There had been some talk of delaying the voyage due to the poor weather, but the decision has apparently been made for the Brio to set sail. The small crew is nevertheless expert in its duties, and the frigid easterly bites into the sail to carry the procession southward. Atloonde and Tramoric are kept below decks, a low-roofed space even for humanoids of average height, but for the two of them it is cramped indeed.
Overhead, the Magistrate and his entourage speak of his son and his untimely death. From below decks, it's difficult to hear every word, but the somber tone is clear, and the following details emerge from the various accolades and eulogies:
- A creature has been harassing Marjatta's caori flocks, killing the livestock, and even some fishermen from nearby villages. - Kedrick Sagar, the magistrate's son, grew disaffected with his father's ineffectual response to this "beast", and vowed to rid the area of its terrorism. - He and his hunting party run afoul of the monster, and he sacrifices himself so that the others can flee. - The beast seemed uninterested in consuming Sagar, and his remains were retrieved for an honorable sendoff.
A couple of hours pass [feel free to take a short rest] before the Brio drops anchor more than a horizon away from shore. The final farewell hymns begin, and the boards of the deck creak as the mourners gather and carry the weighted casket to the edge of the deck. "Great Pereg!" concludes the orator, once again echoed by the crowd. "By your powers do we live and thrive! May you protect the departed on this final journey, and stay the evils of the deep on his journey to Suromta's embrace. This loss will strengthen us, and the memories will ignite within us a resolve for better life. Great Pereg!"
"GREAT PEREG!"
A loud sliding shriek is followed by a gargantuan splash as the casket tips into the sea. As tradition dictates, the mood of the mourners immediately changes with a cheer, as plans for feasting, merriment, and suitable revels come together. Musicians begin their work above, and the fond memories, noted interactions, and ribald triumphs of the late Kedrick Sagar begin to be shared. With the festivities underway, Josam comes belowdecks. "Right, sirs! Let's send your friend off before the sad scene ruins the mood up there!"
[Along with whatever plans you have, please give me Stealth checks. It shouldn't be too difficult, but like Josam said, let's not be distracting... :)]
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
For at least an hour, Tramoric focuses on the small white candle he picked up from the dock. He studies it for interesting markings, and puts it near the black candle, but outside the glass, seeing if the candle reacts like it did.
After that, and after a long rest, he and Atloonde move quietly to the side of the boat. Tramoric gives a few short words of rite before they dump the body of the edge.
As Tramoric examines the new candle, he finds no interesting markings in its white wax, and nothing to indicate that it is anything other than a plain white candle. The black candle, however, crackles and sparks like a thing alive, its green flame licking against the lantern's glass as though trying to escape. You're not sure, as it seems a strange thing to happen, but a phrase in Primordial keeps echoing in your mind: "We strengthen when joined."
When it is finally time, Tramoric joins Atloonde in hefting Reyf's corpse-- which seems even lighter now-- from below. They take care to avoid attention, but the deck party seems in full swing. The magistrate and his family are the center of attention, of course, dancing lights hovering around them and illuminating a sumptuous banquet: bhasau ribs, goblets filled with a variety of spirits, roast blob, and seemingly endless dishes of fruits and pastries. Men and women laugh uproariously in various circles, no doubt sharing memories of the deceased, while musicians compete and cooperate to create peppy accompaniments to the shanties bellowed by the revelers.
With a stealthy-- and perfunctory-- requiem, Reyf's shrouded and weighted form slips quietly under the waves. It slowly fades into the dark depths...
"Another funeral?" says a small voice from behind. "Were there more deaths from this event than we realize?" At first, it takes the pair a moment to locate the speaker, as they first look to the revelers for the source, but as their eyes trail down, they see a slight creature, not even four feet tall, clutching a book to her robed chest and looking up at them with concerned eyes under a pair of stubby little horns. She cracks open the tome, in which she has placed a scrap of loose parchment and a quill. "Shall I record yet another casualty in my summary?"
Before either the Taraskind or the Half-orc can formulate a response, the wild gnome sets down her book and extends a hand to shake. "Apologies. I am Nyx Waitara, docent at the Priorine Academy on Samovar and aspiring naturalist. My field research has brought me to this area, and I'm currently involved with your magistrate in resolving this threat." She once again lifts her book, this time displaying its cover. "My hope is to add my work to this: The Compendium of Hesperian Naturalism!"
