"There is an old abandoned temple to Pelor in a nearby village. That simply won't do. We must restore it to it's former glory! The poor people of that village have been living without his light for too long..." HELIOS' voice trails off as you notice he immediately started walking in the direction of his vision without notifying anyone or checking to see if they are ready to go. "Perhaps the people of this village will have some new bagpipes for sale so that I can play Pelor a song to honor him in the temple. That will surely make his presence known again!"
Ryloos puts away her coy smile as she stores Drift back into its scabbard. "Well that certainly was an experience," she says as she stands up and stretches her arms upright. The beautiful forest that they are currently standing in brings a smile to her face once again. Ryloos rolls her eyes healing Helios's idea. She has no interest in rebuilding a temple of a god she feels little connection to. At this point, she would rather contribute to building something for Vagus as he has proven more helpful in her eyes.
"The common folk would certainly appreciate a new temple, but from the looks of all of us, we're cursed. And a bunch of cursed newcomers building a temple in their town might have the reverse effect. We should get back to the city and end that ***** Dehlia and her pet Arden! Cursed or not, we can murder them and end this."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Can we? Even if that dagger can kill her, will you have a chance to use it before she vaporizes you with a thought? And what about Arden, pricking him won't be easy." A hazy memory floats across the surface of Lofty's mind. A look of surprise on the face of a killer. Warm blood between his fingers. "I know you want to go back and end this, but I suspect this is only the beginning." Lofty wants to tell her that he understands if she wants to leave, but given the likely outcome of such a trip, he decides instead to change the subject. "You're right about the curse though. We'll either need to hide these marks or really flaunt them and come up with a damn good excuse." He rubs at the still tender flesh on his forehead and frowns. "Does anyone recognize the symbol? What does it mean?"
Arcana Check: I'm going to try to detect the flavor of this magic. Is it obvious to a magic user or would they need to see the mark to sense our curse? Any idea what it would take to dispell it? 18
"I'm afraid I agree with Lofty on this Ryloos, if even a tiny bit of what Vagus said is true we will have no chance against Dehlia and Arden as it stands. We must either gain immense power or learn of a weakness. Preferably both."
Xantlin turns his back towards the now-walking away HELIOS, so that all the group but HELIOS can hear him. "As much as I'd like to spend time rebuilding a temple, I do not see that as an appropriate use of our time at the moment. However, I do think that this small town may be our best bet to learn something about where we are, and where we may want to go. We could play along with the metal beast for now until we can figure out our next move."
"We do need to get rid of this damn curse..". he thinks to himself. Medicine check to see if Xantlin knows anything about how to cure something like this - 9
Buoyside continues his jovial mood, though seeing him slightly unsheathe his blade and begin to whisper to it would clue you in that he's once again switched to the nice Buoyside.
"What? No, love. Do not worry. I feel totally fine. The rude magic man healed me, I think the mask is a good thing. Oh, to preserve my looks, of course! You don't want to see me let myself go now, do you?"
He finally turns to the group. "My friends, I will do whatever you think is the best course of action. We mustn't split now, though our current environment is beauty incarnate, evil lurks. We must punish evil."
You touch your band tentatively and feel the power written into your own skin. It emanates the same deep, colorless magic that had permeated Vagus' cabin, something old and formless and powerful. It would require a very, very powerful magic user to remove the marks and their power makes it unlikely that they would go unnoticed by other magic users. And, unfortunately for you all, one of Vagus' stipulations dictated that you would be unable to obscure or hide the mark via material or magical means. That said, you have no idea how people will react to the mark. Perhaps they will think you and your party are members of a strange cult. Or just really good friends. Maybe you could, with sufficient charisma, even convince them that the marks are actually more of a trendy, fashionable accessory.
XANTLIN
Unfortunately, you come to similar conclusions via different thought processes. No common medicine, unction, tincture, nostrum, potion, lotion, or motion of the ocean of which you are currently informed will obviate these brands.
ALL
As your party ponders their current predicament and next move, you hear the sounds of combat not far off. Intrigued, you follow the road towards the village to a small, circular clearing where you find two warriors locked in combat.
They are similarly garbed, with horse-hair tufted Corinthian helmets, sleeveless metal cuirasses, cloth tunics, and glittering steel greaves. The taller of the two warriors - a young man, you perceptively note, his face hidden beneath the elaborate helm - fights with a xiphos sword and rounded shield. His opponent is smaller but more agile, using a dory spear to great effect; you catch brief glimpses of the face of a middle-aged woman, eyes hard with anger and determination.
They circle one another, occasionally connecting for brief but violent exchanges. It appears the woman has the upper hand, landing several heavy blows that the shield-bearer only barely manages to deflect, the force of her attack sending him to his knees. She spins away and notices your party, standing at the edge of the clearing, for the first time.
