This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The still fairly young dark-haired man smiles back at the lathanderite. She had a pretty smile, and he had helped women for far less.
The Fellowship of the Wind, had a nice ring to it, and now he was one of it's companions, and was that a talking rabbit joining them, a quite angry talking rabbit at that.
"Yes, you could lend them to us, we are the Fellowship of the Wind after all, stories will be written about this day, and they could tell about a good-hearted mayor who made the Fellowhip's journey east possible."He steps in and says with a graceful bow to the stingy halfling. "What do you say, will you be the good patron of the Fellowship's epic quest?"
Randa moved quickly back to her lodgings, quickly checking in with those in distress and those aiding them on the way.
Once back in her room she quickly changed into her tating skirt and forewent her usual cilai gantung in favour of a heavier bark-cloth and leather reinforced with seed pods vest, she bundled everything back up into her travelling roll and donned her weapons before heading back to the others.
The mayor seems almost convinced by Vazo’yn’s argument until the rhetoric drifts to the horses. Specifically, his eyes narrow unconvincingly at the suggestion that the value of horses are eclipsed by the grain they consume. He waffles a moment at Gile’s plea; it is clear that even though the mayor puts little stock in this quest, he is reluctant to take any action that would place the blame of its failure on him. Before he can really process this, and as Joy is speaking, her words are drowned out by an enraged harengon. The mayor seems genuinely baffled by the outburst and accusation that the wave of aging might have been by his design. He definitely appears to have fallen on his backfoot, but quickly recovers due to Riven’s gamble.
Riven approaches him, issuing an implied threat as he looms over the bearded halfling. There is one thing that this mayor seems very well-acquainted with as the leader of a small town on the frontier, far from the protection of the Empire. One thing that causes the mayor to forget that he had faltered at the accusation by the harengon and begin figuratively wrapping his hands for a fight: bullying. He steps up to Riven with a smile that says, ‘make my day’.
The tension is cut by the soothing voice of Jack, intentionally speaking in a non-threatening manner to vent the heat and bowing with a fluidic movement, stepping between the halfling and Riven. Something about the human’s voice draws some memory of the halfling’s past to the surface of his mind. He regards Jack for a moment, attempting to see if he is familiar to him. He dismisses the thought, but gives a begrudging nod to Jack, shooting a glance back at Riven that says ‘we will finish this some other time. Count on it.’
He nods to the officer behind him who has observed this entire chain of events with a mouth that hung open like a swinging door. He snaps to attention and signals to the group to follow him. As he does, the crowd again cheers the small, but meaningful victory.
The group is horsed and they have their heading. Before they set out however, the witch places a hand on Joy’s shoulder and whispers in her ear.
“I won’t survive even the next wave. The bones revealed my fate. Don't just stop it, reverse this evil if it is within your power. If you manage that, seek me out. You have the attention of a hag… and that, my dear, is not attention anyone wants. Ever. Good luck. Fate, it seems, depends on you all.”
The still fairly young dark-haired man is relieved to see the horse predicament solved, following along with the other fellows of the wind. "Well, um, good to have the company of you all..." He says, looking around at the others, giving them all small waves with his hand. "...not what I expected when I went to bed last night I'll tell you but here we are, heroes in making all of us I suppose." He continues, trying his best to digest that thought as his mouth goes on, which it admittedly often did. "I'm Jack by the way, just a traveller really that happened to be in town for the trost, who knew huh? Anyway, I think I should mention that we arguably have an eighth fellow along, hope that won't mess with your divination?" He says, turning to the old woman at the end. As he says that a tiny winged girl appears standing on his shoulder, she too is smiling, shyly, and gives everyone a small wave."I'm Lily and I'm along to see that this one is a good and proper hero for you all and won't waste his time on trost solely." She says with a teasing smile to the dark-haired man who simply shrugs and smiles back.
Vazo'yn starts to grow worried as the mayor appears less and less likely to lend them the horses. For a moment the drow is worried the Fellowship of the Seven will be forcibly escorted from town without even their belongings let alone horses. The fated journey would be over before it began...
Until the young man—Jack he will soon find out—steps forward and eloquently convinces the mayor to support their efforts and Vazo'yn sighs a deep sigh of relief.
"Well spoken, Jack," Vazo'yn offers once they're gathered together.
