"Shareela's not alive. She's undead remember? She's a vampire or something like that, unless I'm remembering wrong."Vydar says flatly. He doesn't volunteer for the speaking to the undead ability. That's not something that appeals to him.
”But you may consider a bat as well for dark exploration and stealth.”
Atticus takes the clerics blood, mixes it and begins the tattoo process. “Hum, that is curious. The blood is not mixing Corrach, something is wrong.”
Iólinder was shaken out of his thoughts on what animal would make the best scout by the worrisome words Atticus said. 'What do you mean: something is wrong?'
It was the first time anyone had ever said that his blood was wrong which took Iólinder by surprise.
----------
The story was cruel. As the others expressed their disgust at the told events, Iólinder's mind wandered further: what was the point? Cruelty for cruelty's sake often get touted in cases where it defies rationality but his studies had shown that there is almost always an underlying reason, save for the truely insane.
Iólinder stepped forth. 'How does one speak with the dead?' He asked Aisulu. The idea sounded intriguing, if only from an academic perspective. There was only so much one could glean from ancient texts. To speak directly to someone from the past: now that was interesting.
Atticus studies Iólinder carefully. “Your name does not match your sprit. I need your true name. The one given weakens my magic with my gods., they know you by a different name.”
—————
Aisulu says, “I can create a scroll that would allow you to as someone dead three questions. You need a body to do this, so it would not work on a spirit or ghost. But there may be other dead you find old enough to know what happened. (Ooc spell: speak with dead) if you instead use it on one of our tribe, you would only discover how they died.”
I wonder if the story of the girl and tales of Shareela have any connection. You say she is a vampire? I had not heard that rumor but it could explain unnatural life. I suspect if indeed she has returned, her powers are from her association with something very powerful.
Zarbyn hears Iolinder and Aisulu discussing Shareella and tries to help by offering some more of what he knows about the Snow Witch.
"Hear this tale and glean from it what may help in further understanding of the Snow Witch. About 9 months ago I was traveling with an acting troupe led by a merchant. We had just passed through the town of Silverton and were heading further North. The merchant, a fellow who went by the name Big Jim, would offer extra pay for those willing to do extra work, and since I didn't make much more than tips with the acting troupe I would agree to do some scouting work for him. It was during the winter months and everyone found the weather cold and bitter, with thick snow and icy winds, chilling everyone to the bone."
"We were heading for an outpost at the base of a mountain near a frozen lake when we heard a hunting horn blaring out. Big Jim asked us a few others and myself to go ahead and check it out. It took us a couple of hours to reach the outpost and when we did we found the huts smashed, snow bathed red with blood, and 6 bodies lying dead. The tracks we discovered were rather large. We went back to report what had happened at the outpost and Big Jim decided to stop and secure out position for the night. He asked for volunteers to hunt whatever beast could of done such a thing but no one was in any hurry to volunteer until he offered 50 gold. I joined a few capable men and we set off. We tracked whatever it was for days and at the end of the third day we heard someone cry out followed by a beastly roar. It was a fur trapper being attacked by a yeti. We hurried to help and after a terrible battle with the creature only the fur trapper and myself were left alive, although he was near death."
"The fur trapper had suffered too many wounds, including deep gashes on his chest, it was obvious nothing could be done to save him. I stayed with him as he clutched at my jacket and held me close he whispered out his tale. He had lived in the mountains his whole life, trapping and eking out a living, but over the last 5 years he had been searching for the crystal caves of legend. The legend went that the caves were carved from a glacier by the Snow Witch's followers, the Snow Witch being a beautiful but evil sorceress who wanted to use her dark powers to bring about an ice age, covering the whole world in ice so she rule supreme. The fur trapper had learned that crystal caves were rumored to be high in the mountains hidden by illusion magic. He had found it by accident when he saw one of her warriors apparently walk through a wall of solid ice. The fur trapper left a piece of fur near the entrance to mark it so he find it again. Now that he was dying he asked that I return to slay the vile Snow Witch. He spoke of treasures frozen within the walls themselves before succumbing to his wounds and passing from this world. I made sure to give him what burial I could in the snow covered, frozen lands and being just an actor and part-time scout decided it was no job for me alone."