"Do not interfere!" She gesticulates at you with a sweeping motion of her spear. The man stands, wiping sweat from his face. Though he says nothing, his face betrays strong feelings of anguish; his eyes are sad and his shoulders sag beneath an immense emotional weight. Both combatants appear extremely fatigued, now that you consider it; based on the footprints in the dirt and the damage to the surrounding foliage, they have been fighting for some time.
Without another word, the woman veers away wildly and thrusts her spear, catching the young man in his exposed left shoulder unexpectedly with the butt-spike of her spear. He screams and drops his shield, reeling away from her attack, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. She orbits him, just outside the reach of his sword.
The young man tears a piece of cloth from his tunic and stuffs it into the wound to staunch the bleeding. He picks up his sword and assumes a defensive stance, though his hand trembles visibly. The fight is nearing its end.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Lofty admires the quick and decisive spear work. When blood is drawn and no surrender is offered, Lofty sighs and begins to approach the duel. "I will not stand by and witness a murder because you asked politely. If this man has committed a crime, he will not escape us with such a wound. He may not escape death with just a wound. Spare us a moment and ease our misgivings."
Persuasion: Trying to calm things down, figure this out. 17
If they try to do anything rude like stab one another while I'm bloviating, I'll cast Command and shout "Squirm!" at lv2 so it targets them both. I'll also heighten it with 2 sorcery points to give them disadvantage on their saving throws. (Wis DC 14)
Spiking her spear into the soft earth, the woman spits at your feet. “You have no right to interpose, Grizzled One. The orators have deigned l that I am both judge and executioner, and this one’s fate -“ she nods to the injured man “-is foregone.”
The young man’s arm drips blood onto the ground. He unlaces one of his greaves and uses its buckle to bind his injured arm to his chest.
“Myrinne,” he pleads in between labored breaths, “perhaps the man is right. There are other ways.”
The woman you now know as Myrinne pauses. Her face betrays a look of profound unhappiness before hardening once again, her eyes narrowed in hate.
“I am afraid not, little one. You have defied the orators and betrayed the tribe. This is how things must end.” With a violent wrench, she pulls the spear from the earth and levels it at the young man. She speaks again, addressing your party despite facing the man. “Leave, Grizzled One. The village that you surely seek is just down the road; your progress will be unmolested.”
She begins to circle the man once again, knees bent, a latent violence in her well-muscled arms.
Defiance and betrayal didn't sound great, but Lofty had been called worse things. Myrinne's little speech had a hint of fanaticism to it that put him on edge. He watched the woman carefully, knowing a split second is all he would have to stop her if she decided the time for talking was through.
"Young man." Lofty calls out "What exactly was your crime? Are you a murderer? Some sort of vile necromantic?"
Myrinne answers your question in place of the young man. "Alkibiades rebuked the will of the orators and abandoned his post and, by extension, the tribe. These actions are punishable by death among the Achaeans. He must die."
You make to interrupt the woman and solicit the youth's opinion when Alkibiades speaks, his voice thin and trembling from exertion and pain. "Mother -" The woman shoots him a poisonous look and he flinches, correcting himself as if he had misspoken. "- Myrinne is correct. It is the way. The Wheel turns, and we are subject to its inertia." He is weeping.
"But I loved Aspasia! The orators knew we intended to wed, and they still chose to break her on Its Divine Spokes. She was meant for so much more than this." He looks to the edge of the clearing; following his gaze, you notice what appears to be a body covered in an elaborately patterned cloth tarp and bound with thin rope. "When I heard that there was a great creature in the east, in Ardun Ghariba, that could grant wishes and even return the dead to life..." His voice trails off.
Myrinne shakes her head in a strange mix of sympathy and disdain. Her voice is softer. "Poor, deluded lamb, filled with ill-begotten ideas. What the orators decide is law. Aspasia gave herself willingly to the Wheel that its revolution may continue unbroken. Who are you to challenge fate?"
Alkibiades looks up, his dirt-stained face streaked with tears. "My journey cannot end here." He lowers himself into a combative stance and points his blade at Myrinne in challenge.
Myrinne nods in understanding. "The tribe will take solace in knowing that you died like a man. The Wheel turns." She levels her spear at him.
"Ah! Actions done in the name of love are always looked upon favorably by Pelor! I fear this youth may have more fated for him than a death here. In fact I am certain of it. I can sense Pelors light within him!" HELIOS speaks loudly while approaching the two combatants. "I believe it would be wise to listen to the Sergeant here. There is surely another way. One that does not involve snuffing out the light of Pelor prematurely."
HELIOS walks calmly directly between the two, turns to face Myrinne and uses the Dodge action to take a defensive stance protecting the boy behind him. (She will have disadvantage if she attempts to strike at me).
