As Bründir soars over mountains and plains, he found against his own wonder to take in his surroundings. Sadly, it all flew by too quickly into strange and unknown lands. The last thing he could comprehend was the last of the great mountain ranges, then a wide plain he recalled as.....Amerth?...Adrant?...Amrath! Yes, that was it.
As his flight slowed, and he noticed haloed oasis, a flood of questions raced through his mind now. Why was this untouched by the dark clouds? Why was this place special? Where was this? Focusing on the last question, Bründir tried to map his surroundings, then will his strange journey to bring him closer.
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
This information draws blatant suspicion from the warlock. “Wait a minute, you’re saying that the lower planes belonged to the Fifth? Like the lower planes where there are demons and monsters and bad things right? Those things are evil, aren’t they? Why would the Fifth be associated with those things and those places if he wasn’t also evil?”
"Who told you that bad things come from the lower planes?" Matthew asks Vark pointedly. "How many devils have you actually met? I told you before that history is written by the victors. They call us monsters and evil... you're half orc, Vark. Is that narrative not at all familiar to you?"
As Bründir soars over mountains and plains, he found against his own wonder to take in his surroundings. Sadly, it all flew by too quickly into strange and unknown lands. The last thing he could comprehend was the last of the great mountain ranges, then a wide plain he recalled as.....Amerth?...Adrant?...Amrath! Yes, that was it.
As his flight slowed, and he noticed haloed oasis, a flood of questions raced through his mind now. Why was this untouched by the dark clouds? Why was this place special? Where was this? Focusing on the last question, Bründir tried to map his surroundings, then will his strange journey to bring him closer.
Bründir's feet alight on the burning desert sands and he sees that the surface of the oasis glistens with frost, despite the heat. Behind the dwarf, the sound of heavy wingbeats fills the air above him.
“Everyone,” he pushes back. “Everyone says those places are bad. I don’t… I can’t say how much direct experience I have but what I have seen isn’t good. Yes it’s more complicated than that- I’m more complicated than that, but…” He huffs, and his fists clench beside him. “People don’t tell stories for nothing. Everything people say about orcs… well not all of it, but I grew up in an orc tribe and I know a lot of it is true. Maybe people don’t see the whole picture, or they forgot the details, and there’s exceptions of course but… there is truth in it. I know.” Vark locks eyes with Matthew again, this time his gaze is steeled. “You can’t just keep saying ‘the victors write the story’ like it proves that you are telling the truth, like you’re righteous. That’s leaving out just as many details as they are.”
Bründir was mesmerized by this foreign land. Burning ice? Such a strange feeling. The dreamy land was surreal, and the dwarf fondly remembered such a feeling after an experimental batch of Rimgrut's special hooch.
As Bründir contemplated the dreamy land, the steady, airy drumming rose in his ears. As he turned, he was reminded of the terrible dragon from Morloth. Shit...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
“Everyone,” he pushes back. “Everyone says those places are bad. I don’t… I can’t say how much direct experience I have but what I have seen isn’t good. Yes it’s more complicated than that- I’m more complicated than that, but…” He huffs, and his fists clench beside him. “People don’t tell stories for nothing. Everything people say about orcs… well not all of it, but I grew up in an orc tribe and I know a lot of it is true. Maybe people don’t see the whole picture, or they forgot the details, and there’s exceptions of course but… there is truth in it. I know.” Vark locks eyes with Matthew again, this time his gaze is steeled. “You can’t just keep saying ‘the victors write the story’ like it proves that you are telling the truth, like you’re righteous. That’s leaving out just as many details as they are.”
"Vark," Matthew replies, his body language gentle and open as he steps in towards his warlock with placating hands, "orcs are no more fundamentally evil than fiends. They've simply been ostracised by the rest of the world and forced to endure brutal conditions to survive. The abyss is similar; sealed off from the material plane without our sister's guiding hand, it has grown wild and untamed. You say 'everyone', but your everyone is a relatively small number of people, many of whom have been religiously indoctrinated. I have spent the last weeks straightening out a hellish administration grown bloated and corrupt in my absence... but that doesn't make my people evil."
