The majestic trees about you almost seem to sigh as their crimson and orange leaves shiver in the chill breeze that dances through the grim woodland called Neverwinter Forest. The sky overhead is filled engorged clouds that drift lazily. You catch the telltale scent of rain in the air, perhaps a sign of what the clouds have been threatening all day. Autum has arrived at this part of the world, and both the people and the trees are starting to show it. A few colorful leaves dive gracefully to the ground, coming to rest upon the well-worn road upon which you tread. Nature was determined to put on a grand show before the onslaught of winter claimed this forest. The weather the past few days have been quite pleasant, but when you woke up this morning, you could see snow atop the peaks of the jagged mountains to the northeast. You think about the irony of your situation; you are returning to something you could call home because of a death as the world begins to die around you.
You round a corner, and the sleepy village of Leafbrook appears before you. The road you have been following cuts through town, dividing it into two roughly equal halves with side roads intertwining between homes and shops. All the buildings have the same rustic, hardly look to them. You see more than one thin plume of smoke escaping from stone chimneys as people are trying to retain warmth in their places of residence. Surrounding Leafbrook is a stout wall made of timber and beams, guarding the village from the wilds about it. Through the gate, you can see people bundled up bustling around town, and you can hear the sounds of civilization emanating from that opening: people chattering to one another in common, the clanging of a hammer on steel as the blacksmith performs his craft, the clatter of wagon wheels as they clamor across cobblestone to name a few of the sounds you hear. Leafbrook is just as you left it.
Whether you like Leafbrook or not, it is not your final destination. You know that beyond this town lies your goal: Grymhearth. In fact, looking to a small hill to the north, you can see the tip of brown roof of barn that shares the property with Grymhearth peeking over the tops of colorful trees.
Zathon stares at the brown roof for a touch too long. His mother's death isn't the only one weighing on him, and his head still feels off after the accident. He briefly thinks about visiting Savra, but if divine healing couldn't help he doubts she could. He carries on toward Grymhearth. It's still early, as he set off soon after receiving the letter and he would much rather be here than headquarters.
The wagon slows to a stop and Aoufie coming from the far north is already bundled in layers of clothing. On his back is his lute and by his side is his father's blade. There is a creak coming from the wagon as he steps down pausing for a moment to survey Leafbrook and is surprised how unchanged the town is in all this time. It is currently midafternoon. Each step closer to home brings on a heaviness in his heart. The display of autumn leaves brings to his mind past autumns spent here. Hm....happier times. He slowly trudges up the hill to see his Aunty Grym one last time. His mind is filled with questions, and he hoped Rhea can explain what happened.
Kora finds herself navigating through this part of the Neverwinter woods much easier than she expected. Having avoided this particular area religiously since she left. She finds this amusing as she heads through the area, enjoying the beautiful show nature puts on this time of year, breathing deep and watching as critters scurry around getting ready for hibernation.
The woman was wearing her typical leathers, with her white hair untamed as usual, several braids running through and probably a few feathers stuck in randomly that she was unaware of. Her ice blue eyes scanned the area as she arrived to Leafbrook late afternoon, recognizing so much it, memories came rushing back to her in a flood. Taking a breather, she leans up against a tree and lets the breeze wash over her a bit as she collects herself.
Sighing, she looks up at the pregnant clouds and knows it is about to pour. Resigned to heading into town for lodging, she makes her way into Leafbrook and heads towards the Fat Goose. Grymhearth can wait until tomorrow. Easily finding the Inn, she heads inside.
"BURP!!" A wild belch comes from Jared as he proceeds to pick his teeth with a twig he has found, trying to fish the remnant of his last meal. "BUNNYMAN!" Jared suddenly calls out, seeing Aoufie stepping off his fancy wagon that the Harengon took to get to Leafbrook. Jared picks up his step to catch up with Aoufie. He laughs once he catches up with his "brother". "Finally escaped that evil magician's hat did you?" Jared laughs again at his own, very old tease for Aoufie. "How'd you find out about Mum?" Jared asks a bit more somberly.
Aoufie turns around with his left ear twitching slightly and lets out an exasperated sigh. "I got the letter up north in Icewindale. Bryn Shander to be more precise. I headed back as soon as I can. How did you find out?"
Akyan wearily trudges towards the sleepy little village, it's around midday. This isn't the first time he regrets forgetting his hat. He'd become so used to avoiding the sun that he hadn't needed it. At least the overcast sky helps block the light.
As a thief catcher, most of his work is done at night and he much prefers it that way. The sun will never be friendly to his sensitive silver eyes. However, right now he very much loathes his odd meditation schedule. In order to get here when the sun is still up, he'd stayed awake much longer than usual. Plus he's not sure how long he's going to stay here, that said he's gonna have to force himself back into a normal daytime routine.