Buoyside casually walks in a semi circle around the two until he's nearly behind Myrinne, or at least as behind as she'd allow him. His enormous sheathe drags a line in the dirt behind him. "You can not punish love, Love." He lowers his blade to the ground in a sign of good faith, though he keeps the edge just on top of his foot should he need to kick it up if shit goes south. "Companionship, of any kind, dedication and courage...that's all we have to keep us on the path. If you do this, you're no better than the freaks out there in the mist."
Myrinne glowers at the warforged as he interposes himself between the child and her spear tip. Hearing Buoyside's voice behind her, she spins to train the spear of him. Myrinne's eyes widen slightly as she notices your party essentially surrounding her, shielding Alkibiades from her weapon. For a tense moment, you see her jaw clench and muscles fasciculate as she considers her odds in attacking. With a loud sigh of frustration, she thrusts her spear's butt-spike into the ground and spits at your feet.
"You deny the boy a dishonorable death, you fools. Utter cowardice, to deny the boy a death in single combat. Your power lies in number alone." She points a finger at Alkibiades. "I will return for you. You delay the inevitable - the Wheel turns." Her words are spoken with absolute confidence.
"And to you," Myrinne speaks, addressing your party. "You should know that you tempt dire misfortune by resisting the Divine Inertia. The girl's fate was cursed. Should the boy find success in his endeavors, your act of kindness may bring tremendous suffering." Myrinne turns, wrenching her spear from the ground, and storms off.
After she disappears, the boy collapses to the ground. You realize that a large volume of blood has been running down the interior of his cuirass, staining his tunic; it seems the battle has left him with more than one wound.
"Thank you for saving me." His voice quavers weakly. "Mother would have surely killed me on the next blow." He hangs his head in shame. "Myrinne is right; it is craven to flee from one's death behind the shield of another."
With his good arm, Alkibiades pulls the elaborate helmet off. The boy is no more than 20, his face boyish and unblemished with long, straight hair. He stares off in the distance for a few moments before wiping mud and blood and tears from his eyes, his face set with determination. "I accept the tribe's Odium, then. I cannot fail. We deserve better, Aspasia deserves better."
He attempts to stand, but his knees buckle underneath of him. He leans heavily on HELIOS before collapsing to the ground. "I am sorry - I am very weak. There is a village not far from here. Maybe we might seek domicile there?"
"Is this village you speak the one you are from? Do they worship this 'wheel' and its mighty power of 'inertia'? If so, word of our interference will certainly reach this village before this boy is healthy again." Ryloos asks in a way that makes it clear she is more concerned with herself preservation over Alkibiades', and that she doesn't know what inertia is.
"My village?" Alkibiades looks perplexed. "No. The Achaeans hail from Súilleabháin. I have traveled half a continent to this place. My map merely lists a village nearby. Also, that signpost seems apt." He nods his head at a plank of wood nailed to a nearby tree, onto which the word "Tuberosos" has been carved in elaborate calligraphy.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"She hunted you all that way, only to find her moment of triumph so rudely interrupted?" Lofty watches Myrinne storm off. "She strikes me as a zealot. Her hunt will continue, but for now I would invite you to find solace in our company." He reaches down and helps the young man to his feet.
Casting Cure Wounds as he does so healing him for 8
"Please, tell us more about this terrible wheel that has broken your heart."
Alkibiades accepts your hand, motes of light collecting on his skin as your spell weaves torn skin and frayed nerves. Reinvigorated, he sheathes his sword and walks to the edge of the clearing. There, he gingerly gathers Aspasia's tarp-covered corpse, which he binds to his back. He slings his shield over her, protecting the elaborating decorated canvas from the elements. When he draws near, you realize that there is a gold mask molded in the face over a woman bound to the head the corpse. It is considerably lifelike, and its verisimilitude makes you uncomfortable.
"The Wheel?" Alkibiades cocks his head inquisitively as your part begins to walk along the path toward the village. "The Wheel hasn't broken my heart. The Wheel is everything; Its Divine Spokes support existence itself, and all of reality spins on Its Divine Axis. The Wheel turns, and we turn with It. That is to say, when the Wheel turns, It affects and effects our reality. The Wheel drives fate and Its sigil is Motion. The orators say that to resurrect Aspasia is tantamount to attempting to stay the Wheel, the ultimate act of hubris, sacrilege, and selfishness." He pauses thoughtfully, and for a few moments, your party walks in silence.
