[IC] Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

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[IC] Aesithas (D&D 5e Homebrew) - On Hiatus

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GM Fading Memory

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Zeroth

The Quest is to Unite the peoples of Aesithas and Rekindle the trust in the Line of Braedan that has been eroded over the generations since the Reforging of the Blade of the Dale.

*Banditry in the Dale; the ordinarily disparate and small groups have been growing more ambitious and organized, the troubled and starving bandits of last year have evolved into a more disciplined and cut-throat calibre. Mildred has received rumor of patronage; someone funding, feeding, and training the bandits to prey on the peoples of the Dale. The only lead she has on this is the increasingly dangerous passage to the Southland Deepwood, and the abysmal news that comes from the region.

*The Heartlands, so nearby to Fenhall, as has been elaborated on by Amaryllis, have gone to Rot and Madness. Mildred wants an expedition mounted to delve the Forests and see if there is a Source of the Madness, and if possible for it to be cleansed. She expresses concern over a location that Amaryllis has heard of as well, though has not visited in her isolated growth; The Heart Spring. Mildred elaborates that in the stories of the Heartlands, the Heart Spring is allegedly a magical font of the Everbloom's nectar in the center of the forest; if anything has gone wrong, it must be there.

*The Shield Mountains are under Plague; Dag'Tyr's knowledge is new here, but she stresses that this is as critical as the other issues- and she will do all she can to lend aid to the Kin in the meantime. She arranges for a party of healers to be drafted from the Temple and the Castle staff to head there ahead of time to do what they can immediately.

*Waltone is under siege from the Undead. When the Party decides to pursue this avenue of the Quest, Alison will voice more information on this issue.

*The Zephyrites in Isolation; Mildred fears that history is doomed to repeat itself, with the Zephyrites once again secluding themselves to their Cloud Kingdom. However noble their aspirations and goals, and how important The Old Nimbus is to Aesithas, she wants the means to travel to the Cloud Kingdom to be rediscovered from the obscurity of time so that diplomacy can begin once again.

*The Badlands are in disarray; Mildred wants stability returned to the region, and she'd prefer it to be under the lineage of Tyrania in honor of her ancient oath to her own ancestor. Anything that regains the might of the Behemoths in full to the peoples of Aesithas is worth doing, and while she is only able to offer minimal information on this request, Vigil will, when the time comes, be able to elaborate more clearly on the issues of the Badlands.

*Ultimately, she wishes for a dignitary of each people to swear homage to the Blade of the Dale and reforge the Alliance of Aesithas. To this end, the Blade of the Dale will need to be recovered from the edge of the Lands Beyond. Once all other goals have been completed, she will personally make this journey with you all to recover her birthright.

Hidden 3 yrs ago → 3 yrs ago Post by Fading Memory

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Fenhall

The greatest of cities, the capital of the Dale Lands, and symbol of the ancient oaths of Aesithas. Fenhall stands upon a rise in the dale, a hillock being the foundation of its original longhall in ancient times. Over countless generations that founding hillock has been built upon in a slow evolution to the grand palace that now stands at the heart of the dale; from tribal longhall to imposing hillfort; from hillfort to a rising tower; from a tower to a grand Castle. Its stone walls and high parapets have often been a sign of the strength of the Dale Folk. Its omnipresent status over the surrounding city a promise of safety come danger. The high tower, storied to have been the home of the Blade of the Dale, is said to have once lit like a beacon with the rising sun...

The city radiates outwards from the palace, surrounding it on all sides, with a main promenade paving its way from the main gate of the Palace through the city and to its western gate. This cobbled stone road houses the market of the city and sees good traffic even in these times as far off travelers and merchants come to peddle their goods or seek refuge from the wilds within the stone walls of Fenhall, but one cannot help but see that even at noontime and during the harvest the streets have ample room for more to come. Prominent, near to the western gate, is the Grand Temple to the Two-Faced Gods. 

A stark contrast to the ancient grandeur of the Royal Palace, the Grand Temple is meticulously designed and encompasses a great width rather than a towering height. A large central building is comprised of terraced viewing balconies in the round about a central sanctum, with six branching avenues dissecting this central chamber. Each of these avenues leads to a chamber housed in neighboring constructions, each one's construction as artisanal as that of the central temple, dedicated to each of the separate Two-Faced Gods. Each day of the week a different service is found here, with the seventh day bearing a grand sermon from the Archbishop himself in the central temple. Whilst still meticulously maintained, it is clear that time and circumstance have lead to a decline in the state of the temple; stones on the walk are cracked, pews grow dusty and forgotten, but the altars are tended to with the fervor of the devout...

But all that the Palace of Fenhall represents these days is the failures of generations of kings. No longer to the citizens of Fenhall gaze towards the castle with awe or hope; no longer does the high tower blaze with the grace of Renyo; no longer do the Palace Guards walk the streets proud of their heritage and the justice they represent. No longer does the Grand Temple seem as a communion to the Gods; no longer do the masses heed the Archbishop's sermons; no longer does its illustrious design inspire at the sight of its vaunted great doors. And why would they? The palace houses Mildred the Unready, the accursed and doomed witch of Fenhall, and the Gods themselves seem to have abandoned Aesithas to this decay...

Nay, now the people's gaze falls only at their feet, with scant few daring to raise their eyes towards the horizon- or towards Hope...

 As dawn breaks over Fenhall, the light of the sun struggles to break through the dense cloud cover of the day and the gloom of night clings to the waking world most dreadful. Light breaks through the cloud coverage in sparse locations, brightening up the morning dutifully, but a light rain that begins to fall cascades coolly down upon the streets and joins the gloom in an unpleasant matrimony. The main streets that are paved become slick underfoot, and much of the city becomes riddled with mud patches where paving stones give way to dirt pathing.

On this auspicious day of days, as if guided by the hand of Olst himself, you six arrive at Fenhall by way of the West Gate, having traveled the main stone road that begins at the mouth of the dale, where a bridge crosses the River Dale and leads down into the great valley that the tribes of Men have called home since ancient times.  It is a many day journey from the mouth of the dale to Fenhall itself, the main road passing beneath the watch of the First Fort, Castle Boville, which rises upon the northern crest of the valley and surveys over the road to Fenhall. The journey from there was safe, the sheltered protection of the valley and the knowledge that the First Fort was at your backs granting you a peace and sanctuary that is rare upon the road.

