This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The mist-shrouded countryside gives way to crumbling buildings and twisting mud-filled streets. Entering the desolate city ruins, they pass the bloated corpse of a long-dead horse. The smell of ozone fills the cold air as they walk through the tattered rubble of the Outer City. Once in a while you hear a barking dog, then perhaps a scream carried on the win
It's than they see a lone man... standing in the street.. What was he doing? Scouting carefully as an individual? Or perhaps something else? He looks only vaguely familiar to Fazil. (Our new member)
Everyone (Except Thuribula sadly) can see slinking around the corner looking at this lone man.. are two wriggling shadows. Moving shadows with ethereal like claws eyeing... and watching the party now as well. They even see Maggwyn as she attempt to hide. (If our newcomer has a passive perception of 11 or higher he'll see these strange creatures as well.)
Everyone (Except Thuribula sadly) can see slinking around the corner looking at this lone man.. are two wriggling shadows. Moving shadows with ethereal like claws eyeing... and watching the party now as well. They even see Maggwyn as she attempt to hide. (If our newcomer has a passive perception of 11 or higher he'll see these strange creatures as well.)
(OOC: Did you give the newcomer the campaign link? XD)
The big man stands, turning gradually in a wide arc. Slouching as usual, his child-like hazel eyes gazing in wonder and horror at the fallen city.
A threadbare cloak with a single patch of purple sewn on it covers chain mail and a massive maul hangs stowed at his back. A tiny soot-colored owl perches on his shoulder, looking vaguely like a poorly-fitted pauldron.
Xarian knows his way around cities. Leuchten had been smaller, a foothill town to the south of Westemar, not far from the border. Still, every urchin knows in their bones the patterns and flow to cities and urban sprawl. Every urchin who survives, anyway. Yet this is somehow not what he had expected.
Can there truly be rogue mages here? The city is utterly dead. An unearthly corpse, slain in a titanic arcane explosion. Suddenly, he shudders recalling what his gnomish mentor at the Academy had said, interrupting him. Correcting Xarian gravely as she had pointed her teaspoon testily up at the big man.
Not dead, Xarian, no. Not dead. But instead... becoming...
It is then that both he (Passive Perception12) and Ash, his owl familiar (Passive Perception18 due to Keen Hearing and Sight), notice the... wriggling, clawed shadows? There are many things which a born gutter rat like Xarian cannot rightly put a name to, and these certainly are no exception.
Slowly, for everything Xarian does is on the slow side, he draws his maul and readies himself, while attempting to provide no other outward indication that he has noticed the lurking threat. Acting as if he is continuing to scan the city's outskirts, a wide-eyed newcomer in over his head. Which after all, he is.
Dabbert takes a tactical pause as he spots the newcomer ahead, and then the creeping shadows. Instead of drawing attention, he bides his time, sliding up against the nearest wall and indicating for the others to do the same before hunkering down to watch.
"We can't forget what happened to Rikard." He whispers, taking a look over his shoulder at the others. The lesson the...what? Sick?...man had taught them was as fresh on his mind as if it had happened that morning. He absolutely does not look ready to take on another stray, especially after all that. Still, his eyes flit to the crawling tendrils of shadow, if that's what they are (and he's sure that's not all that they are), as he weighs his options. "F&%$."
With his shield on his left arm, he slips his spear into his offhand grip and uses his empty right hand to wave across his own face, palm facing the stranger. Look at me, it seems to say. Assuming the stranger looks at him, he begins to wave him over, to come his direction, hoping that if these shadows, whatever they were, decided to give chase, at least they had to come at him, and not the other way around.
Maggwyn sighs. They don't have time for this. Wasn't it supposed to be a race to get this delirium? What if one of the other teams got there first? Like who was this guy? Was he looking for it as well?
She follows Dabbert against the wall and keeps her eyes on the shadows that seem to have seen them as well as the lone stranger. She points them out to Thuribula and Fazil in case they weren't in on the situation.
Maggwyn, the feral looking tiefling with long, wild gray hair and two colored eyes stares at Dabbert as he seems to be calling the stranger towards them. "What are you doing? Sinak and Fenzik....shit I don't even remember his name... weren't they examples enough? Why are you asking him to join us?" she hisses at him while staring at the slinkers. Man... life was so much easier when she was on her own.