Her eyes shift again, and Nyx Waitara's train of thought seems to shift along with it. "Wait, maybe I already told you this before. Sorry. Wait, I've never met you, either as part of the hunting expedition or among the magistrate's retinue. Are you part of the crew, then?"
Without thinking, Atloonde says, "no. We are our own funeral retinue.. What is this you speak about a beast? If you would need help, I would lend my hand."
Nonplussed for a moment, Nyx shakes the confusion from her golden-green eyes. "It's called a tsaeke." She spins her book around and opens it to a dogeared page, pointing to the the information within, and a woodcut illustration of something thickly serpentine with six flippered legs. "See? It's an amphibious monstrosity that prowls shorelines from time to time. The fact that there have been three deaths already-- that fisherman in Sam's Eddy, the shepherd girl near Blackwood Cove, and young master Sagar, oh, and all those caoris too-- suggests to me that it's nesting, and perhaps has a brood somewhere in the cove. That's what we were tracking down when Sagar was killed..." Grief strikes Nyx again momentarily when she adds, "He gave himself so the rest of us could escape. It was a miracle we were able to recover the body..."
"Lightning beasts," she also adds. "They'll fry you with a touch." She looks back at the crowd celebrating the fallen hero. "Magistrate Sagar has vowed to avenge his son's death, and to make our people safe again. He also said we should look for people more expendable than his... um..." She winces. "I said that out loud..."
"But your help would be greatly appreciated indeed! Shall we speak with the magistrate?" After a moment she also adds, "Who are you, anyway?"
Elbowing Atloonde’s heavy shell, Tramoric starts in quickly, “Yes. We would love to help, but right now it might be best for us to rejoin the crew in their quarters. It hardly seems the right timing for us to introduce ourselves. We wouldn’t want to distract. But Madam, we would love to offer our services to the magistrate after all this,” gesturing to the crowd celebrating, “has wound down. What do you think Atloonde?”
Tramoric sees the Gnome’s gaze go from the Atloonde’s frame, directly to his own eyes, and he turns uncomfortably and whispers, “Maybe we should go below deck? We aren’t supposed to be attracting too much attention.”
Nyx brightens. "Oh, below decks would be a welcome change!" She jabs a thumb over her shoulder at the party. "They keep inviting me to drinking contests, and I'm just not interested. No challenge..."
With that, Nyx follows her two new friends into the hold. It's still a confining space, even without Reyf's body. In contrast, Nyx seems to look around with a sense of comfortable roominess. She looks overhead at the decking where the raucous partying is taking place, "So," she says, sitting on a barrel of something that smells pickled, "what now?"
"Oh, he's desperate!" begins Nyx. "He wants to get rid of the tsaeke, especially now, but he's hesitant to send Marjattans after it-- I assume you two aren't from here, given your ignorance of recent events (or you've just been out of town for a while)-- because he's worried about the body count. This is enough funerals for his tastes...
"Of course, that's what made Master Kedrick set out to hunt the beast himself. Dissatisfied with his father's demurral, he vowed to take a party of his friends (and myself) out to find and kill the tsaeke. We found it-- no, it found us-- and we all nearly died. Kedrick drew its attention and opened up space for us to escape. We didn't go far, and tried to come back to save him, but only managed to frighten the monster away."
Nyx pauses a moment, perhaps reliving recent horrors. "So if you can convince the magistrate that you have what it takes to get rid of this thing when others haven't, then..." She looks around, only tentatively meeting each of your gaze. "Yeah, we can get this done..."
“A beast that could take out a whole hunting group...” nervously, he glances at Atloonde.
“I... I believe we can do it, yet. Perhaps we should train up a little and get coordinated, but it may be too late for that...” Tramoric trails off, and then catches himself turning back to Nyx. “Just one more question remains, who else went with you, and would they go again? There is strength in numbers, as I’m sure you know. Also, what do you know about a Tsaeke’s weaknesses?”
"Weaknesses?" Nyx shrugs. "They're as mortal as you or I, if you can keep your distance, or get the jump on them, I'd imagine. The problem was that she got the jump on us. Sagar and his entourage tried to face the beast while she was hunting: not a sound strategy. Four men (and me) against her just didn't work."