Arriving at Fenhall, a great Noctem Shanty has been constructed outside the walls; wagons and tents gathered together in a communal manner, tied and hitched to create a shared space out of the rain where the Noctem who can ill afford to travel share their supplies and resources. A great multitude of family troupes comingle in this place, the banner of the Royal Palace flying over a prominent wagon by the road; a symbol of the princess Mildred's permission and blessing to take residence outside the walls.

The road into Fenhall is open, the gates welcoming and a nearby stable maintained by a singular member of the Palace Guard who tends to a pair of scrawny draft horses. Despite the light shower of rain the paved path is busy on the morn as people try to prepare for the day's market. The path leads through the central market of the city, where a mix of tent, booth, and permanent wood and stone buildings present themselves as shops and services. Finally, the portcullis of the Royal Palace is raised; admitting all who wish to enter into the castle's grounds.

Colorful tents rise to multi-canopied peaks, forming a cloth approximation of a mountain range atop the myriad wagons the Noctem peoples traditionally call home. Here, outside Fenhall, several hundred Noctem have gathered to form this small village of cloth and wagon. The rain falls down upon their homes directly, no large buildings save the stone wall of Fenhall to shield the oncoming precipitation from their tents. Mud begins to ooze along the edges of the stone road, and their wagons are already sunken into the mud- a sign of having been here quite some time.

Near to the road, a few paces off its paved surface under the protection of a solitary lean-to constructed from an overturned wagon, tent-poles, and a series of stitched together bedrolls, an elderly Noctem man and woman sit together weaving. Their hair, typically fair for the Noctish people, is thin and waifish, the silvery strands falling loosely about their heads and shoulders, but their hands- accentuated by a rackety clicking noise as their joints bend and pop- work tirelessly. The duo work in silence, not even gazing at the road as travelers pass.

Passive Perception: everyone except I'Rajith notices that the duo are being watched by small gathering of Noctem from beneath the shadows of the greater tent-shanty, as if their task is of some great import.

Passive Investigation: I'Rajith and Iris can discern the specific pattern of their quilt at a glance; a winding road or bridge crossing multiple times upon the background of a river, music notes woven upon this road whose paved stones form a meter upon the horizontal cross-sections created by the bridge pattern upon the river.

Standing at the gate a Noctem woman with skin the color of marble, dressed finely for the wandering folk in a long dress whose heavy skirts fall down the full length of her legs to her ankles in a rainbow of deep colors, sways in the rain before a gate guard. She is silent, but an air of worry and concern radiates off her palpably. Her long fingers play at her skirts, delicate and dexterous movements seemingly innocuous- but in truth, as I'Rajith can tell plainly enough, Noctish gestures of timekeeping; the equivalent of counting aloud, as if she were keeping track of something critical.

The Main Road widens after entering the Western Gate, turning into a wider promenade that leads into the heart of the city where it widens into the Market Plaza, before narrowing back into a wide road that leads to the Castle. Myriad booths, stalls, wagons laden with meagre harvests, and more permanent enterprises fill this place.

Of note...

*There is an apothecary- a painted wooden sign displaying simply a bottle of red liquid with a stopper being the indicator of this business- though its windows reveal empty shelves lined with cobwebbing, and a young human man lazily resting upon the countertop within. His expression is one of forlorn resignation.

*A young human girl, already soaked through her sack of a dress, stands defiantly in the rain. Her black hair is slicked down her face and neck, hewn short in an amateurish manner, but unlike so many around her her eyes blaze with a fiery ambition. Her bare feet, rough and bruised, find strong purchase on the slick flagstones beneath her as she stares into the window of a shop. At her side, a young cub of a Behemoth seems so very out of place; the young boy, whose fur is an almost blue hue and whose shoulders are lined with delicate looking spines, rises only to the girl's waist and seems so much more nervous than she is. His eyes furtively glance all about, every which way, in a fearful manner. The shop she stares into so fixedly has an elegant sign hanging above the door; 
The Winds of the Dale
a Music Shoppe.
I'Rajith and Iris, should they give the girl any heed, would be able to discern the specific object of her obsession is a lute in the front window, marked as damaged and discounted.

*Already, almost as if to spite the chill and wet of the dawn, smoke rises from a small smithy in the plaza. A middle aged man, a portly figure of a human, wearing a heavy set smith's apron and wielding a hammer lightly in his hand has a small crowd on his doorstep. He deals with each person in short order; brief words, shaken hands, clasped arms, and kissed cheeks for the womenfolk. Soon the Plaza rings with the sound of nails being hammered out.
Once again, everyone except I'Rajith notices offhand that the Smith does not appear to take money from anyone who comes to him after their talks. Whatever was discussed was seemingly payment for the Smith.

Entering under the ancient stonework of the Castle Gate, the interior courtyard of the palace is lovely. The rain seems to suit this place, its exterior circumference being a hedge-walled garden of flowers where a set of humans work as gardeners; central to the area however, directly within from the gate, is a bare-earthed stretch of land recognizable as a training grounds and gathering place for the Palace Guard. Indeed, even now, a few people are gathered;

*A Noctem woman, wearing leathers and carrying a longbow, shuffles uncomfortably in this place. She quietly shuffles her hands in a soothing way, constantly patting places on her attire where one would assume myriad pockets were concealed. She is clearly uncomfortable in this place, but seems filled with a sense of purpose.

*A red eyed Zephyrite is present as well, the diminutive being of cloud presented in a masculine form and wearing a fine breastplate meticulously shined and cleaned, with a scimitar and buckler upon his belt. Curiously enough he appears to have shifted his body to emulate a moustache, the curly thing reminiscent of some dale-lord.

*A human woman, older than everyone else present by a wide margin, holds herself in a refined manner. She is wearing attire of travel and does not seem to mind the rain, but her clothing and appearance bear the manicure of one who has lived in luxury. There are no rips or tears in her trousers. Her tunic is clean and pressed. Her blonde hair, streaked with wisps of silver, is braided in a sensible bun. About her neck is a large medallion, shining brightly with a blue gemstone in its center. She carries no armaments and wears no armor, unlike the others present, but she somehow does not feel out of place. 

*A tall, broad shouldered, young human man. His garb is that of simple peasantry, but his body is possessed of a strength that belies a life of hard labor and intense work. His hands and arms show burn marks of the forge, and indeed carried at his hip like a weapon in a leather thong is a blacksmithing hammer. This boy is deep in conversation with...

*A Red haired knight, whose green cloak matches the deepness of his forest eyes. The heraldry he wears marks him as a Royal Guard, yet he has a unique emblazon upon his breastplate as well; A red sword upon a background of snow, marred by a streak of charcoal. Whilst his armor is heavy he carries but a simple longsword at his hip and a heavy crossbow within his cloak. He and the human boy appear to have a rapport already.
Anyone who wishes to study the heraldry of the knight may roll a history check when they arrive at the Palace Courtyard.

The Noctem woman appears to be trying to avoid any kind of discussion about anything with anyone, whereas the greying human woman and the zephyrite appear to be in a cordial discussion.

Feel free to interact with each other or these scenes as you see fit. I will respond as needed/when possible. There will not be a hard OOC Deadline date for reaching the palace courtyard at this time, but if folks end up in a position where they're waiting on someone I will likely arbitrate a 'finish this scene in PMs and let's move on as a group, post it as a flashback or something later'. I'm laid back as a GM, I like roleplaying, but I like communicating and establishing a good game environment more than anything else. Let's have a good time.

A note on pricings; I'm largely going to be completely winging the economy here, but I intend to make things broadly destitute and the gold you all started with feel like a pretty wealthy existence.

Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Neianna86

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As Dag’Tyr made his way up towards the Western Gate, he kept a steady pace and a steady gentle hum.
The day had been nothing but gloomy and grey since he left earlier that morning and the cold and unforgiving rain was bone chilling.
A child of warm barrow halls and burning forges this kind of wet cold seeped into the bones of the soul if one was not careful. 
Thus in order to keep up his spirits the young man had mumbled and hummed songs of old. 
Tales of days long past, of the glory days of Du’Eld and others like him.
Seeing the current destination within easy reach lightened his heart and hurried his step.
He readjusted his father’s shield upon its back, it depicted a large wolf biting down on a man’s arm. 
The image holding special significance as it depicted their ancestor and the sacrifice he suffered when he slew the dreaded beast Haralon a particular menace of a monster.
As he reached the first tents of the Noctem he glanced around curiously. He had not yet seen their folk often during his travels, so to be able to observe them in amongst one another was an unexpected pleasure, though Dag’Tyr inwardly sighed at the unfortunate weather.
From the look of the place it could very well hold work for him, as the rain often brought out illness in the weaker folk. Children and particularly the elderly fell prey to nasty infections of the respiratory variety, best to move on and find the nearest apothecary whose supplies would undoubtedly be depended upon. He moved on passing through the gate nodding kindly to the lady near it and entering Fenhall itself, making his way to the apothecary only stopping when he noticed the empty shelves through the window.

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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by karamonnom

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Iris

The gloomy clouds and rain reminded Iris of home. She casually wondered if her people had anything to do with the weather, but did not follow that flimsy thought much further. It has been a long journey, and Iris felt her excitement brewing like a storm inside her as she spotted the large West Gate. Ambition and hope tend to go hand in hand, and Iris had plenty of both. She would continue honing her skills, make her craft known, and save the continent all in one go! At least, that was the plan. 

As she walked along the path, she paused briefly to admire the work of the elderly Noctem couple. As one craftsperson to another, she respected the delicate beauty of their handiwork. The small crowd that was watching them in the distance also seemed to have an interest in the couple's work. 

She continued on her way and made it into the Market Plaza. Catching her attention immediately was the smithy with its hot smoke rising into the air. She figured she had time before she needed to go to the palace, so she sped towards it and the small crowd in front of the smithy.  She watched curiously as the Smith seemed to come to an agreement with every customer (?), one by one without accepting any payment from them. Maybe they already made an agreement prior? Still, it was an odd sight. She became more curious and decided to talk to the Smith himself. "Hello there, good sir. Are you the Smith of this establishment? What do you specialize in making?"

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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Fading Memory

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@Neianna86

Dag'Tyr is undisturbed in his passage through the gate, and it isn't until he is in the Market Plaza itself that he gets a few appraising- and a few awed- stares. For most it had been months since they'd last seen a Kin walk the streets of Fenhall. none approached or bothered him, and people even removed themselves from his path if they found themselves to be in his intended route.

And thus he finds himself, a wide berth of cautious respect established around him, standing at the front of the Apothecarium. Its windows, while uncluttered of cobwebs and in a state of wholeness and repair, are dirty and streaked from cleansing with a dirty rag. The man inside raises his eyes from his bare counter.

At first he does not seem to even register that Dag'Tyr is there. Then, a few seconds after his eyes fall upon the Kin, his brain seems to register what they see. Bolting upright, the man rushes to the door and throws it open.

"Salutations and welcome! I apologize for the sorry state of things! Ever since the Heartlands have become a place of shadow, I've had great issues with keeping reagents in stock for the shelves. I can still take orders, but I admit that things are growing dire for a humble alchemist such as myself these days. Prithee, what are your needs?"

@karamonnom

Without lifting his head from the work he had begun, the Smith continues the tenacious task of straightening and hammering the bent nails he had into straight and usable works of smithcraft. At first it appears he had not even heard Iris' queries, but as he steps aside to work the red-hot glow of a nail with his tongs against the anvil his gruff voice speaks out;

"Nary a thing, cloudling. I work what needs workin'. I won't claim any mastery o'er any part of the craft, but I can work metal into horseshoe, ploughshare, or tool o' war well enough. Lately there's been need of nails, so I work the nails this morn'. If you need work done the line is long today, but if you can afford to pay fair then there's room to fit you in. If not, come back earlier tomorrow and state your case and your need."

Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Guardian Angel Haruki

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Amaryllis

....There was no time to waste...

Amaryllis was definitely restless as she made her journey. Now, she was here! She arrived to Fenhall! 

The Druidic Construct of Nature, hurried through Fenhall, never even bothering to stop at the various things she noticed. She even made use of her ability to move through nature to speed her progress through the city if she could. 

She is making her way to the castle, fully intent and focused on reaching the Princess to speak with her. 

"...."

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Hidden 3 yrs ago → 2 yrs ago Post by Neianna86

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Dag’Tyr raised an easy hand. 
“Good day to you good sir. I sympathise with thy plight, the Kin too know all too well the wretchedness the Shadow brings and to see another fall victim to its elusive claws is truly a miserable sight to behold. Unfortunately, as of yet I am not in need of any thy mixes or potions but rather of thy experience and knowledge.”Dag’Tyr spoke calmly though with a certain resolution in his tone of voice.
“Though I beg you to not discuss such matters so out in the open.”  Dag’Tyr again raised a hand in an attempt to strengthen his words. 
“Fear not the request I make is not of ill nature, but I must confess I prefer the small comfort of a roof o’er my head when conversing. Would you allow me to enter thy humble shop?” He asked as he awaited confirmation from the man first. 
Amongst the Kin proper courtesy and manners were always held in high regard. To force one’s entrance or show impatience was a faux pas that was tightly scrutinized by the Kin. Best to avoid it and show common sense and proper manners.

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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by XxFellsingxX

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XxFellsingxX Your Own Portable Ninja Friend

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Vigil

Making one's way through the busy streets of Fenhall would be a challenge for anyone, but for someone as large and inexperienced with city life as Vigil, it was near impossible. It didn't help that his tail, currently morphed into the form of a makeshift club, had a habit of swishing from to side to side like that of an agitated cat whenever he was anxious, which in a crowd like this, he certainly was. He grunted and growled what could have either been apologises or curses under his breath as he attempted to weave through the crowd towards the castle. 

As he did so, he seemed to note another heading in the same direction as him - a Wooden One woman, who seemed to be navigating her way through the city much easier and more confidently than he was. He quickened his pace to catch up to the woman, keeping a couple of paces behind her while essentially using her as a way to keep track of where he was among the sea of strangers.

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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by karamonnom

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Iris

"I am not in need of anything now that you have satisfied my curiosity," Iris replied with a smile. She could not help but admire the Smith and his ability to create about anything one would need."I will leave you to your work then."

Although she wanted to ask him more questions and request something, she left the Smith, not wanting to take up more of his precious time. She did not need anything at the moment, and felt that it would be rude to come with a request when he is already so busy. 

Her eyes scanned the marketplace once more but nothing else caught her attention. She decided to head towards the Palace, strolling through the wide path. As she reached the Palace Courtyard, she saw a variety of different people. In particular, the fellow Zephyrite with the funny "mustache". She wondered if they were also here for the Summons.

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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Fading Memory

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@Neianna86

"By all means, enter!" The man sweeps back into the establishment expecting Dag'Tyr to follow. The building is well made, solid, with a foundation of stone and the ground floor being a sturdy make atop this stone base. The wooden building extends upwards to a second floor, presumably where the apothecary lives above the shop, but this ground floor is a visage of destitution and neglect.

"I am Jerald- no fancy titles, but I was taught by my father, who learned from his mother before him, so I'll gladly take your curiosity!"

((Dag'Tyr fields his questions about plague and widespread illness, and Jerald has to take some time to think on the topics))

"Plague...There hasn't been one in the Dale in a few generations. I'd never have thought the Kin could even suffer one if it wasn't happening in my life time. It sounds like the stuff of myths, eh?" The man strokes his jaw in a gesture of deep thought. "I'll tell you what; I'll go back through my grandmother's journals. She was alive at the end of the last plague the lands saw- but I don't suppose you'd mind me making a bargain out of this, eh?"

He smiles a good natured, sly, smile.

"The critical thing I'm missing is Heartroot; it grows all over the place... Or, at least, it used to. It's the main component of many basic healing compounds- including magical healing potions!- and I'm dangerously low on my stock. If you come across any, or find any reliable source of it, and promise to send it my way, I'll gladly do this research. Come back whenever you have time and I'll let you know if I found anything new in her notes. Does that sound like a good deal?"

@Guardian Angel Haruki@XxFellsingxX@karamonnom

Iris...
The smith nods once to Iris, and redoubles his efforts at his task. The pile of straightened or newly forged nails continues to grow steadily; whilst the man claimed no specialty or fame, the speed with which he completed these basic tasks was impressive. Iris turns back to the market and surveys it swiftly...

But aside from the previously described goings ons, nothing new jumps out at her; onwards to the Palace it is!

Amaryllis, Vigil

You two draw strange looks as you pass through the gate and into the city of Fenhall; the Noctem caravan outside appears to magnetically follow you two as if you were fonts of some unspoken inspiration or source of knowledge that they sought to consume with their eyes. The woman at the gate even hesitates in her finger twitches, her dark eyes following your separate, yet aligned, movements.

Once you two enter the Market Plaza properly, as it was the most direct route to your mutual goals, you earn a mix of awe and fear. Amaryllis receives some downright hostile glances and generally seems to be negatively received, with a few people smiling or saying a quiet prayer as she passes.
(Passive Perception [Amaryllis]; it is primarily youths or young adults who appear to harbor this negativity; elders are the ones who seem pleasantly surprised or partially reverent towards her)

Vigil receives looks of intimidated awe; the tales of the noble behemoths fighting off the horrors of the Lands Beyond are thoroughly entrenched in this place, and he is seen as a great creature of respect even in his unknown and unheralded state.

Soon your paths intwine, Vigil's desire to travel along with another coalescing into the duo entering the Palace Courtyard simultaneously, with Iris close behind.

Passive Perception (All):As Vigil makes his way to the courtyard, the young Behemoth cub standing abreast the young girl at the music shop notices him and breaks away from his companion to follow; he keeps his distance, and upon them approaching the castle he appears almost disappointed and slinks back to his companion..

The Palace Courtyard

"Ho there!" The red haired knight breaks off his conversation and waves a hand, his demeanor that of casual familiarity despite the circumstances. "The more the merrier! Join us, join us!" His voice and dialogue carry with a practiced weight over the courtyard, beckoning the oncoming adventurers to him. The young man at his side balks briefly, a bashful expression as his gaze moves from Amaryllis then to Vigil; the bashfulness replaced with a wonder, which only escalates to a blatant and unrepressed awe as Iris enters shortly thereafter; this young man had clearly never seen anything besides a human in his life... until this day, that is.

The Red Haired Knight continues;

"I am Ser Pyke, The Knight of the Ashen Dawn, Captain of her royal majesty's Palace Guard, and so on and so forth- but Ser Pyke will do well enough. I'm afraid we're left to wait for a little while longer, her Ladyship is preparing for the task, and I am under orders to request that we all be patient and polite."

The last word carried a certain strain to it, the word seeming to be directed at one person in particular. Who it is would remain a myste-

"I am nothing if not proper, Pyke." The aged woman chimes in; her voice held a comfortable authority, which seemed to roll over and away from Ser Pyke like water off a fowl's feathers. "I shall be behaving." This has disrupted her conversation with the moustachiod Zephyrite, who appraises those who have entered with a critical red eye. He lifts a hand and twirls it through the tuft of curled facial hair, stretching it out quite a bit before it snaps back to place above his quivering upper lip. He says nothing, yet his silence bears judgement and challenge. It is left to the woman to handle their introductions;

"I am the Lady Alison, Mistress of the House of Waltone. This is my attendant, Cynefrid- but you may all refer to him as simply 'Crimson'."

The Lady curtsies, and Crimson bows stiffly beside her. The boy steps forth next, thudding a fist upon his chest in some misbegotten and youthful pride;

"Tomas Smithson!"

And whilst the young man makes his introductions and begins incessently questioning you newcomers with basic questions such as 'where are you from' and 'why are you here' and 'are you already heroes?', the Noctem woman uses this conversational disruption as a chance to try and extricate herself before conversation reaches her; her method of choice is seemingly to try and sink deeper and deeper into a shrubbery until, after delicate movements of her body, only her eyes are left visible between the branches and leaves. If you had not seen her doing this, you would never have known she was there at all, such was her apparent skill in this act.

Pyke maintains an easygoing atmosphere and smiles as he surveys this group.

"...I think the princess has got the right folks coming in." He appraises, mostly to himself. "Let's see if anyone else shows up."

Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Guardian Angel Haruki

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Guardian Angel Haruki The Healer

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Amaryllis

Amaryllis, despite her haste, notices many things. It came with living in the wilds: Noticing the other forms of life around you, whether you are moving or standing still is paramount to survival. 

She notices the behemoth behind her. She didn't sense hostility from him, so she let him follow her. 

She noticed the saplings of humans and other beings were glaring at her, as though she herself had cut down their great grandparents with an axe. Truly, the gravest offense a Wooden One could give to another. What had she done to them to earn their ire? 

...Was it her family in the Heartlands who harmed them?

She simply nods in thanks to the elders who smile and offer a prayer in her wake. 

Soon enough, she reaches the Courtyard. She notices the bashful look Crimson but doesn't quite react. She takes in the introductions, before she herself gives one in return, 

"I am called Amaryllis, Scholar of the Stars and the Next Druid of the Heartlands," 

Her voice is calm and gentle, but there is a certain sense of authority behind her words as her voice is projected loud enough to be heard while remaining gentle. She remembers why she was here, and she does not let herself relax in the easygoing atmosphere Pyke created. 

After Pyke made the suggestion of waiting, she answers him in the same calm voice, "While I would advocate for patience as well, I'm afraid we do not have time to waste,"

She then makes her point clearly,

"I need to speak with the Princess posthaste,"

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Hidden 2 yrs ago → 2 yrs ago Post by Neianna86

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Dag'Tyr followed him in and allowed his eyes to take in the scenery, before focussing again on the young man. 
He listened carefully allowing the proposal to sink in, mulling it over.
"I expected no less, you being a man of business and such. The 'balance' must be maintained after all."  He regarded his own hands for a moment, the stains the plague had left him with and frowned. 
The plague had been much of a mystery as of yet, if the elderly lady's journal contained even the smallest of hints...it could lead him to a more permanent cure. All in all worth the potential risks. 
Plus, didn't the old saying go two heads know more than one? Maybe the both of them would be able to make more sense of the damned thing, he'd welcome a new and fresh perspective. 
Of course there was also the fact that a town with a healer with no supplies would lead to misery and unnecessary deaths. Veratul didn't spare him to put his own life above those of others, nay if his contribution could have prevent deaths by trying to find a way to supply the man then that would be what Veratul expected him to do.
He nodded to the shopkeeper offering him a warm smile.
"Ne'ertheless Jerald, I will gladly accept the terms of thy offer." He said offering him an outstretched hand.
"So let us shake on it to seal our agreement." Awaiting the man's actions before adding.
"You would have to fill me in on what it looks like though, as I tend to heal through other means and also where I could reasonably and potentially come across this Heartroot?" But before allowed Jerald to explain it he also gestured to the window.
"Also Jerald, could you please explain and help me understand..." He allowed the shopkeepers eyes to find the particular thing he was pointing to.
"How it can be that those little tykes are out, risking illness in this type of weather? Do you happen to know them? Where's their mother?" Dag'Tyr stated having noticed the little ones the moment he had entered the plaza, but knowing his appearance could be intimidating had decided to shake Jerald for some extra information.
The girl broke his heart wearing barely more than a potato sack for a dress, she reminded him of his youngest sister when she was a good deal younger.

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Vigil

As he followed the Wooden One woman towards the palace courtyard, Vigil caught sight of a behemoth cub approaching them from the market plaza. The older warrior pauses mid-stride and regards the cub curiously, having seen so few of his own since he had been taken from his homelands. He raised his head to look for any sign of the boy's parents. Upon finding none, he considered whether he should try and talk to the young cub, ask if he, like Vigil himself, had been taken from his family. However, the woman was continuing to move into the courtyard, and Vigil didn't want to lose track of her. So, reluctantly, he turned his head away and followed after her. He did however decide that, after his business at the palace was concluded, if the cub was still around, he'd make sure he was okay before preceding with whatever the princess' mission was.

Upon being greeted by the red-haired knight, Vigil's body tensed slightly as he looked the man up and down, as if trying to estimate how much of threat he was. He didn't seem hostile, in fact appearing to be in awe of the Behemoth. Vigil forced himself to relax, reminding himself he wasn't in the arena anymore as he listened to the man, who referred to himself as Ser Pyrke, addressed those gathered in the courtyard. It appeared Vigil and the Wooden One woman were far from the only ones to answer the princess' summons, and he took a moment to scan the various individuals gathered. He was dismayed, though not entirely surprised, to find that none of the others were behemoths. His head drooped and he began to paw at the ground as he listened to those around him discuss the situation. Apparently, those in the courtyard had been waiting for the princess for some time, with a few of them start to get rowdy. Even the Wooden One who had arrived along with him seemed eager to begin this audience as soon as possible. As he had been following her from behind, Vigil hadn't gotten a good look at her until now, and raised his head to regard her curiously.

Hidden 2 yrs ago Post by Fading Memory

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Fading Memory The Final Flame of a Fiery Bird

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@Neianna86
Jerald shakes Dag'Tyr's hand thoroughly, and soon sweeps himself into an explanation of Heartroot;

It was a thick root, growing out of the ground in wild places; usually tended by the Wooden Ones as a commodity of their territories. The root was a deep red in color, similar to that of a freshly sliced ripened beet. It seemed to grow outward from exceptionally old trees, age being the critical factor rather than species- but Jerald remarks that many of the nearby trees of suitable age have been found to be rotting rather than alive, leading to this particular shortage he's experiencing. He also comments that the roots, when it rains or when they get wet, can throb like a beating heart and it makes him quite uncomfortable in a general sense- but that this can be a good time to look for fishing bait as well, as their movements draw out worms and other insects.

Jerald casts his gaze out of the shop, towards the girl indicated by Dag'Tyr; the Behemoth cub only just now appearing back at her side.

"Ah...It is unfortunate, but they are orphans and homeless. Rapscallions too, truth be told. They've bitten the hand that feeds more than once, they're a fearful bunch, and now few are willing to trust them. There are beggars even in Fenhall these days, though I often see that girl staring into that shop. Even beggars have dreams, it seems."

@Guardian Angel Haruki@XxFellsingxX@karamonnom

The Palace Courtyard
Pyke appraises Amaryllis in an indirect manner as she speaks, his gaze lingering primarily on the Lady of Waltone after her verbal interjection into his conversational play. He pats Tomas on the shoulder, turning finally to look directly at Amaryllis. He doesn't look her over like Tomas had, but rather meets her gaze evenly as he slips again into an easy smile. Before he can speak, Alison of Waltone chimes in once again. Interrupting Ser Pyke seemed to be a habit of hers.

"I agree; this is ridiculous. I understand her to be 'Unready' but I had not anticipated it to mean 'Lacking in Punctuality' as well!"

"'er behaving didn't last long." Tomas mumbled, his discomfort apparent. Ser Pyke keeps his gaze on Amaryllis, but gestures to Alison with a hand before he speaks;

"A few minutes more, m'ladyships..." His tones were assuaging and calm. "I assure you-"

A horn blows; this was not Pyke's day for dialogue, it seems.

A Horn Blows

The sound resonates and spreads. Originating from the outer wall, quite near to the Noctem Shanty where a guard has raised horn to their lips, the sound is echoed within the city in multiple locations, then finally upon the tall palace exterior walls a trumpet player sounds the alarm in a more complex manner. 

The peoples of the city gasp, cry out, or shout- then begin scrambling.

The Noctem outside all move with haste, the elderly amongst them clicking-and-clacking as they move; the weaving couple are lifted and carried, their work not disrupted in the slightest by this delicate act, and brought inwards into the cover of the heavier wall of tents. Wagons are shifted, great effort taken against the entrenchment of the mud, but their shanty is swiftly, efficiently, fortified and closed off; the tent-tops layering tighter together as many of them seek the cover within wagons or beneath the wide tabletops present.

Within Fenhall, The smith welcomes panicking people into the forge, placing down his tongs to free his hand for a weathered axe he produces from near the anvil. Jerald, the Apothecary, throws his doors open as a tide of people rush inwards to the store- and, indeed, into other stores as well. Soon the marketplace lies abandoned- Almost abandoned. In the chaos of the panic, Dag'Tyr witnesses that young girl pick up a stone and cast it against the music shop window; in the ensuing rush of the crowds, she clambers up through broken glass and grasps the somewhat warped lute in her hands. As she descends back down from the window her foot slips on rainslick wood, her leg catching on a broken shard of the windowpane and she falls to the ground, cradling the Lute in her arms and shielding it with her body as she lands heavily upon herself. The Behemoth Cub rushes towards her, having been separated by the sudden press of the throng...

But the sky darkens; what light had been eking through the cloud coverage suddenly gone. Speckled shadows dance over Fenhall, then the clouds seem to descend;

Tralaya, the fanged swarms of the dreadlord Dykto, descend over Fenhall. The singular mass of monstrous birds split, descending over Fenhall in a stream of foul screams; their jagged beaks parting in a shrill cry that resembles the wail of infants. Crossbow bolts hail into the air, initially stemming the onrush of the birds- but in the lapse of fire brought about by the need to reload, the wave of birds crashes down into the city walls like a loam-laden tide. Screams rise from the city.

The Market Place

Dag'Tyr witnesses, perhaps the sole person of this area besides the Smith and what few Guards have scrambled to this location to keep his wits, the initial descent of the Tralaya. The throng splits and diverges, the singular dark cloud above the city writhing into a series of living tendrils that split into smaller, individual, swarms as they pursue diverging targets. The Guards all make efforts to use crossbows, but are forced to draw swords and don shields as the cloud descends upon the Market; combat is soon to ensue.

The young girl and her behemoth companion are hindered by her wounded leg, and as they attempt to move away from the scene of their crime and this place of danger, the Behemoth is forced to drop the girl upon her knees on the ground and whirl about, the delicate-seeming spines on his shoulders rising into a full, porcupine-esque, flair as he prepares himself for combat. The girl, shaken as she is from her fall, clutches at the Lute feebly at first- but then the fire of conviction surges back in her eyes, and despite the danger or rain she begins softly plucking at the strings and tuning the instrument...

But the Tralaya descend upon the Market Plaza. 

Initiative is not necessary here; Dag'Tyr may act. One (1) 'Tralaya Swarm' descends into the area; others are being dealt with by the myriad NPCs in the area, but this one appears to be closing in on the young orphans. At the moment, Dag'Tyr is 'safe' within Jerald's shop; he could remain within without fear of harm. For the purposes of 'distance', it is at ground level and rushing towards the young ones..

The Palace Courtyard

The Palace Walls are suddenly alive with the heavily armored movements of guards. Even Pyke's calm demeanor has been replaced by one of austere severity; his charisma bending itself from casual friendliness to the importance of the task. He makes a gesture with his arm; this act holding some significance with Tomas Smithson, who draws his smithing hammer with a slow and weighty deliberation. Pyke's longsword is suddenly in hand as well- in good time, too! for the Tralaya surge over the walls.

The Guards make good work of battering the beasts from the air, but the tide is simply too weighty. One guard is lifted off his feet as he swings about with his blade, a dozen Tralaya biting into his armored body and limbs with their jagged beaks, as they throw him from the battlement. Crossbow bolts and sword slashes thin the tide, but cannot stop it. Over the walls and into the courtyard the tralaya surge.

Alison grips the grips the gemstone medallion at her neck, Crimson already with scimitar drawn at her side, and soon the air around her crackles with a strange power as she casts her hand into the air and speaks in the strange tongue of magic; "Fire!"; from between her outstretched fingers, fire surges into the air and consumes a part of the Tralaya coming towards her. Her magic forces the singular cloud to split and break up into smaller, more manageable, swarms; Crimson already soaring into one, blade a blur of movement. From that erstwhile shrubbery, a methodical and strangely paced series of arrows rain out; the Noctem Woman appearing to be selecting targets in a very precise manner from her hiding spot. Tomas, for his part, seems to see a hole in that group's needs and soon he's swinging his hammer with immense strength to bat the Tralaya away from Alison as she recovers and prepares her next spell...

But that is them. Amaryllis, Vigil, and Iris have another problem. The splitting of the Great Swarm has made the Tralaya more manageable- but still a threat.

Two (2) 'Tralaya Swarms' descend over the area; others are being dealt with by the various NPCs, but these two are a direct threat to you three. Vigil, Amaryllis, and Iris, may act as needed; no Initiative needed here. The monsters will act after you three have had a chance. For the purposes of 'distance', one is at ground level and approaching, while the other is still descending from the air but will arrive when the monsters have a chance to act.

Hidden 2 yrs ago → 2 yrs ago Post by Guardian Angel Haruki

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Amaryllis

Amaryllis looks up, her face expression still grave. She was correct in her call for haste after all. She narrowed her gaze, at the creatures that swarmed, and she grasped her Star Map in hand. She focused on the two swarms that threaten her along with the Behemoth and Zephyrite nearby. 

She easily noticed how the Noctem woman used precision to fight the swarm. Naturally, swarms are just smaller creatures that find strength in numbers and coordination. 

Knowing that the Behemoth and Zephyrite may need help to strike true, Amaryllis decided on which magic to use.

"Stars' fire, guide their strikes true...!" Amaryllis chanted in Druidic to cast the spell.

A ball of green fire appears in Amaryllis's hand before lobbing it towards the two swarms. That fire explodes to catch the two swarms. The fire itself is harmless, but if the swarms don't avoid it, then the fire will remain on the swarms' bodies.

Amaryllis is casting Faerie Fire, hoping to catch both swarms.

They will need to make a Dexterity Saving Throw, DC 15. If they fail, attack rolls against the swarm will have advantage.

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Both Swarms Fail; they are lit up with Faerie Fire.

Net results 4 and 9 respectively.

Hidden 2 yrs ago → 2 yrs ago Post by karamonnom

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karamonnom Sleepy Girl

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Sleepy Girl

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Iris

Iris watched quietly as the the group introduced themselves. She had the tendency of being an observer in social situations. She told herself that it was because she communicated with her actions, rather than her words. But in reality, it was simply because she was awkward when things didn't involve fighting or crafting. Still, everyone looked very capable and strong. This may be the best the continent had to offer in these troubling times. 

Well, at least she has the chance to see for herself exactly how capable they are. As the guards came into the courtyard, Iris took out her beloved Wakizashi and got into a fighting stance. Some sort of swarm of small monsters were attacking the kingdom and the guards did not seem to be handling it well. Fortunately, the swarm had broken down into smaller swarms by the human's magic, but now two swarms in particular were coming towards Iris and two others who happen to be nearby. 

The wooden one casted some sort of spell that seem to cast the swarm on fire. It didn't seem to do any damage but it definitely made it easier for Iris to run up to the closest swarm and slash at it with her short sword. 

8- Nat 1
27- Nat 20
Damage:
15

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Dag’Tyr nodded, using the man’s own quill to quickly pen down a couple of scribbles to add to his notes for later. He continued listening as Jerald started to answer his other question.
Tucking the note away his eyes returned to the two as well.
“The world has grown into a dark place indeed, young bern such as them shouldn’t be forced to such a harsh and unforgiving life…” He stated. “They certainly make for an unusual pair…” Dag’Tyr allowed his thoughts to wander.
To days long past when he was but a small lad, when his father would sit him down on his knee and tell the tall tales of powerful warriors of old, of the battlemaidens and the powerful curses of the Hagwrens. 
He was ripped from his own thoughts however when the cry of horns and trumpets broke the silence. 
Dag’Tyr watched chaos and panic follow suit. With Jerald acting rapidly offering his shop as refuge for those without shelter from…from whatever was coming.
His eyes darted again at the girl, watching her with a nervous worry, before he heard the horrifying wails of the swarm.
He pushed himself to the front of the open door, watching as a massive swarm of Tralaya descended from the sky down upon the city breaking itself into groups of smaller swarms. The horrible wails echoed through the air as they communicated with one another. Having set their sights upon those unfortunate enough who were not able to find shelter in time.
Instantly Dag’Tyr’s worry returned to the girl and the cub and without truly realizing what he was doing, his body moved instinctually, sprinting out onto the street in an attempt to reach them.
As he heard the triumphant cries of the flock eager for a tasty morsel he watched the bastards go for the girl, with the poor cub at her side ready to defend her, hackles and spines raised in defiance. 
With a shout he let out a thundering roar. 
His right arm shot forward, his index and middle finger outstretched pointing at the swarm.
“SKYRLEITA!” 
Instantly, the ink on the skin of his arm as well as his eyes began to glow bright with a searing golden light. The runic tattoo on his arm that held the spell shone even clearer as the word formed surrounding the hand turning into a large flaming ring  and shot forth from Dag’Tyr to where his fingers were pointing.
As the swarm approached the children, the ring collided with the leading bird(s), engulfing them in a flashing beam of white golden light.
This gave Dag’Tyr enough time to clear the distance and put himself in front of the two.
“RUN! To the Apothecary!” He roared, brooking no refusal as he attempted to shield them from the oncoming swarm. When they didn’t move fast enough to his liking his voice thundered again in fury.
“WILL YOU MOVE?!” Digging his feet in, intending to make a stand and give the young ones time by being the distraction.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Attack roll

3
https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/23476

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Net 12; they fail their dex save.

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Vigil


At the sound of the horn, Vigil immediately raised his head and began frantically looking this way and that in attempt to locate the source of the noise. He hadn't had many opportunities for combat since he had escaped the arena and as such, as the swarms descended upon the courtyard, his mind froze up as he tried to process what was happening. He took a small step as he watched everyone around spring into life in attempt to fend of this sudden invasion. There was so much going on all at once that he didn't register the two swarms hurtling in his direction until the wooden one woman used some sort of spell that made them start to glow. 

He turned his head towards the threat just in time to see someone hurtling into the swarm - a zephyrite who had been standing near them. Seeing her draw her sword and bravely dive into the action seemed to snap Vigil out of whatever trance his mind had been in and he bared his teeth, letting out a snarl. He followed after her, lunging into the thick of battle alongside her and attempted to swat away at the creatures with his tail. As he did so, the club on his tail glowed with radiant energy.

14
8
Weapon Damage: 11
Divine Smite Damage: 9

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Dag'Tyr

3 Radiant Damage; Tralaya are VULNERABLE to Radiant Damage; Tralaya Swarm 3 suffers 6 damage

Dag'Tyr's onrushing approach seems to surprise the youths, though the girl refuses to budge. Her efforts are swift and already yielding results, the warped instrument soon beginning to yield the beginnings of proper notes under her ministrations. The Behemoth Cub recoils back initially, Dag'Tyr's magic and bulk making him consider retreat, but a quick glance at his immobile companion reassures his Behemoth Instinct to fight. Leaping nimbly from side to side, keeping his body inbetween the Tralaya and the Girl, spines fire out from his shoulders and back past Dag'Tyr's body.

Tralaya Swarm 3 suffers 5 damage total from two attacks; total damage suffered 11.

But it is not enough to stop the oncoming swarm, and soon it envelops Dag'Tyr; their feathered bodies, vicious beaks, tearing claws, and a foul green ichor that drips from their wings, assaulting him- scoring mighty blows upon the Kin Warrior.

Natural 20; net 25. Critical Hit. Dag'Tyr suffers: 18 Piercing Damage and 6 Necrotic Damage; Tralaya Swarms deal Necrotic Damage equal to the number of dice they roll, the green vapor rolling off their bodies draining the life of those they envelop.

However, even as their beaks pierce into his flesh, the vibrant chords of the Lute begin to fill the air. Behind Dag'Tyr, the girl seems to have finally realized the situation she was in, and instead of ministering to the instrument her fingers have bent to the task of playing; a melody rises over the rain, overcoming even the cries of the Tralaya. A melody of Hope.

Dag'Tyr gains the benefits of the 'Heroism' Spell; he gains 4 Temporary Hit Points at the start of each of his turns, and is immune to the 'Fear' condition.

The Music seems to have a strange effect on the Tralaya; their attention shifting from Dag'Tyr and to the Girl. The Swarm begins flowing past his body and towards the sound of the Lute; Dag'Tyr may make an Opportunity Attack if he so desires.

Amaryllis, Iris, and Vigil

15 Piercing Damage from Iris; Resisted to 7.
11 Bludgeoning Damage from Vigil; resisted to 5.
9 Radiant Damage from Vigil; Vulnerable to 18.
Total Damage Suffered by Tralaya Swarm 1: 30

Tralaya Swarm 1 Defeated

A flash of magical illuminance, a well placed blade, and divine magic flare; Tralaya Swarm 1 is cleared in a blur of movement and magic. The slashing blades and crushing tail score a dozen from the air- but there are so many more to take their place. Iris' precise attacks disrupt their formation thoroughly- but truly it is the resounding divinity that crashes from Vigil's blow and reverberates through the air that fells the swarm of foul creatures. The radiant glow rippling through the swarm like a wave, their bodies growing still- then exploding into green mist that fades in the aftermath of the blow. Scarce few corpses fall to the ground.

The second swarm, aglow and glittering from Amaryllis' magic, shows a vicious sort of intelligence; they crash down from their elevated position onto the Wooden One, beginning to envelop and harass her with their beaks.

Natural 20; Net 25. Critical Hit. Amaryllis suffers 21 Piercing Damage and 6 Necrotic Damage as the swarm overwhelms her. The Faerie Fire dissipates.

Amaryllis gains 1 level of Exhaustion and Stabilizes; Amaryllis was reduced to 0 HP by a Critical Hit; this triggers a potential 'lasting injury'. Roll 2d20!

OOC: Dear god I'm sorry guys what the heck were these attack rolls. This is why I modify the death rules in my games. I'm not keen on crippling someone in the first attack of the game, so if these rolls turn out to be entirely unpalatable results on the injury table I'll shift them to 'scarring' instead at Haruki's decision.

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