"I gathered some evidence to prove the threat of the yeti had been dealt with and returned to inform Big Jim of what had happened. He rewarded me for my efforts and it wasn't until a month later that we had made our way back to the comforts of Silverton. I found a wonderful little tavern, The Old Toad, to recount my tale over a few ales to the locals. That is where I first met Professor Storm with her distinctly feathered hat. She took an interest in my tale and offered me some gold to give her a more personal and detailed account of the events. In the end, she bought me a few pints, a meal, and paid me 10 gold for my story of the trapper and the Snow Witch."
Taking a moment to catch his breath Zarbyn will also get a quick drink.
"I'm not sure how much that helps but when I heard you mention Shareella I was able to connect the dots with the notes Professor Storm had and realized that Shareella had been referred to sometimes as an evil sorceress, a necromancer, and even a vampire."
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.”
Aisulu ponders Zarbyns words: “if what you heard is true, the man may have found where Shareella went after she left her palace, I might call it her Lair. The palace is where you will travel tomorrow, but now it is more of a tomb. And if you could find that ice cave north of the town Silverton, that could be where she and her cult live, and likely your friend if she still lives. How this is connected to the angry spirit, I do not know.”
Lira listens to Zarbyn's tale intently, recognition showing in her expression for a moment, though she tries to take in all of the information before speaking. "Big Jim, the fur trader? I think I met him while I was trying to catch up with all of you three days ago, on his yearly route from Silverton to Rentarn. He was very kind and gave me a fur cloak to help my journey further into the mountains, in exchange for only the dead wolves you had left behind."
Atticus studies Iólinder carefully. “Your name does not match your sprit. I need your true name. The one given weakens my magic with my gods., they know you by a different name.”
Iólinder paused for a moment. 'I did speak true: Corrach is my name.' He replied before something clicked in the back of his mind. 'Wait, do the Toa-Suo not use last names?'
Aisulu says, “I can create a scroll that would allow you to as someone dead three questions. You need a body to do this, so it would not work on a spirit or ghost. But there may be other dead you find old enough to know what happened. (Ooc spell: speak with dead) if you instead use it on one of our tribe, you would only discover how they died.”
'How many of those scroll can you provide?' Iólinder asked. 'Just asking to be sure so we do not accidentally waste our questions.'
Atticus tries it again taking blood from the jar of elders and then from Corrach. “I see, my mistake, in my ritual, I told the gods this was your name but it is your family name, of your ancestors.” He tries it again and it works. (OOC: MY MISTAKE Furujiru, but. I'm roll with it) Find familiar (the animal you pick is the temporary tattoo) lasts one day
———
"I can make one scroll in this time." She hands each of them a medicine bag. "This will bring you luck on your rite."
"Are we ready to attend the feast in your honor initiates."
(Each PC has one Luck roll (whenever you perform an attack roll, an ability check, or a saving throw.By spending one luck point, you can roll an extra d20)
Iólinder managed to bring up a small smile on his face. The confusion between him Atticus was a stern reminder of the curse of knowledge and how he should not assume things work the way he thinks they do. It was a bit humbling to say. 'Apologies about the confusion.'He politely said as he once more brought the knife to a fingertip to squeeze out five drops of blood. 'I shall heed your advice and take a bat for the time being. Thank you.'
fast forward through second conversation
'Then we shall be vigilant when and on whom to use it.'Iólinder replied to Atticus.
"I believe he needs your full name Iolinder."Vydar states, "Names mean a lot when using magic. If both names are important to you, then they are both important for a spell like this to work properly."
Vydar listens to Zarbyn's tale with interest. He still needs to figure out exactly why Zarbyn is here. Based on the letter he'd brought with him, Natalie had been at least acquainted with, if not part of, whatever group the warlock is part of. Thinking back to the contents of that letter, his eyes narrow.