She leans closer, concerned that her words might waft upward into the ears of the party above, which seems to be dwindling. "If you ask me, we need to find the nest; ideally, when she's gone. She returns fat and sleepy, and not looking for danger from her own home. After that, we smash and burn the nest, to prevent future tragedy.
"If you also ask me," adds Nyx, "you might have a bit more to offer than Young Master Sagar and his friends did." Her eyes linger on Tramoric's for what seems an entrancingly uncomfortable moment, then glances at the dark lantern peeking from inside his clothing. "Surely you have, um, abilities that, you know, may prove useful..." Her eyes flick over to Atloonde before she again locks eyes with Tramoric, filled with a strangely reticent hope...
"Thank you! The magistrate will be grateful for your zeal. We should speak with him to arrange another expedition." Nyx stands with resolution and excitement, then nearly tumbles to the deck. The Brio shifts and sways, indicative that the crew has weighed anchor and turned back toward the island of Canaille.
Relief floods Tramoric as he realizes the ship is headed back to shore. Gathering clouds far out across the water worried him. As the Gnome made her way upstairs, he stood and wished Atloonde a good travel, and hunkered in a covered space. To observe the candle again. Watching the flame reach out, and hearing the words in his head... he lifted the side hatch, and fed the white candle in, wick first.
The green flame of Tramoric's candle practically leaps out to light the white candle. Tramoric shields his eyes from the brief flash then observes the results of his actions: in the lantern, his familiar black candle flickering with the same green flame he'd always seen, and in his hand, a smooth, white candle, now bearing a flame of its own: a vibrant, pulsing, deep red.
A long moment passes, filled both with the light of two colored flames and with anticlimactic disappointment, before...
A strange being stands over you, appearing as a robust woman, easily standing eleven or twelve feet tall, topped with a mane of thick, curled hair. With no apparent clothing-- or any apparent need for it-- the woman's smooth skin seems to coruscate with patterns that resemble billowing clouds of grey. Her arms stretch out comfortably to either side, palms upward. One hand is sparkling white, and cradling a sphere of crackling black energy; the other is black as obsidian, filled with a swirling ball of white. Her dispassionate eyes come to rest upon you.
""I am a hine," the giant woman says. She gestures around herself, not dropping either sphere of energy, and you realize that you are no longer in the hold of the Brio, but are now free to walk about in a strange clearing. Ruined columns and plinths circle the area, some sections of crumbled architecture balanced precariously on... nothing? They just float in the air, as though they know where they are supposed to be, and no tug of gravity can remove them from their rightful place. And a small stream passes through the area simply enough, until you trace its course to the base of a small waterfall, where the water flows upward instead of down and continues into the rocks beyond. "Mine is the task of equilibrium and arbitration.
"You have in your possession two rushlights, fonts of power and conduits of will. Mark well: they are sought by many, for purposes counter to those which you would espouse. As they are kindled and collected, the rushlights amplify one another, granting those who carry them untold powers. Take care."
The hine takes a graceful step backward, and begins to fade from view. "Should you wish to pursue this course, you will find me on the island of Liminus..."
"Hey!" shouts Nyx standing at the base of the ladder leading upward. "what are you doing, trying to burn this ship down? Contain those flames!" She gestures for Tramoric to follow her up. "The magistrate wishes to speak with you as well..."
Tramoric stares at the candle and slowly, mesmerized, turns and nods silently toward Nyx. He gets to his feet and holds the red light forward. It was just like the green flame. It wasn’t creating drips of wax. “One moment,” he says to the direction of Nyx and Atloonde. Looking around he searches for another lantern that he could keepmthis candle in, next to his the lantern with the green flame candle.
[Do I need to roll to find a lantern I can commandeer?]
(As far as Atloonde saw, Tramoric lit a red-flamed candle with a green-flamed candle, blanked out for a bit, then got chewed out by Nyx for having an open flame.
Tramoric needs to roll a Perception check to find something to contain the red candle.)