There's something dank and depressing about the mist that crowds around the group as they walk along the road towards the city. The acrid smell of wet air after a storm should have been invigorating, but it wasn't. The smell isn't quite right; something is off about it. Thuribula readjusts her grip on her shield and her hammer, still getting used to the feel of moving in the new heavier armor. She keeps pace at Fazil's side. Whatever he can see with those glowing eyes of his, and however adroitly he can torch threats... I would rather that I.. or maybe my hammer... have the first say in the conversation. It's not just to protect the mage, but to protect others from his nerves. Not that it mattered much, in Rikard's case... we had to stop him...
The large figure of a man materializes out of the mist, and Thuribula squints to get a better view. Doubtless this is another adventurer or treasure hunter, seeking something in the city just as they are. The Flamekeeper is quite prepared to go up and greet the man as they pass by, in her amiable way of sharing her goodwill. But Dabbert slinks up against a nearby wall, and after a moment of hesitation, she follows suit, quietly leaning up against the wall. Thuribula made her choice to trust Dabbert's leadership, and her own military training reminds her of the importance of quickly following orders even when you don't see the reason for them. Further studying the man, Thuribula notices the purple patch sewn awkwardly onto his cloak. Hmm. Someone from the Academy? They're usually better dressed. It doesn't quite fit, but Thuribula has little time otherwise to question it, as Maggwyn whispers to her about the slinking shadows.
Thuribula feels a chill run up her spine. That's why we're hiding. Not from this man, but from something that's hunting him. Her realization is confirmed as she sees Dabbert slowly gesture for the man's attention. Swallowing, she says nothing, but prepares to do what is necessary to protect either her companions, or this stranger... or both.
Fazil's heart raced as he tightened his grip on his wand and felt the smooth pages of his spellbook under his fingers. He took a deep breath, getting ready for what was coming.
Looking around, he weighed his options. Should he cast Fire Bolt or reshape the ground with Mold Earth? Both spells had their risks and rewards, and he had to pick the right one.
First the clawed shadows, and now a group of... adventurers? Did one bring the other?
Always more confident in combat than with social skills, Xarian has difficulty making sense of the variety of people he spies sidelong in the alley. The well-armored woman has the look of an Elyrian paladin or flamekeeper, as far as he can remember from the ones he had glimpsed as a youth, only a few years ago. Leuchten had not been far from the borders to the Free City of Liberio, Caspia and Elyria, all to the south of Westemar beyond the mountains. He remembers Silver Order knights as a haughty group, but then, many were haughty towards street urchins. Or towards low-ranking guards for that matter.
Is the one who looks like a professional soldier signaling to me? To approach?
Xarian's old habits of (sometimes grudgingly) following the chain of command as a guardsman cause him to take a compliant step before stopping. Wait a minute. Is one of these people a rogue mage who has summoned the clawed shadows? None of them look one bit like a mage except...
Except the one in Academy robes, you big dummy!
Xarian's mind races, trying to place the half-remembered face. Unlike the vast majority of Academy initiates, Xarian had not been recruited or even noticed as mage-born while a child. He had found a spell-book as a youth and half-taught himself arcane dabbles and scraps before circumstances took him to the Eastern Vale, begging an unorthodox admittance as a young adult to Paradox Castle. Even now, many at the Academy seemed unsure whether Xarian, with his maul and armor, was really a mage. A borderline case. Which is fair enough. Sometimes, I am barely sure myself!
Fazil! His name his Fazil! The recollection comes to him finally. Xarian has a brief, incongruous memory of being impressed at the wizard's spell book. Not a rogue mage then, I don't think. Nor would he have summoned such... things.Xarian stands up straight for once, near six and a half feet.
The clawed shadows do not seem to be advancing, despite clearly having perceived both Xarian and the group. He is fairly sure the others have seen the potential threat too. Pointing his maul directly at the clawed shadows in case they have not, Xarian looks back at the gesturing soldier and approaches the motley party at a measured pace, finally noticing the sneaky tiefling accompanying them (with Ash's telepathic help).
Ash wings briefly up in a tight loop to see if there are any other threats or people nearby before returning to her perch. Perhaps victims of the shadows?
Ash's visual and auditory Perception at advantage due to Keen Hearing and Sight: 20 (dirty)
"Hello! Ah... how are you?" Xarian winces immediately at how imbecilic his own words sound, given the circumstance.