Squinting against the sun he stares at the brown roof of Grymhearth for a moment before making up his mind. He's just to tired to listen to anyone right now, it would be best to head to the Fat Goose inn. With luck, most of his 'family' will have gone strait home. So many memories in this place. Why did he have to return due to such terrible news?
He runs a hand through his silver-white hair and sighs. Standing here isn't making him any less tired and it certainly won't change the past. With that he makes his way to the inn and heads inside.
It had been a long journey for Anthony, one he'd almost declined to make. He'd long ago let go of misplaced and childish resentments, but he'd resisted what Aoelwyn had been trying to offer so strongly and stayed away for so long, that he didn't really feel he had a right to be here. Brother Lucas, however, was right that it was the least bit of respect he could show someone who’d done her best by him. He should view it as an exercise in humility and atonement. Whether it would be good for him to dive back into those memories, Brother Anthony was less certain, but it was only a few days. And begging forgiveness for being a bratty kid was nothing against the other things he was still trying to make amends for. This should be easy by comparison.
A little better than 300 miles from Scornubel to Baldur's Gate, then another thousand up the coast to Neverwinter, and another day here. Anthony would likely be one of the later ones to trickle in. The trip had been costly, but Brother Lucas had insisted on providing reasonably safe transportation to remove any obstacles or excuses from Anthony's way.
He'd taken time to wash up in Neverwinter, but another day or so on the road had him arriving travel weary and dusty from the road. Alone on his journey, he’d chosen to travel armed and armored between Neverwinter and Leafbrook, even with the roads fairly well patrolled. To some he might cut an imposing figure - not particularly tall, but broad shouldered and heavily built, dressed in chainmail, and armed with a flail and shield, the most noticeable feature being an undyed surcoat with a red cord belt and red cord wraps on his wrists. It was enough that most residents of Faerun to recognize him as a follower of Ilmater - a templar or priest. He also openly wore a carved wooden holy symbol, a pair of hands bound by red painted cord, on twine around his neck.
He made his way through the small town, not ready to introduce himself, instead taking comfort in people interacting with the priest rather than the man. ‘Good evening, brother,’ ‘Blessings of the Broken One,’ and the like. The man under the priestly garb was ordinary. Like everyone and no one, a brown-haired, brown-eyed human. There were two on every corner in every town. He didn’t expect anyone here to recognize him if he was remembered at all. He’d filled out, his hair was shaved close on the sides, and his smile quick and easy where he’d worn a petulant scowl most of his time here.
As the home where he’d spent a handful of years in his youth came into view, he was hit with the expected, but still uncomfortable, memories. Only now did he realize that he’d pushed this place so far to the back of his mind that he hadn’t really believed it had been real. It felt like a dream or a life lived by someone else. Climbing haystacks and jumping off. Exploring the woods and fields. Going to ridiculous lengths to avoid the least bit of responsibility and break even the most minor rules. A sliver of time bookended by his real life in the back alleys of Scornubel.
The man saw what the child had been unable to, an idyllic sanctuary away from the troubles of the wider world with people that could have been family if he hadn’t been so afraid that letting them in would be disloyal to his ‘real’ family back home. After taking it all in, Anthony scrubs the back of his head then makes himself approach and knock on the front door.
Zathon trudges plods on towards Leafbrook, intent on reaching Grymhearth. Two spear-wielding guardsmen clad in leather armor standing just at the gate nod as you pass, hardly giving you a second look. He weaves through the busy streets of Leafbrook, his breath pluming before him in the crisp morning air. A few people recognize you, offering you waves or head nods in your direction. He leaves through the gates on the other side of the town, and path changes from cobblestone back to packed dirt and dust. You follow the trail as it begins curving around the final forested hill between you and Grymhearth. You cross over the familiar small stone bridge that stands solemnly over the small, cheerfully babbling stream that cuts under the trail. You turn the final corner, and at last you have arrived.
About 100 feet farther up the trail, you see the familiar exterior of Grymhearth. The rustic building was rather large for a typical home, and you recall that it used to be an inn before Aeolwyn took over and began expanding it. The cream-colored exterior of the building is masked behind a tangle of blooming vines that climbs tenaciously up the building. The familiar blue shingles gleam brightly in the morning light, and it appears that a few yellow leaves have found their way upon those shingles. Behind the house, you can see the looming form of the barn you saw earlier. You can hear a few horses nickering in the barn.
Flanking the path on either side of the trail about 30 feet ahead are two imposing monoliths of stone. Unnaturally dark and smooth, they almost seemed to absorb the morning sunlight , giving them almost a dark penumbra about them. You can make out the faint silvery runes scratched into the monoliths. As you recall, there are stones placed about every 100 feet encircling the property.
