As Ember recounts the party’s exploits and adventure, Cormorn looks at the other party members, with a look of bewilderment that scream "what is she talking about?". He’s having a reasonable doubt whether it’s just the child’s imagination or if it’s the truth.
Shaking his head back into focus, he climbs the staircase to the second floor that leads into a second room that’s relatively similar in size to the store below. On the far wall is a bed of a size that could fit any of the people present, except for Thurodim. There’s a large window above it where potted plants rest. In the centre of the room is a table with a set of various vials and bottles, and a mortar and pestle. There’s a strong scent coming from those instruments, very acrid. The more knowledgeable members of the party would recognize this as a set of alchemical equipment.
There’s a definite contrast between the level of tidiness upstairs and downstairs. While downstairs the store was well-ordered, the living quarters seem messy and chaotic. Papers are scattered throughout the room. Piles of books are placed here and there. In one corner of the room, you see a box, about 2 feet cube, covered with a drape.
At Ember’s question, he looks uncomfortable. "He did come here. But that was a while ago. What is two weeks? No…Two weeks ago was my special sale, and it was longer than that. I’d say somewhere between 3 weeks to a month ago."
Seeing nowhere to sit down, the massive blonde bearded warrior sighs tiredly and walks over to the drape-covered box, and having absolutely no sense of propriety he slides off the the drape to get a peek at what is hidden underneath. "Did he say where he was staying or going?" Thurodim grunts as he studies the box.
"Well, no. He…Hey! No don’t touch that!", screams the gnome as Thurodim reveals the thing hidden underneath the drape.
What you originally thought was a box is instead a cage containing a most peculiar creature. It stands roughly the size of a particularly hearty chicken, its head comically oversized compared to the rest of its body. Two beady black eyes blink in unison on each side of its head. Its jaw is covered with sharp pointy teeth. As soon as you reveal it to the rest of the room, it begins to violently trash in its cage and growl ferociously. You can see it bag its big head against the bars, which you have no doubt prevent this creature from jumping at you at the first occasion.
The massive blonde bearded warrior's eyes goes wide with surprise as he sees the aggressive critter inside the cage, his grip on Skullcrusher tightening briefly. "What is that and why do you keep it caged?" Thurodim asks gruffly. He feels strongly that beasts should be free, even the dangerous ones, being caged is in his mind a fate worse than death.
Ember immediately feels at home in the chaos of the gnome's personal quarters, far more familiar than the order downstairs. She sniffs at the alchemical equipment, but recoils at the strong scent.
"He came here..." Ember echoes, "...three weeks to a month ago. And he didn't... mention... me." Those words, especially their implication, tumble around in her head a moment, her expression blank. Aggie leaps from Cormorn to Ember, his fluffy tail curling loosely around her neck in comfort.
As a bit of chaos erupts, Ember snaps to and pads over to the caged creature, crouching to inspect it at eye-level. Judging by the arrangement of teeth, she theorizes, "I bet that's what bit the brother-cousins."
As the drape falls off the cage, Ozyre gasps slightly and points. "Toothy dragon chicken!" He scrambles for the drape and puts it back over the cage, hoping the dark will calm the creature. He follows it up with a lullaby that he heard from some forest gnomes back home. He doesn't actually know the language of beasts, though, so what he sings is phonetically similar yet quite possibly derogatory.
With his hands holding the drape on the cage and the cage to the ground, Ozyre turns around and gives a very cautious grin to Cormorn. "Anyhoo, what were you saying about Zulgrim?"
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny. Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
Cormorn looks clearly uncomfortable at the rapid succession of event, like a child that got caught doing something naughty. He scrambles to find his words as Ozyre attempts to calm the creature down. His singing doesn’t seem to have an effect on the creature, who is probably too agitated to hear it.
"It’s…it’s fine. It’ll tire itself out soon enough and go back to sleep.". He sighs and looks up to meet Thurodim’s gaze. "Let me explain. This is Sweettooth. He was put in my care by a group of adventurers, much like you four, that wanted to know if parts of it could be salvaged to make things. I’ve discovered, through great pain of mine, that its teeth constantly regrow when lost.". With that last part, he shows you his right hand missing a pinky finger. "Using its fallen teeth, I’ve been able to create a base for an adhesive. Very useful for restoring books whose binding needs to be glued back. I never hurt that beast and fully intended to release it back into the wilds."
