Ori kept working on the ramp, who knows how much that thing coukd hold up after the beating it took from that overgrown seal. Honestly Ori thought they coukd made a use of feeding the crew with the behemoth but not even Ori could have carried that whole thing. No need to be waistfull.
Listening to Almeric beat on those drums, Ori kept on cleaning up down below to make sure they didn't miss anything. Almeric wasn't too bad on those things, despite the strange timing of playing them. "Wait, did the drummer just make a final call for us? Guess we better make a move on, Aye?" Making his way to the top, Ori spots the new boat. "Apparently this I quite the tourist trap after all."
"Wait, you 'called' them? With the drum? Didn't think it was that loud? Sure it's worth climbing aboard with, uhh, trapped, sailors? Kinda putting a lot of faith in this mystery boat and a crew we can't understand."
Almeric is amazed by the sight of the longship breaching the waves like a whale. He is not entirely surprised though, given the nature of the instrument and the location that it was retrieved from. Spending the short rest attuning to the instrument, he had gained an insight into it's maker and the materials used in its construction. Karvala, known as Blue Moon by many scholars, was one of the lost Magi of Krarth. Not one of the 5 Stars, but powerful enough. Everything in this place had identified it's master as such, but none of the Retinue were scholars of ancient history. The realisation had dawned upon the Capellar and his suspicions were confirmed, that they needed to leave this place now. No further investigations would take place until he could report this to the Chapter House at Meore. The Order would certainly be most interested in the location of this Temple and want to investigate it themselves.
The drum itself, represented a final act of defiance of those that had tried to destroy this place, combined with Karvala's total contempt for them. The longship ploughing through the waves towards the ruined citadel was commanded by the Mercanian Jarl, Hagr Grimulv. Almeric could see the Draugr Huscarls pulling at their oars, with Hagr standing by the dragon. The drum was created by Karvala as a sick trophy to remember his victory. Almeric did not have a close understanding of the Mercanian's, but he knew they were brave and proud warriors, even in death. Perhaps in the destruction of the Moon Demon and the 'rescue' of the ship and crew, these men might find a new purpose. Almeric knew that he was their new Captain until they could be finally put to rest.
Almeric turned from his perch, still beating the stroke as the ship approached. "We are leaving! Gather up your belongings, all the treasure and stand by me! Can anyone speak Mercanian? I might need a translator." Almeric jumped down and strode towards the waterline.
While pacing the perimeter of the small area in which they found themselves, Cainneach listened to the others discuss the situation, including Famh's reasoned assessment. In this case, it was becoming increasingly difficult for the forester to determine what was the right course of action. It seemed like how to act in self-preservation was determined by what one thought of the relative risks. Stay and finish off whatever evil remained, intentionally exposing the party to whatever fell presence lurked deeper in the temple? Or avoid that danger, but leave ourselves vulnerable to an attack from a pursuing evil. At this point, we had no idea in what shape the Linden was in or if it would be able to depart upon our return. That could allow a window in which the remaining inhabitants of the temple might emerge, but we'd likely have time to arrange a defense and would have better numbers to face them. Cainneach sighs, glad that he wasn't in charge of this show. Speaking of which, what was Almeric doing up there, tapping away on that drum?
Just as that thought passed through Cainneach's mind, the Capellar's voice rang out from above them. Salt and Cainneach both note the urgency, the edge in his voice. It wasn't the first time they'd heard it, as the party had been in many difficult situations, but it was unexpected now, with threats anticipated from below, not above. Salt looks to Cainneach and gives a little bark, while Cainneach looks to the rest of the party. "You heard the man, something's gone wrong up there! Let's get moving!" The forester scans the area to make sure nothing dangerous was in their midst, then attempts to shepherd everyone else up the ramp.
Salt - Perception19 (listen and sniff for anything amiss)
Upon cresting the ramp, Cainneach finds Almeric standing, drum still in hand, peering out into the sea. Following his gaze, Cainneach is stunned to see what he could only guess was an ancient longship, otherworldly in appearance, with its full crew bearing down on their location. "Almeric, what is this? We must get back to the Linden!"
Cainneachs keen eyes quickly make out that the longship has lain for many years at the bottom of the sea, its timbers are swollen and festooned with weed and barnacles......as are the blue-grey bodies of her crew still dressed in their ancient Mercanian battle-dress. The dead are silent and make no reply to the knight ashore....
Salt looks extremely wary of his entire milieau.....
Tana glances up as Almeric returns, tipping her head in his direction.
"While I do not speak Mercanian, I have other methods for communication...should it be necessary." She looks over the rest of her companions. "Though it probably would be best if we could simply speak to them. My methods tend to be received poorly by most folk."
Almeric climbed down from his perch and strode towards the surf, beating the stroke on the drum, slowing the tempo as the longship ploughed towards land and stopping the beat when the ship was 30' from shore. As the ship glided onto the beach, the Capellar briefed Cainneach, Tana and anyone else who had followed.
"After playing the drum for an hour, it began to speak to me. It told me the saga of Jarl Hagr Grimulv. He and his huscarls died assaulting this citadel. Before they could voyage to Valhalla, they were cursed by Karvala to rise as Draugr and row their ghostly dragonship for eternity. This drum controls them. We can travel anywhere, with speed and in safety, while I possess the drum. The drum also told me how to break the curse and release the warriors to eternal rest. We cannot do that now, so instead we will return to the Linden by sea."
As the others arrived with their kit and the treasure, wrapped in blankets and tied to the litter, Almeric explains his reasoning. "This is the Temple of the Blue Moon, of Karvala, a Magi of Krarth. The Demon we destroyed but a Guardian. Whatever lies beneath is evil beyond imagination and we cannot challenge it. To venture below would be certain death. We have neutralised it for now and I estimate we have a phase of the moon to react. I will contact the Abbey of St Rocheval, in Meore. where I was trained. They possess ancient wisdom and skill to resolve this themselves."
Almeric steps forward to greet Jarl Hagr with a salute. "Jarl Hagr, I, Almeric Dayne, request transport for myself and my Retinue, along the coast to the beached vessel, the Linden."
After the pleasantries, where Tana's intervention may or may not be needed, Almeric boards the longship and encourages the others to join him.
Fergus and Thatch have roused themselves and come up onto the plaza to regard the unearthly sight...
Fergus has been both eased and troubled by his rest but he feels he now understands, at least somewhat, what he carries with him...
Ori kept working on the ramp, who knows how much that thing coukd hold up after the beating it took from that overgrown seal. Honestly Ori thought they coukd made a use of feeding the crew with the behemoth but not even Ori could have carried that whole thing. No need to be waistfull.
Listening to Almeric beat on those drums, Ori kept on cleaning up down below to make sure they didn't miss anything. Almeric wasn't too bad on those things, despite the strange timing of playing them. "Wait, did the drummer just make a final call for us? Guess we better make a move on, Aye?" Making his way to the top, Ori spots the new boat. "Apparently this I quite the tourist trap after all."
"Wait, you 'called' them? With the drum? Didn't think it was that loud? Sure it's worth climbing aboard with, uhh, trapped, sailors? Kinda putting a lot of faith in this mystery boat and a crew we can't understand."
Ori casts his eye over the longship and its crew......yeah.......those men are definitely dead.....
Almeric steps up to the longship and is hoisted aboard by the Jarl, the dead mans cold hard fingers gripping about his arm and lifting him easily aboard....the timbers are swollen and sodden and by all rights this ship should not be afloat, let alone able to move....and yet it does.
The dead regard him silently, the Jarl lifts a hand and the dead hoist their oars ready to push off from shore.......