After some time, Alkibiades speaks again. "I don't agree, though. Aspasia was too pure. It wasn't the Wheel that presaged her death - it was the orators and their deluded myopia. I defy them." He pauses, his voice bitterly rueful. "In our tribe, however, to defy the orators is to tempt an Odium, the formal condemnation of the Achaeans. The tribe's Odium is answerable with death. Myrinne felt obligated to take responsibility for my Odium as she is my mother. The only way of redeeming oneself from Odium is to die nobly; she sought to salvage our family's name and reputation. She actually has ambushed me on two prior occasions: on the first, I was able to fend her off; on the second, I was able to escape across a river. On her third attempt, Myrinne waited until I had parted from Aspasia's corpse knowing that I would never abandon her. I would certainly have died without your intervention."
He turns to look at each of you, smiling shyly. "What is your story? What does the strange symbol you bear on your brows signify?"
As you consider your answer, the path breaks out of the forest and you find yourself at the edge of the village Tuberosos. It is a small village with a population of roughly two hundred, though it countenances the occasional. The village itself is a mass of wooden structures cloistered together, with assorted taverns and hovels and stores and inns intermingled. The townsfolk mill about, mixing with the odd colorfully garbed merchants or brawny adventurer. Your party draws a number of brief but obvious stares as you enter the town, its streets a mix of mudbrick and tamped dirt.
In front of you is arguably the largest building; bearing a sign that reads The Turbid Tuber, you surmise that it is both an inn and a tavern. You may not know it yet, but Tuberosos is famous for a unique formulation of vodka. Thanks to a heat-stable phytochemical found in an indigenous mutant species of potato, the distilled spirits retain a light blue coloration. The locals call the drink Sky. Sky vodka.
"We were dead ourselves only a short while ago. The mark is a curse, an Odium laid on us by the entity responsible for our revival. He wanted to be our orator if I understand the term. We denied him. You could say these marks are a reminder that freedom has a price." Lofty chats amicably with the young man as they make their way down the path, but upon seeing the inn their conversation abruptly stops. His eyes grow wide, mouth spreading into a manic grin.
"By the gods and all that's holy, an Inn! A real Inn! Not some backwater hooch hut, or a dingy old commissary. It's an genuine temple to booze, food, and good cheer. Come! It's been too long!" Lofty marches straight up to the inn, pausing only briefly at the threshold to savor this moment. He steps in, and fills his lungs with the familiar scents of home-away-from-home. For the first time in months, he feels the tension seeping out of him. He heads for a table where he can put his back to a wall and settles in. He leans back in his chair and sighs contentedly.
Buoyside sadly eyes the dead woman on the young mans back once more before following Lofty into the Tavern. "I'm sorry for your loss, my new best friend. I love you." There is some part deep inside of him that wishes to take a souvenir from the corpse, a part he doesn't understand, and he intends to drown it with some delicious, crisp clean SKY VODKA ™
Inside he settles in next to Lofty, struggling to prop his blade against the table in a way that will keep people from tripping over it or having it topple down on top of somebody. He orders the good stuff only to realize he can't really drink it through the poultice still caked around his face. He orders a loaf of bread and cuts a piece off, soaking it in the vodka thoroughly and then slides it up under the mask into his mouth and chews.
"Cap'n, something's been bothering me." He leans in, his speech a bit slurred as he chomps on the sloppy bread. "This place is beautiful, pristine, clear...." he pauses nodding as he looks the captain in the eyes for a little too long, before he looks around at the others who joined (I don't know who is going to join us or who is going to go off exploring, if you decide to join us at the table, Buoyside is including you in this conversation.) "Where is the mist? Where is the war? We're in a tavern eating booze bread but our fellow men are out there, somewhere, fighting. What is happening."
You wearily sit yourselves at a table, offloading your equipment with a palpable sigh. After the disastrous assault on Cionn tSáile and the equally dismal parting with Vagus, you are happy to find yourselves not far from a warm hearth, hot stew, and cool spirits. Alkibiades joins you, gingerly resting Aspasia's body in a seated position against the wall, with his shield draped over her.
A diminutive man with a bad haircut approaches your table, smiling broadly. His face is oddly clean and homely.
"Well met and welcome, winsome wandering warriors of the wayward wilds! My name is Clemency. What will you be having?" he asks in a cheerful, sing-song voice. It takes you a moment to realize that he is soliciting your food and drink orders.
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"There is an old abandoned temple to Pelor in a nearby village. That simply won't do. We must restore it to it's former glory! The poor people of that village have been living without his light for too long..." HELIOS' voice trails off as you notice he immediately started walking in the direction of his vision without notifying anyone or checking to see if they are ready to go. "Perhaps the people of this village will have some new bagpipes for sale so that I can play Pelor a song to honor him in the temple. That will surely make his presence known again!"
H.E.L.I.O.S - Warforged Sun Soul Monk
AC - 19
Ryloos puts away her coy smile as she stores Drift back into its scabbard. "Well that certainly was an experience," she says as she stands up and stretches her arms upright. The beautiful forest that they are currently standing in brings a smile to her face once again. Ryloos rolls her eyes healing Helios's idea. She has no interest in rebuilding a temple of a god she feels little connection to. At this point, she would rather contribute to building something for Vagus as he has proven more helpful in her eyes.
