Riven remains by the fire, crouched low, coaxing the flames into steady life with methodical care. Sparks dance across his gloved fingers as he adjusts the kindling, his face lit not with joy or warmth, but with quiet duty. His hands, tending the fire, adding warmth where there was cold, light where there was fear. One of the elders mutters a weak thanks. Riven nods once, saying nothing.
He listens in silence as voices rise around him, Jack’s probing, Eckor’s pitiful excuses, Randa’s ominous devotion, Joy’s hopeful confusion. He listens, but offers no words.
He leaves the questions to the curious.
The flames hold his attention only a moment longer. When they burn steady and strong, he stands with fluid grace and turns from the group.
He walks quietly toward Hollow, who waits still and statuesque. The loyal mount, always calm, flicks an ear as Riven approaches.
Riven places a hand gently against Hollow’s neck, fingers brushing through his mane, then rests his brow against the horse’s forehead. A soft breath leaves him, not a sigh, not quite relief. Something quieter. Something harder to name.
“Well done,” he murmurs.
Behind him, talk of gods and guilt continues. The fire speaks. The river waits. But Riven does not look back.
Let the others debate repentance.
He will wait, and when called upon, assist with the crossing.
It would not take much skill with reading people to tell that he is not being entirely honest about his role within his party. However, his desire for continued living is sincere, as is his willingness to do whatever it takes to persist in breathing. Not many people, living or dead, are entirely good or entirely evil; there is potential for both in nearly all people. Joy cannot easily tell where he falls on that spectrum from his pleadings, but the reality is that most do not choose evil when all their needs are being met, as Joy knows first hand. He could turn over a new leaf, or he will fall back onto the path he had already been walking. Joy would need to probe deeper to unearth Eckor's true heart.
The dark-haired man scratches his neck as he ponders the response from the remaining bandit. He was clearly not being entirely truthful, but the important thing to Jack now was if this man could be better or not. "So please, tell us truthfully, do you think you will be able to live a good and honest life henceforth or will you once more let circumstances let you make poor friends and even poorer choices if we would let you go?" He finally asks, his words laced with fey compelling magic to help draw out the truth.
Ylis looks at the bandit and decides to keep a safe distance from the man. He is already a fiend for being willing to hurt oldsters. He is obviously lying about something, and Now he wants to change sides?
She'll keep an eye on him.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
Eckor's eyes momentarily glaze over and he blinks away the stars in his eyes. "I met Hest and Rabo when we were just boys on the streets. I was making bracelets out of yarn and trying to sell them. I wasn't so good at it. They gave me food and shelter from the cold. They said 'ya gotta be tough and don't cry', then they would beat me up sometimes. It made me stronger, but I still used to cry at night for all the bad things we did." He looks Jack in the eyes, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. "Being good... it is a dream. I don't know how to do anything else... and I haven't cried in a very long time."
He looks down and touches his cheek in confusion at the tears now on his fingers. He looks back to Jack to interpret the meaning of it.
"There, there, you let it all out now, fate has dealt you a lousy hand but there is still hope for you Eckor..." The dark-haired man says quietly, a bit awkwardly but well-meaning embracing the other for comfort and reassurance. "...perhaps you just need a real opportunity to do what is good. Would you consider following along with the old people and try to repent by helping them survive? It won't be easy to gain their trust but at least it is a path to do better."He suggests quietly, letting the bandit cry on his shoulder.
Lucky Insight to determine if the bandit can be sent along with the other group or not: 22
Eckor scoots up to Jack on his knees nodding his head eagerly, hands clasped in thanks. Jack is easily able to see that there is very little Eckor would not consider in order to stay alive, as that is his most immediate concern. That would include helping others. However, Jack can see the deeper uncertainty in Eckor's eyes. Not deceit necessarily, but a lack in real confidence that he is capable of good after so long being bad.
He looks to Joy, noting her Lathander emblem. "How?" he asks her. "How does one be good when he hasn't been for so long that he has forgotten how?"