Walking well behind Almeric towards the boat, completely missing the boat and its crews less then lively nature, Ori is most concerned about stepping foot on another swaying hunk of boards. As he gets closer and sees the condition of the boat, Ori stops. "Oi fellas, I don't claim to be an expert ship inspector, but I fail to see how that thing is still above the sea...." trailing off he finally notices the crew. "ALMERIC WHAT IN HOLY H3LL ARE YOU DOING!? GET DOWN BEFORE THEY GET YA." Ori releases the liter (not sure he actually had one but he drops what was in his hands short of his club) and pulls a hand axe and gets ready to throw it at any of the dead crew if they appear hostile towards Almeric.
Famh's eyes sparkle with secret pleasure as she calls the group to order. But this doesn't arise from her newfound confidence as she begins to explore the thought that she might actually have some gifts at planning or even at leading. That is marvelous, but it's so new she has barely had time to realize she's even had such a moment of growth and no time whatever to absorb it. And it hardly comes from the subject of their discussions. Her opinion that the retinue should finish the exploration is one she sets forth on the strength of her reason only, and entirely against her own inclinations. But a small part of her mind is already busy, and that is the portion that gleams behind her secret smile and gives her very skin a radiant glow of happiness that can almost be seen by those who take the time to look carefully. She feels a warmth within at the thought that on either march she will be able to give that part of her mind freer rein ... in between her turns at sentinel position, of course ... to think over all the things she means to say to Cainneach, and how she will declare her love for him in no uncertain terms and in good plain Elleslandic for all to hear, the moment they are out of Karvala's tower.
At least, she thinks the pleasure is secret. It doesn't occur to her that Cainneach might have been aware of how she felt about him before she was; but then she's not had much of an opportunity ere this to learn much about feelings in general, so we can forgive her innocent delusion. And the hope that Cainneach's kind and tender way of speaking to her might mean that he actually already loved her in return, did not need to be courted at all and was possibly wondering what in Legend was taking HER so long to say so flat out, was as of yet beyond her most starry-eyed maiden dreams. Her chronicler is more inclined to blame geography for this than anything else, since in Famh's coastal dialect of Thulish the construction 'mo ghraid'' was little used and tended to be more precisely equated with 'a ghraid'' in connotation and meaning than it was in Cainneach's mountainous western birthplace. And to the Thules of the coast, 'a ghraid'' is a much more ambiguous endearment that could conceivably also be applied in the case of a very close friend. 'Leannan', which she had also blurted out to him once or twice, was a different case. Even in Famh's dialect the meaning of that word is unequivocally either 'sweetheart' or 'darling'. And again, here no one is to blame that her blurting it did not immediately straighten matters out. If Cainneach had had a chance to reply to her with that same word at a time when she was not too upset or distracted for it to register, they might have already progressed to different conversations about all the serious and silly things that need to be worked out between any new couple.
Her chronicler is also inclined to believe that if her handsome Thulish lad were to say that word now, it would most certainly chain her full attention and raise her upon the instant from the ruins of Karvala's tower to the threshold of the seventh gate of Heaven; but there might also be an irrational twinge of disappointment mixed in. She thinks some of the phrases she has begun to craft in her mind would not make the bards of old entirely ashamed, and she has to admit to herself she is feeling rather proud of them. She loves him enough that she would let go of her pique almost immediately, and in any case isn't yet aware fully enough of Cainneach's mutual love for her to even imagine the possibility at this point. But the fellow with the pattern of small dirk point scars up his back from all the times Famh has "just been checking if we've gotten to that part yet", imagines that would be her reaction.
She also means every word she said a moment before. Although her own opinion had been otherwise, she clearly understands the difference between a request for advice and a direct order. And ... bar a moment of extreme shock and a scream of horror upon cresting the ramp and seeing her dead hereditary foes in a moldy and dripping dragon longship lank with kelp and sea-wrack so close to Sir Almeric that they -- were obeying his every command?! ...
That is sufficient to check her terror long enough to allow her to listen with at least the pretense of calm to his explanation, which she finds increasingly plausible. And when she hears that Karvala was one of the magi of Krarth, it hardly needs the Capellar's assessment of the likely power of the remaining demon to win her wholehearted support for an immediate departure by the swiftest and most convenient means possible. Both of which appear to be the longship at this point; although she cannot repress a slight shudder as she reflects to what a vast degree the ride would be even MORE soaked and wet and cold and miserable than that cramped little awning back on the Linden. She certainly has to allow that the consolation of Cainneach's nearness would be correspondingly that many degrees nicer now that things had progressed thus far between them, but she has to amend previous opinion slightly. While she still feels ... if anything more strongly than ever ... that Karvala's tower must be the absolutely most unsuitable place for their courtship in the world, she doesn't think the company of silent draugr on a dripping longship much improvement. It will just have to wait till they get to the beach, then. But she imagines everyone in the retinue will insist on a full night's rest after that, so there will surely be time to tell him then. And even if something still more unexpected should make that an impossibility, Sir Almeric's plan to finally have this evil cleansed will see them all traveling together for a full moon yet.
***************** (OOC: and since that would be a fairly sizeable transition point in the Cainneach - Famh romance subplot, I'd like to check with everyone at this point your feelings about that in general. Are you all comfortable with the level of 'oxygen' this relationship is taking up, or would you like it either dialed back or to see more of it? EtyenAdiros and Damian_May's opinions of course being fairly important on that subject ...
In terms of other character development I will mention that she actually is considering Sir Almeric's words about becoming more involved with the Capellars much more seriously than it might seem to him, albeit in her own dreamlike gravity-filtered and slow-fermenting Famhish way. And of course, now in the context of beginning to think about providing for THEIR future as a couple rather than either hers or Cainneach's individually; which might bring her conscious mind back to it at some point as they begin to plan together. Presuming, of course, that I'm not totally misreading the signs and Cainneach doesn't actually hate Famh's guts but find himself far too much of a gentleman to say so or let her down as bluntly as such a fae-ral child as she would require in order for the message to get through at all LOL ...)
Almeric steps up to the longship and is hoisted aboard by the Jarl, the dead mans cold hard fingers gripping about his arm and lifting him easily aboard....the timbers are swollen and sodden and by all rights this ship should not be afloat, let alone able to move....and yet it does.
The dead regard him silently, the Jarl lifts a hand and the dead hoist their oars ready to push off from shore.......
The moment the dead raise their oars, Famh grabs Cainneach's hand and starts to follow the knight. "I'm far from sure about this myself, a ghraid, but Sir Almeric's words make a terrible kind of sense. I've heard fireside whispers of the magi of Krarth that make the blood run cold. And we ought obey him when once he's given us a final command, unless we're sure evil's overcome him."
She pauses for thought a moment; then, "Though we'd better start thinking of ways of letting the Baron know it's us coming in this Samhain-worthy ghost ship sometime BEFORE he has his archers start showering us with fire arrows."
Fergus wake sweating feverishly holding the skull. When did he take it out of the bag? Hazy memories of the spectral woman, less monstrous floating through his memories, whispering secrets from ages past. He would bring her with him on his adventure, that agreement he remembered.
Startled by the longship's appearance, seeing Sir Almeric command the dead crew with ease, Fergus packs up his gear and follows suit.
Cainneach is immediately thrown off kilter by the sudden whirl of activity that had been brought upon them by the Capellar's drumming. After Cainneach ascended the makeshift ramp and bore witness to the ship of the dead crashing toward them through the surf, Almeric delivered an insane tale of god-like sorcerers and cursed sailors, claiming he could control these undead and their vessel, and then asked to be taken aboard! Spectacularly, both Famh and Fergus, who previously wanted to remain and purge the temple, had moved to follow Almeric, with his dearest Famh even suggesting they board as well.
Cainneach knew little of Krarth and its Magi, other than that it was across the sea and even more easterly than Mercania, and that it was a horrible place. If indeed the temple they were now resting in were dedicated to such folk, it was certainly best they leave, but was not this longship a product of the same dark magic they had just faced down? How could putting their lives in the hands of the reanimated corpses of these Mercanians equate to safe passage? It seemed like Ori was the only one making sense in the moment, ready to defend their overconfident, erstwhile leader and imploring him to take heed of the obvious danger into which he placidly proceeded.