"The common folk would certainly appreciate a new temple, but from the looks of all of us, we're cursed. And a bunch of cursed newcomers building a temple in their town might have the reverse effect. We should get back to the city and end that ***** Dehlia and her pet Arden! Cursed or not, we can murder them and end this."
"Can we? Even if that dagger can kill her, will you have a chance to use it before she vaporizes you with a thought? And what about Arden, pricking him won't be easy." A hazy memory floats across the surface of Lofty's mind. A look of surprise on the face of a killer. Warm blood between his fingers. "I know you want to go back and end this, but I suspect this is only the beginning." Lofty wants to tell her that he understands if she wants to leave, but given the likely outcome of such a trip, he decides instead to change the subject. "You're right about the curse though. We'll either need to hide these marks or really flaunt them and come up with a damn good excuse." He rubs at the still tender flesh on his forehead and frowns. "Does anyone recognize the symbol? What does it mean?"
Arcana Check: I'm going to try to detect the flavor of this magic. Is it obvious to a magic user or would they need to see the mark to sense our curse? Any idea what it would take to dispell it? 18
Character Sheets: Page1 Page2 Page3
HP: 35 AC: 20 Saves: Str+2 Dex+0 Con+4 Int+2 Wis+2 Cha+6
"I'm afraid I agree with Lofty on this Ryloos, if even a tiny bit of what Vagus said is true we will have no chance against Dehlia and Arden as it stands. We must either gain immense power or learn of a weakness. Preferably both."
Xantlin turns his back towards the now-walking away HELIOS, so that all the group but HELIOS can hear him. "As much as I'd like to spend time rebuilding a temple, I do not see that as an appropriate use of our time at the moment. However, I do think that this small town may be our best bet to learn something about where we are, and where we may want to go. We could play along with the metal beast for now until we can figure out our next move."
"We do need to get rid of this damn curse..". he thinks to himself. Medicine check to see if Xantlin knows anything about how to cure something like this - 9
Xantlin Pegason (imgur)
33/33 HP
4/4 level 1 spells, 3/3 level 2 spells, 2/2 level 3 spells
AC = 15, Spell attack bonus = 7, spell save DC = 15
Buoyside continues his jovial mood, though seeing him slightly unsheathe his blade and begin to whisper to it would clue you in that he's once again switched to the nice Buoyside.
"What? No, love. Do not worry. I feel totally fine. The rude magic man healed me, I think the mask is a good thing. Oh, to preserve my looks, of course! You don't want to see me let myself go now, do you?"
He finally turns to the group. "My friends, I will do whatever you think is the best course of action. We mustn't split now, though our current environment is beauty incarnate, evil lurks. We must punish evil."
Character Sheet
AC: 16
LOFTY
You touch your band tentatively and feel the power written into your own skin. It emanates the same deep, colorless magic that had permeated Vagus' cabin, something old and formless and powerful. It would require a very, very powerful magic user to remove the marks and their power makes it unlikely that they would go unnoticed by other magic users. And, unfortunately for you all, one of Vagus' stipulations dictated that you would be unable to obscure or hide the mark via material or magical means. That said, you have no idea how people will react to the mark. Perhaps they will think you and your party are members of a strange cult. Or just really good friends. Maybe you could, with sufficient charisma, even convince them that the marks are actually more of a trendy, fashionable accessory.
XANTLIN
Unfortunately, you come to similar conclusions via different thought processes. No common medicine, unction, tincture, nostrum, potion, lotion, or motion of the ocean of which you are currently informed will obviate these brands.
ALL
As your party ponders their current predicament and next move, you hear the sounds of combat not far off. Intrigued, you follow the road towards the village to a small, circular clearing where you find two warriors locked in combat.
They are similarly garbed, with horse-hair tufted Corinthian helmets, sleeveless metal cuirasses, cloth tunics, and glittering steel greaves. The taller of the two warriors - a young man, you perceptively note, his face hidden beneath the elaborate helm - fights with a xiphos sword and rounded shield. His opponent is smaller but more agile, using a dory spear to great effect; you catch brief glimpses of the face of a middle-aged woman, eyes hard with anger and determination.
They circle one another, occasionally connecting for brief but violent exchanges. It appears the woman has the upper hand, landing several heavy blows that the shield-bearer only barely manages to deflect, the force of her attack sending him to his knees. She spins away and notices your party, standing at the edge of the clearing, for the first time.