"I have a theory... and If I'm correct this cache could very well be the place where Shareella died and resurrected."He seems to stare at nothing as he thinks aloud. "Akharis, the one who supposedly killed Shareella, was the Sultan of Djarat. Djarat, is the capitol of Kharéan, which is located in a harsh desert. The Sultan wanted to live in a cooler place. So, he made his palace on a mountain. If I'm right, this cache could be that palace."
(OOC: Please feel free to continue your conversation about cache 3, Shareella, the child spirit, and the different theories and information each PC might have on this topic)
There is another knock on the doorway of your Yurt and Nimka and Baatar enter.
"It is time for the feast in your honor my friends."
As the group enters the massive yurt that earlier held the meeting, it now hums with warmth and laughter, the fire pit at the center crackling fiercely. Various huge Toa-Suo greet you, shaking hands, hugging, and hitting you on the back. The air is thick with the rich scent of roasting meats, spiced mead, and earthy herbs. Long wooden tables, draped in furs, stretch across the hall, laden with a feast fit for a king. Some chairs are brought out so that you can reach the tables more comfortably (like bar seats). Roasted boars and smoked venison share space with hearty stews bubbling in iron cauldrons, their savory aromas mingling with the sharp tang of pickled vegetables and freshly baked dark bread.
Vegetarian offerings balance the feast: a hearty root vegetable stew, thick with carrots, turnips, and barley, sits beside flaky mushroom pies filled with wild forest fungi. A wheel of sharp cheese and baskets of crusty rye bread are heaped alongside platters of grilled root vegetables, their charred edges kissed by the fire. Bright red pickled beets add a refreshing bite, while a wild berry compote, sweetened with honey, offers a rich contrast to the savory dishes. Fresh greens and foraged mushrooms, dressed in elderflower vinegar, provide a cool respite from the warmth of the hearth.
Mead and ale flow freely, served in huge mugs, and the sound of booming laughter and the rhythmic beat of drums fills the air.
Inauniq, the elder, at the head of the hall, raises a toast, “To our new friends and with the luck of the gods as they complete the rite of the warrior and join our tribe, To the Warriors of the Sh’torem.” The crowd erupts in cheer and all raise a mug, “To the Warriors of the Sh’torem!”. Outside the cold northern night presses on, but inside the yurt, it is a kingdom of warmth, food, and camaraderie—a moment of light and friendship in the heart of the wild, a striking contract to the strange circumstances that drew you together.
(You will have 3 hours to rest or you are offered a vigil to cleanse your spirit and purification (Sweat Lodge) You will leave at sunrise with Tseren.
Lira soaks in the warmth of the celebration around her, the laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the welcoming embrace of the Toa-Suo. It's a feeling she hasn’t experienced in a long time—true acceptance, without hidden motives or trickery. Unlike the illusion of family that Shareella’s coven dangled before her, this feels genuine. It’s not a trap, but a moment of real camaraderie.
She will happily agree to do the purification, foregoing a towel since she doubts the others are the type to gawk.
"None. Wouldn't want someone's leather armor to rot off. But...if you are modest, you can have a towel." says the fierce warrior. If you survive your rite, I have things I can teach you." Sukhbaatar says to the monk.
Seeing that a great feast has been prepared in honor of their joining the Toa-Suo tribe Zarbyn will not want to unintentionally insult their hosts so he makes sure to try a variety of the foods presented and partake of the ale offered. Being swept up in the moment he perhaps has a little too much to drink and feeling less inhibited will follow the example set by the Toa-Suo when going to the sweat lodge.
"Let the purification begin!" Zarbyn declares, swaying slightly from the excessive ale he consumed. His inebriation helps mask his embarrassment as the proportionately larger Toa-Suo make him look rather small and inadequate by comparison.
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.”
"None. Wouldn't want someone's leather armor to rot off. But...if you are modest, you can have a towel." says the fierce warrior. If you survive your rite, I have things I can teach you." Sukhbaatar says to the monk.
Amdaeng looked down at the floor and bit her lip, " Yes.....towel....towel good."