And yet, there was something in the way that Almeric delivered his verdict on the course of action, a certainty and calmness that was disarmingly compelling. Could he possibly be right? Was he in command of this ship of the dead? Could it possibly be trusted to return them to the Linden? And, as Famh had pointed out, how would they alert the Linden that, despite all appearances, the ship was not a threat, but rather an ally? Or, was it more likely that the Capellar had fully succumbed to some possession that had walked through the door opened by his pious delusions and would lead them blindly to a frozen death beneath the Mergeld Sea?
Cainneach didn't like being forced to make quick decisions. Matters of life and death deserved time for reflection, analysis. In those unfortunate cases when he had to hunt for food or to defend the forest, it wasn't a rushed call to action. Rather, there was observation, planning, stalking, knowing your quarry, waiting for the proper moment to strike. This was utter madness, inflicted upon them by circumstances and magic they couldn't possibly understand. Cainneach needed more time, needed to stall, to think.
In between the barbarian and the highland shepherdess, Cainneach is torn. His heart screams at him to go with Famh, to keep her safe from whatever darkness she is leading him towards, to never let her go lest she disappear forever into the waves, dead and gone, leaving him alone like Dru had not so very long ago. His mind screams back equally loud, protesting the insanity of boarding that impossible vessel crewed by undead, with no imminent threat in the temple, on the say so of perhaps a religious zealot, overly confident from their recent victories. There has to be a way to buy more time ...
Aside from Famh's hand in his, Cainneach feels a bulky beast crowding his legs, shivering and growling. Salt, his faithful hound, needs his protection as well. Cainneach looks back at Ori, then turns to Famh, the pain of indecision contorting his face as he can barely make eye contact. He gives the barest shake of his head and drops her hand, mouthing the words, "I don't know ...", before turning back to join Ori while removing his longbow and drawing an arrow. Cainneach keeps his bow sighted on the longship while looking around quickly to see what Tana and Thatch were doing. If they would go, then perhaps he and Ori would pick up the litter and bring it along to the ship, but if the others stayed ashore, he'd help them find another way to return to the Linden.
"Have you lost focus Almeric, this looks a h3ll of a lot like necromancy hocus pocus to me. Last I checked we were in charge of stopping those sorts of things from happening, not partaking. The hinges of hell will turn cold before you get me on rotten sea wreck. Who's to say those dead chaps don't turn on us in the middle of the sea. The only way your getting me on that damned ship with those cursed mates is to haul your ass off it until you come to your senses." Ori is torn right now, what if thise drums did to Almeric what that staff did to Fergus, what other explanation is there for Almeric to be so comfortable mingling and trusting the undead. Plus be willing to put the whole squad at risk aboard that cursed ship. Ori have thought about walking back in protest, but the more he remembers what happened to Fergus, Ori can't help but wonder if Almeric has fallen a similar fate bur without the patrons protection. Bolstered by Cainneach coming to same conclusion Ori did, despite Famh's willingness to follow aboard. "Almeric, think about what your doing. None of this feels right." Ori had been through this before, where he had to take a stand to thise he followed, didn't end well for him last time, ultimately ending in him becoming the drifter that Almeric found working in a barn. But these are his people again and they looked to him to stand up for them before, well this crew didn't need his protective but they were gonna have it one way or another.
Almeric steps up to the longship and is hoisted aboard by the Jarl, the dead mans cold hard fingers gripping about his arm and lifting him easily aboard....the timbers are swollen and sodden and by all rights this ship should not be afloat, let alone able to move....and yet it does.
The dead regard him silently, the Jarl lifts a hand and the dead hoist their oars ready to push off from shore.......
Almeric stood next to the Jarl at the prow of the Longship. He was not sure how long the Jarl would wait, ready to push off and standing by. Almeric had requested passage for himself and his retinue and expected the Draugr to wait until everyone was aboard, bound by the Drum of the Deep as he was. So far, Fahm and Fergus were engaged and ready to board. Ori as always cautious, but Almeric had not expected Cainneach to side against his 'sweetheart' in such a dramatic way. Almeric has not been trained in the ways of a woman, but even he could see that might be an unwise move by Cainneach, notwithstanding the exceptional circumstances they currently found themselves.
"Having discovered the Drum, hidden by the Woman in White in the Tower, I have an opportunity to undo this terrible curse bestowed on these men by Karvala. The White Woman, although hostile to us, seemed no friend of Karvala either. Perhaps she was hiding the Drum from the Blue Moon? Maybe in the hope than someone, like us, would discover it take it away, to understand its secret and finally remove the curse of the Draugr? I do know how to do that now, but it requires specific circumstances which I cannot replicate here. I view this more of a rescue than anything else, rescuing these men from eternal damnation from Karvala and giving them the opportunity to be released from their purgatory and complete their final voyage to Wotan."
Assuming Fergus and Fahm have arrived at the ship, Almeric will help them to board. Making a final plea, avoiding any ultimatums or direct orders, Almeric hopes to bring people round.
If I were a religious zealot, I might have killed you all by now, rather than be the tolerant, understanding and adapting leader that I hope you find me to be. You are all uniquely talented, some in very unconventional ways. We have shown how well we can work together, each piece fitting together in the finely oiled machine that is the Dayne Retinue. I accept everyone acts on their own recognisance and I try to avoid ordering people about. You can walk back if you prefer, but please load the litter on the longship, as Aldred has rights on this treasure. It will be easier to transport and It would also be much easier for Aldred to accept what happened here if we all arrive together, united, safe and victorious."
"I would need a good archer aboard, like you Cainneach. As we approach, you can loose signal arrows to the Linden. We will land a hundred feet off and present no threat. This is the best way to put them at ease upon our arrival and avoid any misunderstanding. Apart from expediting the whole mission, we will increase our reputation and prestige with the Baron, by showing our resourcefulness, diligence and bravery beyond mere words. I'm not sure how long Jarl Hagr will wait for you!"
Thatch wanders up the incline, rubbing the sleep from his eyes after a short rest. He jerks to a sudden stop, eyes open in shock as he takes in the sight of the longboat before him and follows the arguing and pleading between the group. Seeing Ori and Cainneach with weapons drawn, Thatch moves up next to them, knocking an arrow on his own shortbow. He looks at the undead crewing the longship with suspicion and his mind flits back to the undead warriors in the Dell and the feel of the shadowblade piercing his chest in the Bear King’s tomb. “Did Almeric just call himself tolerant and understanding?” Thatch whispered to Cainneach “What do you think? He seems to think they answered his call.”
Thatch knew nothing of Karvala, the Blue Moon, or Draugr, not even from the stories from his childhood. Still, Sir Almeric sounded like he did. He seemed safe enough and was insistent that the others join him, and Thatch was in service to the Dayne family, even if Almeric was different from his lord. Still he hesitates, cautious of being led into danger. In the end, he wasn’t going to throw away how far he had come from the stables. As Almeric makes his final plea, he lowers his bow and tells Cainneach sheepishly “I am bound to the Dayne family. If Sir Almeric deems it is safe and the best path forward, I will follow.”
When Cainneach drops her hand, Famh's entire world freezes. She'd expected disagreements, was beginning to get as far as to even imagine future spats with equanimity, but this sudden difference of opinion has introduced an abrupt note of reality into the rosy dream she had previously been floating through. And the experience of being trusted implicitly by all in the retinue -- including CainneachandSir Almeric -- so short a time before has changed Famh more profoundly than she has had time to even begin to understand. The old Famh would have simply felt hurt and humiliated by the public airing of their disagreement, could not have seen beyond that enough to look in his eyes and sense how deeply torn he was. She stops immediately and turns to face him fully, her face melting into tender concern.