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There had been some talk of delaying the voyage due to the poor weather, but the decision has apparently been made for the Brio to set sail. The small crew is nevertheless expert in its duties, and the frigid easterly bites into the sail to carry the procession southward. Atloonde and Tramoric are kept below decks, a low-roofed space even for humanoids of average height, but for the two of them it is cramped indeed.
Overhead, the Magistrate and his entourage speak of his son and his untimely death. From below decks, it's difficult to hear every word, but the somber tone is clear, and the following details emerge from the various accolades and eulogies:
- A creature has been harassing Marjatta's caori flocks, killing the livestock, and even some fishermen from nearby villages.
- Kedrick Sagar, the magistrate's son, grew disaffected with his father's ineffectual response to this "beast", and vowed to rid the area of its terrorism.
- He and his hunting party run afoul of the monster, and he sacrifices himself so that the others can flee.
- The beast seemed uninterested in consuming Sagar, and his remains were retrieved for an honorable sendoff.
A couple of hours pass [feel free to take a short rest] before the Brio drops anchor more than a horizon away from shore. The final farewell hymns begin, and the boards of the deck creak as the mourners gather and carry the weighted casket to the edge of the deck. "Great Pereg!" concludes the orator, once again echoed by the crowd. "By your powers do we live and thrive! May you protect the departed on this final journey, and stay the evils of the deep on his journey to Suromta's embrace. This loss will strengthen us, and the memories will ignite within us a resolve for better life. Great Pereg!"
"GREAT PEREG!"
A loud sliding shriek is followed by a gargantuan splash as the casket tips into the sea. As tradition dictates, the mood of the mourners immediately changes with a cheer, as plans for feasting, merriment, and suitable revels come together. Musicians begin their work above, and the fond memories, noted interactions, and ribald triumphs of the late Kedrick Sagar begin to be shared. With the festivities underway, Josam comes belowdecks. "Right, sirs! Let's send your friend off before the sad scene ruins the mood up there!"
[Along with whatever plans you have, please give me Stealth checks. It shouldn't be too difficult, but like Josam said, let's not be distracting... :)]
For at least an hour, Tramoric focuses on the small white candle he picked up from the dock. He studies it for interesting markings, and puts it near the black candle, but outside the glass, seeing if the candle reacts like it did.
After that, and after a long rest, he and Atloonde move quietly to the side of the boat. Tramoric gives a few short words of rite before they dump the body of the edge.
Stealth: 4
[The online dice roller hates me, dude.]
[It's good enough, though! :)]
As Tramoric examines the new candle, he finds no interesting markings in its white wax, and nothing to indicate that it is anything other than a plain white candle. The black candle, however, crackles and sparks like a thing alive, its green flame licking against the lantern's glass as though trying to escape. You're not sure, as it seems a strange thing to happen, but a phrase in Primordial keeps echoing in your mind: "We strengthen when joined."
When it is finally time, Tramoric joins Atloonde in hefting Reyf's corpse-- which seems even lighter now-- from below. They take care to avoid attention, but the deck party seems in full swing. The magistrate and his family are the center of attention, of course, dancing lights hovering around them and illuminating a sumptuous banquet: bhasau ribs, goblets filled with a variety of spirits, roast blob, and seemingly endless dishes of fruits and pastries. Men and women laugh uproariously in various circles, no doubt sharing memories of the deceased, while musicians compete and cooperate to create peppy accompaniments to the shanties bellowed by the revelers.
With a stealthy-- and perfunctory-- requiem, Reyf's shrouded and weighted form slips quietly under the waves. It slowly fades into the dark depths...
"Another funeral?" says a small voice from behind. "Were there more deaths from this event than we realize?" At first, it takes the pair a moment to locate the speaker, as they first look to the revelers for the source, but as their eyes trail down, they see a slight creature, not even four feet tall, clutching a book to her robed chest and looking up at them with concerned eyes under a pair of stubby little horns. She cracks open the tome, in which she has placed a scrap of loose parchment and a quill. "Shall I record yet another casualty in my summary?"
Before either the Taraskind or the Half-orc can formulate a response, the wild gnome sets down her book and extends a hand to shake. "Apologies. I am Nyx Waitara, docent at the Priorine Academy on Samovar and aspiring naturalist. My field research has brought me to this area, and I'm currently involved with your magistrate in resolving this threat." She once again lifts her book, this time displaying its cover. "My hope is to add my work to this: The Compendium of Hesperian Naturalism!"