Kora passes under the gate and makes her way to the Fat Goose. The rather squat building matches the aesthetic of Leafbrook, appearing sturdy and rural. A polished goose frozen in flight and carved out of wood juts out of the building above the door. A small sign written in cursive has "Fat Goose" hangs from the gooses outstretched beak. Cheery firelight spills out frosted windowpanes set into the building. Kora pushes open the door, and a wave of warmth escapes from the entryway as she enters.
The Fat Goose is sparsely populated this morning. A few townsfolk sit scattered amongst the dark wooden tables and chairs that rest near the walls of the Fat Goose. The floor is bare in the center of the inn, providing a place for dances that the townsfolk enjoyed doing with one another. Set into the east wall is a blazing hearth that warms this space against the chill of outside. Morning light streaming through the windows ligth this chamber, and you see unlit oil lanterns hanging form hooks throughout the room. You catch the scent of simmering stews, baking bread, and tantalizing pastries. A few pictures of geese hang on the walls around the room, and a stuffed goose is set above the hearth.
You see a woman wearing a simple black smock brushing crumbs off of a nearby table. You recognize her as one the workers here.
As Akyan saunters towards the gates, one of the guards glances his direction. You see him jump in surprise as he fumbles with his spear before leveling it at you. You can see that the man is rather pudgy, and he holds his spear the way an untrained person would. He shouts out to you, "Halt! Go no further, dark elf!" You can tell by his heavy breathing and trembling spear that he is terrified of you. His fellow guard also levels his spear in your direction, but he seems a little more steady. A few of the townsfolk look your direction at the guard's outburst, and you see several of them hurry into buildings. It appears these simple townsfolk have forgotten who you are.
As Jared and Aoufie follow the trail towards Grymhearth, chatting as they do, they pass between the imposing monoliths that guard the trail. The moment Aoufie steps past them, darkness suddenly takes his vision. He feels as if something dark and heavy smothers his soul. He can barely hear a deep humming sound, and the darkness fades from your vision after a moment. As it does, you feel almost, an you instinctively know that something is preventing access to your magic. The world seems almost dimmer than it did before, life less vibrant. Jared doesn't feel anything as he passes the pillars.
Anthony experiences the same phenomenon as he passes the monoliths. His divine connection almost seem suppressed, something he has never experienced before.
Aoufie stumbles back half crumpling to the ground gasping for air. "Jared, I need help I can't see!' That aloof demeanor is gone replaced by abject fear. What in the nine hells is going on my soul hurts am I dying. When his vision clears, he looks around trying to rub his eyes, but the grim landscape does not change. "I need to see Old Savra. Something is wrong with me. Please come with me."
Ok, Kora thinks to herself, a warm meal would be a nice change of pace, this isn't so bad. As she notices the scent of something simmering and the tell tale aroma of warm bread. Taking another deep breath, she crosses the threshold and heads over to the fire, enjoying it's warmth a bit after her trek through the forest.
After a few minutes she approaches the woman in the black smock, "Excuse me, could I order some food?" she doesn't look the woman in the eyes, as she has this gnawing feeling she knows her and doesn't want to be recognized.
Zathonrecalls staring at the pillars often as a child, his fingertips trace the runes, wondering if now they will reveal their secrets to him. Arcana Check: 17, Activating Divine Sense
Anthony, relatively new to life as a 'man of the cloth', has yet to feel that connection very strongly, and he's uncomfortably used to waves of dizziness and blackouts that have nothing to do with magic and everything to do with his history of...bad choices. As always, he waits for the feeling to pass and continues his limping gait toward his destination, disappointed, but not surprised that this visit is already affecting him more than he'd hoped.
Akyan grits his teeth. No matter how many times he finds himself in this situation, it never gets any less irritating. The fact that he's tired doesn't help. Though, he knows that he really can't blame these people. Not for treating him as such, nor for just forgetting his face. The shorter lived races do seem to have shorter memories. Despite his weariness, he crosses his arms and stands up a bit straighter. He's slightly taller than average for an elf, which doesn't really make him all that tall. A dark, dust covered cloak covers his lean yet well muscled body, though it doesn't hide the rapier hanging at the drow's hip.
He scowls at the two guards, fixing the frightened one with a cold silver gaze before shifting it to the other more composed man. He huffs, "Look, I'm really not in the mood for this right now. I'm not here to raid the town or whatever, I'm here to attend a funeral." His right hand grips his upper arm a bit tighter as he finishes his sentence, and he looks away from the guards. Yes, that's why he's here. "So please, just let me through." He says this in a much softer tone then before.
"You eat a bad carrot there Aoufie?" asks Jared as he reaches out to steady the Harengon. Jared nods his head to Aoufie's request. "Sure, sure, I'll get you to Savra." he tells him. With that Jared will do his best to guide Aoufie the rest of the way, supporting or carrying him as needed.