"I'm so sorry, a ghraid, I should never have pressed ye that hard. Fear had the reins of me there. There's surely time we could draw a breath, sit down and talk it through together a moment."
She looks about for a log of driftwood flat enough to sit on. Lighting on one with enough room between two protruding branches for two or three to sit comfortably, and a little warm hollow in the sand at the base for Salt to curl up in, she sits down and pats the log beside her with an appeal in her eyes. (There are other logs nearby, and the one she sits on is in easy earshot of the entire retinue unless she whispers.) Whether he joins her on the log or stands, she waits for him to accept her invitation to talk and then goes on.
"Krarth alone is terrible enough, and when I heard it was one of the most powerful of them I feared it wouldn't even be safe to retrace our steps through his sanctum and get back by land. We heard more tales of them in Brymstone, Krarth being just the other side of Mercania after you cross the sea.
And I don't know if the drum could be trying to mesmerize Sir Almeric, but you'll remember when Fergus was possessed he couldn't even speak. Our knight seems in command of his reason. I hadn't thought, though, of walking back along the shore from here. I believe Sir Almeric, and I'd like to go with him and see if we can free these lost souls, but if you'd rather walk I'll go with you. We're all bound for the same place anyway."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Thatch wanders up the incline, rubbing the sleep from his eyes after a short rest. He jerks to a sudden stop, eyes open in shock as he takes in the sight of the longboat before him and follows the arguing and pleading between the group. Seeing Ori and Cainneach with weapons drawn, Thatch moves up next to them, knocking an arrow on his own shortbow. He looks at the undead crewing the longship with suspicion and his mind flits back to the undead warriors in the Dell and the feel of the shadowblade piercing his chest in the Bear King’s tomb. “Did Almeric just call himself tolerant and understanding?” Thatch whispered to Cainneach “What do you think? He seems to think they answered his call.”
Thatch knew nothing of Karvala, the Blue Moon, or Draugr, not even from the stories from his childhood. Still, Sir Almeric sounded like he did. He seemed safe enough and was insistent that the others join him, and Thatch was in service to the Dayne family, even if Almeric was different from his lord. Still he hesitates, cautious of being led into danger. In the end, he wasn’t going to throw away how far he had come from the stables. As Almeric makes his final plea, he lowers his bow and tells Cainneach sheepishly “I am bound to the Dayne family. If Sir Almeric deems it is safe and the best path forward, I will follow.”
Almeric's speech seemed to make good sense, at least as much as a speech could that was delivered by one who had, by his own report, summoned a cursed ship of the dead and was now standing on its bow, lifted aboard by the foul, soggy crew. As Thatch momentarily joined him and Ori, the stableboy's initial remark regarding Almeric causes the forester to chuckle, nearly loosing an arrow in the process. "I think he did, Thatch! I'm not sure if that makes me think it's more likely or less that he's possessed by those things! He is certainly convinced of the whole tale he's spinning and, so far, they haven't moved to lay a finger on him. Ori and I have been keeping a keen eye on the lot of them." The trio remains together for a few moments more, while Thatch ponders and reaches a decision. "I understand, we'll keep watch on you as well. Be safe, my friend, if we part ways here. It has always been an honour travelling with you!"Cainneach gives Ori a look and asks, "What do you think, mate? You're the most seasoned of all of us and the tide seems to be drifting away from you and I here on shore."
When Cainneach drops her hand, Famh's entire world freezes. She'd expected disagreements, was beginning to get as far as to even imagine future spats with equanimity, but this sudden difference of opinion has introduced an abrupt note of reality into the rosy dream she had previously been floating through. And the experience of being trusted implicitly by all in the retinue -- including CainneachandSir Almeric -- so short a time before has changed Famh more profoundly than she has had time to even begin to understand. The old Famh would have simply felt hurt and humiliated by the public airing of their disagreement, could not have seen beyond that enough to look in his eyes and sense how deeply torn he was. She stops immediately and turns to face him fully, her face melting into tender concern.
"I'm so sorry, a ghraid, I should never have pressed ye that hard. Fear had the reins of me there. There's surely time we could draw a breath, sit down and talk it through together a moment."
She looks about for a log of driftwood flat enough to sit on. Lighting on one with enough room between two protruding branches for two or three to sit comfortably, and a little warm hollow in the sand at the base for Salt to curl up in, she sits down and pats the log beside her with an appeal in her eyes. (There are other logs nearby, and the one she sits on is in easy earshot of the entire retinue unless she whispers.) Whether he joins her on the log or stands, she waits for him to accept her invitation to talk and then goes on.
"Krarth alone is terrible enough, and when I heard it was one of the most powerful of them I feared it wouldn't even be safe to retrace our steps through his sanctum and get back by land. We heard more tales of them in Brymstone, Krarth being just the other side of Mercania after you cross the sea.
And I don't know if the drum could be trying to mesmerize Sir Almeric, but you'll remember when Fergus was possessed he couldn't even speak. Our knight seems in command of his reason. I hadn't thought, though, of walking back along the shore from here. I believe Sir Almeric, and I'd like to go with him and see if we can free these lost souls, but if you'd rather walk I'll go with you. We're all bound for the same place anyway."
While the frame of Almeric's plea was expected and Thatch's assent to it was only mildly surprising, this response from Famh to Cainneach's refusal to accompany her was far from what he expected. Cainneach had braced himself for either tears or fury, or even abject silence, but certainly not this. The lass has sat down for a cozy, fireside chat, calm as you like! Quite the juxtaposition to the archers and axeman poised to rain harm upon the cursed ship. Maybe some dark magic had taken hold of her as well, passed through Almeric or those bloody staves he and Ori were carrying in the litter. Cainneach had watched as they were tended to and arranged, could she have accidentally touched one? He didn't think so, but though his gifts for observation were impressive, he wasn't infallible either. Damnit, damnit, damnit. "Famh, this is no time for a little sit down, as much as I'd like to, and this isn't any kind of True Faith fanciful miracle. This is the Old Gods' dark magic, the undead wrapped up in accursed vengeance. And the Mercanians aren't much better than Krarth, as far as I can recall. I still don't trust Almeric not to get us killed, regardless of how convinced he is. Damnit ..." He looks to Ori and asks again, "What do you think man, shall we march on our own, facing down whatever this place has left to throw at us, or join this lot on that barely a boat? They could use us and I suppose we'd at least be free of survivors' guilt when we all are inevitably devoured or drowned. Of course, I have no idea how I'm going to convince poor Salt to let those things lift him aboard."
While the frame of Almeric's plea was expected and Thatch's assent to it was only mildly surprising, this response from Famh to Cainneach's refusal to accompany her was far from what he expected. Cainneach had braced himself for either tears or fury, or even abject silence, but certainly not this. The lass has sat down for a cozy, fireside chat, calm as you like! Quite the juxtaposition to the archers and axeman poised to rain harm upon the cursed ship. Maybe some dark magic had taken hold of her as well, passed through Almeric or those bloody staves he and Ori were carrying in the litter. Cainneach had watched as they were tended to and arranged, could she have accidentally touched one? He didn't think so, but though his gifts for observation were impressive, he wasn't infallible either. Damnit, damnit, damnit. "Famh, this is no time for a little sit down, as much as I'd like to, and this isn't any kind of True Faith fanciful miracle. This is the Old Gods' dark magic, the undead wrapped up in accursed vengeance. And the Mercanians aren't much better than Krarth, as far as I can recall. I still don't trust Almeric not to get us killed, regardless of how convinced he is. Damnit ..." He looks to Ori and asks again, "What do you think man, shall we march on our own, facing down whatever this place has left to throw at us, or join this lot on that barely a boat? They could use us and I suppose we'd at least be free of survivors' guilt when we all are inevitably devoured or drowned. Of course, I have no idea how I'm going to convince poor Salt to let those things lift him aboard."