Bründir was mesmerized by this foreign land. Burning ice? Such a strange feeling. The dreamy land was surreal, and the dwarf fondly remembered such a feeling after an experimental batch of Rimgrut's special hooch.
As Bründir contemplated the dreamy land, the steady, airy drumming rose in his ears. As he turned, he was reminded of the terrible dragon from Morloth. Shit...
Bründir turns and huge feathered wings are cast in silhouette by the scorching sun behind them. Then he wakes with a start, drenched with sweat like he'd really been in that desert.
The warlock’s shoulders relax. One hand scratches the back of his neck reflexively as he processes. “Ok… so… if you have it your way, you’ll be free to keep the hells in order, and Talona and the others would be able to watch over their domains, and then you’d free all the mortal souls from the gods who actually have them enslaved, and there wouldn’t be a huge war like last time. I mean… if that’s the truth, why don’t we just tell everyone that? Then you could have lots of people to help, and people could actually ya know… choose to be free, if they want to. I mean… well, I guess… no, I’m sure there’d be people who would say that’s heresy or whatever. But, if everything is just stories that people made up, why don’t we make a new story?” For the first time since he came to be in this dream, Vark smiles. “We just tell people what happened and what your goals are but from your point of view. You’ve taken on lots of different faces before, why not just make a new one that people will like.” He smirks at the unintentional jab.
"I won't be revealing my plans, because for more than a thousand years 'everyone' has been told and convinced that fiends are evil. You, my friend, barely believe me. What do you think would happen if your friend Thurston were introduced to me? That's exactly how you get the devastating wars that you wish to avoid. The churches of the new Gods derive their power from the status quo and will fight tooth and nail to maintain it. I could come to them in whatever guise I wish, but it would not change a thing. Nobody can simply choose to exist in one way or another. This is a change on a cosmic level and one that the few remaining servants of the Dawn Gods, such as Longwang, still guard against. To make them aware of my intentions before I am ready would be sheer folly."
"Well I’m not saying you have to tell all the details of your whole plan or reveal yourself to everyone, just… try and build a better reputation.” He shrugs. “Tell a different story than the one you say has been forced on you. I don’t think it could hurt to have more people on your side… Maybe my friends would be more willing to help if they didn’t see you as the ultimate enemy. But right now there’s nothing I could say that would convince them to help me steal from a dragon for you.”
"Why is it that you think that I don't?" Matthew asks Vark with a bemused smile. "I have followers and faithful throughout the world to whom I have spread the truth. They continue our work in private, enlightening those who are ready to see... and, when they grow more eager than is safe, then they are named cultists by the powers that be and snuffed out by adventurers like your friends." The final sentiment is followed by a pointed look at Vark.
"Of course, if you think that it would help, then I could certainly come before the Acharnost in one form or another. Perhaps we could become friends."
There's something unsettling about the way that Matthew smiles when he contemplates this idea.
“Uhm well y-yeah,” Vark stammers, suddenly worrying that his hopes of everyone getting along wouldn’t somehow lead to trouble. “I… I do think that would be helpful. I’ll wait to tell them then. And if they still don’t wanna help, maybe some of your other followers could help to get the sigil.” He adds with a shrug. “But uhm… I should probably get some actual rest. I’ve got a long journey tomorrow…”
Bründir thrashes in his bed, stripping the sheets and blanket as the stifling heat of his dream still clings to him. Springing into the cool night air, he scrambles for a pitcher of water kept nearby. While he doused his head and gulped down mouthfuls, his mind stuck to the last image of his dream: the massive pair of feathered wings attached to...something in the middle. Did he just see one of these Dawn God's? Was it something else?
Since his first return to Sheercleft and expelling the goblin army, there was always so much to do. Bründir had taken to keeping a few blank sheets of paper and a charcoal stick near his bed so as not to lose his thoughts. Now, he hastily sketched the form he'd seen as well as some frantic notes along the margins.
SAND / WATER / HOT ICE / NO CLOUDS / BIRD? / GIANT WINGS
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Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Aiden enters the library just as the sun crests over the mountains. The room is dark. He lights a few lanterns and carries one as he peruses the shelves. A few fruitless minutes later -- he wasn't sure how long -- the door opens and someone enters. A few shelves later, and Aiden sees that it's Seid. He clears his throat and gives a nod as to not startle the scholar, who returns the nod.
Another few fruitless shelves later, and Aiden looks back over at the desk that Seid is reading at. "Seid," Aiden says, approaching and clearing his throat again. "Do you know if there are any books on swordsmanship here?"
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Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Aiden Olrikson | Human | Tempest Domain Cleric of Thor
Seid looks up as Aiden approaches, pausing thoughtfully. “I do not recall seeing any fencing manuals, but I do know of several historical tomes written about some of the blademasters. While these may not be as practical as a manual, they do tend to highlight and illustrate their forms!”
"That would be helpful, in any case," Aiden says. It was more than he expected, and would be a good enough starting point. "Thank you for the assistance. Searching for books isn't something I normally do."
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Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Aiden Olrikson | Human | Tempest Domain Cleric of Thor
After the strange dream, Bründir found a small bit of rest, but ultimately woke up in a haze. The images were still vivid, but so disconnected he thought they might be a delusion. Taking his scribbled notes and heading to Rimgrut's, the dwarf sought out his mother, Brynja. She had been an adventurer and collector of tales and always seemed to have some allegorical tidbit to offer. After detailing his dream and showing the notes, Brynja's face contorted in deep thought. She promised to look over her old books and lore, but couldn't recall anything certain immediately.
After a hearty breakfast and dark ale, Bründir returned to his room to prepare for the day. He donned just the core section of Karakalad, strapped Dumdrengi's scabbard belt around his waist, and opted to leave Karakarin in his room tucked within spare linen under his bed. His next visit was to Seid's acquired tower dwelling. Bründir knew this was the best repository of knowledge within Sheercleft short of Brynja and the long-lived elder dwarves. The books, however, were much more reliable and accessible. The dwarf paused a moment outside the door when he heard voices within. He took a moment to discern the speakers so as not to intrude on something he wouldn't want to know.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Vark jumps to action the moment he wakes from his own dream. If there had been fire beneath him to make haste before, it was now a searing inferno. The sooner he can speak to Aury, the sooner he can make sense of the tangled moral quandary he has found himself in. Surely the sagely giant will be better informed than his friends and have a more objective standing than Matthew.
Under the waxing dawn light Vark makes his way around town, collecting the essential supplies he’ll need on his solo journey. He returns shortly after to collect his things and say goodbye to Seid. He considers waiting a bit to say farewell to the others, but decides against it. It’s true he needs to get going as soon as possible, but the early departure also has the perk of avoiding any last pleas for him to remain in Sheercleft.
Once his preparations have been completed, there is only one thing left to do. He steps outside and produces the ruby, then begins the ritual to conjure his steed. A geometric summoning circle is projected from the runestone, crimson glyphs hang in the air around the mage, and the vicinity begins to hum with arcane power. As Vark concentrates an equine formed from pure ruby light begins to take shape in front of him. The energy condenses further, dark clouds wrapping around the form and settling into a steely grey hide. Waves of red lightning crackle out from the beast’s neck and rear, leaving a stark white mane and tail in their wake. As the steed completes its coalescence it opens its eyes to reveal two pools of glowing crimson. The same bright red ripples subtlety across the stallion’s musculature as it takes its first steps. It’s flowing mane flashes with bright red sparks and its hooves echo with faint thunder as each one hits the ground. Vark smiles wide, impressed with himself, before glancing down at the runestone and remembering that this power is not solely his. Whatever happens with Matthew, he can’t lose this.
The sun is climbs higher as Vark sits atop his phantom steed and begins to trot away from Sheercleft. He heads towards the soaring peak of Endelfjell. Towards his oldest friend. Towards home.
After the strange dream, Bründir found a small bit of rest, but ultimately woke up in a haze. The images were still vivid, but so disconnected he thought they might be a delusion. Taking his scribbled notes and heading to Rimgrut's, the dwarf sought out his mother, Brynja. She had been an adventurer and collector of tales and always seemed to have some allegorical tidbit to offer. After detailing his dream and showing the notes, Brynja's face contorted in deep thought. She promised to look over her old books and lore, but couldn't recall anything certain immediately.
After a hearty breakfast and dark ale, Bründir returned to his room to prepare for the day. He donned just the core section of Karakalad, strapped Dumdrengi's scabbard belt around his waist, and opted to leave Karakarin in his room tucked within spare linen under his bed. His next visit was to Seid's acquired tower dwelling. Bründir knew this was the best repository of knowledge within Sheercleft short of Brynja and the long-lived elder dwarves. The books, however, were much more reliable and accessible. The dwarf paused a moment outside the door when he heard voices within. He took a moment to discern the speakers so as not to intrude on something he wouldn't want to know.
"What are we listening for?" A man's voice whispers from behind Bründir.
"Gya-dAfuq!" Bründir would've put his head through the door if he had been closer. He caught his breath as he turned to scolded the sneaking newcomer, "Fer my heart to t'jump through my damned chest, ye bastard! So help me, I'd 'ave made ye less a man by a few inches!"
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
A handsome human with golden-brown waves of hair and champagne eyes grins back at Bründir. He's dressed in a burgundy doublet with dark trousers and has his arms crossed as he leans against the door frame besides them.
"You're up early, mi'lord," he notes friendlily. "Can I help you with anything?"
As Bründir soars over mountains and plains, he found against his own wonder to take in his surroundings. Sadly, it all flew by too quickly into strange and unknown lands. The last thing he could comprehend was the last of the great mountain ranges, then a wide plain he recalled as.....Amerth?...Adrant?...Amrath! Yes, that was it.
As his flight slowed, and he noticed haloed oasis, a flood of questions raced through his mind now. Why was this untouched by the dark clouds? Why was this place special? Where was this? Focusing on the last question, Bründir tried to map his surroundings, then will his strange journey to bring him closer.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Who told you that bad things come from the lower planes?" Matthew asks Vark pointedly. "How many devils have you actually met? I told you before that history is written by the victors. They call us monsters and evil... you're half orc, Vark. Is that narrative not at all familiar to you?"
Bründir's feet alight on the burning desert sands and he sees that the surface of the oasis glistens with frost, despite the heat. Behind the dwarf, the sound of heavy wingbeats fills the air above him.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
“Everyone,” he pushes back. “Everyone says those places are bad. I don’t… I can’t say how much direct experience I have but what I have seen isn’t good. Yes it’s more complicated than that- I’m more complicated than that, but…” He huffs, and his fists clench beside him. “People don’t tell stories for nothing. Everything people say about orcs… well not all of it, but I grew up in an orc tribe and I know a lot of it is true. Maybe people don’t see the whole picture, or they forgot the details, and there’s exceptions of course but… there is truth in it. I know.” Vark locks eyes with Matthew again, this time his gaze is steeled. “You can’t just keep saying ‘the victors write the story’ like it proves that you are telling the truth, like you’re righteous. That’s leaving out just as many details as they are.”
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Bründir was mesmerized by this foreign land. Burning ice? Such a strange feeling. The dreamy land was surreal, and the dwarf fondly remembered such a feeling after an experimental batch of Rimgrut's special hooch.
As Bründir contemplated the dreamy land, the steady, airy drumming rose in his ears. As he turned, he was reminded of the terrible dragon from Morloth. Shit...
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
"Vark," Matthew replies, his body language gentle and open as he steps in towards his warlock with placating hands, "orcs are no more fundamentally evil than fiends. They've simply been ostracised by the rest of the world and forced to endure brutal conditions to survive. The abyss is similar; sealed off from the material plane without our sister's guiding hand, it has grown wild and untamed. You say 'everyone', but your everyone is a relatively small number of people, many of whom have been religiously indoctrinated. I have spent the last weeks straightening out a hellish administration grown bloated and corrupt in my absence... but that doesn't make my people evil."
Bründir turns and huge feathered wings are cast in silhouette by the scorching sun behind them. Then he wakes with a start, drenched with sweat like he'd really been in that desert.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
The warlock’s shoulders relax. One hand scratches the back of his neck reflexively as he processes. “Ok… so… if you have it your way, you’ll be free to keep the hells in order, and Talona and the others would be able to watch over their domains, and then you’d free all the mortal souls from the gods who actually have them enslaved, and there wouldn’t be a huge war like last time. I mean… if that’s the truth, why don’t we just tell everyone that? Then you could have lots of people to help, and people could actually ya know… choose to be free, if they want to. I mean… well, I guess… no, I’m sure there’d be people who would say that’s heresy or whatever. But, if everything is just stories that people made up, why don’t we make a new story?” For the first time since he came to be in this dream, Vark smiles. “We just tell people what happened and what your goals are but from your point of view. You’ve taken on lots of different faces before, why not just make a new one that people will like.” He smirks at the unintentional jab.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
Matthew scoffs a laugh.
"I won't be revealing my plans, because for more than a thousand years 'everyone' has been told and convinced that fiends are evil. You, my friend, barely believe me. What do you think would happen if your friend Thurston were introduced to me? That's exactly how you get the devastating wars that you wish to avoid. The churches of the new Gods derive their power from the status quo and will fight tooth and nail to maintain it. I could come to them in whatever guise I wish, but it would not change a thing. Nobody can simply choose to exist in one way or another. This is a change on a cosmic level and one that the few remaining servants of the Dawn Gods, such as Longwang, still guard against. To make them aware of my intentions before I am ready would be sheer folly."
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
"Well I’m not saying you have to tell all the details of your whole plan or reveal yourself to everyone, just… try and build a better reputation.” He shrugs. “Tell a different story than the one you say has been forced on you. I don’t think it could hurt to have more people on your side… Maybe my friends would be more willing to help if they didn’t see you as the ultimate enemy. But right now there’s nothing I could say that would convince them to help me steal from a dragon for you.”
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
"Why is it that you think that I don't?" Matthew asks Vark with a bemused smile. "I have followers and faithful throughout the world to whom I have spread the truth. They continue our work in private, enlightening those who are ready to see... and, when they grow more eager than is safe, then they are named cultists by the powers that be and snuffed out by adventurers like your friends." The final sentiment is followed by a pointed look at Vark.
"Of course, if you think that it would help, then I could certainly come before the Acharnost in one form or another. Perhaps we could become friends."
There's something unsettling about the way that Matthew smiles when he contemplates this idea.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
“Uhm well y-yeah,” Vark stammers, suddenly worrying that his hopes of everyone getting along wouldn’t somehow lead to trouble. “I… I do think that would be helpful. I’ll wait to tell them then. And if they still don’t wanna help, maybe some of your other followers could help to get the sigil.” He adds with a shrug. “But uhm… I should probably get some actual rest. I’ve got a long journey tomorrow…”
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
"That you do. I'll be seeing you very soon, Vark. Very soon indeed."
Matthew turns first translucent and then transparent and then the landscape around Vark fades to oblivion.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
Bründir thrashes in his bed, stripping the sheets and blanket as the stifling heat of his dream still clings to him. Springing into the cool night air, he scrambles for a pitcher of water kept nearby. While he doused his head and gulped down mouthfuls, his mind stuck to the last image of his dream: the massive pair of feathered wings attached to...something in the middle. Did he just see one of these Dawn God's? Was it something else?
Since his first return to Sheercleft and expelling the goblin army, there was always so much to do. Bründir had taken to keeping a few blank sheets of paper and a charcoal stick near his bed so as not to lose his thoughts. Now, he hastily sketched the form he'd seen as well as some frantic notes along the margins.
SAND / WATER / HOT ICE / NO CLOUDS / BIRD? / GIANT WINGS
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Aiden enters the library just as the sun crests over the mountains. The room is dark. He lights a few lanterns and carries one as he peruses the shelves. A few fruitless minutes later -- he wasn't sure how long -- the door opens and someone enters. A few shelves later, and Aiden sees that it's Seid. He clears his throat and gives a nod as to not startle the scholar, who returns the nod.
Another few fruitless shelves later, and Aiden looks back over at the desk that Seid is reading at. "Seid," Aiden says, approaching and clearing his throat again. "Do you know if there are any books on swordsmanship here?"
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Aiden Olrikson | Human | Tempest Domain Cleric of Thor
Seid looks up as Aiden approaches, pausing thoughtfully. “I do not recall seeing any fencing manuals, but I do know of several historical tomes written about some of the blademasters. While these may not be as practical as a manual, they do tend to highlight and illustrate their forms!”
Valaith "Rimehand" Kalukavi - Chronicles of Arden
"That would be helpful, in any case," Aiden says. It was more than he expected, and would be a good enough starting point. "Thank you for the assistance. Searching for books isn't something I normally do."
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Aiden Olrikson | Human | Tempest Domain Cleric of Thor
After the strange dream, Bründir found a small bit of rest, but ultimately woke up in a haze. The images were still vivid, but so disconnected he thought they might be a delusion. Taking his scribbled notes and heading to Rimgrut's, the dwarf sought out his mother, Brynja. She had been an adventurer and collector of tales and always seemed to have some allegorical tidbit to offer. After detailing his dream and showing the notes, Brynja's face contorted in deep thought. She promised to look over her old books and lore, but couldn't recall anything certain immediately.
After a hearty breakfast and dark ale, Bründir returned to his room to prepare for the day. He donned just the core section of Karakalad, strapped Dumdrengi's scabbard belt around his waist, and opted to leave Karakarin in his room tucked within spare linen under his bed. His next visit was to Seid's acquired tower dwelling. Bründir knew this was the best repository of knowledge within Sheercleft short of Brynja and the long-lived elder dwarves. The books, however, were much more reliable and accessible. The dwarf paused a moment outside the door when he heard voices within. He took a moment to discern the speakers so as not to intrude on something he wouldn't want to know.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Vark jumps to action the moment he wakes from his own dream. If there had been fire beneath him to make haste before, it was now a searing inferno. The sooner he can speak to Aury, the sooner he can make sense of the tangled moral quandary he has found himself in. Surely the sagely giant will be better informed than his friends and have a more objective standing than Matthew.
Under the waxing dawn light Vark makes his way around town, collecting the essential supplies he’ll need on his solo journey. He returns shortly after to collect his things and say goodbye to Seid. He considers waiting a bit to say farewell to the others, but decides against it. It’s true he needs to get going as soon as possible, but the early departure also has the perk of avoiding any last pleas for him to remain in Sheercleft.
Once his preparations have been completed, there is only one thing left to do. He steps outside and produces the ruby, then begins the ritual to conjure his steed. A geometric summoning circle is projected from the runestone, crimson glyphs hang in the air around the mage, and the vicinity begins to hum with arcane power. As Vark concentrates an equine formed from pure ruby light begins to take shape in front of him. The energy condenses further, dark clouds wrapping around the form and settling into a steely grey hide. Waves of red lightning crackle out from the beast’s neck and rear, leaving a stark white mane and tail in their wake. As the steed completes its coalescence it opens its eyes to reveal two pools of glowing crimson. The same bright red ripples subtlety across the stallion’s musculature as it takes its first steps. It’s flowing mane flashes with bright red sparks and its hooves echo with faint thunder as each one hits the ground. Vark smiles wide, impressed with himself, before glancing down at the runestone and remembering that this power is not solely his. Whatever happens with Matthew, he can’t lose this.
The sun is climbs higher as Vark sits atop his phantom steed and begins to trot away from Sheercleft. He heads towards the soaring peak of Endelfjell. Towards his oldest friend. Towards home.
Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - Vark Galestone | Half-Orc | Storm Sorcerer
Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - Caio Cypherien | Shadar-Kai | Inquisitor Ranger
"What are we listening for?" A man's voice whispers from behind Bründir.
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva
"Gya-dAfuq!" Bründir would've put his head through the door if he had been closer. He caught his breath as he turned to scolded the sneaking newcomer, "Fer my heart to t'jump through my damned chest, ye bastard! So help me, I'd 'ave made ye less a man by a few inches!"
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
A handsome human with golden-brown waves of hair and champagne eyes grins back at Bründir. He's dressed in a burgundy doublet with dark trousers and has his arms crossed as he leans against the door frame besides them.
"You're up early, mi'lord," he notes friendlily. "Can I help you with anything?"
The Chronicles of Arden: Sheercleft - DM for Aiden, Bründir, Jex, Thurston, Valaith and Vark
The Chronicles of Arden: Hunters - DM for Alaris, Astrid, Caio and Shiva