Aoufie is comforted that his brother is here to help. Leaning on Jared he makes his way to Old Savra's Place and hurriedly knocks on the door. "Savra I need help!"
Anthony took in the state of the building and grounds as he waited for his knock at the door to Grymhearth to be answered. Everything seemed to be similar to how he remembered. Things in good repair. Some of the trees and shrubs had grown bigger while some of the buildings looked smaller. It hadn’t escaped him that Aoelwyn was young for an elf. Wealth and good deeds couldn't protect one from tragedy it seemed. Or perhaps she'd upset the wrong people with some if her work.
He spotted Tom moving around between the buildings on his various chores. Anthony gave the other man a wave and dimpled smile, looking to see if there was something to jump in and help Tom finish up for the day rather than standing there watching him like a lump.
The woman that Kora speaks to turns around, and she smiles when she sees Kora. She has long, dark hair that falls around her shoulders, and she has kind blue eyes. She responds energetically, "Yes, of course! Our breakfast includes eggs, porridge, some cheese, and an apple from one of local orchards serve with some fresh milk." She gestures to the tables and chairs around you and says, "Feel free to sit wherever you'd like, and I'll back in a few minutes." With that, she bustles off through a door against the far wall, presumably to fetch your food. She didn't seem to recognize you, so you feel somewhat relieved.
Kora takes a seat, and as she waits for a few minutes, she hears the word, "Grymheart" amongst the conversation of a group of men sitting at a table nearby. They all look like farmers: weather-worn skin, grizzled faces, durable clothes covered in dirt and dried mud. She can see they all huddle close together, speaking quietly to one another in conspiratorial tones with dark expressions on their faces. One of them looks up from the group, surveying the tavern with a suspicious look before crowding back in. Kora can't quite pick apart what they are saying at this distance.
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Zathon approaches the pillars, some frosted blades of grass crunching underfoot. As he runs his fingers across the runs, he racks his memory in search of any magical information about these runes. Looking closely at a few of them, he can recognize the several of them are meant for protection, but he can't quite piece them all together. He then opens up his mind to the surrounding area, drawing from his internal reservoir of divine energy he was acquired over the past several years. While he doesn't detect anything nearby, he does pick up something. Strangely, the pillars are emitted an ever so faint aura of energy similar to auras that surround undead creatures. He isn't quite sure what to make of it. Maybe something is wrong with the pillars?
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As Anothy approaches the door, the feeling of suppression unfortunately persist. It almost reminds of the pressure in your head and sinuses that you get when you catch a cold. Undeterred, he continues on, and when he reaches out to knock on the blue door, it swings open before he can knock upon it to reveal Rhea. The short woman is wearing a cream-colored dress with colorful embroidered reminiscent of leaves, animals, and plants. Her auburn hair is pulled up into loose bun, and few rebellious strands have escaped the bun. Her warm brown eyes widen in surprise as she sees you, and a wide grin splits her face as she rushes out and embraces you, her short arms wrapping around you legs.
"Anthony!" she exclaims in her high pitched, almost squeaky voice. She releases you from her grasp, taking a step back and looking up into your face. "I'm so glad you came! I was a little bit worried you would come."
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Akyan's glare almost causes the jumpy guard to bolt away in terror, but he manages to hold his ground. The other guard leans forward, squinting in Akyan's direction. He says in a gruff voice, "A funeral you say?" He pauses for a moment, and you see an expression of recognition dawn on his face. He instantly relaxes and settles back into a more casual position, drawing a nervous look from his companion. He gives a roaring laugh at the other guard's anxiety before mirthfully continuing, "You're old Grymheart's kid, the drow. I remember you." He beckons you to enter Leafbrook. He chuckles for a moment before saying to the other guard, "You looked like you were 'bout to wet yourself. How could ya forget him? He's been running around this place for years!" The guards let you pass without any objection, although the pudgy guard still looks at you fearfully. You even spot his knees wobbling in fright.
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Jared and Aoufie begin hurrying back down the trail, but the moment they leave pass out between the monoliths, Aoufie feels his magic course back into him. The constricting force on his soul evaporates away. The world snaps back into focus, and leaving the Harengon feeling just as he did before.
Aoufie stops Jared "I feel better the world is right. Something strange happened as I passed the monoliths. Some selective magic of some kind that seems to darken my world and smother my soul." He pauses and scrutinizes the monoliths "I will cast a spell to see if these monoliths are magical. It will take some time"
He then grabs his lute and plucks a probing tune and the musical notes themselves transform into magic. Aoufie then says "Revelare Oculus" casting detect magic as ritual that takes 10 minutes.