Her eyes shift again, and Nyx Waitara's train of thought seems to shift along with it. "Wait, maybe I already told you this before. Sorry. Wait, I've never met you, either as part of the hunting expedition or among the magistrate's retinue. Are you part of the crew, then?"
Without thinking, Atloonde says, "no. We are our own funeral retinue.. What is this you speak about a beast? If you would need help, I would lend my hand."
Nonplussed for a moment, Nyx shakes the confusion from her golden-green eyes. "It's called a tsaeke." She spins her book around and opens it to a dogeared page, pointing to the the information within, and a woodcut illustration of something thickly serpentine with six flippered legs. "See? It's an amphibious monstrosity that prowls shorelines from time to time. The fact that there have been three deaths already-- that fisherman in Sam's Eddy, the shepherd girl near Blackwood Cove, and young master Sagar, oh, and all those caoris too-- suggests to me that it's nesting, and perhaps has a brood somewhere in the cove. That's what we were tracking down when Sagar was killed..." Grief strikes Nyx again momentarily when she adds, "He gave himself so the rest of us could escape. It was a miracle we were able to recover the body..."
"Lightning beasts," she also adds. "They'll fry you with a touch." She looks back at the crowd celebrating the fallen hero. "Magistrate Sagar has vowed to avenge his son's death, and to make our people safe again. He also said we should look for people more expendable than his... um..." She winces. "I said that out loud..."
"But your help would be greatly appreciated indeed! Shall we speak with the magistrate?" After a moment she also adds, "Who are you, anyway?"
Elbowing Atloonde’s heavy shell, Tramoric starts in quickly, “Yes. We would love to help, but right now it might be best for us to rejoin the crew in their quarters. It hardly seems the right timing for us to introduce ourselves. We wouldn’t want to distract. But Madam, we would love to offer our services to the magistrate after all this,” gesturing to the crowd celebrating, “has wound down. What do you think Atloonde?”
Tramoric sees the Gnome’s gaze go from the Atloonde’s frame, directly to his own eyes, and he turns uncomfortably and whispers, “Maybe we should go below deck? We aren’t supposed to be attracting too much attention.”
Nyx brightens. "Oh, below decks would be a welcome change!" She jabs a thumb over her shoulder at the party. "They keep inviting me to drinking contests, and I'm just not interested. No challenge..."
"Well it's settled then. Down below."
With that, Nyx follows her two new friends into the hold. It's still a confining space, even without Reyf's body. In contrast, Nyx seems to look around with a sense of comfortable roominess. She looks overhead at the decking where the raucous partying is taking place, "So," she says, sitting on a barrel of something that smells pickled, "what now?"
“What can you tell us about the magistrate that will help us?” Tramoric asked.
"Oh, he's desperate!" begins Nyx. "He wants to get rid of the tsaeke, especially now, but he's hesitant to send Marjattans after it-- I assume you two aren't from here, given your ignorance of recent events (or you've just been out of town for a while)-- because he's worried about the body count. This is enough funerals for his tastes...
"Of course, that's what made Master Kedrick set out to hunt the beast himself. Dissatisfied with his father's demurral, he vowed to take a party of his friends (and myself) out to find and kill the tsaeke. We found it-- no, it found us-- and we all nearly died. Kedrick drew its attention and opened up space for us to escape. We didn't go far, and tried to come back to save him, but only managed to frighten the monster away."
Nyx pauses a moment, perhaps reliving recent horrors. "So if you can convince the magistrate that you have what it takes to get rid of this thing when others haven't, then..." She looks around, only tentatively meeting each of your gaze. "Yeah, we can get this done..."
“A beast that could take out a whole hunting group...” nervously, he glances at Atloonde.
“I... I believe we can do it, yet. Perhaps we should train up a little and get coordinated, but it may be too late for that...” Tramoric trails off, and then catches himself turning back to Nyx. “Just one more question remains, who else went with you, and would they go again? There is strength in numbers, as I’m sure you know. Also, what do you know about a Tsaeke’s weaknesses?”