"You're right, Cainneach, there's little time; and that we must move soon. But I've heard too much about the magi of Krarth to believe that ANY men, living or dead, could be quite as corrupted as they." Famh continues to gaze into his eyes without concealment, and Cainneach can see the full depth of her earnestness in her gaze. "Growing up near Brymstone, we heard a lot from across the sea. The magi of Krarth, the ones of old ... they WORSHIPPED demons. Nay more, demon gods. Not the Old Gods, or the Mercanian gods like Tor and Logi ... real DEMONS. They met in cabal with their gods every seven years in a city in the center of Krarth, but no one knows if they've made the last hundred meetings or so because they and their city were swallowed up by the earth seven hundred years ago and its thought they displeased their gods. There's naught there now but melted and twisted ruins, inaccessible in the midst of a lake of rock so hot it flows like water. Their descendants rule in Krarth to this day but its said they haven't a tithe of the power the old ones possessed. And if Sir Almeric is telling us truth, Karvala was one of the greatest of the OLD ONES and we ought flee here immediately by the swiftest means we can. If he's not ... the ship's already here, we'll have to deal with the draugr somehow. And they're not attacking us now, at any rate; and in that case someone still ought to go if only to keep an eye on our knight until he can be released from his madness. How does this sound ... we can take bundles of driftwood and maybe the smallest of these logs with us. That way, if the draugr ship does sink beneath the waves, we'll have the living wood of the sea to bear us up."
“If we part ways here?”Thatch looks confused at Cainneach’s statement at first, then tries to help Famh convince him to join them. “No, Cainneach, it doesn’t have to end here. Join us, we made it through rough patches before, we can make it through this as well.” He looks over at Ori “Come on big man, we need you.”
Tana also hovers at this standstill that seems to stretch on, gaze darting between the members of the group that appear hesitant at this new potential journey. She remain quiet as the other converse only butting in at Thatch's words.
"I too share ties to the Dayne family. If this is our path forward I will follow."
She shuffles over to where Thatch stands with an incline of her head toward the lingering group members, watching them as they seem to turn his words over in their minds.
Every alarm is going off in Ori's mind, bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. He breaks his gaze from Sir Almeric looking around at the others faces. Seeing them believe in the man, willing to board a ship that's not fit to even burn, with a crew of undead, carrying artifacts that can possess a person with hardly a hesitation. He couldn't, he wouldn't, at least Cainneach seemed to have a good head to see the madness of the situation, and for potentially a higher cost then Ori himself, with Famh asking them board. Ori already pushing back on a request of someone much higher born them himself, he hasn't mad a bold statement towards the noble since Ori's snap about being called Oren. What has Ori already cost himself and the others by pushing back, he had to admit as nutty as he sounds, it does sound like the Sir Almeric hes aleays known, especially the part of think the man thinking he stood any chance of killing the group without this undead crew. Looking at Tana, the last of those willing to blindly follow, he wonders who is going to protect them from themselves, and Ori seems to be holding the last string holding Cainneach back. Well if he's was going to be back stabbed to be what takes him down, in the middle of the ocean, he would do saving his mates. Shoulders relaxing a bit, in defeat? Ori knows this is more dangerous then entering those lower tombs would have been. He turns to Cainneach, "how many of the bone heads do you think you can put down? I don't trust any of them, and I think this is a horrible idea, but what would you be willing to sacrifice to protect the rest our own? They seem like they are willing to climb aboard even with our warnings."
(OOC: wish I'd found this earlier, but most of my game world lore comes from a pay-what-you-can PDF copy of the original DW rulebook from the DriveThru RPG website. I'd be happy to share with anyone who is as economically challenged as I am, tothe degree that the intersection of legality and justice to the original creators allows. It's really detailed as to the world starting about midway through, and really gives the background on these Krarth magi Famh and Sir Almeric are talking about, and the rarity of magic and ghoulies in general in the average person's life that make them so particularly terrifying. It's much more accurate to the IRL medieval viewpoint on these things than the average D&D world is)
===========================
Famh remains with her eyes gazing deep into Cainneach's; but deeply as she is speaking from her heart to him, you sense her appealing to everyone who may remain undecided in her final plea. "I'm not going to try and argue you into this, a ghraid. You'd be sure I was possessed then; and besides, I respect you far too much. And we're silly to be talking as if we all had to decide to part ways for the rest of our lives; if some like to risk the ship and do make it back safe, there's no reason the rest can't walk along the shore and join them later. But I feel called to get back and warn Myrddin as quickly as possible; and to either help or keep an eye on Sir Almeric."
"But I swore gheasa to you first, Cainneach. And yet I swore it then to him as well, at your asking."
"Please don't tear me in two. Please come with me. I'll not die if you don't, and I'll hope with all my heart to see each other again when we get back to the Linden no matter which road we each take apa ... " She stops and takes a breath, aware that she is about to slide back into the pleading and arguing she just promised she wouldn't do. But she cannot help a final word she sees more as summing up what she's already said than adding any fresh appeal. "Please at least consider it?"
Ori kept working on the ramp, who knows how much that thing coukd hold up after the beating it took from that overgrown seal. Honestly Ori thought they coukd made a use of feeding the crew with the behemoth but not even Ori could have carried that whole thing. No need to be waistfull.
Listening to Almeric beat on those drums, Ori kept on cleaning up down below to make sure they didn't miss anything. Almeric wasn't too bad on those things, despite the strange timing of playing them. "Wait, did the drummer just make a final call for us? Guess we better make a move on, Aye?" Making his way to the top, Ori spots the new boat. "Apparently this I quite the tourist trap after all."
"Wait, you 'called' them? With the drum? Didn't think it was that loud? Sure it's worth climbing aboard with, uhh, trapped, sailors? Kinda putting a lot of faith in this mystery boat and a crew we can't understand."
Cainneachs keen eyes quickly make out that the longship has lain for many years at the bottom of the sea, its timbers are swollen and festooned with weed and barnacles......as are the blue-grey bodies of her crew still dressed in their ancient Mercanian battle-dress. The dead are silent and make no reply to the knight ashore....
Salt looks extremely wary of his entire milieau.....
Fergus and Thatch have roused themselves and come up onto the plaza to regard the unearthly sight...
Fergus has been both eased and troubled by his rest but he feels he now understands, at least somewhat, what he carries with him...
Fergus_
Check your Equipment.
Ori casts his eye over the longship and its crew......yeah.......those men are definitely dead.....
Almeric steps up to the longship and is hoisted aboard by the Jarl, the dead mans cold hard fingers gripping about his arm and lifting him easily aboard....the timbers are swollen and sodden and by all rights this ship should not be afloat, let alone able to move....and yet it does.
The dead regard him silently, the Jarl lifts a hand and the dead hoist their oars ready to push off from shore.......
Walking well behind Almeric towards the boat, completely missing the boat and its crews less then lively nature, Ori is most concerned about stepping foot on another swaying hunk of boards. As he gets closer and sees the condition of the boat, Ori stops. "Oi fellas, I don't claim to be an expert ship inspector, but I fail to see how that thing is still above the sea...." trailing off he finally notices the crew. "ALMERIC WHAT IN HOLY H3LL ARE YOU DOING!? GET DOWN BEFORE THEY GET YA." Ori releases the liter (not sure he actually had one but he drops what was in his hands short of his club) and pulls a hand axe and gets ready to throw it at any of the dead crew if they appear hostile towards Almeric.