"Do not interfere!" She gesticulates at you with a sweeping motion of her spear. The man stands, wiping sweat from his face. Though he says nothing, his face betrays strong feelings of anguish; his eyes are sad and his shoulders sag beneath an immense emotional weight. Both combatants appear extremely fatigued, now that you consider it; based on the footprints in the dirt and the damage to the surrounding foliage, they have been fighting for some time.
Without another word, the woman veers away wildly and thrusts her spear, catching the young man in his exposed left shoulder unexpectedly with the butt-spike of her spear. He screams and drops his shield, reeling away from her attack, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. She orbits him, just outside the reach of his sword.
The young man tears a piece of cloth from his tunic and stuffs it into the wound to staunch the bleeding. He picks up his sword and assumes a defensive stance, though his hand trembles visibly. The fight is nearing its end.
Lofty admires the quick and decisive spear work. When blood is drawn and no surrender is offered, Lofty sighs and begins to approach the duel. "I will not stand by and witness a murder because you asked politely. If this man has committed a crime, he will not escape us with such a wound. He may not escape death with just a wound. Spare us a moment and ease our misgivings."
Persuasion: Trying to calm things down, figure this out. 17
If they try to do anything rude like stab one another while I'm bloviating, I'll cast Command and shout "Squirm!" at lv2 so it targets them both. I'll also heighten it with 2 sorcery points to give them disadvantage on their saving throws. (Wis DC 14)
Character Sheets: Page1 Page2 Page3
HP: 35 AC: 20 Saves: Str+2 Dex+0 Con+4 Int+2 Wis+2 Cha+6
LOFTY
Spiking her spear into the soft earth, the woman spits at your feet. “You have no right to interpose, Grizzled One. The orators have deigned l that I am both judge and executioner, and this one’s fate -“ she nods to the injured man “-is foregone.”
The young man’s arm drips blood onto the ground. He unlaces one of his greaves and uses its buckle to bind his injured arm to his chest.
“Myrinne,” he pleads in between labored breaths, “perhaps the man is right. There are other ways.”
The woman you now know as Myrinne pauses. Her face betrays a look of profound unhappiness before hardening once again, her eyes narrowed in hate.
“I am afraid not, little one. You have defied the orators and betrayed the tribe. This is how things must end.” With a violent wrench, she pulls the spear from the earth and levels it at the young man. She speaks again, addressing your party despite facing the man. “Leave, Grizzled One. The village that you surely seek is just down the road; your progress will be unmolested.”
She begins to circle the man once again, knees bent, a latent violence in her well-muscled arms.
Defiance and betrayal didn't sound great, but Lofty had been called worse things. Myrinne's little speech had a hint of fanaticism to it that put him on edge. He watched the woman carefully, knowing a split second is all he would have to stop her if she decided the time for talking was through.
"Young man." Lofty calls out "What exactly was your crime? Are you a murderer? Some sort of vile necromantic?"
Character Sheets: Page1 Page2 Page3
HP: 35 AC: 20 Saves: Str+2 Dex+0 Con+4 Int+2 Wis+2 Cha+6
ALL
Myrinne answers your question in place of the young man. "Alkibiades rebuked the will of the orators and abandoned his post and, by extension, the tribe. These actions are punishable by death among the Achaeans. He must die."
You make to interrupt the woman and solicit the youth's opinion when Alkibiades speaks, his voice thin and trembling from exertion and pain. "Mother -" The woman shoots him a poisonous look and he flinches, correcting himself as if he had misspoken. "- Myrinne is correct. It is the way. The Wheel turns, and we are subject to its inertia." He is weeping.
"But I loved Aspasia! The orators knew we intended to wed, and they still chose to break her on Its Divine Spokes. She was meant for so much more than this." He looks to the edge of the clearing; following his gaze, you notice what appears to be a body covered in an elaborately patterned cloth tarp and bound with thin rope. "When I heard that there was a great creature in the east, in Ardun Ghariba, that could grant wishes and even return the dead to life..." His voice trails off.
Myrinne shakes her head in a strange mix of sympathy and disdain. Her voice is softer. "Poor, deluded lamb, filled with ill-begotten ideas. What the orators decide is law. Aspasia gave herself willingly to the Wheel that its revolution may continue unbroken. Who are you to challenge fate?"
Alkibiades looks up, his dirt-stained face streaked with tears. "My journey cannot end here." He lowers himself into a combative stance and points his blade at Myrinne in challenge.
Myrinne nods in understanding. "The tribe will take solace in knowing that you died like a man. The Wheel turns." She levels her spear at him.
"Ah! Actions done in the name of love are always looked upon favorably by Pelor! I fear this youth may have more fated for him than a death here. In fact I am certain of it. I can sense Pelors light within him!" HELIOS speaks loudly while approaching the two combatants. "I believe it would be wise to listen to the Sergeant here. There is surely another way. One that does not involve snuffing out the light of Pelor prematurely."