He then returns to Ember when Ozyre brings up her grandpa. "Ah! Yes. Cousin Zulgrim. How to begin…Huh…How familiar are you with the Azj’rin?"
(You can roll a History check to see what you know)
As the commotion dies down and Ember begins again to talk about her grandfather with Cormorn, [Sound of Cork Popping] creeps silently over to the covered cage and moves to slightly lift the drape, his hand quivering in scholarly excitement.
When the gnome's missing pinky finger is brandished, Cork pauses, his head cocking back and forth to peer at the injured hand, at the covered cage, and at his own feathered digits.
Slowly his hand retreats away from the cage.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Ember seems almost reluctant now to hear more, feigning focus on Sweettooth. It had never occurred to her that her grandfather might've left her by choice rather than necessity. That possibility sits heavy on her shoulders now.
As Cormorn asks about the Azj'rin, she finally turns around. Her brow furrows as she sifts through the considerable amount of knowledge her young mind has gathered over her short life.
(Ember would be aware that the Azj’rin is the name of an ancient bygone civilization that is also the common ancestor of all elf-kinds (e.g. high elves, dark elves, wood elves, etc.). The mainland still has a few vestiges of the vast empire they once ruled. You know your grandpa Zulgrim was fascinated by this time period. However, you don’t recall ever reading how they and their empire fell.)
Shelves upon shelves of books about the Azj'rin pass through her mind. Too high to reach when she was little without a Hand like her grandfather's, though she certainly tried.
"Grandpa studied them a lot. Sometimes he'd tell me stories about them before bed. But... they always kinda just felt like stories," she says, wandering over to absently inspect Cormorn's missing pinky. "Did he come here... 'cause of them?"
In the background, Sweettooth seems less agitated or perhaps it’s just growing tired. The cage doesn’t rattle as much now, but you can still hear the beast growl quietly.
Cormorn seems to pick up on Ember’s chagrin. He places a reassuring hand on the young wizard’s shoulder. "If my cousin didn’t bring you along in his research, there was probably a good reason for it. He’s not heartless. Come over here."
He then beckons all who wish to participate to the table, where several rolls of parchment are spread out. Cormorn begins shuffling them in order to make a cohesive whole. "I don’t know if he would approve of me telling you this, but eh…he’s not here to argue. Absentees are always wrong."
He shows you a recent map of the currently discovered land here in Tyrannis. "This is where we are. It’s a wild untamed land that we didn’t know existed about a decade ago. But…", and he slides another current map of the main continent, Amaril, the one you all traveled from. "Notice how the western coast of Amaril and the eastern coast of Tyrannis seem to 'fit' together. Like pieces of a puzzle." Looking it over, the two land masses do seem like they would have been interlocked at one point.
"That’s because…they were…a long time ago." And as he says that, he unrolls a very old-looking parchement revealing a third map that looks similar to the current Amaril, except it’s much more massive. What’s striking about this map is the writing, which, for those who paid close attention to it, resembles the marking you found in the underground ruin earlier today.
The massive blonde bearded warrior calms and follows over to the table with the maps. He hadn't really paid any attention at all to the markings in the underground ruin and the implications are completely lost on him. "Are you saying the the land floats on the water? There must have been quite a storm to break the lands up like that and make them float away from each other." Thurodim says thoughtfully, scratching his blonde beard. "If enough ships were gathered they could tow the lands back together again." He adds with a bright smile like it was a brlliant idea.
Ozyre strokes his chin in contemplation. "If this map is—was—accurate, and is from this ancient empire, and at some point during or after this empire's existence this Amannis supercontinent split in two..." Ozyre gives one final, powerful stroke of his chin. "Where did you find this map? Have you translated the words on it yet? If we could cross-reference the map of Tyranamil with the contemporary Tyrannis map, we could find paths right to key sites of the ancient empire. Think of the secrets! Think of the history! Think of the magic!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny. Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
[Sound of Cork Popping] points two black-feathered index finges at Ozyre and slowly backs away, making an inkpen dropping gesture.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Before Cormorn has time to question Thurodim’s logic, he looks at Ozyre after he declares his plan.
"Ha… You’re starting to sound much like my cousin. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be that easy. Whatever ruin there may be might be long gone. We’re talking about an empire that ruled millennias ago. Besides, with the fauna and flora and the native beastfolks, both hostile to us, exploration is complicated." His attention then shift to Ember. "I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why he didn’t bring you along, dear child."