The majestic trees about you almost seem to sigh as their crimson and orange leaves shiver in the chill breeze that dances through the grim woodland called Neverwinter Forest. The sky overhead is filled engorged clouds that drift lazily. You catch the telltale scent of rain in the air, perhaps a sign of what the clouds have been threatening all day. Autum has arrived at this part of the world, and both the people and the trees are starting to show it. A few colorful leaves dive gracefully to the ground, coming to rest upon the well-worn road upon which you tread. Nature was determined to put on a grand show before the onslaught of winter claimed this forest. The weather the past few days have been quite pleasant, but when you woke up this morning, you could see snow atop the peaks of the jagged mountains to the northeast. You think about the irony of your situation; you are returning to something you could call home because of a death as the world begins to die around you.
You round a corner, and the sleepy village of Leafbrook appears before you. The road you have been following cuts through town, dividing it into two roughly equal halves with side roads intertwining between homes and shops. All the buildings have the same rustic, hardly look to them. You see more than one thin plume of smoke escaping from stone chimneys as people are trying to retain warmth in their places of residence. Surrounding Leafbrook is a stout wall made of timber and beams, guarding the village from the wilds about it. Through the gate, you can see people bundled up bustling around town, and you can hear the sounds of civilization emanating from that opening: people chattering to one another in common, the clanging of a hammer on steel as the blacksmith performs his craft, the clatter of wagon wheels as they clamor across cobblestone to name a few of the sounds you hear. Leafbrook is just as you left it.
Whether you like Leafbrook or not, it is not your final destination. You know that beyond this town lies your goal: Grymhearth. In fact, looking to a small hill to the north, you can see the tip of brown roof of barn that shares the property with Grymhearth peeking over the tops of colorful trees.
What do you do?
Zathon stares at the brown roof for a touch too long. His mother's death isn't the only one weighing on him, and his head still feels off after the accident. He briefly thinks about visiting Savra, but if divine healing couldn't help he doubts she could. He carries on toward Grymhearth. It's still early, as he set off soon after receiving the letter and he would much rather be here than headquarters.
The wagon slows to a stop and Aoufie coming from the far north is already bundled in layers of clothing. On his back is his lute and by his side is his father's blade. There is a creak coming from the wagon as he steps down pausing for a moment to survey Leafbrook and is surprised how unchanged the town is in all this time. It is currently midafternoon. Each step closer to home brings on a heaviness in his heart. The display of autumn leaves brings to his mind past autumns spent here. Hm....happier times. He slowly trudges up the hill to see his Aunty Grym one last time. His mind is filled with questions, and he hoped Rhea can explain what happened.
Kora finds herself navigating through this part of the Neverwinter woods much easier than she expected. Having avoided this particular area religiously since she left. She finds this amusing as she heads through the area, enjoying the beautiful show nature puts on this time of year, breathing deep and watching as critters scurry around getting ready for hibernation.
The woman was wearing her typical leathers, with her white hair untamed as usual, several braids running through and probably a few feathers stuck in randomly that she was unaware of. Her ice blue eyes scanned the area as she arrived to Leafbrook late afternoon, recognizing so much it, memories came rushing back to her in a flood. Taking a breather, she leans up against a tree and lets the breeze wash over her a bit as she collects herself.
Sighing, she looks up at the pregnant clouds and knows it is about to pour. Resigned to heading into town for lodging, she makes her way into Leafbrook and heads towards the Fat Goose. Grymhearth can wait until tomorrow. Easily finding the Inn, she heads inside.
"BURP!!"
A wild belch comes from Jared as he proceeds to pick his teeth with a twig he has found, trying to fish the remnant of his last meal.
"BUNNYMAN!" Jared suddenly calls out, seeing Aoufie stepping off his fancy wagon that the Harengon took to get to Leafbrook.
Jared picks up his step to catch up with Aoufie.
He laughs once he catches up with his "brother".
"Finally escaped that evil magician's hat did you?"
Jared laughs again at his own, very old tease for Aoufie.
"How'd you find out about Mum?" Jared asks a bit more somberly.
Aoufie turns around with his left ear twitching slightly and lets out an exasperated sigh. "I got the letter up north in Icewindale. Bryn Shander to be more precise. I headed back as soon as I can. How did you find out?"
Akyan wearily trudges towards the sleepy little village, it's around midday. This isn't the first time he regrets forgetting his hat. He'd become so used to avoiding the sun that he hadn't needed it. At least the overcast sky helps block the light.
As a thief catcher, most of his work is done at night and he much prefers it that way. The sun will never be friendly to his sensitive silver eyes. However, right now he very much loathes his odd meditation schedule. In order to get here when the sun is still up, he'd stayed awake much longer than usual. Plus he's not sure how long he's going to stay here, that said he's gonna have to force himself back into a normal daytime routine.