He glances sideways to the curious winged woman. The eighth of the fated seven. The witch had said seven would deliver the world from its apocalypse. So one of these eight would not see the journey through. He wondered who it would be, but did not voice his concern.
Instead, he introduces himself, "Vazo'yn Aro."
Now that he is slightly less guarded, his accent is stronger and identifies him as one who has obviously grown up around others of his kind.
Ready to depart, he is dressed in dark leather armour, fastened securely and neatly with several buckles. He has a pack on his back and a small pouch slung over one shoulder, resting within easy reach of his hand. For the observant among the group, this is where he keeps his cards. In a band across his chest is a pan flute.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Having missed the majority of the recriminations Randa is none the wiser when she returns and is pointed to a horse, she approached the massive creature carefully and clambered ungracefully onto its back.
" Uh, please follow your friends....I'll concentrate on balancing. Thankyou."
She looked around at the others blinking.....some of them were a little disconcerting but then again most things on her journey had been so far......
" Selamat....uh, Good Day. I am....my name.....Withaya is my Family.....Jacaranda or Randa is my own name.....if you wish to know it."
She nodded to the tiny woman unsure who or what she was.
" So we go East and stop the wind? Ok.", she said attempting to sound confident.
"Oh, yes, thanks, I do speak a lot I'm told, sometimes it is helpful, other times..." The young dark-haired man says with a shrug and a friendly smile to the not so sinister drow. His dark hair is shoulder length and he wears quite fine clothes in different shades of green but carries no gear of any kind.
"Yes, even reverse the wind if possible, or...um...at least the less than desirable effects it had." The young dark-haired man says with a wry smile to the other elf. He looks between Vazo'yn and Randa, trying to commit their names to memory which was a difficult task before breakfast. "So...um...I didn't really have anything to eat this morning?" He says, looking over at mayor and then at the others. "Sorry to bring that up, I understand that is terribly unheroic and unepic of me, but I'll be of absolutely no use on an empty stomach."
On his shoulder Lily simply rolls her eyes and sighs.
As the group prepares to depart, voices rise and fall, introductions, uncertain laughter, murmurs of purpose. Riven remains on the edge of the gathering, half-shadowed beneath the brim of his hood. His presence is quiet, not demanding, not aloof, simply steady.
When it comes time to mount, he moves without fanfare. He places a hand on his horse’s flank, checking its tack before pulling himself into the saddle in a smooth, unhurried motion.
A few eyes turn toward him. Perhaps they expect a name, a word, a sign of where he stands.
Joy turns her head slightly as the old woman’s hand settles on her shoulder, leaning closer to catch the whispered words. Her breath catches at the mention of a hag’s attention, and her expression grows solemn. “We’ll do everything we can,” she promises quietly, her voice steady even as unease flickers beneath the surface. “And if it’s within our power…we’ll undo what’s been done.” She meets the woman’s tired eyes with a nod—equal parts gratitude and reverence—before gently slipping from her touch and hurrying after the others.
As names are exchanged and smiles shared, Joy’s own smile blooms bright—until it falters as a sudden realization dawns. Her eyes widen slightly, and she glances down at her hands as if surprised they still look so…human. With a sheepish chuckle, she drops her concentration. The illusion shimmers away, revealing her green skin and hair, forked ears, and the wooden crown adorning her head. “Ah—sorry,”she says, trying to steel herself for any negative reactions. “I didn’t mean to lie, but...I’m Joy. A Hexblood…but a paladin of Lathander nonetheless!” Despite her fears, her voice carries warmth. “It’s good to meet all of you.”
Vazo'yn offers both of them a nod in turn as they introduce themselves.
When a horse is brought to him, he spends a moment to introduce his scent to it, offering up the back of his hand so the creature can learn its new companion. He has been travelling for some time now, so is familiar with dealing with horses and mules and the like.
It is then that Joy reveals her true appearance, the mystical disguise falling to show the green-skinned, armor-clad woman underneath. The same woman the ancestors had shown him all those years before. He is silent for a moment as his mind reels. If he hadn't been certain of his path before, this portent has cemented his conviction.
"Well met, Joy,"he says in a polite but measured and controlled voice.
[[Animal Handling 15 to introduce himself to his horse. Deception 22 to hide his reaction to seeing Joy.]]