Famh's eyes sparkle with secret pleasure as she calls the group to order. But this doesn't arise from her newfound confidence as she begins to explore the thought that she might actually have some gifts at planning or even at leading. That is marvelous, but it's so new she has barely had time to realize she's even had such a moment of growth and no time whatever to absorb it. And it hardly comes from the subject of their discussions. Her opinion that the retinue should finish the exploration is one she sets forth on the strength of her reason only, and entirely against her own inclinations. But a small part of her mind is already busy, and that is the portion that gleams behind her secret smile and gives her very skin a radiant glow of happiness that can almost be seen by those who take the time to look carefully. She feels a warmth within at the thought that on either march she will be able to give that part of her mind freer rein ... in between her turns at sentinel position, of course ... to think over all the things she means to say to Cainneach, and how she will declare her love for him in no uncertain terms and in good plain Elleslandic for all to hear, the moment they are out of Karvala's tower.
At least, she thinks the pleasure is secret. It doesn't occur to her that Cainneach might have been aware of how she felt about him before she was; but then she's not had much of an opportunity ere this to learn much about feelings in general, so we can forgive her innocent delusion. And the hope that Cainneach's kind and tender way of speaking to her might mean that he actually already loved her in return, did not need to be courted at all and was possibly wondering what in Legend was taking HER so long to say so flat out, was as of yet beyond her most starry-eyed maiden dreams. Her chronicler is more inclined to blame geography for this than anything else, since in Famh's coastal dialect of Thulish the construction 'mo ghraid'' was little used and tended to be more precisely equated with 'a ghraid'' in connotation and meaning than it was in Cainneach's mountainous western birthplace. And to the Thules of the coast, 'a ghraid'' is a much more ambiguous endearment that could conceivably also be applied in the case of a very close friend. 'Leannan', which she had also blurted out to him once or twice, was a different case. Even in Famh's dialect the meaning of that word is unequivocally either 'sweetheart' or 'darling'. And again, here no one is to blame that her blurting it did not immediately straighten matters out. If Cainneach had had a chance to reply to her with that same word at a time when she was not too upset or distracted for it to register, they might have already progressed to different conversations about all the serious and silly things that need to be worked out between any new couple.
Her chronicler is also inclined to believe that if her handsome Thulish lad were to say that word now, it would most certainly chain her full attention and raise her upon the instant from the ruins of Karvala's tower to the threshold of the seventh gate of Heaven; but there might also be an irrational twinge of disappointment mixed in. She thinks some of the phrases she has begun to craft in her mind would not make the bards of old entirely ashamed, and she has to admit to herself she is feeling rather proud of them. She loves him enough that she would let go of her pique almost immediately, and in any case isn't yet aware fully enough of Cainneach's mutual love for her to even imagine the possibility at this point. But the fellow with the pattern of small dirk point scars up his back from all the times Famh has "just been checking if we've gotten to that part yet", imagines that would be her reaction.
She also means every word she said a moment before. Although her own opinion had been otherwise, she clearly understands the difference between a request for advice and a direct order. And ... bar a moment of extreme shock and a scream of horror upon cresting the ramp and seeing her dead hereditary foes in a moldy and dripping dragon longship lank with kelp and sea-wrack so close to Sir Almeric that they -- were obeying his every command?! ...
That is sufficient to check her terror long enough to allow her to listen with at least the pretense of calm to his explanation, which she finds increasingly plausible. And when she hears that Karvala was one of the magi of Krarth, it hardly needs the Capellar's assessment of the likely power of the remaining demon to win her wholehearted support for an immediate departure by the swiftest and most convenient means possible. Both of which appear to be the longship at this point; although she cannot repress a slight shudder as she reflects to what a vast degree the ride would be even MORE soaked and wet and cold and miserable than that cramped little awning back on the Linden. She certainly has to allow that the consolation of Cainneach's nearness would be correspondingly that many degrees nicer now that things had progressed thus far between them, but she has to amend previous opinion slightly. While she still feels ... if anything more strongly than ever ... that Karvala's tower must be the absolutely most unsuitable place for their courtship in the world, she doesn't think the company of silent draugr on a dripping longship much improvement. It will just have to wait till they get to the beach, then. But she imagines everyone in the retinue will insist on a full night's rest after that, so there will surely be time to tell him then. And even if something still more unexpected should make that an impossibility, Sir Almeric's plan to finally have this evil cleansed will see them all traveling together for a full moon yet.
*****************
(OOC: and since that would be a fairly sizeable transition point in the Cainneach - Famh romance subplot, I'd like to check with everyone at this point your feelings about that in general. Are you all comfortable with the level of 'oxygen' this relationship is taking up, or would you like it either dialed back or to see more of it? EtyenAdiros and Damian_May's opinions of course being fairly important on that subject ...
In terms of other character development I will mention that she actually is considering Sir Almeric's words about becoming more involved with the Capellars much more seriously than it might seem to him, albeit in her own dreamlike gravity-filtered and slow-fermenting Famhish way. And of course, now in the context of beginning to think about providing for THEIR future as a couple rather than either hers or Cainneach's individually; which might bring her conscious mind back to it at some point as they begin to plan together. Presuming, of course, that I'm not totally misreading the signs and Cainneach doesn't actually hate Famh's guts but find himself far too much of a gentleman to say so or let her down as bluntly as such a fae-ral child as she would require in order for the message to get through at all LOL ...)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
The moment the dead raise their oars, Famh grabs Cainneach's hand and starts to follow the knight. "I'm far from sure about this myself, a ghraid, but Sir Almeric's words make a terrible kind of sense. I've heard fireside whispers of the magi of Krarth that make the blood run cold. And we ought obey him when once he's given us a final command, unless we're sure evil's overcome him."
She pauses for thought a moment; then, "Though we'd better start thinking of ways of letting the Baron know it's us coming in this Samhain-worthy ghost ship sometime BEFORE he has his archers start showering us with fire arrows."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Fergus wake sweating feverishly holding the skull. When did he take it out of the bag? Hazy memories of the spectral woman, less monstrous floating through his memories, whispering secrets from ages past. He would bring her with him on his adventure, that agreement he remembered.
Startled by the longship's appearance, seeing Sir Almeric command the dead crew with ease, Fergus packs up his gear and follows suit.
(Oh wow, how to weave all this together?)
Cainneach is immediately thrown off kilter by the sudden whirl of activity that had been brought upon them by the Capellar's drumming. After Cainneach ascended the makeshift ramp and bore witness to the ship of the dead crashing toward them through the surf, Almeric delivered an insane tale of god-like sorcerers and cursed sailors, claiming he could control these undead and their vessel, and then asked to be taken aboard! Spectacularly, both Famh and Fergus, who previously wanted to remain and purge the temple, had moved to follow Almeric, with his dearest Famh even suggesting they board as well.
Cainneach knew little of Krarth and its Magi, other than that it was across the sea and even more easterly than Mercania, and that it was a horrible place. If indeed the temple they were now resting in were dedicated to such folk, it was certainly best they leave, but was not this longship a product of the same dark magic they had just faced down? How could putting their lives in the hands of the reanimated corpses of these Mercanians equate to safe passage? It seemed like Ori was the only one making sense in the moment, ready to defend their overconfident, erstwhile leader and imploring him to take heed of the obvious danger into which he placidly proceeded.
And yet, there was something in the way that Almeric delivered his verdict on the course of action, a certainty and calmness that was disarmingly compelling. Could he possibly be right? Was he in command of this ship of the dead? Could it possibly be trusted to return them to the Linden? And, as Famh had pointed out, how would they alert the Linden that, despite all appearances, the ship was not a threat, but rather an ally? Or, was it more likely that the Capellar had fully succumbed to some possession that had walked through the door opened by his pious delusions and would lead them blindly to a frozen death beneath the Mergeld Sea?
Cainneach didn't like being forced to make quick decisions. Matters of life and death deserved time for reflection, analysis. In those unfortunate cases when he had to hunt for food or to defend the forest, it wasn't a rushed call to action. Rather, there was observation, planning, stalking, knowing your quarry, waiting for the proper moment to strike. This was utter madness, inflicted upon them by circumstances and magic they couldn't possibly understand. Cainneach needed more time, needed to stall, to think.