Squinting against the sun he stares at the brown roof of Grymhearth for a moment before making up his mind. He's just to tired to listen to anyone right now, it would be best to head to the Fat Goose inn. With luck, most of his 'family' will have gone strait home. So many memories in this place. Why did he have to return due to such terrible news?
He runs a hand through his silver-white hair and sighs. Standing here isn't making him any less tired and it certainly won't change the past. With that he makes his way to the inn and heads inside.
"I was in Daggerdale doing a job when one of those magic letters reached me." He tells Aoufie. "I thought elves lived forever." he says sadly
It had been a long journey for Anthony, one he'd almost declined to make. He'd long ago let go of misplaced and childish resentments, but he'd resisted what Aoelwyn had been trying to offer so strongly and stayed away for so long, that he didn't really feel he had a right to be here. Brother Lucas, however, was right that it was the least bit of respect he could show someone who’d done her best by him. He should view it as an exercise in humility and atonement. Whether it would be good for him to dive back into those memories, Brother Anthony was less certain, but it was only a few days. And begging forgiveness for being a bratty kid was nothing against the other things he was still trying to make amends for. This should be easy by comparison.
A little better than 300 miles from Scornubel to Baldur's Gate, then another thousand up the coast to Neverwinter, and another day here. Anthony would likely be one of the later ones to trickle in. The trip had been costly, but Brother Lucas had insisted on providing reasonably safe transportation to remove any obstacles or excuses from Anthony's way.
He'd taken time to wash up in Neverwinter, but another day or so on the road had him arriving travel weary and dusty from the road. Alone on his journey, he’d chosen to travel armed and armored between Neverwinter and Leafbrook, even with the roads fairly well patrolled. To some he might cut an imposing figure - not particularly tall, but broad shouldered and heavily built, dressed in chainmail, and armed with a flail and shield, the most noticeable feature being an undyed surcoat with a red cord belt and red cord wraps on his wrists. It was enough that most residents of Faerun to recognize him as a follower of Ilmater - a templar or priest. He also openly wore a carved wooden holy symbol, a pair of hands bound by red painted cord, on twine around his neck.
He made his way through the small town, not ready to introduce himself, instead taking comfort in people interacting with the priest rather than the man. ‘Good evening, brother,’ ‘Blessings of the Broken One,’ and the like. The man under the priestly garb was ordinary. Like everyone and no one, a brown-haired, brown-eyed human. There were two on every corner in every town. He didn’t expect anyone here to recognize him if he was remembered at all. He’d filled out, his hair was shaved close on the sides, and his smile quick and easy where he’d worn a petulant scowl most of his time here.
As the home where he’d spent a handful of years in his youth came into view, he was hit with the expected, but still uncomfortable, memories. Only now did he realize that he’d pushed this place so far to the back of his mind that he hadn’t really believed it had been real. It felt like a dream or a life lived by someone else. Climbing haystacks and jumping off. Exploring the woods and fields. Going to ridiculous lengths to avoid the least bit of responsibility and break even the most minor rules. A sliver of time bookended by his real life in the back alleys of Scornubel.
The man saw what the child had been unable to, an idyllic sanctuary away from the troubles of the wider world with people that could have been family if he hadn’t been so afraid that letting them in would be disloyal to his ‘real’ family back home.
After taking it all in, Anthony scrubs the back of his head then makes himself approach and knock on the front door.
Zathon trudges plods on towards Leafbrook, intent on reaching Grymhearth. Two spear-wielding guardsmen clad in leather armor standing just at the gate nod as you pass, hardly giving you a second look. He weaves through the busy streets of Leafbrook, his breath pluming before him in the crisp morning air. A few people recognize you, offering you waves or head nods in your direction. He leaves through the gates on the other side of the town, and path changes from cobblestone back to packed dirt and dust. You follow the trail as it begins curving around the final forested hill between you and Grymhearth. You cross over the familiar small stone bridge that stands solemnly over the small, cheerfully babbling stream that cuts under the trail. You turn the final corner, and at last you have arrived.
About 100 feet farther up the trail, you see the familiar exterior of Grymhearth. The rustic building was rather large for a typical home, and you recall that it used to be an inn before Aeolwyn took over and began expanding it. The cream-colored exterior of the building is masked behind a tangle of blooming vines that climbs tenaciously up the building. The familiar blue shingles gleam brightly in the morning light, and it appears that a few yellow leaves have found their way upon those shingles. Behind the house, you can see the looming form of the barn you saw earlier. You can hear a few horses nickering in the barn.
Flanking the path on either side of the trail about 30 feet ahead are two imposing monoliths of stone. Unnaturally dark and smooth, they almost seemed to absorb the morning sunlight , giving them almost a dark penumbra about them. You can make out the faint silvery runes scratched into the monoliths. As you recall, there are stones placed about every 100 feet encircling the property.