Fazil's right eyebrow twitched upon hearing the familiar stutter that he had always heard throughout his time at the academy. Of course, he could be mistaken, but there's nothing wrong with trying to see if it's who he thinks it is. However, seeing that Maul and the Owl. Together with that nervous stuttering. All three together would make it nearly impossible for others to have but a few people.
"Xarian, right? I'm surprised to see you out here." Fazil's eyes narrowed slightly. "Everyone, you don't have to let your guard down, but he's someone I knew back at the academy. However, for safety's sake, you're allowed to be suspicious of him, just as you have been with me."
Hiding his mild shock that Fazil, or almost anyone else from the Academy for that matter, actually remembered his name, Xarian brightens momentarily before his countenance returns to its somber mien. He continues to point with his maul at the clawed shadows some distance away.
"Fazil! I... it's, ah, good to see you. I think? You didn't... you didn't summon... all that, did you?" Xarian desperately tries to recall what magic he has ever witnessed Fazil casting, coming up empty. "My name is Xarian," he announces hopefully and unnecessarily to the others, lowering his maul.
"And... ah, sir," he turns to the soldier. "Wasn't trying to be a pain in your... anyway, just spotted the shadows when I was looking at the city."
When I was staring slack-jawed at his abject horror of a fallen metropolis.
"Was trying to see if maybe some mage had conjured the shadows. Or if anyone is, ah... trapped by them," adding belatedly once more, "Sir."
Upon closer inspection, Xarian's ears are slightly pointed, hinting at some elven blood, though his hulking stature implies distant kinship with giants as well. Through the gaps in his armor and parts of his face, there are signs of his having received a severe beating, perhaps near death, years in the past. Fazil might remember the scars and minor disfigurements being fresher when Xarian first arrived at the Academy (as an adult, unlike most).
(Xarian waits for Ash's telepathic scouting report. Perception: 20, not natural, above).
While Xarian and Fazil were having some strange sort of reunion, Maggwyn consults her map again, trying to see if the lurkers were in the way to their destination or if they could avoid the confrontation and continue towards their goal.
Thuribula relaxes her grip on her hammer as Fazil reassures the group of Xarian's familiarity, and the big fellow approaches. She glances behind him in the direction he pointed with the maul, still having difficulty seeing the clawed shadows that they're all talking about. At least, they seem to be keeping to the shadows. Maggwyn buries her head in her map, seemingly reluctant to greet the newcomer. She's very focused on something, brooking no delay nor distraction, Thuribula muses, I wonder what it is.
Thuribula smiles and bows as Xarian addresses them. "May the Sacred Flame be with you, Xarian," she says. "My name is Thuribula. I am a Flamekeeper from the Holy City of Lumen. You're from the Academy, then?" It continues to amaze Thuribula how much Drakkenheim and its surrounding environs seem to be crawling with mages. But perhaps that makes sense. Their operation is... limited, elsewhere. Drakkenheim is something of a lawless place."What brings you out here?"
Xarian's child-like gaze, startling in the big man's face, turns to the Flamekeeper. He bows awkwardly.
"Ah... honor to meet you, m'lady Thuru-, Thibr-, Thulibru-, ah... m'lady Flamekeeper!" (Some color creeps into Xarian's cheeks at his inability to pronounce Thuribula's name). "There was a Flamekeeper in Leuchten. I saw her from afar a few times. Never had the coin for her services, even when-"
Flummoxed, he stops again, takes a breath, then continues, a bit more composed. "Yes, Academy. I think so anyway. Most of them aren't quite so sure about me. As to why I was sent, I'm not supposed to say, and I'd rather not lie to anyone, let alone a Flamekeeper. But just now, seeing the city like... like this... puts things in a different light, doesn't it. I am hoping Ash, my owl was able to spy if anyone needed saving from those strange shadow-things."
(Xarian continues to await Ash's telepathic scouting report. Perception: 20, not natural, rolled above)
Xarian can gain from Ash that from above with the mist it was hard to make tails end of the surrounding area. Except for one thing.. No more shadows were hiding only the ones they could see and they weren't eager to jump in the fray. Ash could make certain they were ready for anything.. But they aren't moving all the same. Ash with a specific command in mind could also discern that there is no others nearby that may need saving-- Wait... a large green dragon like man was nearby? And approaching as well. The shadows hadn't seen him.. least not yet anyway.