Towels are provided for those in need. Those who choose to enter find the air is thick with the scent of cedar and sweetgrass, and the low, flickering glow of candlelight reflects off the smooth, dark walls. A spark contrast to the cold night air outside. As they gather inside, the atmosphere is peaceful and serene, the only sounds being the soft murmur and the gentle rustling of the air and trees outside. The heat seems to calm the nerves, heal sore muscles, the spiritual cleansing and communal ritual preparing the group for the task at hand.
those who choose to not attend the lodge can return to the quiet privacy of the guest yurt for a bit of rest before the rising of the sun. The morning will bring their greatest test yet.
Lev seems rather distracted through the entirety of the feast, not really interacting with anyone much aside from an occasional nod or small smile to at least give the impression that he's enjoying himself. Truth be told, he can't seem to clear his thoughts. He hasn't been able to since they lost Paevira and rescued Lira. That said, anyone paying attention would notice the distant look in his eyes--that he may be present during the feast but his mind is elsewhere.
Once the feast is over he shakes his head at the invitation to the sweat lodge, but doesn't immediately head off to the guest yurt. He seems to be waiting to see whether or not anyone else is going to join in the 'purification'.
Vydar attempts to cover up how overwhelmed he is by all of this. It's not really the amount of people that's getting to him. No, he's used to crowds...he's just used to crowds filled with people that either don't notice him, treat him like he has the plague, or try to kill him. All this positivity and warm welcomes, is just a lot for a previously mostly antisocial dark elf. In his attempt to cover this, he eats as much as he can, and drinks more than he normally would...which ends up making him feel rather sick.
"I think..I'll pass on the sweat lodge or whatever it is." He says groggily, "I'm heading to bed."
Unless someone insists that he accompanies the group to the lodge, Vydar will retreat to the yurt.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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"Shareela's not alive. She's undead remember? She's a vampire or something like that, unless I'm remembering wrong." Vydar says flatly. He doesn't volunteer for the speaking to the undead ability. That's not something that appeals to him.
Iólinder was shaken out of his thoughts on what animal would make the best scout by the worrisome words Atticus said. 'What do you mean: something is wrong?'
It was the first time anyone had ever said that his blood was wrong which took Iólinder by surprise.
----------
The story was cruel. As the others expressed their disgust at the told events, Iólinder's mind wandered further: what was the point? Cruelty for cruelty's sake often get touted in cases where it defies rationality but his studies had shown that there is almost always an underlying reason, save for the truely insane.
Iólinder stepped forth. 'How does one speak with the dead?' He asked Aisulu. The idea sounded intriguing, if only from an academic perspective. There was only so much one could glean from ancient texts. To speak directly to someone from the past: now that was interesting.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Atticus studies Iólinder carefully. “Your name does not match your sprit. I need your true name. The one given weakens my magic with my gods., they know you by a different name.”
—————
Aisulu says, “I can create a scroll that would allow you to as someone dead three questions. You need a body to do this, so it would not work on a spirit or ghost. But there may be other dead you find old enough to know what happened. (Ooc spell: speak with dead) if you instead use it on one of our tribe, you would only discover how they died.”
I wonder if the story of the girl and tales of Shareela have any connection. You say she is a vampire? I had not heard that rumor but it could explain unnatural life. I suspect if indeed she has returned, her powers are from her association with something very powerful.
Zarbyn hears Iolinder and Aisulu discussing Shareella and tries to help by offering some more of what he knows about the Snow Witch.
"Hear this tale and glean from it what may help in further understanding of the Snow Witch. About 9 months ago I was traveling with an acting troupe led by a merchant. We had just passed through the town of Silverton and were heading further North. The merchant, a fellow who went by the name Big Jim, would offer extra pay for those willing to do extra work, and since I didn't make much more than tips with the acting troupe I would agree to do some scouting work for him. It was during the winter months and everyone found the weather cold and bitter, with thick snow and icy winds, chilling everyone to the bone."