He then returns to the map. "To answer your question, I was an arcane history professor at the Stregone Academy in Lutherion before I retired here. And yes. I can translate this map. You won’t find many people who speak the Azj’rin tongue."
With no one seeming interested in discussing his daring hypothesis about continental drift, the massive blonde bearded warrior leaves the learned ones to their dreary maps and takes a heavy seat on the floor by the small cage, softly murmuring, calling upon the powers of the bear sprit to talk to the toothy dragonchicken.
Ember, now perched on the edge of the table like a little gargoyle as she scans the maps, delights in Ozyre and Cork's exchange. But as Cormorn readdresses her, she sets her elbows atop her knees and chin in her hands. "Yeah, but... all he left was a note. About darkness coming here. Is that what he's looking for? We found some darkness in ruins too. With that language all over it talkin' aboutnames and faithful souls and stuff."
Suddenly, she slaps her hands down on the table, mussing the maps a bit. "AND I HAD A DREAM! And Grandpa needed help!" She recounts her dream for Cormorn, then the dark creatures they encountered at the ruins. "You think it's all," she intertwines her fingers together and holds them out, "connected?"
"If I sound a lot like Zulgrim, and my first instinct is to hit the road and root around in whatever old buildings I could get my hands on, it's worth a wager of gold that he did something similar. Wherever he's gotten himself, he needs help yet can still work at least some magic, judging by the dream at least. Maybe trapped by natives? Maybe some ancient abjuration rune still had some juice to it?" Ozyre stares off into space as he mentally rewinds a bit to focus on what Ember said about the note. "Then again, it sounds like his reasons for coming here might have been more on the... existential side of things. Could be that whatever's got him worried is a bit, I dunno, bigger. More deliberate. Not a safe assumption, though. There's plenty of things to worry about out here even before you factor in encroaching darkness and whatnot."
Ozyre looks back to the map and stares at it intently, talking to Cormorn without looking up. "Did your cousin give any indication regarding where he planned to go? Time may or may not be of the essence, so we should find him as soon as possible." The gnome suddenly runs out of focus and slumps his elbows on the table, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "And by that I mean as soon as we can after we get a good night's sleep. Aaaaaand maybe some shopping after we wake up. Really, any time tomorrow would be good."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny. Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
As you cast your spell, you become attuned with the speech of this little creature in the cage. It has a squealy high-pitched voice and it speaks with an aggressive tone.
"LET ME OUTTA HERE. ME BITE YOUR FACE OFF. ME EAT BIG HAIRY THING. ME GROW BIG LIKE BIG HAIRY THING."
Meanwhile, Cormorn listens to Ember's recounting of the party's adventure at the farm. The more he hears, the more he looks perturbed. "You got yourself in more trouble than anyone your age should. I can't say I approve of you putting yourself in danger like that." His gaze trails off to the gnome, the birdman and the large human conversing with the creature in the box. "But...You seem to have found people capable of looking out for you. And the gods know I'm probably to old to stop you.", the old gnome says with a frown of chagrin. "But as far as I can tell. That fracture you dealt with doesn't sound related to what Zulgrim came here to do. But it was good you all took care of it. I fear what might have happened if it had gone unchecked. To me, it sounds like you stumbled into an ancient Azj'rin mausoleum, probably."
"Some of the things in your dream sound familiar, but I would have to make a few research. Just to verify.", Cormorn continues. "As for what Zulgrim came here to do, he wanted my help to pinpoint other ancient Azj'rin ruins based off this map here. He said it was for 'personal curiosity'. I told him he was mad to go out there by himself. Never mentioned any darkness to me. I should have known there was more to it."
Cormorn opens his mouth large to let a yawn out. "I'll be able to paint a clearer picture of what is happening once I get some shut eyes and dust off a few tomes for reference. I wish I could house you here for the night, but unfortunately, I've only got the one bed. And certainly not one big enough for that big friend of yours. Unless you don't mind sleeping on the floor downstairs."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
As Ember recounts the party’s exploits and adventure, Cormorn looks at the other party members, with a look of bewilderment that scream "what is she talking about?". He’s having a reasonable doubt whether it’s just the child’s imagination or if it’s the truth.
