"I should think we will be fine here for the night - you are the only one they would recognize, and even then I doubt the person that you met with was one of the guards we ran into."
Back in her cabin, the last of the brandy afeard in the bottle, Abigail looks at the maps on her table. "Face it, you have no idea where to begin..." Her claw traces aimlessly around the region before settling on the Cliffs of Homoc. "Sometimes, the best thing to do when one has no direction, it to get lost..." She muses to herself. "I have never been to the Badlands, but I understand it is just such a place."
In the morning she gathers her officer to tell them about her decision.
"We will be sailing to the Cliffs of Homoc. I have very limited, if any, knowledge of the area but it sounds like most people around here are in the same boat." She pauses for emphasis, "I do not know what we will find there, but I expect it will be enough for a story or two. And we may just get lucky enough to find a clue toward finding the Leviathan's Call."
That morning... the ship sets sail for the Cliffs of Homoc. A spot of practical legend; of a city build into the vertical nature of the edge of the Badlands. Somehow protected from the swarms of living sand which sailors stay away from. A place that has survived some of the harshest conditions of the Kingdoms.
A spot that people are exiled to and never seen again. Yet a place that was rumored to be home of The Warlord Who Broke Salais. Clearly, they had to know something. The town was practically a legend itself.. even if the crew seemed nervous. The Cliffs weren't known for being... hospitable.
And it's with that we see the Maiden sail West, against the Morning Sun. Looking for it's prize.
Remnants of the Burning Feywild Unknown...
The chants still echo in the walls. A vibration of power. The words not being important, just the sound. Echoing through the ember glow. A long forgotten people - who all willingly gave their lives to move a location somewhere. Anywhere.
Stone walls glowed red from the heat of what was scorched hellscape outside what was now a prison. What was once a palace of stone and splendor - now was ruins. The murals having been faded by the heat. Tapestries and woven stories unable to survive what had happened. The statues remained; the Three Sisters of Hope. The Three Crones of Hope.
Skeletons and ghosts now shuffle along. All that remain of everyone that fought in the battle here; regardless of side.
Sitting in one chamber, all alone, is a pedestal. Atop the pedestal rests a Golden Device resembling an apple; it glistening and glowing with some kind of magic. Parts of it phase and move - always shifting - keeping whatever may be inside contained as it adjusts to new demands.
Yet somehow peering out through the gaps, inside the blinding radiant light, comes a smile. A smile that's impossibly wide - and has far too many teeth for it's mouth. In each tooth a small fragment of a image reflects off the pearl whites.
A Paladin and Tabaxi on a Boat. A Loxodon and a Hn'ti Boy. A Druid and a Ranger holding an old spear. A Serpentine Beast and a Fire-Headed Goblin. The Old Chrone and a Young Girl. And Yaalin - with that same impossible smile as Jeshur....
"I should think we will be fine here for the night - you are the only one they would recognize, and even then I doubt the person that you met with was one of the guards we ran into."
Back in her cabin, the last of the brandy afeard in the bottle, Abigail looks at the maps on her table. "Face it, you have no idea where to begin..." Her claw traces aimlessly around the region before settling on the Cliffs of Homoc. "Sometimes, the best thing to do when one has no direction, it to get lost..." She muses to herself. "I have never been to the Badlands, but I understand it is just such a place."
In the morning she gathers her officer to tell them about her decision.
"We will be sailing to the Cliffs of Homoc. I have very limited, if any, knowledge of the area but it sounds like most people around here are in the same boat." She pauses for emphasis, "I do not know what we will find there, but I expect it will be enough for a story or two. And we may just get lucky enough to find a clue toward finding the Leviathan's Call."
That morning... the ship sets sail for the Cliffs of Homoc. A spot of practical legend; of a city build into the vertical nature of the edge of the Badlands. Somehow protected from the swarms of living sand which sailors stay away from. A place that has survived some of the harshest conditions of the Kingdoms.
A spot that people are exiled to and never seen again. Yet a place that was rumored to be home of The Warlord Who Broke Salais. Clearly, they had to know something. The town was practically a legend itself.. even if the crew seemed nervous. The Cliffs weren't known for being... hospitable.
And it's with that we see the Maiden sail West, against the Morning Sun. Looking for it's prize.
Remnants of the Burning Feywild
Unknown...
The chants still echo in the walls. A vibration of power. The words not being important, just the sound. Echoing through the ember glow. A long forgotten people - who all willingly gave their lives to move a location somewhere. Anywhere.
Stone walls glowed red from the heat of what was scorched hellscape outside what was now a prison. What was once a palace of stone and splendor - now was ruins. The murals having been faded by the heat. Tapestries and woven stories unable to survive what had happened. The statues remained; the Three Sisters of Hope. The Three Crones of Hope.
Skeletons and ghosts now shuffle along. All that remain of everyone that fought in the battle here; regardless of side.
Sitting in one chamber, all alone, is a pedestal. Atop the pedestal rests a Golden Device resembling an apple; it glistening and glowing with some kind of magic. Parts of it phase and move - always shifting - keeping whatever may be inside contained as it adjusts to new demands.
Yet somehow peering out through the gaps, inside the blinding radiant light, comes a smile. A smile that's impossibly wide - and has far too many teeth for it's mouth. In each tooth a small fragment of a image reflects off the pearl whites.
A Paladin and Tabaxi on a Boat. A Loxodon and a Hn'ti Boy. A Druid and a Ranger holding an old spear. A Serpentine Beast and a Fire-Headed Goblin. The Old Chrone and a Young Girl. And Yaalin - with that same impossible smile as Jeshur....
DM PbP Series (Completed) : The Blackmire Company, Voyage of the Windhook ,Shanty of Soulripper, The Streets of Dunnour