"Weaknesses?" Nyx shrugs. "They're as mortal as you or I, if you can keep your distance, or get the jump on them, I'd imagine. The problem was that she got the jump on us. Sagar and his entourage tried to face the beast while she was hunting: not a sound strategy. Four men (and me) against her just didn't work."
She leans closer, concerned that her words might waft upward into the ears of the party above, which seems to be dwindling. "If you ask me, we need to find the nest; ideally, when she's gone. She returns fat and sleepy, and not looking for danger from her own home. After that, we smash and burn the nest, to prevent future tragedy.
"If you also ask me," adds Nyx, "you might have a bit more to offer than Young Master Sagar and his friends did." Her eyes linger on Tramoric's for what seems an entrancingly uncomfortable moment, then glances at the dark lantern peeking from inside his clothing. "Surely you have, um, abilities that, you know, may prove useful..." Her eyes flick over to Atloonde before she again locks eyes with Tramoric, filled with a strangely reticent hope...
"We wont let you down!"
"Thank you! The magistrate will be grateful for your zeal. We should speak with him to arrange another expedition." Nyx stands with resolution and excitement, then nearly tumbles to the deck. The Brio shifts and sways, indicative that the crew has weighed anchor and turned back toward the island of Canaille.
Relief floods Tramoric as he realizes the ship is headed back to shore. Gathering clouds far out across the water worried him. As the Gnome made her way upstairs, he stood and wished Atloonde a good travel, and hunkered in a covered space. To observe the candle again. Watching the flame reach out, and hearing the words in his head... he lifted the side hatch, and fed the white candle in, wick first.
The green flame of Tramoric's candle practically leaps out to light the white candle. Tramoric shields his eyes from the brief flash then observes the results of his actions: in the lantern, his familiar black candle flickering with the same green flame he'd always seen, and in his hand, a smooth, white candle, now bearing a flame of its own: a vibrant, pulsing, deep red.
A long moment passes, filled both with the light of two colored flames and with anticlimactic disappointment, before...
A strange being stands over you, appearing as a robust woman, easily standing eleven or twelve feet tall, topped with a mane of thick, curled hair. With no apparent clothing-- or any apparent need for it-- the woman's smooth skin seems to coruscate with patterns that resemble billowing clouds of grey. Her arms stretch out comfortably to either side, palms upward. One hand is sparkling white, and cradling a sphere of crackling black energy; the other is black as obsidian, filled with a swirling ball of white. Her dispassionate eyes come to rest upon you.
""I am a hine," the giant woman says. She gestures around herself, not dropping either sphere of energy, and you realize that you are no longer in the hold of the Brio, but are now free to walk about in a strange clearing. Ruined columns and plinths circle the area, some sections of crumbled architecture balanced precariously on... nothing? They just float in the air, as though they know where they are supposed to be, and no tug of gravity can remove them from their rightful place. And a small stream passes through the area simply enough, until you trace its course to the base of a small waterfall, where the water flows upward instead of down and continues into the rocks beyond. "Mine is the task of equilibrium and arbitration.
"You have in your possession two rushlights, fonts of power and conduits of will. Mark well: they are sought by many, for purposes counter to those which you would espouse. As they are kindled and collected, the rushlights amplify one another, granting those who carry them untold powers. Take care."
The hine takes a graceful step backward, and begins to fade from view. "Should you wish to pursue this course, you will find me on the island of Liminus..."
"Hey!" shouts Nyx standing at the base of the ladder leading upward. "what are you doing, trying to burn this ship down? Contain those flames!" She gestures for Tramoric to follow her up. "The magistrate wishes to speak with you as well..."
Tramoric stares at the candle and slowly, mesmerized, turns and nods silently toward Nyx. He gets to his feet and holds the red light forward. It was just like the green flame. It wasn’t creating drips of wax. “One moment,” he says to the direction of Nyx and Atloonde. Looking around he searches for another lantern that he could keepmthis candle in, next to his the lantern with the green flame candle.
[Do I need to roll to find a lantern I can commandeer?]
(Did I see any of that?)
(As far as Atloonde saw, Tramoric lit a red-flamed candle with a green-flamed candle, blanked out for a bit, then got chewed out by Nyx for having an open flame.
Tramoric needs to roll a Perception check to find something to contain the red candle.)