The old woman shrugs at Jack. "The Fates said seven. You should consider what that must mean if you intend to bring others along with you." She stares at Jack with doom in her ancient eyes. There is a pregnant pause as she lets the ominous words take root in each of their souls before she snaps into a cackling laugh. "I'm kidding! It is impossible for your familiars to risk their lives, as the bodies they have here are not truly theirs; they are created and sustained by the magic you use to fuel them. That is why they were not part of the divination. Don't think this means you can be reckless with their bodies though; they still feel pain and can suffer greatly. Not all scars are physical." She regards Jack with curious eyes, a faint glow emanates from them for just a brief moment, before her eyes darken into the small, black orbs they were before. "I can see that this is not the sort of relationship you have with your familiar. Yours is more of a friendship than a contract, the latter of which is far more common among those who enjoy the benefits of a familiar. You can ignore the ravings of an old woman. Old folks do tend to go on."
After Jack's comment about food however, her expression does become serious again. "Time works against you, quite literally. Besides, several among you have solutions for your aching belly. Think of those solutions as an opportunity to get to know each other faster. You will, after all, need to depend on them for protecting your life in the coming days."
Riven is barely moved by the change in Joy, and Vazo'yn attempts to hide his own true feelings, but many spectators who have followed the group to the horses react with uncertainty and religious revulsion. Just as many, however, seem to take this as a positive omen of some kind, clasping their hands in hope, offering smiles and praise to the young hexblood. It seems the opinions on the nature of a hexblood are as varied as there are people in this well-traveled town, far from the stuffy religious rigidity of the Empire.
OOC: If Joy would be interested in the response of those she now must entrust her life to at the revelation of her true nature, she may contest the Deception with an Insight check.
"Hey..these guys know some cools tricks, right Kichu?" Ylis asked her weasel.
She overhears the words of warning about familiars and agrees. They are living beings even though they are not from this world. She has never tried to show Kichu anything but love.
"Hi guys!" with a big wave of her arms, "Ylis here, uh...I'm going to join you on this jaunt to save the town and all that!" Then looking at the reality of how large horses really are, she asks sheepishly "Uh...could I ride with one of you?"
Somewhere along the lines, she'll pass Jack a couple pressed carrot cakes.
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?"
Rinad Giantstorm chuckles and whistles harshly. A foal comes rushing around the corner of a barn at surprising speed, then easily leaps the fence of the paddock meant to cage it. Only it is not a foal, but a powerful pony. "This one is mine. Just broke him in. His name is Gust and he would serve you well, little lady. His legs are just as strong as his heart; he will keep up without issue." He says as he holds the reins out to the harengon with apologetic eyes from his earlier resistance.
Randa watched Joy transform and accepted it unquestioningly, for she had no reason not to not understanding what implications there may be from said appearance.
" I'm sure we'll find food along the way.....not as much as we would find back home but food nonetheless."
Ylis beams with pleasure when she sees the "horse" just her size. "Oh wow mister, I'm sorry about what I said earlier." She reaches out to rub Gust's cheeks and pat his neck. "I'll do my best to take care of him, promise." then she hops into the saddle.
The view from up here is amazing!
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?"
As the others busy themselves—gathering reins, adjusting saddles, Riven lingers at the edge of the stableyard.
He approaches the horse he was assigned. A tall mare, grey as dusk, her mane with tendrils of grey. She watches him without flinching as he nears, ears flicking not in alarm, but at ease. Something passes between them, quiet understanding.
He stops just short of reaching her. Tilts his head slightly.
Then, without a word, Riven steps to the ground beside her and kneels.
Drawing a shallow circle in the dust with the tip of his finger, he begins the ritual—not with incantations, but with calmness. His hands rest flat on the earth, and his eyes close. There is no flare of magic, no whisper of arcane syllables. Only breath, quiet and measured, syncing to the slow rhythm of the animal before him.
The connection builds, subtle and natural. His awareness drifts outward, not as sight or thought, but as feeling. The mare's scent, the tension in her muscles, the shift of her weight, the way her ears turn when someone nearby laughs or grumbles. He feels her alertness, her caution, her calm.
A hoof shifts on the ground.
Her breath slows to match his.
They begin to understand each other—not in speech, but in motion, in presence. Her flank presses gently into his shoulder, and his hand raises to rest against it in response. She leans into him, not just accepting him, but meeting him halfway.