Shaking his head back into focus, he climbs the staircase to the second floor that leads into a second room that’s relatively similar in size to the store below. On the far wall is a bed of a size that could fit any of the people present, except for Thurodim. There’s a large window above it where potted plants rest. In the centre of the room is a table with a set of various vials and bottles, and a mortar and pestle. There’s a strong scent coming from those instruments, very acrid. The more knowledgeable members of the party would recognize this as a set of alchemical equipment.
There’s a definite contrast between the level of tidiness upstairs and downstairs. While downstairs the store was well-ordered, the living quarters seem messy and chaotic. Papers are scattered throughout the room. Piles of books are placed here and there. In one corner of the room, you see a box, about 2 feet cube, covered with a drape.
At Ember’s question, he looks uncomfortable. "He did come here. But that was a while ago. What is two weeks? No…Two weeks ago was my special sale, and it was longer than that. I’d say somewhere between 3 weeks to a month ago."
Seeing nowhere to sit down, the massive blonde bearded warrior sighs tiredly and walks over to the drape-covered box, and having absolutely no sense of propriety he slides off the the drape to get a peek at what is hidden underneath. "Did he say where he was staying or going?" Thurodim grunts as he studies the box.
"Well, no. He…Hey! No don’t touch that!", screams the gnome as Thurodim reveals the thing hidden underneath the drape.
What you originally thought was a box is instead a cage containing a most peculiar creature. It stands roughly the size of a particularly hearty chicken, its head comically oversized compared to the rest of its body. Two beady black eyes blink in unison on each side of its head. Its jaw is covered with sharp pointy teeth. As soon as you reveal it to the rest of the room, it begins to violently trash in its cage and growl ferociously. You can see it bag its big head against the bars, which you have no doubt prevent this creature from jumping at you at the first occasion.
The massive blonde bearded warrior's eyes goes wide with surprise as he sees the aggressive critter inside the cage, his grip on Skullcrusher tightening briefly. "What is that and why do you keep it caged?" Thurodim asks gruffly. He feels strongly that beasts should be free, even the dangerous ones, being caged is in his mind a fate worse than death.
Ember immediately feels at home in the chaos of the gnome's personal quarters, far more familiar than the order downstairs. She sniffs at the alchemical equipment, but recoils at the strong scent.
"He came here..." Ember echoes, "...three weeks to a month ago. And he didn't... mention... me." Those words, especially their implication, tumble around in her head a moment, her expression blank. Aggie leaps from Cormorn to Ember, his fluffy tail curling loosely around her neck in comfort.
As a bit of chaos erupts, Ember snaps to and pads over to the caged creature, crouching to inspect it at eye-level. Judging by the arrangement of teeth, she theorizes, "I bet that's what bit the brother-cousins."
As the drape falls off the cage, Ozyre gasps slightly and points. "Toothy dragon chicken!" He scrambles for the drape and puts it back over the cage, hoping the dark will calm the creature. He follows it up with a lullaby that he heard from some forest gnomes back home. He doesn't actually know the language of beasts, though, so what he sings is phonetically similar yet quite possibly derogatory.
With his hands holding the drape on the cage and the cage to the ground, Ozyre turns around and gives a very cautious grin to Cormorn. "Anyhoo, what were you saying about Zulgrim?"
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny.
Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
Cormorn looks clearly uncomfortable at the rapid succession of event, like a child that got caught doing something naughty. He scrambles to find his words as Ozyre attempts to calm the creature down. His singing doesn’t seem to have an effect on the creature, who is probably too agitated to hear it.
"It’s…it’s fine. It’ll tire itself out soon enough and go back to sleep.". He sighs and looks up to meet Thurodim’s gaze. "Let me explain. This is Sweettooth. He was put in my care by a group of adventurers, much like you four, that wanted to know if parts of it could be salvaged to make things. I’ve discovered, through great pain of mine, that its teeth constantly regrow when lost.". With that last part, he shows you his right hand missing a pinky finger. "Using its fallen teeth, I’ve been able to create a base for an adhesive. Very useful for restoring books whose binding needs to be glued back. I never hurt that beast and fully intended to release it back into the wilds."
He then returns to Ember when Ozyre brings up her grandpa. "Ah! Yes. Cousin Zulgrim. How to begin…Huh…How familiar are you with the Azj’rin?"
(You can roll a History check to see what you know)
As the commotion dies down and Ember begins again to talk about her grandfather with Cormorn, [Sound of Cork Popping] creeps silently over to the covered cage and moves to slightly lift the drape, his hand quivering in scholarly excitement.