"We were heading for an outpost at the base of a mountain near a frozen lake when we heard a hunting horn blaring out. Big Jim asked us a few others and myself to go ahead and check it out. It took us a couple of hours to reach the outpost and when we did we found the huts smashed, snow bathed red with blood, and 6 bodies lying dead. The tracks we discovered were rather large. We went back to report what had happened at the outpost and Big Jim decided to stop and secure out position for the night. He asked for volunteers to hunt whatever beast could of done such a thing but no one was in any hurry to volunteer until he offered 50 gold. I joined a few capable men and we set off. We tracked whatever it was for days and at the end of the third day we heard someone cry out followed by a beastly roar. It was a fur trapper being attacked by a yeti. We hurried to help and after a terrible battle with the creature only the fur trapper and myself were left alive, although he was near death."
"The fur trapper had suffered too many wounds, including deep gashes on his chest, it was obvious nothing could be done to save him. I stayed with him as he clutched at my jacket and held me close he whispered out his tale. He had lived in the mountains his whole life, trapping and eking out a living, but over the last 5 years he had been searching for the crystal caves of legend. The legend went that the caves were carved from a glacier by the Snow Witch's followers, the Snow Witch being a beautiful but evil sorceress who wanted to use her dark powers to bring about an ice age, covering the whole world in ice so she rule supreme. The fur trapper had learned that crystal caves were rumored to be high in the mountains hidden by illusion magic. He had found it by accident when he saw one of her warriors apparently walk through a wall of solid ice. The fur trapper left a piece of fur near the entrance to mark it so he find it again. Now that he was dying he asked that I return to slay the vile Snow Witch. He spoke of treasures frozen within the walls themselves before succumbing to his wounds and passing from this world. I made sure to give him what burial I could in the snow covered, frozen lands and being just an actor and part-time scout decided it was no job for me alone."
"I gathered some evidence to prove the threat of the yeti had been dealt with and returned to inform Big Jim of what had happened. He rewarded me for my efforts and it wasn't until a month later that we had made our way back to the comforts of Silverton. I found a wonderful little tavern, The Old Toad, to recount my tale over a few ales to the locals. That is where I first met Professor Storm with her distinctly feathered hat. She took an interest in my tale and offered me some gold to give her a more personal and detailed account of the events. In the end, she bought me a few pints, a meal, and paid me 10 gold for my story of the trapper and the Snow Witch."
Taking a moment to catch his breath Zarbyn will also get a quick drink.
"I'm not sure how much that helps but when I heard you mention Shareella I was able to connect the dots with the notes Professor Storm had and realized that Shareella had been referred to sometimes as an evil sorceress, a necromancer, and even a vampire."
Aisulu ponders Zarbyns words: “if what you heard is true, the man may have found where Shareella went after she left her palace, I might call it her Lair.
The palace is where you will travel tomorrow, but now it is more of a tomb. And if you could find that ice cave north of the town Silverton, that could be where she and her cult live, and likely your friend if she still lives. How this is connected to the angry spirit, I do not know.”
Lira listens to Zarbyn's tale intently, recognition showing in her expression for a moment, though she tries to take in all of the information before speaking. "Big Jim, the fur trader? I think I met him while I was trying to catch up with all of you three days ago, on his yearly route from Silverton to Rentarn. He was very kind and gave me a fur cloak to help my journey further into the mountains, in exchange for only the dead wolves you had left behind."
| Joy - Hexblood Open Sea Paladin - Netherdeep | Kaelen - Shadar-kai Gloom Stalker Ranger - Old Keep | Lira - Half-elf Thief Rogue/Druid - Allansia | Arkon - Goliath Champion Fighter - Hardcore DiA | Teryn - High Elf Archfey Warlock - Runewarren | Zoveldra - Kalashtar Open Hand Monk - Eberron | Mavilius - Tiefling Bard - Golden Vault | Vannithos - Shadar-kai Astral Self Monk - Von Nichts Manor |
Iólinder paused for a moment. 'I did speak true: Corrach is my name.' He replied before something clicked in the back of his mind. 'Wait, do the Toa-Suo not use last names?'
-----
'How many of those scroll can you provide?' Iólinder asked. 'Just asking to be sure so we do not accidentally waste our questions.'