Only then does he rise.
The mare dips her head slightly, just enough to ease his path to the saddle. A gesture not of submission, but of quiet trust.
He places a hand on her shoulder. A low exhale passes between them.
“…Hollow,” he murmurs, a name given more in tone than sound.
She huffs once in acknowledgment.
No one around seems to notice, or if they do, they say nothing. Riven mounts her without ceremony and guides her toward the others at a measured pace. He says nothing, but as the group begins to prepare—some still talking, others laughing, a few watching him with guarded curiosity—he falls into position near the edge, just behind and to the side.
"If you would call having someone along to admonish you for enjoying life and not upholding your end of the..."Jack says with a weak smile and a shrug while Lily turns away and pouts with her arms crossed over her chest. "...well, anyway, don't tell her this but she is that friend that really cares for you but oftentimes you don't quite see that as she points out your shortcomings, of which there are many I'm afraid." He continues with a wry smile. "To tell you the truth I'm still not quite convinced you have the right person in me, Lily would probably be a much better fellow of the wind, but I promise I will do my best to make her and you proud." He adds after a moment, briefly glancing up at his companion with a unusually sincere look.
"Oh...good to meet you too Joy..." He says as he quickly processes the change of appearance in the lathanderite. The change in itself he was quite used to and he knew well of hexbloods but this one was certainly one extraordinary hexblood who had chosen the path of a paladin in spite of all the resistance she must surely have faced from her church, making her all the more intriguing to him. "...and since we're getting to know each other better..." He continues and turns into a blonde young knight of Lathander.
"Appearances can be decieving sometimes, and that might perhaps even be helpful in our quest..." He goes on with a warm smile, but as soon as he seems to have settled into his new form he turns back into the young dark-haired man. "...but considering the accomplishment of being accepted as a holy paladin of the morninglord you should be prouder than most of your heritage Joy."He says with a reassuring smile.
As the cute rabbit girl offers him the carrot cakes he quickly accepts them with a grateful smile and a small bow, not the hearty breakfast he had been hoping for but her thoughtfulness made the cakes taste better than the most sumptuous banquet. "Don't want to add any pressure Ylis but the jaunt is about saving the world I'm afraid, still, it might be a piece of cake." He says to the rabbit girl with a playful smile and takes another bite of the carrot cake.
Nibbling on his carrot cakes Jack would follow along and mount a suitable horse. He was no stranger to riding but neither did he speak to them as the grim ranger seemed to do. He turns and looks back at Trostenwald as they all leave, then shaking his head. What in the world had he gotten himself into this time...
Joy meets Vazo’yn’s measured gaze with a small, grateful smile—something in his tone tells her he is sincere. The pause beforehand makes her a momentarily curious, but she figures he was just surprised.
Insight: 5
Joy’s eyes widen as she watches Jack's transformation—her surprise quickly melting into a warm laugh. “You wear the light of the Morninglord well—blonde suits you,” she adds with a teasing smile.
Then, at his final words, the playfulness softens into something gentler. Her eyes lower for just a moment before she looks back at him with quiet gratitude. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. “It hasn’t always been easy…but I’ve never doubted that his light could reach even someone like me. If I can prove that to others, maybe they’ll start to believe it too.”
She looks around at the others as well, relieved that they seem unbothered. When some villagers whisper blessings and smile toward her, her heart gives a hopeful flutter. Maybe this path—her path—really does lead to something better than fear.
She also pauses to ritual cast speak with animals, feeling an immediate connection to her white steed through her oath; the spark of life is in them too after all. After getting a bit sidetracked in a quiet conversation about oaths and oats, the horse introduces himself as Milton.
"Good to meet you, Milton!" Joy greets more loudly than intended. "Let's have a swift journey together." She carefully climbs onto his back and looks to the others excitedly. Vazo'yn, Jack, Riven, Randa, YIis, Giles. They feel like friends already, though she has always been a bit quick to trust.
Intimidation….6
wah, wah….
The still fairly young dark-haired man smiles back at the lathanderite. She had a pretty smile, and he had helped women for far less.
The Fellowship of the Wind, had a nice ring to it, and now he was one of it's companions, and was that a talking rabbit joining them, a quite angry talking rabbit at that.
"Yes, you could lend them to us, we are the Fellowship of the Wind after all, stories will be written about this day, and they could tell about a good-hearted mayor who made the Fellowhip's journey east possible." He steps in and says with a graceful bow to the stingy halfling. "What do you say, will you be the good patron of the Fellowship's epic quest?"
Lucky persuasion: 22
Randa moved quickly back to her lodgings, quickly checking in with those in distress and those aiding them on the way.
Once back in her room she quickly changed into her tating skirt and forewent her usual cilai gantung in favour of a heavier bark-cloth and leather reinforced with seed pods vest, she bundled everything back up into her travelling roll and donned her weapons before heading back to the others.
The mayor seems almost convinced by Vazo’yn’s argument until the rhetoric drifts to the horses. Specifically, his eyes narrow unconvincingly at the suggestion that the value of horses are eclipsed by the grain they consume. He waffles a moment at Gile’s plea; it is clear that even though the mayor puts little stock in this quest, he is reluctant to take any action that would place the blame of its failure on him. Before he can really process this, and as Joy is speaking, her words are drowned out by an enraged harengon. The mayor seems genuinely baffled by the outburst and accusation that the wave of aging might have been by his design. He definitely appears to have fallen on his backfoot, but quickly recovers due to Riven’s gamble.
Riven approaches him, issuing an implied threat as he looms over the bearded halfling. There is one thing that this mayor seems very well-acquainted with as the leader of a small town on the frontier, far from the protection of the Empire. One thing that causes the mayor to forget that he had faltered at the accusation by the harengon and begin figuratively wrapping his hands for a fight: bullying. He steps up to Riven with a smile that says, ‘make my day’.
The tension is cut by the soothing voice of Jack, intentionally speaking in a non-threatening manner to vent the heat and bowing with a fluidic movement, stepping between the halfling and Riven. Something about the human’s voice draws some memory of the halfling’s past to the surface of his mind. He regards Jack for a moment, attempting to see if he is familiar to him. He dismisses the thought, but gives a begrudging nod to Jack, shooting a glance back at Riven that says ‘we will finish this some other time. Count on it.’
He nods to the officer behind him who has observed this entire chain of events with a mouth that hung open like a swinging door. He snaps to attention and signals to the group to follow him. As he does, the crowd again cheers the small, but meaningful victory.
The group is horsed and they have their heading. Before they set out however, the witch places a hand on Joy’s shoulder and whispers in her ear.
“I won’t survive even the next wave. The bones revealed my fate. Don't just stop it, reverse this evil if it is within your power. If you manage that, seek me out. You have the attention of a hag… and that, my dear, is not attention anyone wants. Ever. Good luck. Fate, it seems, depends on you all.”
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
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The still fairly young dark-haired man is relieved to see the horse predicament solved, following along with the other fellows of the wind. "Well, um, good to have the company of you all..." He says, looking around at the others, giving them all small waves with his hand. "...not what I expected when I went to bed last night I'll tell you but here we are, heroes in making all of us I suppose." He continues, trying his best to digest that thought as his mouth goes on, which it admittedly often did. "I'm Jack by the way, just a traveller really that happened to be in town for the trost, who knew huh? Anyway, I think I should mention that we arguably have an eighth fellow along, hope that won't mess with your divination?" He says, turning to the old woman at the end. As he says that a tiny winged girl appears standing on his shoulder, she too is smiling, shyly, and gives everyone a small wave. "I'm Lily and I'm along to see that this one is a good and proper hero for you all and won't waste his time on trost solely." She says with a teasing smile to the dark-haired man who simply shrugs and smiles back.
Lily
Vazo'yn starts to grow worried as the mayor appears less and less likely to lend them the horses. For a moment the drow is worried the Fellowship of the Seven will be forcibly escorted from town without even their belongings let alone horses. The fated journey would be over before it began...
Until the young man—Jack he will soon find out—steps forward and eloquently convinces the mayor to support their efforts and Vazo'yn sighs a deep sigh of relief.
"Well spoken, Jack," Vazo'yn offers once they're gathered together.
He glances sideways to the curious winged woman. The eighth of the fated seven. The witch had said seven would deliver the world from its apocalypse. So one of these eight would not see the journey through. He wondered who it would be, but did not voice his concern.
Instead, he introduces himself, "Vazo'yn Aro."
Now that he is slightly less guarded, his accent is stronger and identifies him as one who has obviously grown up around others of his kind.
Ready to depart, he is dressed in dark leather armour, fastened securely and neatly with several buckles. He has a pack on his back and a small pouch slung over one shoulder, resting within easy reach of his hand. For the observant among the group, this is where he keeps his cards. In a band across his chest is a pan flute.
Having missed the majority of the recriminations Randa is none the wiser when she returns and is pointed to a horse, she approached the massive creature carefully and clambered ungracefully onto its back.
" Uh, please follow your friends....I'll concentrate on balancing. Thankyou."
She looked around at the others blinking.....some of them were a little disconcerting but then again most things on her journey had been so far......
" Selamat....uh, Good Day. I am....my name.....Withaya is my Family.....Jacaranda or Randa is my own name.....if you wish to know it."
She nodded to the tiny woman unsure who or what she was.
" So we go East and stop the wind? Ok.", she said attempting to sound confident.
Animal Handling- 18
"Oh, yes, thanks, I do speak a lot I'm told, sometimes it is helpful, other times..." The young dark-haired man says with a shrug and a friendly smile to the not so sinister drow. His dark hair is shoulder length and he wears quite fine clothes in different shades of green but carries no gear of any kind.
"Yes, even reverse the wind if possible, or...um...at least the less than desirable effects it had." The young dark-haired man says with a wry smile to the other elf. He looks between Vazo'yn and Randa, trying to commit their names to memory which was a difficult task before breakfast. "So...um...I didn't really have anything to eat this morning?" He says, looking over at mayor and then at the others. "Sorry to bring that up, I understand that is terribly unheroic and unepic of me, but I'll be of absolutely no use on an empty stomach."
On his shoulder Lily simply rolls her eyes and sighs.
As the group prepares to depart, voices rise and fall, introductions, uncertain laughter, murmurs of purpose. Riven remains on the edge of the gathering, half-shadowed beneath the brim of his hood. His presence is quiet, not demanding, not aloof, simply steady.
When it comes time to mount, he moves without fanfare. He places a hand on his horse’s flank, checking its tack before pulling himself into the saddle in a smooth, unhurried motion.
A few eyes turn toward him. Perhaps they expect a name, a word, a sign of where he stands.
He gives it.
“Riven.”
One word, low and even. Nothing more.
Joy turns her head slightly as the old woman’s hand settles on her shoulder, leaning closer to catch the whispered words. Her breath catches at the mention of a hag’s attention, and her expression grows solemn. “We’ll do everything we can,” she promises quietly, her voice steady even as unease flickers beneath the surface. “And if it’s within our power…we’ll undo what’s been done.” She meets the woman’s tired eyes with a nod—equal parts gratitude and reverence—before gently slipping from her touch and hurrying after the others.
As names are exchanged and smiles shared, Joy’s own smile blooms bright—until it falters as a sudden realization dawns. Her eyes widen slightly, and she glances down at her hands as if surprised they still look so…human. With a sheepish chuckle, she drops her concentration. The illusion shimmers away, revealing her green skin and hair, forked ears, and the wooden crown adorning her head. “Ah—sorry,” she says, trying to steel herself for any negative reactions. “I didn’t mean to lie, but...I’m Joy. A Hexblood…but a paladin of Lathander nonetheless!” Despite her fears, her voice carries warmth. “It’s good to meet all of you.”
Riven doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t startle. Doesn’t blink.
As the shimmer of illusion fades from Joy’s form and her true self stands revealed, his gaze meets hers—steadily, unreadably—for a quiet beat.
Then, without a word, he gives a single nod. Measured. Certain. As if nothing about her change was unexpected… or unwelcome.
He turns his eyes forward again, as if her transformation is no more surprising than a passing cloud.
"Randa. Riven. Well met."
Vazo'yn offers both of them a nod in turn as they introduce themselves.
When a horse is brought to him, he spends a moment to introduce his scent to it, offering up the back of his hand so the creature can learn its new companion. He has been travelling for some time now, so is familiar with dealing with horses and mules and the like.
It is then that Joy reveals her true appearance, the mystical disguise falling to show the green-skinned, armor-clad woman underneath. The same woman the ancestors had shown him all those years before. He is silent for a moment as his mind reels. If he hadn't been certain of his path before, this portent has cemented his conviction.
"Well met, Joy," he says in a polite but measured and controlled voice.
[[Animal Handling 15 to introduce himself to his horse. Deception 22 to hide his reaction to seeing Joy.]]
The old woman shrugs at Jack. "The Fates said seven. You should consider what that must mean if you intend to bring others along with you." She stares at Jack with doom in her ancient eyes. There is a pregnant pause as she lets the ominous words take root in each of their souls before she snaps into a cackling laugh. "I'm kidding! It is impossible for your familiars to risk their lives, as the bodies they have here are not truly theirs; they are created and sustained by the magic you use to fuel them. That is why they were not part of the divination. Don't think this means you can be reckless with their bodies though; they still feel pain and can suffer greatly. Not all scars are physical." She regards Jack with curious eyes, a faint glow emanates from them for just a brief moment, before her eyes darken into the small, black orbs they were before. "I can see that this is not the sort of relationship you have with your familiar. Yours is more of a friendship than a contract, the latter of which is far more common among those who enjoy the benefits of a familiar. You can ignore the ravings of an old woman. Old folks do tend to go on."
After Jack's comment about food however, her expression does become serious again. "Time works against you, quite literally. Besides, several among you have solutions for your aching belly. Think of those solutions as an opportunity to get to know each other faster. You will, after all, need to depend on them for protecting your life in the coming days."
Riven is barely moved by the change in Joy, and Vazo'yn attempts to hide his own true feelings, but many spectators who have followed the group to the horses react with uncertainty and religious revulsion. Just as many, however, seem to take this as a positive omen of some kind, clasping their hands in hope, offering smiles and praise to the young hexblood. It seems the opinions on the nature of a hexblood are as varied as there are people in this well-traveled town, far from the stuffy religious rigidity of the Empire.
OOC: If Joy would be interested in the response of those she now must entrust her life to at the revelation of her true nature, she may contest the Deception with an Insight check.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
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"Hey..these guys know some cools tricks, right Kichu?" Ylis asked her weasel.
She overhears the words of warning about familiars and agrees. They are living beings even though they are not from this world. She has never tried to show Kichu anything but love.
"Hi guys!" with a big wave of her arms, "Ylis here, uh...I'm going to join you on this jaunt to save the town and all that!" Then looking at the reality of how large horses really are, she asks sheepishly "Uh...could I ride with one of you?"
Somewhere along the lines, she'll pass Jack a couple pressed carrot cakes.
"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
Rinad Giantstorm chuckles and whistles harshly. A foal comes rushing around the corner of a barn at surprising speed, then easily leaps the fence of the paddock meant to cage it. Only it is not a foal, but a powerful pony. "This one is mine. Just broke him in. His name is Gust and he would serve you well, little lady. His legs are just as strong as his heart; he will keep up without issue." He says as he holds the reins out to the harengon with apologetic eyes from his earlier resistance.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
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Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
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Randa watched Joy transform and accepted it unquestioningly, for she had no reason not to not understanding what implications there may be from said appearance.
" I'm sure we'll find food along the way.....not as much as we would find back home but food nonetheless."
Ylis beams with pleasure when she sees the "horse" just her size. "Oh wow mister, I'm sorry about what I said earlier." She reaches out to rub Gust's cheeks and pat his neck. "I'll do my best to take care of him, promise." then she hops into the saddle.
The view from up here is amazing!
"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
As the others busy themselves—gathering reins, adjusting saddles, Riven lingers at the edge of the stableyard.
He approaches the horse he was assigned. A tall mare, grey as dusk, her mane with tendrils of grey. She watches him without flinching as he nears, ears flicking not in alarm, but at ease. Something passes between them, quiet understanding.
He stops just short of reaching her. Tilts his head slightly.
Then, without a word, Riven steps to the ground beside her and kneels.
Drawing a shallow circle in the dust with the tip of his finger, he begins the ritual—not with incantations, but with calmness. His hands rest flat on the earth, and his eyes close. There is no flare of magic, no whisper of arcane syllables. Only breath, quiet and measured, syncing to the slow rhythm of the animal before him.
The connection builds, subtle and natural. His awareness drifts outward, not as sight or thought, but as feeling. The mare's scent, the tension in her muscles, the shift of her weight, the way her ears turn when someone nearby laughs or grumbles. He feels her alertness, her caution, her calm.
A hoof shifts on the ground.
Her breath slows to match his.
They begin to understand each other—not in speech, but in motion, in presence. Her flank presses gently into his shoulder, and his hand raises to rest against it in response. She leans into him, not just accepting him, but meeting him halfway.
Only then does he rise.
The mare dips her head slightly, just enough to ease his path to the saddle. A gesture not of submission, but of quiet trust.
He places a hand on her shoulder. A low exhale passes between them.
“…Hollow,” he murmurs, a name given more in tone than sound.
She huffs once in acknowledgment.
No one around seems to notice, or if they do, they say nothing. Riven mounts her without ceremony and guides her toward the others at a measured pace. He says nothing, but as the group begins to prepare—some still talking, others laughing, a few watching him with guarded curiosity—he falls into position near the edge, just behind and to the side.
Present. Watchful. Quiet. But unmistakably there.
[Ritual Cast Speak with Animals]
"If you would call having someone along to admonish you for enjoying life and not upholding your end of the..." Jack says with a weak smile and a shrug while Lily turns away and pouts with her arms crossed over her chest. "...well, anyway, don't tell her this but she is that friend that really cares for you but oftentimes you don't quite see that as she points out your shortcomings, of which there are many I'm afraid." He continues with a wry smile. "To tell you the truth I'm still not quite convinced you have the right person in me, Lily would probably be a much better fellow of the wind, but I promise I will do my best to make her and you proud." He adds after a moment, briefly glancing up at his companion with a unusually sincere look.
"Oh...good to meet you too Joy..." He says as he quickly processes the change of appearance in the lathanderite. The change in itself he was quite used to and he knew well of hexbloods but this one was certainly one extraordinary hexblood who had chosen the path of a paladin in spite of all the resistance she must surely have faced from her church, making her all the more intriguing to him. "...and since we're getting to know each other better..." He continues and turns into a blonde young knight of Lathander.
"Appearances can be decieving sometimes, and that might perhaps even be helpful in our quest..." He goes on with a warm smile, but as soon as he seems to have settled into his new form he turns back into the young dark-haired man. "...but considering the accomplishment of being accepted as a holy paladin of the morninglord you should be prouder than most of your heritage Joy." He says with a reassuring smile.
As the cute rabbit girl offers him the carrot cakes he quickly accepts them with a grateful smile and a small bow, not the hearty breakfast he had been hoping for but her thoughtfulness made the cakes taste better than the most sumptuous banquet. "Don't want to add any pressure Ylis but the jaunt is about saving the world I'm afraid, still, it might be a piece of cake." He says to the rabbit girl with a playful smile and takes another bite of the carrot cake.
Nibbling on his carrot cakes Jack would follow along and mount a suitable horse. He was no stranger to riding but neither did he speak to them as the grim ranger seemed to do. He turns and looks back at Trostenwald as they all leave, then shaking his head. What in the world had he gotten himself into this time...
Joy meets Vazo’yn’s measured gaze with a small, grateful smile—something in his tone tells her he is sincere. The pause beforehand makes her a momentarily curious, but she figures he was just surprised.
Insight: 5
Joy’s eyes widen as she watches Jack's transformation—her surprise quickly melting into a warm laugh. “You wear the light of the Morninglord well—blonde suits you,” she adds with a teasing smile.
Then, at his final words, the playfulness softens into something gentler. Her eyes lower for just a moment before she looks back at him with quiet gratitude. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. “It hasn’t always been easy…but I’ve never doubted that his light could reach even someone like me. If I can prove that to others, maybe they’ll start to believe it too.”
She looks around at the others as well, relieved that they seem unbothered. When some villagers whisper blessings and smile toward her, her heart gives a hopeful flutter. Maybe this path—her path—really does lead to something better than fear.
She also pauses to ritual cast speak with animals, feeling an immediate connection to her white steed through her oath; the spark of life is in them too after all. After getting a bit sidetracked in a quiet conversation about oaths and oats, the horse introduces himself as Milton.
"Good to meet you, Milton!" Joy greets more loudly than intended. "Let's have a swift journey together." She carefully climbs onto his back and looks to the others excitedly. Vazo'yn, Jack, Riven, Randa, YIis, Giles. They feel like friends already, though she has always been a bit quick to trust.