Thuribula smiles a little at Xarian's stumbling over her name. And over not saying something possibly insulting... though Thuribula is curious about his mention of the Flamekeeper in Leuchten. It's one of the workarounds to the vow of poverty, charging for services to maintain the church, the burning flame, and the Flamekeeper herself. Having lived in Lumen where donations regularly flowed in to the well-appointed churches, cathedrals, and rectories, Thuribula had never charged anyone. I never considered it... not when I was fed and supported to do my work without trouble. Flamekeepers aren't allowed to own anything, nor have coin, but the temples do, obviously. I suppose in backwater places like Westemar... the Flamekeepers see it as a way to survive... and while it is allowed... I never thought it was right. Thuribula smiles a little. I suppose my Faith will be soundly tested now in regards to that... I don't even have any food, save what's left in my belly of the generous meal that Karin gave me last night.
"The honor is mine," she says, bowing her head. "The Academy does tend to keep its activities secret, so I won't pry. I commend your desire not to lie, so I won't make you an occasion for that! As the Lantern illuminates the darkness, likewise all that is hidden will come to light... the light of truth is a different light, indeed." She takes a few steps forward, with a glance at Fazil. "I didn't see the shadows, but some of my companions did." She points with her own warhammer in the direction that Xarian had pointed with his maul before he approached them. "There? Does your owl see anyone in danger?" She looks quite ready to leap into action if someone is.
Xarian squints back in the same direction, then looks to his the tiny owl who has returned to his shoulder. After a brief pause, during which the bird seems completely impassive, the big man straightens, absently rubbing a scar on his cheek, answering Thuribula:
"The shadows don't seem like they are moving to attack. Or moving at all. Maybe just waiting and... watching. There's no one trapped with them. I... I don't know what you all are doing out here, but maybe it's best just to steer clear of them? And there's... there's someone else coming too. I mean... walking on two legs, but not... not quite human. Green, though. Maybe part man, part dragon? Don't think the shadows see him yet."
He looks to the military man, and to the sneaky tiefling consulting a map, who he had not fully noticed before. Then to Fazil, uncertainly.
"Seems like you all are here on a job. Like I am, I guess. I don't want to get in your way. If... if you have to get going, I understand. I can let the newcomer know... warning him about the shadows, I mean. If you intend to fight something, though, I can help."
The mist-shrouded countryside gives way to crumbling buildings and twisting mud-filled streets. Entering the desolate city ruins, they pass the bloated corpse of a long-dead horse. The smell of ozone fills the cold air as they walk through the tattered rubble of the Outer City. Once in a while you hear a barking dog, then perhaps a scream carried on the win
It's than they see a lone man... standing in the street.. What was he doing? Scouting carefully as an individual? Or perhaps something else? He looks only vaguely familiar to Fazil. (Our new member)
OOC
6
5
Everyone (Except Thuribula sadly) can see slinking around the corner looking at this lone man.. are two wriggling shadows. Moving shadows with ethereal like claws eyeing... and watching the party now as well. They even see Maggwyn as she attempt to hide. (If our newcomer has a passive perception of 11 or higher he'll see these strange creatures as well.)
(OOC: Did you give the newcomer the campaign link? XD)
The big man stands, turning gradually in a wide arc. Slouching as usual, his child-like hazel eyes gazing in wonder and horror at the fallen city.
A threadbare cloak with a single patch of purple sewn on it covers chain mail and a massive maul hangs stowed at his back. A tiny soot-colored owl perches on his shoulder, looking vaguely like a poorly-fitted pauldron.
Xarian knows his way around cities. Leuchten had been smaller, a foothill town to the south of Westemar, not far from the border. Still, every urchin knows in their bones the patterns and flow to cities and urban sprawl. Every urchin who survives, anyway. Yet this is somehow not what he had expected.
Can there truly be rogue mages here? The city is utterly dead. An unearthly corpse, slain in a titanic arcane explosion. Suddenly, he shudders recalling what his gnomish mentor at the Academy had said, interrupting him. Correcting Xarian gravely as she had pointed her teaspoon testily up at the big man.
Not dead, Xarian, no. Not dead. But instead... becoming...
It is then that both he (Passive Perception 12) and Ash, his owl familiar (Passive Perception 18 due to Keen Hearing and Sight), notice the... wriggling, clawed shadows? There are many things which a born gutter rat like Xarian cannot rightly put a name to, and these certainly are no exception.
Slowly, for everything Xarian does is on the slow side, he draws his maul and readies himself, while attempting to provide no other outward indication that he has noticed the lurking threat. Acting as if he is continuing to scan the city's outskirts, a wide-eyed newcomer in over his head. Which after all, he is.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
OOC
Side note while I wait for some post.
The owl has 18 passive for sight and hearing but not any other sense (Such as smell for example)
But sight and hearing do make up like 80 percent of perception checks for sure! XD
Dabbert takes a tactical pause as he spots the newcomer ahead, and then the creeping shadows. Instead of drawing attention, he bides his time, sliding up against the nearest wall and indicating for the others to do the same before hunkering down to watch.
"We can't forget what happened to Rikard." He whispers, taking a look over his shoulder at the others. The lesson the...what? Sick?...man had taught them was as fresh on his mind as if it had happened that morning. He absolutely does not look ready to take on another stray, especially after all that. Still, his eyes flit to the crawling tendrils of shadow, if that's what they are (and he's sure that's not all that they are), as he weighs his options. "F&%$."
With his shield on his left arm, he slips his spear into his offhand grip and uses his empty right hand to wave across his own face, palm facing the stranger. Look at me, it seems to say. Assuming the stranger looks at him, he begins to wave him over, to come his direction, hoping that if these shadows, whatever they were, decided to give chase, at least they had to come at him, and not the other way around.
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Maggwyn sighs. They don't have time for this. Wasn't it supposed to be a race to get this delirium? What if one of the other teams got there first? Like who was this guy? Was he looking for it as well?
She follows Dabbert against the wall and keeps her eyes on the shadows that seem to have seen them as well as the lone stranger. She points them out to Thuribula and Fazil in case they weren't in on the situation.
Maggwyn, the feral looking tiefling with long, wild gray hair and two colored eyes stares at Dabbert as he seems to be calling the stranger towards them. "What are you doing? Sinak and Fenzik....shit I don't even remember his name... weren't they examples enough? Why are you asking him to join us?" she hisses at him while staring at the slinkers. Man... life was so much easier when she was on her own.
"I'm not asking him to join us." Dabbert corrects. "I'm trying to keep him from getting killed."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
There's something dank and depressing about the mist that crowds around the group as they walk along the road towards the city. The acrid smell of wet air after a storm should have been invigorating, but it wasn't. The smell isn't quite right; something is off about it. Thuribula readjusts her grip on her shield and her hammer, still getting used to the feel of moving in the new heavier armor. She keeps pace at Fazil's side. Whatever he can see with those glowing eyes of his, and however adroitly he can torch threats... I would rather that I.. or maybe my hammer... have the first say in the conversation. It's not just to protect the mage, but to protect others from his nerves. Not that it mattered much, in Rikard's case... we had to stop him...
The large figure of a man materializes out of the mist, and Thuribula squints to get a better view. Doubtless this is another adventurer or treasure hunter, seeking something in the city just as they are. The Flamekeeper is quite prepared to go up and greet the man as they pass by, in her amiable way of sharing her goodwill. But Dabbert slinks up against a nearby wall, and after a moment of hesitation, she follows suit, quietly leaning up against the wall. Thuribula made her choice to trust Dabbert's leadership, and her own military training reminds her of the importance of quickly following orders even when you don't see the reason for them. Further studying the man, Thuribula notices the purple patch sewn awkwardly onto his cloak. Hmm. Someone from the Academy? They're usually better dressed. It doesn't quite fit, but Thuribula has little time otherwise to question it, as Maggwyn whispers to her about the slinking shadows.
Thuribula feels a chill run up her spine. That's why we're hiding. Not from this man, but from something that's hunting him. Her realization is confirmed as she sees Dabbert slowly gesture for the man's attention. Swallowing, she says nothing, but prepares to do what is necessary to protect either her companions, or this stranger... or both.
Fazil's heart raced as he tightened his grip on his wand and felt the smooth pages of his spellbook under his fingers. He took a deep breath, getting ready for what was coming.
Looking around, he weighed his options. Should he cast Fire Bolt or reshape the ground with Mold Earth? Both spells had their risks and rewards, and he had to pick the right one.
Fazil focused, ready to use his magic.
He listened intently, ready for anything.
First the clawed shadows, and now a group of... adventurers? Did one bring the other?
Always more confident in combat than with social skills, Xarian has difficulty making sense of the variety of people he spies sidelong in the alley. The well-armored woman has the look of an Elyrian paladin or flamekeeper, as far as he can remember from the ones he had glimpsed as a youth, only a few years ago. Leuchten had not been far from the borders to the Free City of Liberio, Caspia and Elyria, all to the south of Westemar beyond the mountains. He remembers Silver Order knights as a haughty group, but then, many were haughty towards street urchins. Or towards low-ranking guards for that matter.
Is the one who looks like a professional soldier signaling to me? To approach?
Xarian's old habits of (sometimes grudgingly) following the chain of command as a guardsman cause him to take a compliant step before stopping. Wait a minute. Is one of these people a rogue mage who has summoned the clawed shadows? None of them look one bit like a mage except...
Except the one in Academy robes, you big dummy!
Xarian's mind races, trying to place the half-remembered face. Unlike the vast majority of Academy initiates, Xarian had not been recruited or even noticed as mage-born while a child. He had found a spell-book as a youth and half-taught himself arcane dabbles and scraps before circumstances took him to the Eastern Vale, begging an unorthodox admittance as a young adult to Paradox Castle. Even now, many at the Academy seemed unsure whether Xarian, with his maul and armor, was really a mage. A borderline case. Which is fair enough. Sometimes, I am barely sure myself!
Fazil! His name his Fazil! The recollection comes to him finally. Xarian has a brief, incongruous memory of being impressed at the wizard's spell book. Not a rogue mage then, I don't think. Nor would he have summoned such... things. Xarian stands up straight for once, near six and a half feet.
The clawed shadows do not seem to be advancing, despite clearly having perceived both Xarian and the group. He is fairly sure the others have seen the potential threat too. Pointing his maul directly at the clawed shadows in case they have not, Xarian looks back at the gesturing soldier and approaches the motley party at a measured pace, finally noticing the sneaky tiefling accompanying them (with Ash's telepathic help).
Ash wings briefly up in a tight loop to see if there are any other threats or people nearby before returning to her perch. Perhaps victims of the shadows?
Ash's visual and auditory Perception at advantage due to Keen Hearing and Sight: 20 (dirty)
"Hello! Ah... how are you?" Xarian winces immediately at how imbecilic his own words sound, given the circumstance.
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Fazil's right eyebrow twitched upon hearing the familiar stutter that he had always heard throughout his time at the academy. Of course, he could be mistaken, but there's nothing wrong with trying to see if it's who he thinks it is. However, seeing that Maul and the Owl. Together with that nervous stuttering. All three together would make it nearly impossible for others to have but a few people.
"Xarian, right? I'm surprised to see you out here." Fazil's eyes narrowed slightly. "Everyone, you don't have to let your guard down, but he's someone I knew back at the academy. However, for safety's sake, you're allowed to be suspicious of him, just as you have been with me."
Hiding his mild shock that Fazil, or almost anyone else from the Academy for that matter, actually remembered his name, Xarian brightens momentarily before his countenance returns to its somber mien. He continues to point with his maul at the clawed shadows some distance away.
"Fazil! I... it's, ah, good to see you. I think? You didn't... you didn't summon... all that, did you?" Xarian desperately tries to recall what magic he has ever witnessed Fazil casting, coming up empty. "My name is Xarian," he announces hopefully and unnecessarily to the others, lowering his maul.
"And... ah, sir," he turns to the soldier. "Wasn't trying to be a pain in your... anyway, just spotted the shadows when I was looking at the city."
When I was staring slack-jawed at his abject horror of a fallen metropolis.
"Was trying to see if maybe some mage had conjured the shadows. Or if anyone is, ah... trapped by them," adding belatedly once more, "Sir."
Upon closer inspection, Xarian's ears are slightly pointed, hinting at some elven blood, though his hulking stature implies distant kinship with giants as well. Through the gaps in his armor and parts of his face, there are signs of his having received a severe beating, perhaps near death, years in the past. Fazil might remember the scars and minor disfigurements being fresher when Xarian first arrived at the Academy (as an adult, unlike most).
(Xarian waits for Ash's telepathic scouting report. Perception: 20, not natural, above).
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
While Xarian and Fazil were having some strange sort of reunion, Maggwyn consults her map again, trying to see if the lurkers were in the way to their destination or if they could avoid the confrontation and continue towards their goal.
Thuribula relaxes her grip on her hammer as Fazil reassures the group of Xarian's familiarity, and the big fellow approaches. She glances behind him in the direction he pointed with the maul, still having difficulty seeing the clawed shadows that they're all talking about. At least, they seem to be keeping to the shadows. Maggwyn buries her head in her map, seemingly reluctant to greet the newcomer. She's very focused on something, brooking no delay nor distraction, Thuribula muses, I wonder what it is.