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Atticus tries it again taking blood from the jar of elders and then from Corrach. “I see, my mistake, in my ritual, I told the gods this was your name but it is your family name, of your ancestors.” He tries it again and it works. (OOC: MY MISTAKE Furujiru, but. I'm roll with it)
Find familiar (the animal you pick is the temporary tattoo) lasts one day
———
"I can make one scroll in this time." She hands each of them a medicine bag. "This will bring you luck on your rite."
"Are we ready to attend the feast in your honor initiates."
(Each PC has one Luck roll (whenever you perform an attack roll, an ability check, or a saving throw. By spending one luck point, you can roll an extra d20)
Iólinder managed to bring up a small smile on his face. The confusion between him Atticus was a stern reminder of the curse of knowledge and how he should not assume things work the way he thinks they do. It was a bit humbling to say. 'Apologies about the confusion.' He politely said as he once more brought the knife to a fingertip to squeeze out five drops of blood. 'I shall heed your advice and take a bat for the time being. Thank you.'
fast forward through second conversation
'Then we shall be vigilant when and on whom to use it.' Iólinder replied to Atticus.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
"I believe he needs your full name Iolinder." Vydar states, "Names mean a lot when using magic. If both names are important to you, then they are both important for a spell like this to work properly."
Vydar listens to Zarbyn's tale with interest. He still needs to figure out exactly why Zarbyn is here. Based on the letter he'd brought with him, Natalie had been at least acquainted with, if not part of, whatever group the warlock is part of. Thinking back to the contents of that letter, his eyes narrow.
"I have a theory... and If I'm correct this cache could very well be the place where Shareella died and resurrected." He seems to stare at nothing as he thinks aloud. "Akharis, the one who supposedly killed Shareella, was the Sultan of Djarat. Djarat, is the capitol of Kharéan, which is located in a harsh desert. The Sultan wanted to live in a cooler place. So, he made his palace on a mountain. If I'm right, this cache could be that palace."
Amdaeng listens with wrapt attention to Zarbyns tale, a lot of this is going over her head but she thinks she's getting the gist of things.
(OOC: Please feel free to continue your conversation about cache 3, Shareella, the child spirit, and the different theories and information each PC might have on this topic)
There is another knock on the doorway of your Yurt and Nimka and Baatar enter.
"It is time for the feast in your honor my friends."
As the group enters the massive yurt that earlier held the meeting, it now hums with warmth and laughter, the fire pit at the center crackling fiercely. Various huge Toa-Suo greet you, shaking hands, hugging, and hitting you on the back. The air is thick with the rich scent of roasting meats, spiced mead, and earthy herbs. Long wooden tables, draped in furs, stretch across the hall, laden with a feast fit for a king. Some chairs are brought out so that you can reach the tables more comfortably (like bar seats). Roasted boars and smoked venison share space with hearty stews bubbling in iron cauldrons, their savory aromas mingling with the sharp tang of pickled vegetables and freshly baked dark bread.
Vegetarian offerings balance the feast: a hearty root vegetable stew, thick with carrots, turnips, and barley, sits beside flaky mushroom pies filled with wild forest fungi. A wheel of sharp cheese and baskets of crusty rye bread are heaped alongside platters of grilled root vegetables, their charred edges kissed by the fire. Bright red pickled beets add a refreshing bite, while a wild berry compote, sweetened with honey, offers a rich contrast to the savory dishes. Fresh greens and foraged mushrooms, dressed in elderflower vinegar, provide a cool respite from the warmth of the hearth.
Mead and ale flow freely, served in huge mugs, and the sound of booming laughter and the rhythmic beat of drums fills the air.
Inauniq, the elder, at the head of the hall, raises a toast, “To our new friends and with the luck of the gods as they complete the rite of the warrior and join our tribe, To the Warriors of the Sh’torem.” The crowd erupts in cheer and all raise a mug, “To the Warriors of the Sh’torem!”. Outside the cold northern night presses on, but inside the yurt, it is a kingdom of warmth, food, and camaraderie—a moment of light and friendship in the heart of the wild, a striking contract to the strange circumstances that drew you together.