Shara, having secured her family, approaches. She looms over the kneeing bandit with a look that is ladled with contempt. Her attention is turned to Jack, clearly offended by his suggestion. "There is exactly no chance I'm letting him within reach of our parents again. I appreciate the horses, but please don't volunteer us to be his babysitter. He would be another danger we would have to watch and the Underdark has plenty as it is."
Riven stands in the hush beside Hollow, one hand resting on the steed’s mane as the conversations behind him carries on. He does not turn around, nor does he need to. Words carry. Desperation carries louder.
Eckor’s voice, all grovel and uncertainty, grates like dull steel across stone. And Jack, gods preserve him, so open, so willing to unearth a sliver of good from the bloodied earth.
Riven exhales slowly through his nose.
Hope, it had its place. But it did not belong on its knees beside a man like Eckor.
He lifts his gaze toward the treeline, watching shadows stretch long across the ground as night deepens. His thoughts move with deliberate calm.
Mercy is a blade, Jack. It cuts both ways. Give it without care, and you may find it in your own back, warm with blood you thought already spared. Riven muses to himself.
Behind him, Shara’s voice cuts through the tangle of ideals, sharp, simple, rooted in sense. Her scorn isn’t cruel. It’s practical. And to Riven, that’s rarer than kindness.
He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself that fleeting pause of agreement.
At least one here knows that not every tale of redemption is worth the ink. Not every thief wants to change, some simply want to survive.
Riven opens his eyes again, gaze falling to the embers drifting from the fire’s mouth. He had no desire to decide the bandit’s fate. That belonged to the ones who’d nearly lost everything.
But if Jack was naive enough to invite rot into their stores and call it fruit, then at least Shara had the will to say, don’t eat it.
Riven speaks nothing aloud. But the stillness in his posture, the hard line of his jaw, echo his agreement.
Let them sort out the bandit’s soul. He’d seen all he needed in the man’s eyes.
And he would not be the fool who mistook desperation for virtue.
While Jack and Shara debate the bandit's fate, Vazo'yn turns his attention to the journey ahead. He moves quietly over to the fire so efficiently lit by Riven. He tries to catch the eye of the aasimar woman, his expression intent and determined.
"You came across the river, yes? We must cross it ourselves tomorrow. Please, tell me, how you managed your crossing."
Giles walks around, gathering the reigns of any loose horses, leading them back to the group now that the fight is done. He listens to the bandit, and the suggestions of the others.
He is not surprised when Shara refuses to take him, he would be a liability with them. With anyone.
"Perhaps we just leave you here, let you bury your friend? Give you some time to think about what's next for you. Who knows, perhaps you'll even cry again." He then shrugs, as if the fate of Eckorisn't really something he wants to give another thought too.
But he is listening, and watching the others, to see what they say, how they act.
"There is no good choice. Shara won't take him, and we leave him, he might track them and bother them."
Ylis growls grrrrrrrr
"I don't want him with us, or we'll have to constantly watch him. Does anybody want to babysit this guy?"
Randa is interested in the mans answer about how he crossed the river, but her ears flicker at Ylis words, " I don't think it is wise for him to accompany us. He should make his own way in the world free of the influence of others as he is so easily swayed by them."
" Or I can simplify things......he reminds me of those who attacked my home. Willing to inflict terrible cruelty on a whim.......yet mewling like children if injured."
" He may walk away once he has answered Jack......or I can remove the distraction from our mission."
" I for one am sick and tired of having centuries of experiences stripped from me.....I am running out of time to address great wrongs and if we do not hurry the entire world will be dead."