HELIOS walks calmly directly between the two, turns to face Myrinne and uses the Dodge action to take a defensive stance protecting the boy behind him. (She will have disadvantage if she attempts to strike at me).
H.E.L.I.O.S - Warforged Sun Soul Monk
AC - 19
Buoyside casually walks in a semi circle around the two until he's nearly behind Myrinne, or at least as behind as she'd allow him. His enormous sheathe drags a line in the dirt behind him. "You can not punish love, Love." He lowers his blade to the ground in a sign of good faith, though he keeps the edge just on top of his foot should he need to kick it up if shit goes south. "Companionship, of any kind, dedication and courage...that's all we have to keep us on the path. If you do this, you're no better than the freaks out there in the mist."
Persuasion check: 15
Character Sheet
AC: 16
ALL
Myrinne glowers at the warforged as he interposes himself between the child and her spear tip. Hearing Buoyside's voice behind her, she spins to train the spear of him. Myrinne's eyes widen slightly as she notices your party essentially surrounding her, shielding Alkibiades from her weapon. For a tense moment, you see her jaw clench and muscles fasciculate as she considers her odds in attacking. With a loud sigh of frustration, she thrusts her spear's butt-spike into the ground and spits at your feet.
"You deny the boy a dishonorable death, you fools. Utter cowardice, to deny the boy a death in single combat. Your power lies in number alone." She points a finger at Alkibiades. "I will return for you. You delay the inevitable - the Wheel turns." Her words are spoken with absolute confidence.
"And to you," Myrinne speaks, addressing your party. "You should know that you tempt dire misfortune by resisting the Divine Inertia. The girl's fate was cursed. Should the boy find success in his endeavors, your act of kindness may bring tremendous suffering." Myrinne turns, wrenching her spear from the ground, and storms off.
After she disappears, the boy collapses to the ground. You realize that a large volume of blood has been running down the interior of his cuirass, staining his tunic; it seems the battle has left him with more than one wound.
"Thank you for saving me." His voice quavers weakly. "Mother would have surely killed me on the next blow." He hangs his head in shame. "Myrinne is right; it is craven to flee from one's death behind the shield of another."
With his good arm, Alkibiades pulls the elaborate helmet off. The boy is no more than 20, his face boyish and unblemished with long, straight hair. He stares off in the distance for a few moments before wiping mud and blood and tears from his eyes, his face set with determination. "I accept the tribe's Odium, then. I cannot fail. We deserve better, Aspasia deserves better."
He attempts to stand, but his knees buckle underneath of him. He leans heavily on HELIOS before collapsing to the ground. "I am sorry - I am very weak. There is a village not far from here. Maybe we might seek domicile there?"
"Is this village you speak the one you are from? Do they worship this 'wheel' and its mighty power of 'inertia'? If so, word of our interference will certainly reach this village before this boy is healthy again." Ryloos asks in a way that makes it clear she is more concerned with herself preservation over Alkibiades', and that she doesn't know what inertia is.
"My village?" Alkibiades looks perplexed. "No. The Achaeans hail from Súilleabháin. I have traveled half a continent to this place. My map merely lists a village nearby. Also, that signpost seems apt." He nods his head at a plank of wood nailed to a nearby tree, onto which the word "Tuberosos" has been carved in elaborate calligraphy.
"She hunted you all that way, only to find her moment of triumph so rudely interrupted?" Lofty watches Myrinne storm off. "She strikes me as a zealot. Her hunt will continue, but for now I would invite you to find solace in our company." He reaches down and helps the young man to his feet.
Casting Cure Wounds as he does so healing him for 8
"Please, tell us more about this terrible wheel that has broken your heart."
Character Sheets: Page1 Page2 Page3
HP: 35 AC: 20 Saves: Str+2 Dex+0 Con+4 Int+2 Wis+2 Cha+6
ALL
Alkibiades accepts your hand, motes of light collecting on his skin as your spell weaves torn skin and frayed nerves. Reinvigorated, he sheathes his sword and walks to the edge of the clearing. There, he gingerly gathers Aspasia's tarp-covered corpse, which he binds to his back. He slings his shield over her, protecting the elaborating decorated canvas from the elements. When he draws near, you realize that there is a gold mask molded in the face over a woman bound to the head the corpse. It is considerably lifelike, and its verisimilitude makes you uncomfortable.
"The Wheel?" Alkibiades cocks his head inquisitively as your part begins to walk along the path toward the village. "The Wheel hasn't broken my heart. The Wheel is everything; Its Divine Spokes support existence itself, and all of reality spins on Its Divine Axis. The Wheel turns, and we turn with It. That is to say, when the Wheel turns, It affects and effects our reality. The Wheel drives fate and Its sigil is Motion. The orators say that to resurrect Aspasia is tantamount to attempting to stay the Wheel, the ultimate act of hubris, sacrilege, and selfishness." He pauses thoughtfully, and for a few moments, your party walks in silence.