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Kora passes under the gate and makes her way to the Fat Goose. The rather squat building matches the aesthetic of Leafbrook, appearing sturdy and rural. A polished goose frozen in flight and carved out of wood juts out of the building above the door. A small sign written in cursive has "Fat Goose" hangs from the gooses outstretched beak. Cheery firelight spills out frosted windowpanes set into the building. Kora pushes open the door, and a wave of warmth escapes from the entryway as she enters.
The Fat Goose is sparsely populated this morning. A few townsfolk sit scattered amongst the dark wooden tables and chairs that rest near the walls of the Fat Goose. The floor is bare in the center of the inn, providing a place for dances that the townsfolk enjoyed doing with one another. Set into the east wall is a blazing hearth that warms this space against the chill of outside. Morning light streaming through the windows ligth this chamber, and you see unlit oil lanterns hanging form hooks throughout the room. You catch the scent of simmering stews, baking bread, and tantalizing pastries. A few pictures of geese hang on the walls around the room, and a stuffed goose is set above the hearth.
You see a woman wearing a simple black smock brushing crumbs off of a nearby table. You recognize her as one the workers here.
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As Akyan saunters towards the gates, one of the guards glances his direction. You see him jump in surprise as he fumbles with his spear before leveling it at you. You can see that the man is rather pudgy, and he holds his spear the way an untrained person would. He shouts out to you, "Halt! Go no further, dark elf!" You can tell by his heavy breathing and trembling spear that he is terrified of you. His fellow guard also levels his spear in your direction, but he seems a little more steady. A few of the townsfolk look your direction at the guard's outburst, and you see several of them hurry into buildings. It appears these simple townsfolk have forgotten who you are.
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As Jared and Aoufie follow the trail towards Grymhearth, chatting as they do, they pass between the imposing monoliths that guard the trail. The moment Aoufie steps past them, darkness suddenly takes his vision. He feels as if something dark and heavy smothers his soul. He can barely hear a deep humming sound, and the darkness fades from your vision after a moment. As it does, you feel almost, an you instinctively know that something is preventing access to your magic. The world seems almost dimmer than it did before, life less vibrant. Jared doesn't feel anything as he passes the pillars.
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Anthony experiences the same phenomenon as he passes the monoliths. His divine connection almost seem suppressed, something he has never experienced before.
Aoufie stumbles back half crumpling to the ground gasping for air. "Jared, I need help I can't see!' That aloof demeanor is gone replaced by abject fear. What in the nine hells is going on my soul hurts am I dying. When his vision clears, he looks around trying to rub his eyes, but the grim landscape does not change. "I need to see Old Savra. Something is wrong with me. Please come with me."
Ok, Kora thinks to herself, a warm meal would be a nice change of pace, this isn't so bad. As she notices the scent of something simmering and the tell tale aroma of warm bread. Taking another deep breath, she crosses the threshold and heads over to the fire, enjoying it's warmth a bit after her trek through the forest.
After a few minutes she approaches the woman in the black smock, "Excuse me, could I order some food?" she doesn't look the woman in the eyes, as she has this gnawing feeling she knows her and doesn't want to be recognized.
Zathon recalls staring at the pillars often as a child, his fingertips trace the runes, wondering if now they will reveal their secrets to him. Arcana Check: 17, Activating Divine Sense
Anthony, relatively new to life as a 'man of the cloth', has yet to feel that connection very strongly, and he's uncomfortably used to waves of dizziness and blackouts that have nothing to do with magic and everything to do with his history of...bad choices. As always, he waits for the feeling to pass and continues his limping gait toward his destination, disappointed, but not surprised that this visit is already affecting him more than he'd hoped.
Akyan grits his teeth. No matter how many times he finds himself in this situation, it never gets any less irritating. The fact that he's tired doesn't help. Though, he knows that he really can't blame these people. Not for treating him as such, nor for just forgetting his face. The shorter lived races do seem to have shorter memories. Despite his weariness, he crosses his arms and stands up a bit straighter. He's slightly taller than average for an elf, which doesn't really make him all that tall. A dark, dust covered cloak covers his lean yet well muscled body, though it doesn't hide the rapier hanging at the drow's hip.
He scowls at the two guards, fixing the frightened one with a cold silver gaze before shifting it to the other more composed man. He huffs, "Look, I'm really not in the mood for this right now. I'm not here to raid the town or whatever, I'm here to attend a funeral." His right hand grips his upper arm a bit tighter as he finishes his sentence, and he looks away from the guards. Yes, that's why he's here. "So please, just let me through." He says this in a much softer tone then before.
"You eat a bad carrot there Aoufie?" asks Jared as he reaches out to steady the Harengon.
Jared nods his head to Aoufie's request.
"Sure, sure, I'll get you to Savra." he tells him.
With that Jared will do his best to guide Aoufie the rest of the way, supporting or carrying him as needed.
Aoufie is comforted that his brother is here to help. Leaning on Jared he makes his way to Old Savra's Place and hurriedly knocks on the door. "Savra I need help!"
Anthony took in the state of the building and grounds as he waited for his knock at the door to Grymhearth to be answered. Everything seemed to be similar to how he remembered. Things in good repair. Some of the trees and shrubs had grown bigger while some of the buildings looked smaller. It hadn’t escaped him that Aoelwyn was young for an elf. Wealth and good deeds couldn't protect one from tragedy it seemed. Or perhaps she'd upset the wrong people with some if her work.
He spotted Tom moving around between the buildings on his various chores. Anthony gave the other man a wave and dimpled smile, looking to see if there was something to jump in and help Tom finish up for the day rather than standing there watching him like a lump.
The woman that Kora speaks to turns around, and she smiles when she sees Kora. She has long, dark hair that falls around her shoulders, and she has kind blue eyes. She responds energetically, "Yes, of course! Our breakfast includes eggs, porridge, some cheese, and an apple from one of local orchards serve with some fresh milk." She gestures to the tables and chairs around you and says, "Feel free to sit wherever you'd like, and I'll back in a few minutes." With that, she bustles off through a door against the far wall, presumably to fetch your food. She didn't seem to recognize you, so you feel somewhat relieved.
Kora takes a seat, and as she waits for a few minutes, she hears the word, "Grymheart" amongst the conversation of a group of men sitting at a table nearby. They all look like farmers: weather-worn skin, grizzled faces, durable clothes covered in dirt and dried mud. She can see they all huddle close together, speaking quietly to one another in conspiratorial tones with dark expressions on their faces. One of them looks up from the group, surveying the tavern with a suspicious look before crowding back in. Kora can't quite pick apart what they are saying at this distance.
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Zathon approaches the pillars, some frosted blades of grass crunching underfoot. As he runs his fingers across the runs, he racks his memory in search of any magical information about these runes. Looking closely at a few of them, he can recognize the several of them are meant for protection, but he can't quite piece them all together. He then opens up his mind to the surrounding area, drawing from his internal reservoir of divine energy he was acquired over the past several years. While he doesn't detect anything nearby, he does pick up something. Strangely, the pillars are emitted an ever so faint aura of energy similar to auras that surround undead creatures. He isn't quite sure what to make of it. Maybe something is wrong with the pillars?
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As Anothy approaches the door, the feeling of suppression unfortunately persist. It almost reminds of the pressure in your head and sinuses that you get when you catch a cold. Undeterred, he continues on, and when he reaches out to knock on the blue door, it swings open before he can knock upon it to reveal Rhea. The short woman is wearing a cream-colored dress with colorful embroidered reminiscent of leaves, animals, and plants. Her auburn hair is pulled up into loose bun, and few rebellious strands have escaped the bun. Her warm brown eyes widen in surprise as she sees you, and a wide grin splits her face as she rushes out and embraces you, her short arms wrapping around you legs.
"Anthony!" she exclaims in her high pitched, almost squeaky voice. She releases you from her grasp, taking a step back and looking up into your face. "I'm so glad you came! I was a little bit worried you would come."
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Akyan's glare almost causes the jumpy guard to bolt away in terror, but he manages to hold his ground. The other guard leans forward, squinting in Akyan's direction. He says in a gruff voice, "A funeral you say?" He pauses for a moment, and you see an expression of recognition dawn on his face. He instantly relaxes and settles back into a more casual position, drawing a nervous look from his companion. He gives a roaring laugh at the other guard's anxiety before mirthfully continuing, "You're old Grymheart's kid, the drow. I remember you." He beckons you to enter Leafbrook. He chuckles for a moment before saying to the other guard, "You looked like you were 'bout to wet yourself. How could ya forget him? He's been running around this place for years!" The guards let you pass without any objection, although the pudgy guard still looks at you fearfully. You even spot his knees wobbling in fright.
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Jared and Aoufie begin hurrying back down the trail, but the moment they leave pass out between the monoliths, Aoufie feels his magic course back into him. The constricting force on his soul evaporates away. The world snaps back into focus, and leaving the Harengon feeling just as he did before.
Aoufie stops Jared "I feel better the world is right. Something strange happened as I passed the monoliths. Some selective magic of some kind that seems to darken my world and smother my soul." He pauses and scrutinizes the monoliths "I will cast a spell to see if these monoliths are magical. It will take some time"
He then grabs his lute and plucks a probing tune and the musical notes themselves transform into magic. Aoufie then says "Revelare Oculus" casting detect magic as ritual that takes 10 minutes.