Having not expected those below the hill to have heard what was said between him and the remaining bandit, the dark-haired man looks around in confusion for a moment before facing the half-orc. "Yes, well I never really imagined you would want that, but thank you for making that abundantly clear..." He says with a weak smile. "...I am sorry if you felt offended by us talking about this man's future and possibilities to change. While you certainly have all reason to hate this man for what he did, try to remember that desperate situations can make us all do desperate things." He says, letting the words hang in the air a while before continuing. He didn't know of course what Shara and the others had been prepared to do to steal their horses but he was fairly certain the group of young warriors would have had no compunctions about resorting to violence if necessary. "If you came up here to take out your anger on this man I suggest you talk it over with the quiet man by the fire down there who just spared his life. Otherwise I'm sure your loved ones deserve your attention better than either me or this man." He continues with a tired smile.
Jack knew well what was at stake and that simply letting the elf have her way was the simple solution to it all, but executing a prisoner would definitely give a bitter aftertaste to the night's events and would hardly be the good thing to do. The dark-haired man looks around at the others that had joined the conversation now and finally he shrugs and leaves the hill. The way he saw it the man's life was Riven's to spare or take anyway and his own meddling had done nothing to help the situation it seemed. "I'm sorry, I'm just a bit tired, I should rest instead of making this worse."He says as he makes his way down by the river to sit down and clear his head, smiling slightly as he feels the tiny blonde landing on his shoulder to keep him silent company. The bandit was right about one thing at least he thought, it was hard to be good...
Joy watches Jack retreat with a quiet, thoughtful expression before turning her gaze to the man still kneeling in the grass. She approaches slowly, her armor gently clinking with each step, and crouches beside him with a soft, tired smile. “Redemption doesn’t begin when others forgive you,” she says gently, placing her worn holy book into his hands, followed by a few rations and a polished brass sunburst symbol from her pack. “It begins when you decide to forgive yourself, and live better than you did the day before.” She rises, her hand lingering for a moment on his shoulder. “Find shelter near here and rest. Wait for our return—prove you meant what you said. Lathander’s light reaches even those who have walked in shadow.”
((Book, 4 rations, and extra holy symbol removed from her pack))
She then turns to quietly join Jack in his silent vigil by the river.
As the kind-hearted hexblood joins him by the river, the dark-haired man looks up, giving her a brief warm welcoming smile, about to say something but instead staying uncharacteristically silent, deciding to simply enjoy the serenity by the river now. There was something to be said for silence he thought with a small smile as he watched the dark river in the faint moonlight.
The aasimar, Kylie, stands and steps away from the cowering elderly. She dusts her hands off as she approaches Vazo’yn and gestures casually to the raft in the bushes some distance away.
“That will hold two on top of it… maybe just one of your larger people, actually. We needed three to paddle and fight the current, and one of them had to be Shara. We used ropes to lash ourselves to the raft because the pull of the river is so strong. That water will pull you right off and under in seconds without the rope.”
As Jack withdraws from the situation to rest, Shara looks down her nose at Eckor, who holds the boon Joy had given him. He seems lost, in more ways than one, and he looks up at Jack for answers as he retreats, then to Shara. Shara silently judges him, though Jack’s words work their way into her heart like a pushed blade. Slowly, inevitably, until finally, they find their mark. Shara’s expression turns from sour rebuke to neutral, and finally, to shame. “Go. May the light of the Morninglord guide you to change, and if you resist it, may Raei’s light smite you.”
Eckor takes that as his queue to leave and stumbles to his feet as he flees the range of the Daylight spell, heading west. The pattering of his feet eventually grow faint until they cannot be heard by even the most perceptive in the group. Most notable about his departure was the fact that he clutched Joy’s book to his chest as if it were a shield against the darkness, with far more importance than the rations that he held in his other hand as he scooped at the air it as he fled.
The group gathers around the fire to rest, and the rest turns to sleep, with both groups sharing camp. Kylie makes a point to pray for all the Fellowship, giving them a blessing from her god. She also provides food and drink, divinely created for the group to share in. The food is bland, but filling. Supper is further brightened by the addition of music. The knight in gleaming armor, a sturdy sentinel of a youth, presents the group with a song.