In between the barbarian and the highland shepherdess, Cainneach is torn. His heart screams at him to go with Famh, to keep her safe from whatever darkness she is leading him towards, to never let her go lest she disappear forever into the waves, dead and gone, leaving him alone like Dru had not so very long ago. His mind screams back equally loud, protesting the insanity of boarding that impossible vessel crewed by undead, with no imminent threat in the temple, on the say so of perhaps a religious zealot, overly confident from their recent victories. There has to be a way to buy more time ...
Aside from Famh's hand in his, Cainneach feels a bulky beast crowding his legs, shivering and growling. Salt, his faithful hound, needs his protection as well. Cainneach looks back at Ori, then turns to Famh, the pain of indecision contorting his face as he can barely make eye contact. He gives the barest shake of his head and drops her hand, mouthing the words, "I don't know ...", before turning back to join Ori while removing his longbow and drawing an arrow. Cainneach keeps his bow sighted on the longship while looking around quickly to see what Tana and Thatch were doing. If they would go, then perhaps he and Ori would pick up the litter and bring it along to the ship, but if the others stayed ashore, he'd help them find another way to return to the Linden.
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"Have you lost focus Almeric, this looks a h3ll of a lot like necromancy hocus pocus to me. Last I checked we were in charge of stopping those sorts of things from happening, not partaking. The hinges of hell will turn cold before you get me on rotten sea wreck. Who's to say those dead chaps don't turn on us in the middle of the sea. The only way your getting me on that damned ship with those cursed mates is to haul your ass off it until you come to your senses." Ori is torn right now, what if thise drums did to Almeric what that staff did to Fergus, what other explanation is there for Almeric to be so comfortable mingling and trusting the undead. Plus be willing to put the whole squad at risk aboard that cursed ship. Ori have thought about walking back in protest, but the more he remembers what happened to Fergus, Ori can't help but wonder if Almeric has fallen a similar fate bur without the patrons protection. Bolstered by Cainneach coming to same conclusion Ori did, despite Famh's willingness to follow aboard. "Almeric, think about what your doing. None of this feels right." Ori had been through this before, where he had to take a stand to thise he followed, didn't end well for him last time, ultimately ending in him becoming the drifter that Almeric found working in a barn. But these are his people again and they looked to him to stand up for them before, well this crew didn't need his protective but they were gonna have it one way or another.
Almeric stood next to the Jarl at the prow of the Longship. He was not sure how long the Jarl would wait, ready to push off and standing by. Almeric had requested passage for himself and his retinue and expected the Draugr to wait until everyone was aboard, bound by the Drum of the Deep as he was. So far, Fahm and Fergus were engaged and ready to board. Ori as always cautious, but Almeric had not expected Cainneach to side against his 'sweetheart' in such a dramatic way. Almeric has not been trained in the ways of a woman, but even he could see that might be an unwise move by Cainneach, notwithstanding the exceptional circumstances they currently found themselves.
"Having discovered the Drum, hidden by the Woman in White in the Tower, I have an opportunity to undo this terrible curse bestowed on these men by Karvala. The White Woman, although hostile to us, seemed no friend of Karvala either. Perhaps she was hiding the Drum from the Blue Moon? Maybe in the hope than someone, like us, would discover it take it away, to understand its secret and finally remove the curse of the Draugr? I do know how to do that now, but it requires specific circumstances which I cannot replicate here. I view this more of a rescue than anything else, rescuing these men from eternal damnation from Karvala and giving them the opportunity to be released from their purgatory and complete their final voyage to Wotan."
Assuming Fergus and Fahm have arrived at the ship, Almeric will help them to board. Making a final plea, avoiding any ultimatums or direct orders, Almeric hopes to bring people round.
If I were a religious zealot, I might have killed you all by now, rather than be the tolerant, understanding and adapting leader that I hope you find me to be. You are all uniquely talented, some in very unconventional ways. We have shown how well we can work together, each piece fitting together in the finely oiled machine that is the Dayne Retinue. I accept everyone acts on their own recognisance and I try to avoid ordering people about. You can walk back if you prefer, but please load the litter on the longship, as Aldred has rights on this treasure. It will be easier to transport and It would also be much easier for Aldred to accept what happened here if we all arrive together, united, safe and victorious."
"I would need a good archer aboard, like you Cainneach. As we approach, you can loose signal arrows to the Linden. We will land a hundred feet off and present no threat. This is the best way to put them at ease upon our arrival and avoid any misunderstanding. Apart from expediting the whole mission, we will increase our reputation and prestige with the Baron, by showing our resourcefulness, diligence and bravery beyond mere words. I'm not sure how long Jarl Hagr will wait for you!"
For what its worth, PERSUASION = 19.
Thatch wanders up the incline, rubbing the sleep from his eyes after a short rest. He jerks to a sudden stop, eyes open in shock as he takes in the sight of the longboat before him and follows the arguing and pleading between the group. Seeing Ori and Cainneach with weapons drawn, Thatch moves up next to them, knocking an arrow on his own shortbow. He looks at the undead crewing the longship with suspicion and his mind flits back to the undead warriors in the Dell and the feel of the shadowblade piercing his chest in the Bear King’s tomb. “Did Almeric just call himself tolerant and understanding?” Thatch whispered to Cainneach “What do you think? He seems to think they answered his call.”
Thatch knew nothing of Karvala, the Blue Moon, or Draugr, not even from the stories from his childhood. Still, Sir Almeric sounded like he did. He seemed safe enough and was insistent that the others join him, and Thatch was in service to the Dayne family, even if Almeric was different from his lord. Still he hesitates, cautious of being led into danger. In the end, he wasn’t going to throw away how far he had come from the stables. As Almeric makes his final plea, he lowers his bow and tells Cainneach sheepishly “I am bound to the Dayne family. If Sir Almeric deems it is safe and the best path forward, I will follow.”
When Cainneach drops her hand, Famh's entire world freezes. She'd expected disagreements, was beginning to get as far as to even imagine future spats with equanimity, but this sudden difference of opinion has introduced an abrupt note of reality into the rosy dream she had previously been floating through. And the experience of being trusted implicitly by all in the retinue -- including Cainneach and Sir Almeric -- so short a time before has changed Famh more profoundly than she has had time to even begin to understand. The old Famh would have simply felt hurt and humiliated by the public airing of their disagreement, could not have seen beyond that enough to look in his eyes and sense how deeply torn he was. She stops immediately and turns to face him fully, her face melting into tender concern.
"I'm so sorry, a ghraid, I should never have pressed ye that hard. Fear had the reins of me there. There's surely time we could draw a breath, sit down and talk it through together a moment."
She looks about for a log of driftwood flat enough to sit on. Lighting on one with enough room between two protruding branches for two or three to sit comfortably, and a little warm hollow in the sand at the base for Salt to curl up in, she sits down and pats the log beside her with an appeal in her eyes. (There are other logs nearby, and the one she sits on is in easy earshot of the entire retinue unless she whispers.) Whether he joins her on the log or stands, she waits for him to accept her invitation to talk and then goes on.
"Krarth alone is terrible enough, and when I heard it was one of the most powerful of them I feared it wouldn't even be safe to retrace our steps through his sanctum and get back by land. We heard more tales of them in Brymstone, Krarth being just the other side of Mercania after you cross the sea.
