Zarbyn finishes his breakfast and joins the others as they prepare to leave.
"Looks like the group is changing again, losing Morric and adding a few new faces, this reminds me of when 'The Twice Shy' would make port."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
The gnome healer, Meknola discusses Lev's condition:“Mark this well — the Liminal state is the narrow road between life and death, walked only when the gods themselves demand judgment. The body lingers, but the spirit is held apart, weighed upon the Scales of Libra. No prayer nor potion can reach them until the choice is made. You will see their breath falter, their eyes fixed on things unseen, and their shadow split from their form. Do not try to drag them back — only their own decision, tied to the fate of another, can turn the balance. In this case, the name — Werik Longfinger — is the tether. Until Lev chooses his destiny, his own cannot be written.”
The group steps into the circle as the mayor reads the scroll. After a bit of an uneasy feeling, you find yourselves standing on the rise of a dusty hill, about a quarter mile from Port Blacksand. It is very warm here near the sea, and you are much further south than Silverton, far from the Ice Finger Mountains.
The crooked skyline rises from the sea like the teeth of a dying shark — broken, jagged, and dangerous. Smoke coils from leaning towers, gulls wheel and cry overhead, their feathers ragged and eyes glinting red. The stench of fish, tar, and unwashed bodies drifts across the fields, carried on the warm, salty breeze. Welcome to Port Blacksand — the City of Thieves
You determine quickly that there are likely three ways into the City of Thieves:
The North Road — a broad, rutted highway leads straight to the Gate of Skulls. Five bodies hang in chains above the arch, swaying in the sunlight. Black-helmed guards pace beneath, stopping wagons and travelers alike, their hands greedy for coin.
The Catfish River— to the east, the waters wind toward the city. You can see movement along the banks and several barges move toward town but the details are unclear.
The Walls —the city walls rise dark and sheer, surrounding the city to the sea. From here, they look steep but not impossible. Whether there is a climbable route, a guard-free stretch, or some hidden flaw is uncertain.
Jherak takes in the sights and smells of the disgusting looking town, but keeps to himself about the first impression he gathers.
He will wait for others to speak first, since he is new to the group. “At least it’s warm here,” he thinks. He starts to peel off some of the outer layer of clothing and tuck it away in his pack.
Quick summary of Iólinder's actions so I don't have a massive text wall and I have limited time:
He will welcome Jherak and warn him of the danger they face while intimating it sounds like they share a common enemy.
He will inform the mayor he has left scale mail and a vial of holy water with a local to help with defense.
He will speak with the healer that helped them about Lev's condition.
He will assure Lev they will revisit their conversation once they both have a chance to consider things.
He is ready to go when the others are.
Zarbyn finishes his breakfast and joins the others as they prepare to leave.
"Looks like the group is changing again, losing Morric and adding a few new faces, this reminds me of when 'The Twice Shy' would make port."
Iólinder
The gnome healer, Meknola discusses Lev's condition: “Mark this well — the Liminal state is the narrow road between life and death, walked only when the gods themselves demand judgment. The body lingers, but the spirit is held apart, weighed upon the Scales of Libra. No prayer nor potion can reach them until the choice is made. You will see their breath falter, their eyes fixed on things unseen, and their shadow split from their form. Do not try to drag them back — only their own decision, tied to the fate of another, can turn the balance. In this case, the name — Werik Longfinger — is the tether. Until Lev chooses his destiny, his own cannot be written.”
The group steps into the circle as the mayor reads the scroll. After a bit of an uneasy feeling, you find yourselves standing on the rise of a dusty hill, about a quarter mile from Port Blacksand. It is very warm here near the sea, and you are much further south than Silverton, far from the Ice Finger Mountains.
The crooked skyline rises from the sea like the teeth of a dying shark — broken, jagged, and dangerous. Smoke coils from leaning towers, gulls wheel and cry overhead, their feathers ragged and eyes glinting red. The stench of fish, tar, and unwashed bodies drifts across the fields, carried on the warm, salty breeze. Welcome to Port Blacksand — the City of Thieves
You determine quickly that there are likely three ways into the City of Thieves:
The North Road — a broad, rutted highway leads straight to the Gate of Skulls. Five bodies hang in chains above the arch, swaying in the sunlight. Black-helmed guards pace beneath, stopping wagons and travelers alike, their hands greedy for coin.
The Catfish River— to the east, the waters wind toward the city. You can see movement along the banks and several barges move toward town but the details are unclear.
The Walls —the city walls rise dark and sheer, surrounding the city to the sea. From here, they look steep but not impossible. Whether there is a climbable route, a guard-free stretch, or some hidden flaw is uncertain.
Your Map from the Captain in the Inn.
Jherak takes in the sights and smells of the disgusting looking town, but keeps to himself about the first impression he gathers.
He will wait for others to speak first, since he is new to the group. “At least it’s warm here,” he thinks. He starts to peel off some of the outer layer of clothing and tuck it away in his pack.