He seems a little embarrassed to own the instrument, an erhu, and it is revealed that it is considered a woman’s instrument among their people, but he played it with such passion, that even Vazo’yn would have been hard pressed to deny the skill. The sounds it produced were both forlorn and hopeful, joyous and producing a sense of intense loss, and if Vazo’yn or others felt so inclined, they might have even joined in with music of their own.
The two groups manage to get a full night’s rest without issue, and at first light, Shara and her people take the offered horses and head south. The Fellowship looks to the river, certain they can navigate the treacherous waters, for they must.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Shall we?" The dark-haired man quietly asks the kind hexblood after enjoying the silence and serentity at the river for some time, getting up and offering her a hand to join him as he makes his way back to the campfire. He keeps quiet at first, trying to get a sense of if the others had come to terms with Eckor being allowed to leave. He would discreetly use his fey powers to put some nice taste to the bland food, not wanting to offend the generous aasimar. He would enjoy and generously compliment the sweet music offered by the young knight, and unless it seemed improper he would regale the others with a tale, a lighter one to hopefully bring a smile to their faces and lighten their hearts, perhaps even filling the camp with a laugh or two. He would also be happy to lend his quite decent singing voice to support Vazo’yn or anyone else who would bring some more solace to the camp.
(Lucky performance: 21 using minor illusions to enhance the storytelling.)
Before turning in for the night, he would take a peek into his mirror to make sure Eckor is okay. (Scrying)
The next morning he wishes the other group a good journey ahead, hoping to meet them again some day. He would then ready himself for crossing the treacherous river.
Ylis hopes Joy doesn't mind sleeping back to back with her. Joy makes her feel most safe.
She gladly takes her turn at watch, ears perked up for any sound out of the ordinary. Her heart is still floating chaotically with excitement of adventure balanced by dread of the near future.
When morning comes, she is curious about how they plan to get the horses across the river.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
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Riven remains by the fire, crouched low, coaxing the flames into steady life with methodical care. Sparks dance across his gloved fingers as he adjusts the kindling, his face lit not with joy or warmth, but with quiet duty. His hands, tending the fire, adding warmth where there was cold, light where there was fear. One of the elders mutters a weak thanks. Riven nods once, saying nothing.
He listens in silence as voices rise around him, Jack’s probing, Eckor’s pitiful excuses, Randa’s ominous devotion, Joy’s hopeful confusion. He listens, but offers no words.
He leaves the questions to the curious.
The flames hold his attention only a moment longer. When they burn steady and strong, he stands with fluid grace and turns from the group.
He walks quietly toward Hollow, who waits still and statuesque. The loyal mount, always calm, flicks an ear as Riven approaches.
Riven places a hand gently against Hollow’s neck, fingers brushing through his mane, then rests his brow against the horse’s forehead. A soft breath leaves him, not a sigh, not quite relief. Something quieter. Something harder to name.
“Well done,” he murmurs.
Behind him, talk of gods and guilt continues. The fire speaks. The river waits. But Riven does not look back.
Let the others debate repentance.
He will wait, and when called upon, assist with the crossing.
It would not take much skill with reading people to tell that he is not being entirely honest about his role within his party. However, his desire for continued living is sincere, as is his willingness to do whatever it takes to persist in breathing. Not many people, living or dead, are entirely good or entirely evil; there is potential for both in nearly all people. Joy cannot easily tell where he falls on that spectrum from his pleadings, but the reality is that most do not choose evil when all their needs are being met, as Joy knows first hand. He could turn over a new leaf, or he will fall back onto the path he had already been walking. Joy would need to probe deeper to unearth Eckor's true heart.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
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The dark-haired man scratches his neck as he ponders the response from the remaining bandit. He was clearly not being entirely truthful, but the important thing to Jack now was if this man could be better or not. "So please, tell us truthfully, do you think you will be able to live a good and honest life henceforth or will you once more let circumstances let you make poor friends and even poorer choices if we would let you go?" He finally asks, his words laced with fey compelling magic to help draw out the truth.