(You will have 3 hours to rest or you are offered a vigil to cleanse your spirit and purification (Sweat Lodge) You will leave at sunrise with Tseren.
Lira soaks in the warmth of the celebration around her, the laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the welcoming embrace of the Toa-Suo. It's a feeling she hasn’t experienced in a long time—true acceptance, without hidden motives or trickery. Unlike the illusion of family that Shareella’s coven dangled before her, this feels genuine. It’s not a trap, but a moment of real camaraderie.
She will happily agree to do the purification, foregoing a towel since she doubts the others are the type to gawk.
| Joy - Hexblood Open Sea Paladin - Netherdeep | Kaelen - Shadar-kai Gloom Stalker Ranger - Old Keep | Lira - Half-elf Thief Rogue/Druid - Allansia | Arkon - Goliath Champion Fighter - Hardcore DiA | Teryn - High Elf Archfey Warlock - Runewarren | Zoveldra - Kalashtar Open Hand Monk - Eberron | Mavilius - Tiefling Bard - Golden Vault | Vannithos - Shadar-kai Astral Self Monk - Von Nichts Manor |
Amdaeng ate and drank her fill then headed to sweat things out....
As she did so she leaned over to Sukhbaatar, " Uh...the Sweat Lodge....is that sans garment or no?"
"None. Wouldn't want someone's leather armor to rot off. But...if you are modest, you can have a towel." says the fierce warrior. If you survive your rite, I have things I can teach you." Sukhbaatar says to the monk.
Seeing that a great feast has been prepared in honor of their joining the Toa-Suo tribe Zarbyn will not want to unintentionally insult their hosts so he makes sure to try a variety of the foods presented and partake of the ale offered. Being swept up in the moment he perhaps has a little too much to drink and feeling less inhibited will follow the example set by the Toa-Suo when going to the sweat lodge.
"Let the purification begin!" Zarbyn declares, swaying slightly from the excessive ale he consumed. His inebriation helps mask his embarrassment as the proportionately larger Toa-Suo make him look rather small and inadequate by comparison.
Amdaeng looked down at the floor and bit her lip, " Yes.....towel....towel good."
Towels are provided for those in need. Those who choose to enter find the air is thick with the scent of cedar and sweetgrass, and the low, flickering glow of candlelight reflects off the smooth, dark walls. A spark contrast to the cold night air outside. As they gather inside, the atmosphere is peaceful and serene, the only sounds being the soft murmur and the gentle rustling of the air and trees outside. The heat seems to calm the nerves, heal sore muscles, the spiritual cleansing and communal ritual preparing the group for the task at hand.
those who choose to not attend the lodge can return to the quiet privacy of the guest yurt for a bit of rest before the rising of the sun. The morning will bring their greatest test yet.
Lev seems rather distracted through the entirety of the feast, not really interacting with anyone much aside from an occasional nod or small smile to at least give the impression that he's enjoying himself. Truth be told, he can't seem to clear his thoughts. He hasn't been able to since they lost Paevira and rescued Lira. That said, anyone paying attention would notice the distant look in his eyes--that he may be present during the feast but his mind is elsewhere.
Once the feast is over he shakes his head at the invitation to the sweat lodge, but doesn't immediately head off to the guest yurt. He seems to be waiting to see whether or not anyone else is going to join in the 'purification'.
Vydar attempts to cover up how overwhelmed he is by all of this. It's not really the amount of people that's getting to him. No, he's used to crowds...he's just used to crowds filled with people that either don't notice him, treat him like he has the plague, or try to kill him. All this positivity and warm welcomes, is just a lot for a previously mostly antisocial dark elf. In his attempt to cover this, he eats as much as he can, and drinks more than he normally would...which ends up making him feel rather sick.
"I think..I'll pass on the sweat lodge or whatever it is." He says groggily, "I'm heading to bed."
Unless someone insists that he accompanies the group to the lodge, Vydar will retreat to the yurt.