When the gnome's missing pinky finger is brandished, Cork pauses, his head cocking back and forth to peer at the injured hand, at the covered cage, and at his own feathered digits.
Slowly his hand retreats away from the cage.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Ember seems almost reluctant now to hear more, feigning focus on Sweettooth. It had never occurred to her that her grandfather might've left her by choice rather than necessity. That possibility sits heavy on her shoulders now.
As Cormorn asks about the Azj'rin, she finally turns around. Her brow furrows as she sifts through the considerable amount of knowledge her young mind has gathered over her short life.
((History: 14+3 17))
(Ember would be aware that the Azj’rin is the name of an ancient bygone civilization that is also the common ancestor of all elf-kinds (e.g. high elves, dark elves, wood elves, etc.). The mainland still has a few vestiges of the vast empire they once ruled. You know your grandpa Zulgrim was fascinated by this time period. However, you don’t recall ever reading how they and their empire fell.)
Shelves upon shelves of books about the Azj'rin pass through her mind. Too high to reach when she was little without a Hand like her grandfather's, though she certainly tried.
"Grandpa studied them a lot. Sometimes he'd tell me stories about them before bed. But... they always kinda just felt like stories," she says, wandering over to absently inspect Cormorn's missing pinky. "Did he come here... 'cause of them?"
In the background, Sweettooth seems less agitated or perhaps it’s just growing tired. The cage doesn’t rattle as much now, but you can still hear the beast growl quietly.
Cormorn seems to pick up on Ember’s chagrin. He places a reassuring hand on the young wizard’s shoulder. "If my cousin didn’t bring you along in his research, there was probably a good reason for it. He’s not heartless. Come over here."
He then beckons all who wish to participate to the table, where several rolls of parchment are spread out. Cormorn begins shuffling them in order to make a cohesive whole. "I don’t know if he would approve of me telling you this, but eh…he’s not here to argue. Absentees are always wrong."
He shows you a recent map of the currently discovered land here in Tyrannis. "This is where we are. It’s a wild untamed land that we didn’t know existed about a decade ago. But…", and he slides another current map of the main continent, Amaril, the one you all traveled from. "Notice how the western coast of Amaril and the eastern coast of Tyrannis seem to 'fit' together. Like pieces of a puzzle." Looking it over, the two land masses do seem like they would have been interlocked at one point.
"That’s because…they were…a long time ago." And as he says that, he unrolls a very old-looking parchement revealing a third map that looks similar to the current Amaril, except it’s much more massive. What’s striking about this map is the writing, which, for those who paid close attention to it, resembles the marking you found in the underground ruin earlier today.
The massive blonde bearded warrior calms and follows over to the table with the maps. He hadn't really paid any attention at all to the markings in the underground ruin and the implications are completely lost on him. "Are you saying the the land floats on the water? There must have been quite a storm to break the lands up like that and make them float away from each other." Thurodim says thoughtfully, scratching his blonde beard. "If enough ships were gathered they could tow the lands back together again." He adds with a bright smile like it was a brlliant idea.
Ozyre strokes his chin in contemplation. "If this map is—was—accurate, and is from this ancient empire, and at some point during or after this empire's existence this Amannis supercontinent split in two..." Ozyre gives one final, powerful stroke of his chin. "Where did you find this map? Have you translated the words on it yet? If we could cross-reference the map of Tyranamil with the contemporary Tyrannis map, we could find paths right to key sites of the ancient empire. Think of the secrets! Think of the history! Think of the magic!"
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny.
Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
Cork stands nearby in silence, though whether this is awe at the revelation, or just his typical muteness, who could say?
As Ozyre exclaims at the news, however, he indicates his agreement.
[Sound of Cork Popping] nods emphatically.
[Sound of Cork Popping] slaps a black-feathered hand on the table.
[Sound of Cork Popping] points two black-feathered index finges at Ozyre and slowly backs away, making an inkpen dropping gesture.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Before Cormorn has time to question Thurodim’s logic, he looks at Ozyre after he declares his plan.
"Ha… You’re starting to sound much like my cousin. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be that easy. Whatever ruin there may be might be long gone. We’re talking about an empire that ruled millennias ago. Besides, with the fauna and flora and the native beastfolks, both hostile to us, exploration is complicated." His attention then shift to Ember. "I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why he didn’t bring you along, dear child."