(Cast Suggestion, Wis save 18)
Ylis looks at the bandit and decides to keep a safe distance from the man. He is already a fiend for being willing to hurt oldsters. He is obviously lying about something, and Now he wants to change sides?
She'll keep an eye on him.
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
Eckor's eyes momentarily glaze over and he blinks away the stars in his eyes. "I met Hest and Rabo when we were just boys on the streets. I was making bracelets out of yarn and trying to sell them. I wasn't so good at it. They gave me food and shelter from the cold. They said 'ya gotta be tough and don't cry', then they would beat me up sometimes. It made me stronger, but I still used to cry at night for all the bad things we did." He looks Jack in the eyes, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. "Being good... it is a dream. I don't know how to do anything else... and I haven't cried in a very long time."
He looks down and touches his cheek in confusion at the tears now on his fingers. He looks back to Jack to interpret the meaning of it.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
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Check out my life-changing
"There, there, you let it all out now, fate has dealt you a lousy hand but there is still hope for you Eckor..." The dark-haired man says quietly, a bit awkwardly but well-meaning embracing the other for comfort and reassurance. "...perhaps you just need a real opportunity to do what is good. Would you consider following along with the old people and try to repent by helping them survive? It won't be easy to gain their trust but at least it is a path to do better." He suggests quietly, letting the bandit cry on his shoulder.
Lucky Insight to determine if the bandit can be sent along with the other group or not: 22
Eckor scoots up to Jack on his knees nodding his head eagerly, hands clasped in thanks. Jack is easily able to see that there is very little Eckor would not consider in order to stay alive, as that is his most immediate concern. That would include helping others. However, Jack can see the deeper uncertainty in Eckor's eyes. Not deceit necessarily, but a lack in real confidence that he is capable of good after so long being bad.
He looks to Joy, noting her Lathander emblem. "How?" he asks her. "How does one be good when he hasn't been for so long that he has forgotten how?"
Shara, having secured her family, approaches. She looms over the kneeing bandit with a look that is ladled with contempt. Her attention is turned to Jack, clearly offended by his suggestion. "There is exactly no chance I'm letting him within reach of our parents again. I appreciate the horses, but please don't volunteer us to be his babysitter. He would be another danger we would have to watch and the Underdark has plenty as it is."
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
Answers: physical books, purchases, and subbing.
Check out my life-changing
Riven stands in the hush beside Hollow, one hand resting on the steed’s mane as the conversations behind him carries on. He does not turn around, nor does he need to. Words carry. Desperation carries louder.
Eckor’s voice, all grovel and uncertainty, grates like dull steel across stone. And Jack, gods preserve him, so open, so willing to unearth a sliver of good from the bloodied earth.
Riven exhales slowly through his nose.
Hope, it had its place. But it did not belong on its knees beside a man like Eckor.
He lifts his gaze toward the treeline, watching shadows stretch long across the ground as night deepens. His thoughts move with deliberate calm.
Mercy is a blade, Jack. It cuts both ways. Give it without care, and you may find it in your own back, warm with blood you thought already spared. Riven muses to himself.
Behind him, Shara’s voice cuts through the tangle of ideals, sharp, simple, rooted in sense. Her scorn isn’t cruel. It’s practical. And to Riven, that’s rarer than kindness.
He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself that fleeting pause of agreement.
At least one here knows that not every tale of redemption is worth the ink. Not every thief wants to change, some simply want to survive.
Riven opens his eyes again, gaze falling to the embers drifting from the fire’s mouth. He had no desire to decide the bandit’s fate. That belonged to the ones who’d nearly lost everything.
But if Jack was naive enough to invite rot into their stores and call it fruit, then at least Shara had the will to say, don’t eat it.
Riven speaks nothing aloud. But the stillness in his posture, the hard line of his jaw, echo his agreement.
Let them sort out the bandit’s soul.
He’d seen all he needed in the man’s eyes.
And he would not be the fool who mistook desperation for virtue.