And I don't know if the drum could be trying to mesmerize Sir Almeric, but you'll remember when Fergus was possessed he couldn't even speak. Our knight seems in command of his reason. I hadn't thought, though, of walking back along the shore from here. I believe Sir Almeric, and I'd like to go with him and see if we can free these lost souls, but if you'd rather walk I'll go with you. We're all bound for the same place anyway."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Almeric's speech seemed to make good sense, at least as much as a speech could that was delivered by one who had, by his own report, summoned a cursed ship of the dead and was now standing on its bow, lifted aboard by the foul, soggy crew. As Thatch momentarily joined him and Ori, the stableboy's initial remark regarding Almeric causes the forester to chuckle, nearly loosing an arrow in the process. "I think he did, Thatch! I'm not sure if that makes me think it's more likely or less that he's possessed by those things! He is certainly convinced of the whole tale he's spinning and, so far, they haven't moved to lay a finger on him. Ori and I have been keeping a keen eye on the lot of them." The trio remains together for a few moments more, while Thatch ponders and reaches a decision. "I understand, we'll keep watch on you as well. Be safe, my friend, if we part ways here. It has always been an honour travelling with you!" Cainneach gives Ori a look and asks, "What do you think, mate? You're the most seasoned of all of us and the tide seems to be drifting away from you and I here on shore."
While the frame of Almeric's plea was expected and Thatch's assent to it was only mildly surprising, this response from Famh to Cainneach's refusal to accompany her was far from what he expected. Cainneach had braced himself for either tears or fury, or even abject silence, but certainly not this. The lass has sat down for a cozy, fireside chat, calm as you like! Quite the juxtaposition to the archers and axeman poised to rain harm upon the cursed ship. Maybe some dark magic had taken hold of her as well, passed through Almeric or those bloody staves he and Ori were carrying in the litter. Cainneach had watched as they were tended to and arranged, could she have accidentally touched one? He didn't think so, but though his gifts for observation were impressive, he wasn't infallible either. Damnit, damnit, damnit. "Famh, this is no time for a little sit down, as much as I'd like to, and this isn't any kind of True Faith fanciful miracle. This is the Old Gods' dark magic, the undead wrapped up in accursed vengeance. And the Mercanians aren't much better than Krarth, as far as I can recall. I still don't trust Almeric not to get us killed, regardless of how convinced he is. Damnit ..." He looks to Ori and asks again, "What do you think man, shall we march on our own, facing down whatever this place has left to throw at us, or join this lot on that barely a boat? They could use us and I suppose we'd at least be free of survivors' guilt when we all are inevitably devoured or drowned. Of course, I have no idea how I'm going to convince poor Salt to let those things lift him aboard."
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"You're right, Cainneach, there's little time; and that we must move soon. But I've heard too much about the magi of Krarth to believe that ANY men, living or dead, could be quite as corrupted as they." Famh continues to gaze into his eyes without concealment, and Cainneach can see the full depth of her earnestness in her gaze. "Growing up near Brymstone, we heard a lot from across the sea. The magi of Krarth, the ones of old ... they WORSHIPPED demons. Nay more, demon gods. Not the Old Gods, or the Mercanian gods like Tor and Logi ... real DEMONS. They met in cabal with their gods every seven years in a city in the center of Krarth, but no one knows if they've made the last hundred meetings or so because they and their city were swallowed up by the earth seven hundred years ago and its thought they displeased their gods. There's naught there now but melted and twisted ruins, inaccessible in the midst of a lake of rock so hot it flows like water. Their descendants rule in Krarth to this day but its said they haven't a tithe of the power the old ones possessed. And if Sir Almeric is telling us truth, Karvala was one of the greatest of the OLD ONES and we ought flee here immediately by the swiftest means we can. If he's not ... the ship's already here, we'll have to deal with the draugr somehow. And they're not attacking us now, at any rate; and in that case someone still ought to go if only to keep an eye on our knight until he can be released from his madness. How does this sound ... we can take bundles of driftwood and maybe the smallest of these logs with us. That way, if the draugr ship does sink beneath the waves, we'll have the living wood of the sea to bear us up."
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
The dead regard the living with vacant expressions, the Jarls hand hangs in the air for what seems like an eternity......
“If we part ways here?” Thatch looks confused at Cainneach’s statement at first, then tries to help Famh convince him to join them. “No, Cainneach, it doesn’t have to end here. Join us, we made it through rough patches before, we can make it through this as well.” He looks over at Ori “Come on big man, we need you.”
Tana also hovers at this standstill that seems to stretch on, gaze darting between the members of the group that appear hesitant at this new potential journey. She remain quiet as the other converse only butting in at Thatch's words.
"I too share ties to the Dayne family. If this is our path forward I will follow."
She shuffles over to where Thatch stands with an incline of her head toward the lingering group members, watching them as they seem to turn his words over in their minds.
Noire Havensong | Harengon Archfey Warlock 6/Lore Bard 4 | Westmarch - Guild of the Phoenix (Discord)
Tanatari Crelieu | Kalashtar Druid 2 | Damian_May's Sleeping Gods
Jynx Starrkeep | Changling GOO Warlock 2 | Astien's Tyranny of Dragons
DM | Eberron Eternal (Discord)
Every alarm is going off in Ori's mind, bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. He breaks his gaze from Sir Almeric looking around at the others faces. Seeing them believe in the man, willing to board a ship that's not fit to even burn, with a crew of undead, carrying artifacts that can possess a person with hardly a hesitation. He couldn't, he wouldn't, at least Cainneach seemed to have a good head to see the madness of the situation, and for potentially a higher cost then Ori himself, with Famh asking them board. Ori already pushing back on a request of someone much higher born them himself, he hasn't mad a bold statement towards the noble since Ori's snap about being called Oren. What has Ori already cost himself and the others by pushing back, he had to admit as nutty as he sounds, it does sound like the Sir Almeric hes aleays known, especially the part of think the man thinking he stood any chance of killing the group without this undead crew. Looking at Tana, the last of those willing to blindly follow, he wonders who is going to protect them from themselves, and Ori seems to be holding the last string holding Cainneach back. Well if he's was going to be back stabbed to be what takes him down, in the middle of the ocean, he would do saving his mates. Shoulders relaxing a bit, in defeat? Ori knows this is more dangerous then entering those lower tombs would have been. He turns to Cainneach, "how many of the bone heads do you think you can put down? I don't trust any of them, and I think this is a horrible idea, but what would you be willing to sacrifice to protect the rest our own? They seem like they are willing to climb aboard even with our warnings."
(OOC: wish I'd found this earlier, but most of my game world lore comes from a pay-what-you-can PDF copy of the original DW rulebook from the DriveThru RPG website. I'd be happy to share with anyone who is as economically challenged as I am, tothe degree that the intersection of legality and justice to the original creators allows. It's really detailed as to the world starting about midway through, and really gives the background on these Krarth magi Famh and Sir Almeric are talking about, and the rarity of magic and ghoulies in general in the average person's life that make them so particularly terrifying. It's much more accurate to the IRL medieval viewpoint on these things than the average D&D world is)
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Famh remains with her eyes gazing deep into Cainneach's; but deeply as she is speaking from her heart to him, you sense her appealing to everyone who may remain undecided in her final plea. "I'm not going to try and argue you into this, a ghraid. You'd be sure I was possessed then; and besides, I respect you far too much. And we're silly to be talking as if we all had to decide to part ways for the rest of our lives; if some like to risk the ship and do make it back safe, there's no reason the rest can't walk along the shore and join them later. But I feel called to get back and warn Myrddin as quickly as possible; and to either help or keep an eye on Sir Almeric."
"But I swore gheasa to you first, Cainneach. And yet I swore it then to him as well, at your asking."
"Please don't tear me in two. Please come with me. I'll not die if you don't, and I'll hope with all my heart to see each other again when we get back to the Linden no matter which road we each take apa ... " She stops and takes a breath, aware that she is about to slide back into the pleading and arguing she just promised she wouldn't do. But she cannot help a final word she sees more as summing up what she's already said than adding any fresh appeal. "Please at least consider it?"
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1