He then returns to the map. "To answer your question, I was an arcane history professor at the Stregone Academy in Lutherion before I retired here. And yes. I can translate this map. You won’t find many people who speak the Azj’rin tongue."
With no one seeming interested in discussing his daring hypothesis about continental drift, the massive blonde bearded warrior leaves the learned ones to their dreary maps and takes a heavy seat on the floor by the small cage, softly murmuring, calling upon the powers of the bear sprit to talk to the toothy dragonchicken.
(Ritual cast Speak with animals.)
Ember, now perched on the edge of the table like a little gargoyle as she scans the maps, delights in Ozyre and Cork's exchange. But as Cormorn readdresses her, she sets her elbows atop her knees and chin in her hands. "Yeah, but... all he left was a note. About darkness coming here. Is that what he's looking for? We found some darkness in ruins too. With that language all over it talkin' about names and faithful souls and stuff."
Suddenly, she slaps her hands down on the table, mussing the maps a bit. "AND I HAD A DREAM! And Grandpa needed help!" She recounts her dream for Cormorn, then the dark creatures they encountered at the ruins. "You think it's all," she intertwines her fingers together and holds them out, "connected?"
"If I sound a lot like Zulgrim, and my first instinct is to hit the road and root around in whatever old buildings I could get my hands on, it's worth a wager of gold that he did something similar. Wherever he's gotten himself, he needs help yet can still work at least some magic, judging by the dream at least. Maybe trapped by natives? Maybe some ancient abjuration rune still had some juice to it?" Ozyre stares off into space as he mentally rewinds a bit to focus on what Ember said about the note. "Then again, it sounds like his reasons for coming here might have been more on the... existential side of things. Could be that whatever's got him worried is a bit, I dunno, bigger. More deliberate. Not a safe assumption, though. There's plenty of things to worry about out here even before you factor in encroaching darkness and whatnot."
Ozyre looks back to the map and stares at it intently, talking to Cormorn without looking up. "Did your cousin give any indication regarding where he planned to go? Time may or may not be of the essence, so we should find him as soon as possible." The gnome suddenly runs out of focus and slumps his elbows on the table, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "And by that I mean as soon as we can after we get a good night's sleep. Aaaaaand maybe some shopping after we wake up. Really, any time tomorrow would be good."
Look at what you've done. You spoiled it. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Go sit and think about your actions.
Don't be mean. Rudeness is a vicious cycle, and it has to stop somewhere. Exceptions for things that are funny.
Go to the current Competition of the Finest 'Brews! It's a cool place where cool people make cool things.
How I'm posting based on text formatting: Mod Hat Off - Mod Hat Also Off (I'm not a mod)
Thurodim:
As you cast your spell, you become attuned with the speech of this little creature in the cage. It has a squealy high-pitched voice and it speaks with an aggressive tone.
"LET ME OUTTA HERE. ME BITE YOUR FACE OFF. ME EAT BIG HAIRY THING. ME GROW BIG LIKE BIG HAIRY THING."
Meanwhile, Cormorn listens to Ember's recounting of the party's adventure at the farm. The more he hears, the more he looks perturbed. "You got yourself in more trouble than anyone your age should. I can't say I approve of you putting yourself in danger like that." His gaze trails off to the gnome, the birdman and the large human conversing with the creature in the box. "But...You seem to have found people capable of looking out for you. And the gods know I'm probably to old to stop you.", the old gnome says with a frown of chagrin. "But as far as I can tell. That fracture you dealt with doesn't sound related to what Zulgrim came here to do. But it was good you all took care of it. I fear what might have happened if it had gone unchecked. To me, it sounds like you stumbled into an ancient Azj'rin mausoleum, probably."
"Some of the things in your dream sound familiar, but I would have to make a few research. Just to verify.", Cormorn continues. "As for what Zulgrim came here to do, he wanted my help to pinpoint other ancient Azj'rin ruins based off this map here. He said it was for 'personal curiosity'. I told him he was mad to go out there by himself. Never mentioned any darkness to me. I should have known there was more to it."
Cormorn opens his mouth large to let a yawn out. "I'll be able to paint a clearer picture of what is happening once I get some shut eyes and dust off a few tomes for reference. I wish I could house you here for the night, but unfortunately, I've only got the one bed. And certainly not one big enough for that big friend of yours. Unless you don't mind sleeping on the floor downstairs."