While Jack and Shara debate the bandit's fate, Vazo'yn turns his attention to the journey ahead. He moves quietly over to the fire so efficiently lit by Riven. He tries to catch the eye of the aasimar woman, his expression intent and determined.
"You came across the river, yes? We must cross it ourselves tomorrow. Please, tell me, how you managed your crossing."
Giles walks around, gathering the reigns of any loose horses, leading them back to the group now that the fight is done. He listens to the bandit, and the suggestions of the others.
He is not surprised when Shara refuses to take him, he would be a liability with them. With anyone.
"Perhaps we just leave you here, let you bury your friend? Give you some time to think about what's next for you. Who knows, perhaps you'll even cry again." He then shrugs, as if the fate of Eckor isn't really something he wants to give another thought too.
But he is listening, and watching the others, to see what they say, how they act.
"There is no good choice. Shara won't take him, and we leave him, he might track them and bother them."
Ylis growls grrrrrrrr
"I don't want him with us, or we'll have to constantly watch him. Does anybody want to babysit this guy?"
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
Randa is interested in the mans answer about how he crossed the river, but her ears flicker at Ylis words, " I don't think it is wise for him to accompany us. He should make his own way in the world free of the influence of others as he is so easily swayed by them."
" Or I can simplify things......he reminds me of those who attacked my home. Willing to inflict terrible cruelty on a whim.......yet mewling like children if injured."
" He may walk away once he has answered Jack......or I can remove the distraction from our mission."
" I for one am sick and tired of having centuries of experiences stripped from me.....I am running out of time to address great wrongs and if we do not hurry the entire world will be dead."
Having not expected those below the hill to have heard what was said between him and the remaining bandit, the dark-haired man looks around in confusion for a moment before facing the half-orc. "Yes, well I never really imagined you would want that, but thank you for making that abundantly clear..." He says with a weak smile. "...I am sorry if you felt offended by us talking about this man's future and possibilities to change. While you certainly have all reason to hate this man for what he did, try to remember that desperate situations can make us all do desperate things." He says, letting the words hang in the air a while before continuing. He didn't know of course what Shara and the others had been prepared to do to steal their horses but he was fairly certain the group of young warriors would have had no compunctions about resorting to violence if necessary. "If you came up here to take out your anger on this man I suggest you talk it over with the quiet man by the fire down there who just spared his life. Otherwise I'm sure your loved ones deserve your attention better than either me or this man." He continues with a tired smile.
Jack knew well what was at stake and that simply letting the elf have her way was the simple solution to it all, but executing a prisoner would definitely give a bitter aftertaste to the night's events and would hardly be the good thing to do. The dark-haired man looks around at the others that had joined the conversation now and finally he shrugs and leaves the hill. The way he saw it the man's life was Riven's to spare or take anyway and his own meddling had done nothing to help the situation it seemed. "I'm sorry, I'm just a bit tired, I should rest instead of making this worse." He says as he makes his way down by the river to sit down and clear his head, smiling slightly as he feels the tiny blonde landing on his shoulder to keep him silent company. The bandit was right about one thing at least he thought, it was hard to be good...
Joy watches Jack retreat with a quiet, thoughtful expression before turning her gaze to the man still kneeling in the grass. She approaches slowly, her armor gently clinking with each step, and crouches beside him with a soft, tired smile. “Redemption doesn’t begin when others forgive you,” she says gently, placing her worn holy book into his hands, followed by a few rations and a polished brass sunburst symbol from her pack. “It begins when you decide to forgive yourself, and live better than you did the day before.” She rises, her hand lingering for a moment on his shoulder. “Find shelter near here and rest. Wait for our return—prove you meant what you said. Lathander’s light reaches even those who have walked in shadow.”
((Book, 4 rations, and extra holy symbol removed from her pack))
She then turns to quietly join Jack in his silent vigil by the river.