After some time, Alkibiades speaks again. "I don't agree, though. Aspasia was too pure. It wasn't the Wheel that presaged her death - it was the orators and their deluded myopia. I defy them." He pauses, his voice bitterly rueful. "In our tribe, however, to defy the orators is to tempt an Odium, the formal condemnation of the Achaeans. The tribe's Odium is answerable with death. Myrinne felt obligated to take responsibility for my Odium as she is my mother. The only way of redeeming oneself from Odium is to die nobly; she sought to salvage our family's name and reputation. She actually has ambushed me on two prior occasions: on the first, I was able to fend her off; on the second, I was able to escape across a river. On her third attempt, Myrinne waited until I had parted from Aspasia's corpse knowing that I would never abandon her. I would certainly have died without your intervention."
He turns to look at each of you, smiling shyly. "What is your story? What does the strange symbol you bear on your brows signify?"
As you consider your answer, the path breaks out of the forest and you find yourself at the edge of the village Tuberosos. It is a small village with a population of roughly two hundred, though it countenances the occasional. The village itself is a mass of wooden structures cloistered together, with assorted taverns and hovels and stores and inns intermingled. The townsfolk mill about, mixing with the odd colorfully garbed merchants or brawny adventurer. Your party draws a number of brief but obvious stares as you enter the town, its streets a mix of mudbrick and tamped dirt.
In front of you is arguably the largest building; bearing a sign that reads The Turbid Tuber, you surmise that it is both an inn and a tavern. You may not know it yet, but Tuberosos is famous for a unique formulation of vodka. Thanks to a heat-stable phytochemical found in an indigenous mutant species of potato, the distilled spirits retain a light blue coloration. The locals call the drink Sky. Sky vodka.
"We were dead ourselves only a short while ago. The mark is a curse, an Odium laid on us by the entity responsible for our revival. He wanted to be our orator if I understand the term. We denied him. You could say these marks are a reminder that freedom has a price." Lofty chats amicably with the young man as they make their way down the path, but upon seeing the inn their conversation abruptly stops. His eyes grow wide, mouth spreading into a manic grin.
"By the gods and all that's holy, an Inn! A real Inn! Not some backwater hooch hut, or a dingy old commissary. It's an genuine temple to booze, food, and good cheer. Come! It's been too long!" Lofty marches straight up to the inn, pausing only briefly at the threshold to savor this moment. He steps in, and fills his lungs with the familiar scents of home-away-from-home. For the first time in months, he feels the tension seeping out of him. He heads for a table where he can put his back to a wall and settles in. He leans back in his chair and sighs contentedly.
Character Sheets: Page1 Page2 Page3
HP: 35 AC: 20 Saves: Str+2 Dex+0 Con+4 Int+2 Wis+2 Cha+6
Buoyside sadly eyes the dead woman on the young mans back once more before following Lofty into the Tavern. "I'm sorry for your loss, my new best friend. I love you." There is some part deep inside of him that wishes to take a souvenir from the corpse, a part he doesn't understand, and he intends to drown it with some delicious, crisp clean SKY VODKA ™
Inside he settles in next to Lofty, struggling to prop his blade against the table in a way that will keep people from tripping over it or having it topple down on top of somebody. He orders the good stuff only to realize he can't really drink it through the poultice still caked around his face. He orders a loaf of bread and cuts a piece off, soaking it in the vodka thoroughly and then slides it up under the mask into his mouth and chews.
"Cap'n, something's been bothering me." He leans in, his speech a bit slurred as he chomps on the sloppy bread. "This place is beautiful, pristine, clear...." he pauses nodding as he looks the captain in the eyes for a little too long, before he looks around at the others who joined (I don't know who is going to join us or who is going to go off exploring, if you decide to join us at the table, Buoyside is including you in this conversation.) "Where is the mist? Where is the war? We're in a tavern eating booze bread but our fellow men are out there, somewhere, fighting. What is happening."
Character Sheet
AC: 16
ALL
You wearily sit yourselves at a table, offloading your equipment with a palpable sigh. After the disastrous assault on Cionn tSáile and the equally dismal parting with Vagus, you are happy to find yourselves not far from a warm hearth, hot stew, and cool spirits. Alkibiades joins you, gingerly resting Aspasia's body in a seated position against the wall, with his shield draped over her.
A diminutive man with a bad haircut approaches your table, smiling broadly. His face is oddly clean and homely.
"Well met and welcome, winsome wandering warriors of the wayward wilds! My name is Clemency. What will you be having?" he asks in a cheerful, sing-song voice. It takes you a moment to realize that he is soliciting your food and drink orders.