Thuribula smiles and bows as Xarian addresses them. "May the Sacred Flame be with you, Xarian," she says. "My name is Thuribula. I am a Flamekeeper from the Holy City of Lumen. You're from the Academy, then?" It continues to amaze Thuribula how much Drakkenheim and its surrounding environs seem to be crawling with mages. But perhaps that makes sense. Their operation is... limited, elsewhere. Drakkenheim is something of a lawless place. "What brings you out here?"
Xarian's child-like gaze, startling in the big man's face, turns to the Flamekeeper. He bows awkwardly.
"Ah... honor to meet you, m'lady Thuru-, Thibr-, Thulibru-, ah... m'lady Flamekeeper!" (Some color creeps into Xarian's cheeks at his inability to pronounce Thuribula's name). "There was a Flamekeeper in Leuchten. I saw her from afar a few times. Never had the coin for her services, even when-"
Flummoxed, he stops again, takes a breath, then continues, a bit more composed. "Yes, Academy. I think so anyway. Most of them aren't quite so sure about me. As to why I was sent, I'm not supposed to say, and I'd rather not lie to anyone, let alone a Flamekeeper. But just now, seeing the city like... like this... puts things in a different light, doesn't it. I am hoping Ash, my owl was able to spy if anyone needed saving from those strange shadow-things."
(Xarian continues to await Ash's telepathic scouting report. Perception: 20, not natural, rolled above)
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
"Looks like we might have a fight coming our way..." Fazil frowns, not expecting a fight so soon upon arriving.
Xarian can gain from Ash that from above with the mist it was hard to make tails end of the surrounding area. Except for one thing.. No more shadows were hiding only the ones they could see and they weren't eager to jump in the fray. Ash could make certain they were ready for anything.. But they aren't moving all the same. Ash with a specific command in mind could also discern that there is no others nearby that may need saving-- Wait... a large green dragon like man was nearby? And approaching as well. The shadows hadn't seen him.. least not yet anyway.
Thuribula smiles a little at Xarian's stumbling over her name. And over not saying something possibly insulting... though Thuribula is curious about his mention of the Flamekeeper in Leuchten. It's one of the workarounds to the vow of poverty, charging for services to maintain the church, the burning flame, and the Flamekeeper herself. Having lived in Lumen where donations regularly flowed in to the well-appointed churches, cathedrals, and rectories, Thuribula had never charged anyone. I never considered it... not when I was fed and supported to do my work without trouble. Flamekeepers aren't allowed to own anything, nor have coin, but the temples do, obviously. I suppose in backwater places like Westemar... the Flamekeepers see it as a way to survive... and while it is allowed... I never thought it was right. Thuribula smiles a little. I suppose my Faith will be soundly tested now in regards to that... I don't even have any food, save what's left in my belly of the generous meal that Karin gave me last night.
"The honor is mine," she says, bowing her head. "The Academy does tend to keep its activities secret, so I won't pry. I commend your desire not to lie, so I won't make you an occasion for that! As the Lantern illuminates the darkness, likewise all that is hidden will come to light... the light of truth is a different light, indeed." She takes a few steps forward, with a glance at Fazil. "I didn't see the shadows, but some of my companions did." She points with her own warhammer in the direction that Xarian had pointed with his maul before he approached them. "There? Does your owl see anyone in danger?" She looks quite ready to leap into action if someone is.
Xarian squints back in the same direction, then looks to his the tiny owl who has returned to his shoulder. After a brief pause, during which the bird seems completely impassive, the big man straightens, absently rubbing a scar on his cheek, answering Thuribula:
"The shadows don't seem like they are moving to attack. Or moving at all. Maybe just waiting and... watching. There's no one trapped with them. I... I don't know what you all are doing out here, but maybe it's best just to steer clear of them? And there's... there's someone else coming too. I mean... walking on two legs, but not... not quite human. Green, though. Maybe part man, part dragon? Don't think the shadows see him yet."
He looks to the military man, and to the sneaky tiefling consulting a map, who he had not fully noticed before. Then to Fazil, uncertainly.
"Seems like you all are here on a job. Like I am, I guess. I don't want to get in your way. If... if you have to get going, I understand. I can let the newcomer know... warning him about the shadows, I mean. If you intend to fight something, though, I can help."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk