorry for butting in, but I think I am supposed to be here too right? The fortellings are a little cloudy on the subject...but it seems like me going on this little journey will be beneficial for all. Name's Zenver. Arcanist and Reader, if there is some knowledge that you seek if I do not know it now I can likely find an answer beyond the mists."
The halfling gives a slight bow to the group. "There are individuals I saw to expect that are not yet present but are they past or future? Pray, for whom do we wait?"
OOC: Some quick bookkeeping, since it is effectively the beginning of the day I need 2 portent rolls for today.
22
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
“Well then, let’s hope someone here has the ear of one god or another.“ The tiefling turns about to acknowledge the new halfling. Then to the rest of the gathered group as well. “Seems the journey here’s taken a bit of a toll on my manners. Zenver, you called yourself? I’m Xanktus. A ‘seeker of knowledge,’ as it would happen; so You and I’ll certainly need to have some words on that subject later on.”
He looks about at the others present. “Since it would appear we’re still short a body or two, according to your estimation, it might do us well to at least get to know one another that are here already. Usually better to have some idea who the folks you’re heading into a life-or-death situation with are before your in the thick of it...”
the Dragonborn raises his head in interest in hearing about the dragon and also the King Felix being of dragon blood "I'm sorry young Galingale, but I don't believe I've ever heard of the dragon Ashardalon, If we still have a few minutes", he looks back to the road and sky, scanning for adventurers and birds, "I'd like to hear about this dragon, if you don't mind, of course"
Torrin Delmirev - Into the Abyss
Krusk - Rime of the Frost Maiden
The heavily armored apparently-human woman strides her way up to the tower where everyone was gathered, smoke wisping off of her plate as she walks, and a helmet in her left hand. Upon reaching where the rest stood, she nodded. "...Apologies for the delay." She said, and makes no further comment on her tardiness as she looks over those gathered. A dragonborn, a tiefling... She herself... What a ragtag group. It would make sense for such exotic people to seek their fortunes. A halfling as well. How unusual.
"...Sylzet Dawnbloom. I do not expect you to remember or care for my name, but know that my role here is two-fold. To stand against our enemies so our task may be completed, and to earn the land offered by the king." She says. ...the amount of ego dripping from her words. It's palpable. She brushes some of her hair over her ear.
Formerly Devan Avalon.
Trying to get your physical content on Beyond is like going to Microsoft and saying "I have a physical Playstation disk, give me a digital Xbox version!"
The young guard looked down at the halfling. "Oh, the Archmage said to expect six heroes. By my count there are just five here now."
He glanced askance at the armored woman, as she proudly made her declaration. He stood for a second with his mouth open, seeming unsure of how to respond and then closed his mouth with an audible clack. He decided that politely not responding was the best method. Instead, he turned back at towards the towering dragonborn.
The guard did his best to pretend that he wasn't distracted by the massive scar and magic eye. "Umm... well, Sir. The legends of Ashardalon are as old as time. They say he was as big as a castle, as evil as any creature from the Abyss, and as powerful as a god. He was Ba'al's most powerful Captain in the Chaos War, and could slay the most powerful army all by himself. Legend has it that a holy knight, Sir Goron, accompanied by a powerful wizard, by the name of Vetiver, was able to slay the beast. Ah, but Ashardalon were too evil to stay dead. He went to the Abyss and replaced his heart with a demon, and returned to rampage, more powerful now than before! But, just when all hope was lost and Ba'al's army was on the edge of victory, his own Captains turned against him, each wanting to usurp Ba'al in his moment of triumph. This allowed a group of heroes to defeat Ashardalon and bind him deep in the mountains. According to legend, it was those mountains over there in point of fact." Here he pointed over at the southern mountains. "'S'why we call 'em the Dragon's Teeth."
"But then, a few years ago, somethin' happened to waken and release the monster. As I said, I was in Blackwatch when it happened. But they say Ashardalon's wings blacked out the sky when he came to try to destroy Roses." Here he leaned in conspiratorially and said, with a mix of awe and pride, "But he was not expecting the Archmage. Fought him off single-handedly he did. Protected the city from destruction, and drove the demon off." He broke off, looking down and sad.
"Well, 'twas that fight that distracted him, and allowed the warlock to curse the city. Anyway, you'll meet him soon. You'll see. I'm sure he's just waiting for the final member of your group to join us."
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |
The gnome rocks back and forth on her feet, "Alright, but how long is that gonna be?"
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Zenver looks into the middle distance, staring at a blank space on the nearby wall.
"There are several fate chains that could be followed that make the answer to your question imprecise fair lady...but then that is often the case when attempting to peer through the mist. Based on their groupings and bindings though, I should think our final compatriot will be joining us within the next 10 minutes or perhaps on the quarter moon after the next new moon. Certainly one of the two...or somewhere inbetween."
He nods and smiles as if he had said something wise and helpful, instead of uselessly vague.
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Sylzet listens to the story Galingale tells and nods gently. She always appreciated a good tale, and bonus points for it probably being true. Roses being the way it currently is is certainly proof enough of that.
...And then the halfling says something that tries to wax as useful, and she shakes her head. "...What are you on about?" She asks, not even bothering to make her distaste for the halfling 'seer' less than obvious. "If you are going to play at predictions, at least make them specific and useful." She snorts, walking past the group a bit to turn her gaze over the land of Roses... Surveying her future empire, as the wisps of smoke rise dramatically from her armor.
Formerly Devan Avalon.
Trying to get your physical content on Beyond is like going to Microsoft and saying "I have a physical Playstation disk, give me a digital Xbox version!"
As if out of nowhere, an exceedingly tall, statuesque woman, her blue-grey skin contrasting with her flame-red hair. "Sorry to be late, is this where the heroes are needed?"
"
Liarin: Against the Cult of the Reptile God
Adewild: Shadows and Light 2
Brother Thaddeus: Rime of the Frostmaiden.
The halfling perks up, the smile broadening to nearly crack his face in half.
"Ah-hah! See, I told you! Within the next 10 minutes. See if you doubt me again. Mmhmm mmhmm mmhmm"
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Sylzet lets out an audible groan as she rolls her eyes. "...This is going to be a long trip." She says, before nodding to the newcomer and turning her attention back to Galingale.
"...Would you mind giving some details on the nature of the undead curse? Do those who fall under the curse keep returning, even if they are felled after their initial turning? Does divine power stop them from rising again? Do we have to burn them to ash?"
Formerly Devan Avalon.
Trying to get your physical content on Beyond is like going to Microsoft and saying "I have a physical Playstation disk, give me a digital Xbox version!"
“And,” Xanktus cuts in curtly, picking up Sylzet’s momentum, “are there any we should be concerned about sparing as we make our way through? You mentioned several, like your dear mother, still have their minds, or at the very least their memories. I’m not going to pretend carving and burning our way through wouldn’t be the easiest solution, but I suspect it may not be the most prudent option if some of the citizens are still themselves underneath all that undeath.”
He added much of what had transpired to the notes, stuffing the first slip of parchment between several marked pages in a book he slipped out of its holster on his right hip. Producing a second torn sheet of parchment, he began making not of the strange company he’d be tackling this job with. Stoicism. Strength. Cheerfulness. Eccentricity. Curiosity. Mistrust. A little bit of everything was present here, really. They seemed a fairly well-rounded bunch. Much could be accomplished with a group like this...
(OOC: Sorry, I'm fairly inactive over the weekend as I'm mostly on my phone and not my computer. So I can read things, but writing them is a little more difficult).
The young guard seemed somewhat flustered by the rapid succession of questions, just as he was about to answer one, someone else asked another question. Finally, just as he was about to answer the party's questions, a voice called out from above in the watchtower, a dark female face peered down from the watchtower window, framed in maille. "Oi, look alive down there, His Eminence approaches!"
"Yes, sergeant!" The two guards responded immediately. They transitioned from lazing about in the shade to preparing for action with the efficiency of professional soldiers. In the distance, just barely visible could be seen a giant bird approaching from the city. As it came closer, it appeared to be a simple grey messenger pigeon, but was almost the size of a roc. Seated upon its back, was a figured clothed in dark grey and red robes, trimmed in cloth of gold and silver.
The two guards stood at attention a few feet outside the tower, as the bird landed, and the figure slid off gracefully, slowly floating to the ground. Now that he was closer, he appeared human, with a neatly trimmed beard. But his eyes glowed alternating colors as he looked around at the party. The more insightful members would be able to see that while he held a smile on his face, there was a sadness and anger underlying his mood. In his right hand he held a staff that appeared to be made from one solid piece of amethyst, each finger on the hand wearing a different ring. His left hand, seemed almost empty with a simple band of gold on his ring finger. Several ioun stones circled his head.
Fescue stepped forward and took hold of a simple rope that had been tied around the bird's neck, while Galingale stood at stiff attention and announced to the gathered heroes. "Heroes of the Realm, I present His Eminence, Archmage Gilead Fein, first of the Arcane Eye."
The Archmage stepped forward, and smiled, nodding at the two guards. As he moved away from the bird, it shrank down to a normal size and Fescue scooped up the bird. Power seemed to radiate from the Archmage; as he came nearer, the adventurers could feel their hair rise up slightly, the way it might just before a lightning strike, and the faint smell of ozone surrounded the man. By comparison, his voice, though a deep baritone, was almost disappointing in its normality.
"Thank you, Fescue, please return the bird to your cages above. Thank you, Galingale, you may return to your ease." He turned back to the party, his eyes glowing a light blue color. "Ahh, Heroes, what an interesting band that have gathered here." As his eyes passed over them, one could almost physically feel his scrutiny, assessing, weighing them. His eyes turned a dark purple color. "I am glad you have come to answer His Majesty's call. I will be happy to answer any questions you have in my tower. Worry not, most of its rooms are in my own demiplane that are not subject to the Curse. Please, follow me."
He stepped back and drew a wide circle in the grass with the bottom of his staff, as one might draw with a stick in the sand. Where his staff drew, a glowing purple line remained floating inches above the ground. At different points on the circle he drew sigils, demarcating, in some arcane manner, a specific teleportation circle to which it would be linked. A shimmering portal opened in the middle of the circle like a door splitting the air. Gilead looked back at the group, smiled and said, "This way please," before stepping through the portal and disappearing.
**By the Light of the Sun, you will burn!**
Previously BENEFICENCE
DM: Storm Lord's Wrath || Syr Valor Dayne: Sleeping Gods || tooltips | guides | dice |