As the kind-hearted hexblood joins him by the river, the dark-haired man looks up, giving her a brief warm welcoming smile, about to say something but instead staying uncharacteristically silent, deciding to simply enjoy the serenity by the river now. There was something to be said for silence he thought with a small smile as he watched the dark river in the faint moonlight.
Randa puts her blades away with a nod to Jack, in truth she is relieved though she has no regrets for her earlier actions.
The aasimar, Kylie, stands and steps away from the cowering elderly. She dusts her hands off as she approaches Vazo’yn and gestures casually to the raft in the bushes some distance away.
“That will hold two on top of it… maybe just one of your larger people, actually. We needed three to paddle and fight the current, and one of them had to be Shara. We used ropes to lash ourselves to the raft because the pull of the river is so strong. That water will pull you right off and under in seconds without the rope.”
As Jack withdraws from the situation to rest, Shara looks down her nose at Eckor, who holds the boon Joy had given him. He seems lost, in more ways than one, and he looks up at Jack for answers as he retreats, then to Shara. Shara silently judges him, though Jack’s words work their way into her heart like a pushed blade. Slowly, inevitably, until finally, they find their mark. Shara’s expression turns from sour rebuke to neutral, and finally, to shame. “Go. May the light of the Morninglord guide you to change, and if you resist it, may Raei’s light smite you.”
Eckor takes that as his queue to leave and stumbles to his feet as he flees the range of the Daylight spell, heading west. The pattering of his feet eventually grow faint until they cannot be heard by even the most perceptive in the group. Most notable about his departure was the fact that he clutched Joy’s book to his chest as if it were a shield against the darkness, with far more importance than the rations that he held in his other hand as he scooped at the air it as he fled.
The group gathers around the fire to rest, and the rest turns to sleep, with both groups sharing camp. Kylie makes a point to pray for all the Fellowship, giving them a blessing from her god. She also provides food and drink, divinely created for the group to share in. The food is bland, but filling. Supper is further brightened by the addition of music. The knight in gleaming armor, a sturdy sentinel of a youth, presents the group with a song.
He seems a little embarrassed to own the instrument, an erhu, and it is revealed that it is considered a woman’s instrument among their people, but he played it with such passion, that even Vazo’yn would have been hard pressed to deny the skill. The sounds it produced were both forlorn and hopeful, joyous and producing a sense of intense loss, and if Vazo’yn or others felt so inclined, they might have even joined in with music of their own.
The two groups manage to get a full night’s rest without issue, and at first light, Shara and her people take the offered horses and head south. The Fellowship looks to the river, certain they can navigate the treacherous waters, for they must.
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"Shall we?" The dark-haired man quietly asks the kind hexblood after enjoying the silence and serentity at the river for some time, getting up and offering her a hand to join him as he makes his way back to the campfire. He keeps quiet at first, trying to get a sense of if the others had come to terms with Eckor being allowed to leave. He would discreetly use his fey powers to put some nice taste to the bland food, not wanting to offend the generous aasimar. He would enjoy and generously compliment the sweet music offered by the young knight, and unless it seemed improper he would regale the others with a tale, a lighter one to hopefully bring a smile to their faces and lighten their hearts, perhaps even filling the camp with a laugh or two. He would also be happy to lend his quite decent singing voice to support Vazo’yn or anyone else who would bring some more solace to the camp.
(Lucky performance: 21 using minor illusions to enhance the storytelling.)
Before turning in for the night, he would take a peek into his mirror to make sure Eckor is okay.
(Scrying)
The next morning he wishes the other group a good journey ahead, hoping to meet them again some day. He would then ready himself for crossing the treacherous river.
(Using heroic inspiration to hopefully tell a better tale than that: 20 ;-)
Ylis hopes Joy doesn't mind sleeping back to back with her. Joy makes her feel most safe.
She gladly takes her turn at watch, ears perked up for any sound out of the ordinary. Her heart is still floating chaotically with excitement of adventure balanced by dread of the near future.
When morning comes, she is curious about how they plan to get the horses across the river.
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale